Dark Studies (Arcaneology) (30 page)

“You have twice saved my child’s life. I can never repay you for what you have given us, but know this, Sarah Miller—you will have my protection and my help in every way, for as long as you live. I give you my vow, and should I ever fail you, my life is yours as forfeit.”

He hadn’t spoken this forcefully even when giving his closing arguments at the trial. Sarah blinked.

“The same goes for me,” Vanessa told her. “Anything you ever want from me, it’s yours.”

“I…” No words came to her, not even a clear thought. The best she could do was a barely audible, “Okay. Thank you.”

Sadness flickered through James’s eyes, subtle, but she was learning to see the hints of expression that barely touched his face. He stood and paused. Then he bent to touch his lips to her temple. Confused by the feelings stirring somewhere deep inside her, she could not respond, so she simply stood there.

When he drew back, Vanessa surprised Sarah again by putting her arms around her. She stiffened at first, but after a moment let her head come to rest on the vampire’s shoulder.

“Come,” James said softly. “Let’s leave her in peace.”

The door closed behind them, and for the first time since she could remember, Sarah was alone.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Method acting uses your emotions to serve your performance. Psychodrama uses your performance to serve your emotions. It takes a certain degree of self-awareness to know which one you’re doing.

—Candace Fontaine, acting coach

“I’m sorry, Steffen, but I am going to have to reschedule your next session with Grace.”

It would be two or three more weeks before she was well enough to work again, even for the less strenuous assignments, and his appointment was only a few days away. She’d nearly forgotten to cancel. Lynette had dealt with all of her other engagements but still would have nothing to do with Scott.

He knew what had happened, of course, and not just because he was a member of the Covenant Council. She remembered hearing James on the phone with him when she first woke in the hospital and wondered how many details her protector had shared.

“I need time to heal,” she went on. “If I kept her appointment with you, I would have to think up a suitable explanation for her condition, and we’d be limited in what we could do.”

“Rescheduling could prove problematic,” he said. “I’d like to keep the appointment. Would you be willing?”

His request surprised her, and she took a moment to consider how she would handle such a session. It could be done, if he was careful with her.

“I believe I can work it into the character, if that’s what you want,” she agreed. “E-mail me the details about when and where, and I’ll see you Friday night.”

“I would like to extend it to two nights instead of one, if that’s acceptable.”

“Are you sure? You might change your mind when you see me. When you see her.”

“I won’t.”

“Two nights it is, then. I’ll see you Friday.”

It felt odd to be alone. She’d grown used to having Joseph and Ron around. They had taken turns staying with her twenty-four hours a day, and even when they weren’t in the same room, she had known one or the other was nearby. Now she was on her own once again.

Her clients knew her as Angeline Devereaux, and she would continue to let them call her that, but it was only a name. Even before going to Denver she’d destroyed the ID, credit cards, and anything else to do with that identity. Lynette had tossed the cell phone she’d used for Angeline’s business transactions, closed bank accounts connected to it, and opened new ones at different financial institutions. Only the clients they were sure could be trusted had been given her new contact information. Likewise, the Sullivan identity was disposed of. When Andy Sullivan left the hospital, she disappeared off the face of the earth, and there was no way for anyone to tie her to Angie Clark.

Ron and Joseph had stayed with her the two weeks since she’d come home, and there was no sign anyone had discovered who she was. The men assured her that as long as she stayed away from places that might be watched by Soul Killer’s people—airports, Indian reservations, police stations, border crossings, and such—the chances of being spotted were negligible. Angie decided it was time to send them away. There was still risk, of course, but she knew to be more cautious now. She’d already decided that if Angie Clark needed bodyguards for the rest of her life, she would prefer to disappear into another country and lose herself where no one who wished her harm would ever find her.

Now, alone for the first time in nearly a month, Angie waited for Steffen in a small beach house he had rented for the weekend on Orcas Island. A thick fleece bathrobe hugged her from throat to ankle. With carefully applied makeup, her face looked almost normal, and if she held still, the ribs hardly bothered her at all.

Clouds loomed dark and heavy over the Pacific Ocean, except along the horizon where a sliver of sky turned purple with the setting sun. Gingerly, she settled herself onto the cushions of an oversized armchair and curled her legs under her. It was time to bring Grace to life. Angie closed her eyes and concentrated on the story she had constructed for this session. She let herself soften, becoming more fragile. Emotions rose to the surface: worry her lover would be repulsed by what had been done to her, fear she would break down into tears, misery over the violation of body and soul. And hope, as well, for Grace had that in abundance. Hope he would hold her and tell her it was all right, kiss away her concerns, and heal the wounds that hurt the most, even though they could not be seen.

When she opened her eyes, the thin line of color defining the edges of the sky had faded to a deep blue. It was almost black when she heard him come into the cottage. Grace wanted to greet him, but couldn’t bring herself to look up, at the last second unable to meet his gaze.

He moved with the eerie speed and silence of his kind, so one moment he stood in the doorway and the next he knelt beside the chair, crouching to see her face. One large hand touched her shoulder, only to draw back when she flinched. Instead, he lifted her chin with his fingertips. The intensity of his expression frightened her.

“Tell me what happened,” he said, his voice low.

Grace took his hand and moved it so she could lower her head. His skin felt cold. “Please don’t ask me to.”

When she didn’t say anything more, he eased his arms around her until she relaxed against his body. Grace sighed. It felt good to rest there. He nuzzled the top of her head with his cheek and waited for her to move first before drawing back. She looked up at him again, less afraid now, and gave him a small smile. “You came without feeding.”

“I was in a hurry.”

“I won’t be able to give you as much as I usually do, so I picked up several bottles. Would you like me to warm some for you?”

“I’ll get it.”

“I’ve set a pot of water heating on the stove. Take it off the burner and put a bottle in it for a while. It’s better than using a microwave.”

Steffen rose and moved into the kitchen. He did as she’d suggested, first uncorking the bottle of human blood, and then placing it in the pot of water. Grace maneuvered herself out of the chair and joined him, sliding her arms around his waist. They waited until the blood was warm enough to suit him, then he wiped the bottle with a dish towel and raised it to his lips.

“Drink up,” she said. “When you’re full, we’re going to the beach to build a nice, big fire. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

They sat on the sand, he resting his back on a huge log, she between his legs and settled against his chest. The onyx ocean spread before them, fringed with the pale lace of sea foam. Driftwood, infused with salt, made their fire a kaleidoscope of color. It crackled and occasionally shifted with a shower of sparks, and its acrid smoke blended with the more mellow scent of the sea.

It hurt to twist around so she could kiss him, but it was worth it. He bent his head and let her do as she wished, not making any move of his own. Grace slid her hands over him. The muscles beneath her palms flexed in reaction to her caresses. She loved the feel of him. Her mouth trailed down the side of his neck, breath warm on his cool skin. When her tongue crept out to tease the curve of his ear, he growled.

“Steffen,” she whispered, “if you don’t take me inside and make love to me right now, I’m going to have to ravish you here on the beach.”

“Ravish?” He choked back a laugh and nudged her away so he could study her face. “I’d hurt you. It looks like at least one rib was broken and the shoulder probably dislocated. What else?”

“One rib’s broken, the other bruised,” she answered lightly, as though it didn’t matter. “Those hurt worse than anything else. You’re right about the shoulder, too. My face got cut up a bit, you can see the marks if you look close, but the doctors say there won’t be any scars. The rest was just scrapes and contusions. Except—” She broke off.

“Except?”

Grace looked away. Thinking about it was hard enough; saying it was harder. She had to start over twice before managing to get the words out. “He raped my ass. There was some damage, but the treatment they used made it heal fast.”

When he said nothing, she looked up to search for a reaction. A muscle in his jaw flexed, but that was all.

“Can you tell me about it now?” he asked after a while.

Grace shivered. “Not the details. I don’t want to relive it.”

“Of course not. Just whatever you’re willing to tell.”

“Hold me first.”

He did as she asked, careful not to press too tightly. Grace wrapped her arms over his and encouraged him to squeeze a little harder, because it felt good to be held close even if it did make her ribs and shoulder protest.

“I was in a bar, up in Anchorage, checking out the local color for my next article,” she said. “A guy started hitting on me and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I had to get the bouncer to kick him out.”

Steffen grunted.

“I stayed a little longer because they gave me a couple of drinks on the house, then I decided to call it a night. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that he might have stuck around. I’m usually not so stupid.”

“He grabbed you in the parking lot?”

She nodded and was startled to find herself on the verge of tears. Underneath the character of Grace Hamilton, Angie experienced a surge of emotion so strong she almost could not control it. She was overwhelmed by things she hadn’t allowed herself to feel until now. Things that would have stayed buried if she hadn’t tapped them for this session. Was that what she’d secretly wanted when she agreed to the appointment? Was that the reason she’d chosen to create his fantasy woman in the first place, so she would have an excuse to feel again? Steffen stroked her hair. His silence was a relief. It gave her time to regain some measure of control.

“Do you still want me?” Her voice was barely audible even for a vampire’s hearing.

His drew back, startled. “Why would you ask that?”

“Some men can’t handle it when their girl has been raped. It’s like she’s tainted. Or they can’t stand feeling like they’ve failed her. And I…I feel dirty. Like you couldn’t possibly want me anymore.”

“Humans may think that way, but I don’t.” He tipped his head and kissed her so gently it made her heart ache. After a moment of hesitation he added, “I wish you would let me heal you. It would only take a little bit of my blood.”

Angie went still. Again, she remembered overhearing his conversation with James. The thought of her protector’s betrayal triggered the walls she had built around herself and closed off the emotions that had risen to the surface moments ago. As her mind cleared, she tried to decide whether Scott would force the issue. Probably not, but he needed Grace to explain why she wouldn’t allow her lover to do what he was suggesting. Otherwise it would weaken the fantasy.

“Steffen,” she said slowly, “if I did, it would change us. I know what vampire’s blood does, how it makes humans fall in love. If I drank yours, how could we ever be sure my feelings for you were anything more than the blood manipulating them? Is that what you want? To take away my choice, to
make
me love you?”

“No.” He frowned.

“Then please don’t ask again.” With the crisis averted, Angie retreated into her character. Grace pulled him down for a kiss. She clenched her fingers in his hair, but straining to bring him closer made her ribs and shoulder ache and she couldn’t help wincing. He drew back in concern.

“Stop worrying,” she chided. “Yes, you will probably hurt me some, but I don’t care. Not having you inside me would hurt worse.”

Steffen gathered her in his arms and stood. He carried her back to the cottage and laid her very carefully on the bed. “Promise you’ll tell me if it’s too painful.”

“Keep your weight off of me and I’ll worry about the rest.”

When they had finished, Steffen left the bed to warm some more blood. Grace waited a while before getting up to see why he had not returned. She found him at the sliding glass door that looked out over the Pacific Ocean. He had put on a pair of jeans and stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

“The man who attacked you,” he said. “Has he been caught?”

“He wasn’t hard to find.”

Steffen nodded. “And your human justice system, will it punish him?”

“Yes.”

“How severe is the penalty for what he did?”

Grace moved to stand in front of him, putting her hands on his shoulders and tipping her head to study his face. He gave her nothing but a flicker of his eyelids. “Steffen, this is a matter for human courts. Promise me you won’t interfere.”

“All right,” he said reluctantly. “I promise not to take revenge on the human who did this to you. I will let your legal system carry out his punishment. Satisfied?”

“Thank you.”

Perhaps she wasn’t the only one confusing reality with fiction. His emotions, what she could see of them, seemed all too real. Was he thinking about Rimbeau? For the first time, it occurred to her he might intend to track down the other vampire and mete out punishment himself. A part of her shuddered at the idea of what he might do. There were other parts, though, that liked the idea very, very much.