EVREN: Enter the Dragonette (19 page)

“Relax, Deli.  He’s not going to eat you.”

“I know,” I gritted out as I continued to smile.  Duh.  Didn’t he know how badly I wanted to make a good impression?

Lucian frowned.  “Then why are you so nervous?”

“You can be quite insensitive, son,” the old man scolded and smiled at me again.  “Forgive his manners.  I had thought we taught him better, but I suppose he’s forgotten after so many years.”

“Hallir, I have to tell you something—”  Lucian sounded oddly…anxious.

“Were you his teacher once?” I asked shyly at the same time.

“I suppose I was or had been.”  He offered his hand.  “First things first though.  My name is Hallir.  And you must be Delilah?”

“I prefer Deli.”  I began to relax and flashed him my brightest smile.  “How long has it been since you taught Lucian?”

“Hallir,” Lucian repeated, his voice more urgent.

The prophet ignored him, intent on answering my question.  “Maybe…a hundred and fourteen years?”

I laughed, then stopped when Lucian and Dyvian’s faces paled.  Drat.  Maybe I had been too impolite?  “Sorry,” I apologized quickly, flushing in embarrassment.  “I didn’t mean anything—”

“It’s all right, child.  I’ve never been good with numbers.  I suppose that is why you’re laughing?”  He turned to Lucian.  “How long has it been?  Maybe one hundred twenty-five years?  Twenty-six?”

“Years?”  I laughed.  “Sir, maybe—”

And it hit me.  My brain cells were again delayed in their reaction, but better late than never as they say.

I was Evren.  If it were possible to turn into a dragon, wouldn’t it be equally possible that we were immortal?

I spun to face Lucian and demanded with narrowed eyes, “The truth, Lucian.  Are we immortal?”

It took him several seconds to reply.  “Yes.”

Chapter Twelve

Sulking could only be rewarding if you knew the person you were mad at would be miserable and guilty.  But since there was no way to know if Lucian was feeling anything underneath his cold, gorgeous exterior, sulking only made me feel worse and getting lost didn’t make me feel any better.

I had warned Lucian and Dyvian not to follow me and told them I’d make a huge fuss if they dared otherwise.  It had been a beautiful exit, and now I just had to figure out a way to make an equally beautiful return.  I wanted to maintain my dignity and not let them know I had gotten lost.

“I’m lost,”
I said to The Voice, needing someone to talk to.

“I’ll tell Lucian—”

“No.  If you do, I’ll kill you.”

The Voice remained silent and I took that as a symbol of surrender.  Of course, I didn’t think it was possible to kill The Voice, but I was gratified it was programmed to tactfully pretend otherwise.

“Why do you think he lied about our being immortal?”

“I do not believe he intended to lie.  At the start, perhaps, he had chosen to withhold the information from you because it could only complicate matters further.  The promise of immortality has driven many people insane.  The elixir of life, alchemy, and all sorts of legends have told us how willing Man is to commit unspeakable acts for the sake of eternal life.”

“But I wouldn’t have—”

“As I’ve said earlier, he didn’t mean to lie to you.  But as time passed, he probably didn’t know how to broach the topic.  It is not in his nature to blurt out facts.  He would have felt silly telling you out of the blue, ‘By the way, Deli, we can never die.’  And perhaps—”

“What?”

“This is purely a hypothetical guess, you understand.”

“Yes, yes, now what?”

“Perhaps later on, he became worried you might treat him differently, once you were aware of the disparity in your ages—”

“Oh, my God, Voice.  I remember now.  Dyvian said he was 348 years old.  He is, isn’t he?”

“I believe it would be safe to assume so.”

“Sheesh.  He’s like my great-great-great—and maybe twenty greats more grandfather.”

“I suppose so.” 
There was a slight edge to its tone.  I paid it no heed, focused as I was on assimilating facts.

“Thanks, Voice.  I’m lucky to have you.  You’re so smart.  I wonder if your IQ is, like, a reflection of my natural IQ?”

“Natural IQ?  As opposed to…unnatural IQ?”

“You almost sound amused there, Voice.  Or confused.  Hanging out with me must be making you more human.  Anyway, what I mean by natural IQ is like my inborn IQ, my true potential.  You know, like I’m born smart but I just haven’t realized it yet.”

“I…see.”

Talking with The Voice would have to be temporarily postponed, now that I’d found myself in a cafeteria of sorts.  The place was just as noisy and crowded as the rest of DVC.  I observed in silence, ignoring how I was being observed in return.  I was the newest freak show in town, and I was tempted to charge them for admission. 
Welcome.  Step right up if you want the chance to speak with the newest red Evren in town.

I asked for a can of soda from the nearest stall and tried to hide my shock when they charged me $124.99 and asked if I wanted to pay in cash or by American Express.  Was Hallir aware the merchants in DVC were in the habit of overpricing?

Half a minute later and more than a hundred dollars poorer, I sat at the nearest unoccupied table, pulled off the lid of my Coke Zero and drank it all in one gulp.  Sulking was such a draining activity.

I put the can down just as a beautiful redhead slid into the opposite seat with an icy smile on her face.

Shocked, I choked on the last mouthful of soda.

She said nothing as I coughed and tried to regain my composure.

“You’re Delilah, yes?”  Her voice was cultured and had a French accent.  She didn’t sound warm like most of her countrymen, though.  She wore a red-checkered ruffled shirt unbuttoned to reveal a healthy amount of cleavage and—after a surreptitious glance underneath the table—hip-hugging, bell-bottom DKNY jeans.  I wished I could have called her skinny but she was just the right side of slender.

She oozed sophistication and my tennis babe getup, which I thought pretty earlier, now seemed too…
juvenile. 
She made me want to be ten years older, five inches taller, and twenty pounds lighter.

“I am, yes.  And you are—”

“Angelica Vernon.”  She reminded me of an icicle, a beautiful one, but still an icicle.  French women were supposed to be sensual, but this woman radiated cold rather than heat and passion.

But she’s sexy
,
I’ll give her that. 
Even I had difficulty keeping my eyes away from the expansive amount of cleavage she was showing.

“You are alone, no?”  Watching her speak was like seeing a mask of ice moving, each word threatening to crack its crystal surface.

“Oh, no.  I’m with—”  I hesitated.

“Lucian?  Dyvian?”

I glanced down at my lap, not wanting her to see my surprise.  How did she know them?  I smoothed my skirt and forced myself to look at her with a smile.  “Yes.  Are you a friend of theirs?”

Her laugh reminded me of metallic wind chimes, melodious but lifeless.  It also sounded taunting, but I told myself not to jump to conclusions.

You can’t be sure she’s here to make trouble, Deli.  She may remind you of a beautiful viper from the Antarctic, but you shan’t judge a book by its cover.  She could just be here to make small talk.

“You could say that, yes.”  Her voice dropped an octave.  “Especially of
Lucian
.”

I stand corrected.  She
was
here to make trouble.  The cover said it all for what was within—she was an overrated classic, as empty and stuck-up as its admirers.

The way she said Lucian’s name made my skin crawl.  “I see.”  I hoped my flat tone would discourage her from talking.  If I was lucky, maybe she’d even leave me alone, and I could be happily ignorant forever.

“Please tell him that Angelica says ‘hi,’ yes?”

“Will do.”  Behind my false cheer, I contemplated the various ways I could make her suffer public humiliation.  Maybe I could make her trip on her stilettos.

She leaned forward.  “And tell him, if you please, that I have missed him, and I’d love to have him over to my place again.”

I didn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing how much her words stung.  “Of course.”  I smiled sweetly, saying, “I’ll even give him a kiss for you if you want,” and was rewarded with a flash of anger in her ice blue eyes.

Her eyes narrowed.  “Oh, that won’t be necessary.  I believe he enjoys my kisses enough not to need any substitute from someone so…” she made a delicate pause, “…
innocent.
”

And the way she said it, she made “innocent” sound stupid, silly, and unwanted.

I glanced at her nails.  They were painted red, perfectly cut, and extremely sharp.  My own nails were freshly clipped.  If I clawed her eyes out, she’d claw me back, and I wouldn’t stand a chance.

Oh, well.  We could always have a catfight next time.  But for now, I had better chances of winning if I continued our verbal war.

I nodded understandingly.  “You’re right.  Lucian may have a preference for
older
women.”  My barb struck home and I said with relish, “Really, really, old.”  I planted one elbow on the table, resting my chin on my hand as I gave her a thoughtful glance.  “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but knowing how Evren are immortal and all, I’m wondering exactly how old—”

“There you are,” Dyvian’s hearty voice intruded upon our conversation just as Angelica had been about to launch her next verbal missile.

And just when I’m starting to enjoy myself.
  I got to my feet with a smile for Dyvian.  “How did you know—”  My smile faded when I caught a glimpse of Lucian right behind him.

But he wasn’t paying attention to me.  He was smiling at Angelica and the redheaded woman was moving forward, her arms clasping his shoulders lightly as she kissed him full on the mouth.

On the mouth.

In public.

And this was Lucian.

I took a step forward, ready to grab her by the hair and pull until she was forced to stop mauling Lucian, but Dyvian was suddenly there, curving an imprisoning arm around my shoulders.  I glared at him.  “Let me go.”  I tried to shrug his hold away.

“Don’t be so childish,” he gritted.

“That’s
my
boyfriend—”

“And, of course,” Lucian cut me off in his smooth velvety voice, walking toward us, Angelica on his side, “you’ve already met our ward.”

Angelica’s eyes gleamed.

Ward?

I could only stare at Lucian in hurt shock.  I know he had this thing about privacy, but surely, this was an exception?  He had to acknowledge me as his girlfriend in this instance.

But he and Dyvian were saying goodbye already and with a lilting “ta-ta,” Angelica was walking away with swaying hips in a cloud of expensive perfume.

Yeeeeargh.

I wrenched free of Dyvian, intent on stalking away, but Lucian swiftly gripped my arm.  “Not here.”

“Fine,” I bit out, eager to start our quarrel as soon as possible.  I was definitely going to rake him over the coals for his deliberate omission.

We left the cave in silence, and I didn’t make a single protest as Lucian hauled me close upon taking off.  I stayed rigid in the circle of his arms, pain making me oblivious to the once inescapable feelings of wonder at being this close to Lucian.

Back at home, Dyvian mumbled an incoherent excuse before driving away.  He was a smart guy, really.  He knew staying behind would only make him an unfortunate casualty of my anger.  When Lucian closed the door behind him, I whirled around and shrieked, “You never told me about Angelica.”

“There was nothing to tell.”  His voice was tightly controlled.

“Of course, there was.  And you called me your
ward
.”

“Stop shouting.”  He sat down as calm as you please, his gaze almost insulting in its utter steadiness.

That only made me shriek even more loudly.  “I’m mad and when I’m mad I shout!”

“Fine.”  The bored expression on his face almost drove me to murder.  “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

His fingers drummed on the armrest.  “You’re mad because I hid our immortality from you.  I apologize for that.  There just didn’t seem to be a right time to tell you.  You’re mad because I didn’t tell you about Angelica?  Then I’m sorry.  You can ask me now, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.  You’re mad I called you my ward?  Then again I’m sorry, but I’ve told you from the start I don’t want others to know about what we have.”

His litany of sins was honestly weakening, and I collapsed on the sofa. 
One thing at a time, Deli. 
That was the trick to solving things.  And if it didn’t work out, well, there was always the ground to bury my head into, wasn’t there?

I started with the least hurtful, albeit also the most surprising.