Intangible (3 page)

“Hey! I thought that was you. You on your way home?”

“No. Costa Rica. I’ve decided I’m tired of the cold.” Sera put her hands in her pockets, looked around the room at the people still staring at them.

“You are not. You love this time of year. Besides, it’s the rainy season there.”

“I like rain.”

“Not that much, you don’t.” Fey slipped her arm through Sera’s and led the way out of the hospital. Warm air blasted their faces as they stepped through the automatic doors into the cool breath of the early autumn night. A clear sky above, few lights along the streets, and innumerable dark houses beyond. It was quiet, with hardly anyone on the street. Darkness seeped into every corner, every crack, every turn. Sera shivered.

“You cold?” Fey unhooked her arm, placing it instead around Sera’s shoulders, snuggling her close as they walked toward Sera’s house. “I can’t believe you’re only wearing a sweater. Especially this late.”

Sera glanced at Fey. She wore chocolate brown pants and a short dark green jacket. Unlike Sera, she
was
dressed for a walk in the cold. Sera stopped suddenly. What had Fey been doing at the hospital in the middle of the night?

“Are you okay?” Sera reached a hand out to stop Fey. “Why were you—”

A dark figure suddenly slammed into Sera, knocking her down.

Sort of.

Quicker than quick, she was upright again, reeling, wondering if she’d merely imagined that she’d been just this shy of a face plant. Of having to explain in the morning what happened to her face. She looked down to see a stranger’s arms around her, holding her steady.

Then she looked up.

He was perfect. Tall, fit, strong. His boots, pants, t-shirt, and long leather coat were all the same shade of midnight black. With his close-cropped dark hair and ebony skin, he blended in too well in the night, almost completely camouflaged. It was no wonder she hadn’t seen him.

Deep, dark eyes looked into her light grey ones, intensely, as if trying to place her. A black goatee framed sensuous lips, surrounded straight white teeth. She stopped there. Entranced. He had a beautiful mouth. A mouth she was having a hard time looking away from. A mouth she had a sudden urge to kiss. She blushed furiously and looked away, mentally berating herself. She didn’t know this guy. But still. He had a most irresistible mouth. She glanced back up at him to see his mouth gaping and his eyes locked on her hands.

Her hands?

His arms glowed where she touched him. And the light was spreading. But he couldn’t see it. She was sure of that. No one could but she and Luke. She looked up at his face again and was met with his puzzled gaze. Like he was trying to figure out why he was suddenly glowing.

She jerked her hands away and pushed herself out of his arms.

“Pardon me.” His voice was deep, warm. “It was entirely my fault.” He looked at her with interest and a smile that might have melted her into a puddle right there had he not suddenly looked beyond her and, with a nod, said, “Feyth.” The warmth in his voice tinged with a touch of ice with that one word.

“Jonas.” Fey returned the nod and the chill, her narrowed eyes on his. She took a step forward to stand between Sera and Jonas. Protective. Sera wondered what that was about.

“Lovely night for a walk.”

“It is,” Fey said. “Though you never know who or what you’ll run into at this time of night.” She reclaimed Sera with an arm around her waist.

“True.” Jonas stood back to let them pass.

Fey dragged Sera down the sidewalk away from him, leaving the darkness to swallow him up once again. Sera looked at Fey, bemused. That was the strangest exchange she’d ever witnessed.

“
Feyth
, huh?” She smiled into Fey’s crisp look. “So formal.”

“Yes, he is.”

Curiosity overwhelmed her, though she was fully aware Fey was being particularly tightlipped at the moment. “Who is he?” Sera craned to look back at him once more before they turned at the end of the block. He stood there still under the street lamp, his dark form almost completely blending in to the blackness around him despite the light, and watched them walk away.

Fey didn’t answer.

Sera turned to look at her, expectant, but Fey pressed on, silent, mouth tight.

“Fey?”

With a slight shake of her head, Fey said, “Trouble. He’s serious trouble, Sera. Steer clear of him. Okay?”

Sera shivered again, but not from the cold this time—she suddenly felt like she needed to get home. She wrapped her arm around Fey’s waist and walked a little faster.

THREE

W
ho is she? Jonas wondered as he watched them walk out of sight, lamplit sidewalks empty again. He stood there in the quiet of the night, thinking. A girl with silver eyes. She was familiar, like lyrics to a song he couldn’t quite recall. But he’d never met her before, he was sure. He remembered everyone. He would have remembered her.

He exhaled in a huff, wiped his hand over his goatee. The short dark whiskers prickled his hand like the girl was prickling his memory. Had he known one of her ancestors? Was it simply that?

He was almost certain it wasn’t.

Because that did not explain what Feyth was doing with her. For it was obvious to Jonas that Feyth was bound to the girl. And there was something about her.

Something whispered at the edge of his mind. Something regarding Feyth’s connection to an event, he was sure of it. But he couldn’t recall what. He furrowed his brow. This was not like him.

He shook his head to clear it. He’d have to look into it later—he had a more urgent need right now.

He was hungry.

Jonas strode down the hill to the heart of the city, his eyes skimming the path of moonlight on the smooth black surface of the lake at the city’s edge. A cool breeze whistled up from the lake, rustling dry leaves on the trees. He inhaled deeply. Crisp, clean, cool air mixed with the musky scent of the few people out on the street at this hour. Seven, to be exact. All within a two block radius.

But he ignored these. He’d search downtown. He knew he’d find someone there that he could charm into the pleasure of a meal tonight.

He passed the impressive nineteenth-century colonial houses on the tree lined streets. The rich businessmen these houses had been built for, the families who’d lived there over the years were long dead, their faces etched in Jonas’s memory. In their places were fraternities and college offices.

Jonas shook his head. How things had changed. The large white columns children used to run around, lawns they scampered across, were now littered with lounging students during the day. Though he missed the slower, quieter times of years gone by, the influx of new students every year did offer a continuous supply of fresh blood.

There were some positives to change after all.

At the bottom of the hill, in the heart of downtown, Jonas heard footsteps ahead of him and around a corner. He sniffed the air. Two people. Promising. Thirst, hunger drove him now. He picked up the pace, jogging, his own footsteps making no sound on the sidewalk.

“No!” a woman cried out. Jonas could hear her struggling. The smack of a hand on flesh. Her whimper of pain.

His eyes blazed with fire, his nostrils flared. He never could tolerate the harming of an innocent. A low growl rumbled in his throat.

There would be no pleasure in his feed tonight. There would be only pain.

He launched into a full-out run.

Rounding the corner, his long black coat flying out behind him, he saw them beyond the dumpsters in the darkest shadows between two buildings. A large man, tall and hefty, his red baseball cap worn backwards, covering dirty brown hair. He had the look of a former high school football player who’d never grown up. One beefy arm pressed against the throat of a young woman as he held her up against the dark brick wall of the building. Jonas couldn’t see what he was doing with his other hand, but the look on her face told him enough.

He stalked down the alley. Snarling.

“Keep moving, my friend,” the man said. “There’s nothing for you to see here.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m no friend of yours.”

“Back off, buddy. She’s mine.” He let go of the girl to face Jonas and she slid down the bumpy brick wall to the ground, coughing, holding her throat with one hand, pulling her cargo skirt down with the other. She sobbed as her eyes sought Jonas.

But he wasn’t looking at her.

He kept his gaze locked on her attacker. As he stormed to within arm’s reach, the guy pulled a huge arm back and swung in a powerful arc.

But it never made contact.

In a single motion, no more than a blur, Jonas’s left hand shot out, grabbed the guy by the throat. He lifted the guy off the ground and slammed him into the brick wall so hard that Jonas could hear the air rush out of his lungs in a whuff.

As the guy fought to draw in a breath of air, Jonas turned to look at the woman who was now sitting on the ground next to the dumpster. The fire in his eyes damped, and was replaced with concern.

“You’re safe now.” His voice was calm, soft as velvet. He peered at her closely, silently sniffed for a scent of blood. There was none. “Are you hurt?”

“N-n-n-no.” Her teeth were chattering and she was shivering. Her dark brown hair stuck out at angles, and her sweater and t-shirt were still slightly askew from the struggle, but it looked as if he’d gotten there in time. He was glad for that. But she was still so frightened by the attack that she had yet to move from where she’d landed on the dirty pavement. Her wide eyes darted back and forth between Jonas and her attacker, who was unsuccessfully trying to loosen Jonas’s grip on his throat.

“Can you get yourself home?”

She nodded, survival instinct finally kicking in, scrambled up off the ground and ran. Jonas watched her. At the end of the alley, she turned back to look at Jonas, her attacker still pinned to the wall, feet dangling in the air.

“Thank you,” she said.

He nodded. “You’re safe.”

And then she was gone.

“You, however,” Jonas said, turning back, “are not.”

As the flames returned to his eyes, two of his teeth elongated, coming to sharp points. The guy’s eyes widened at the sight.

“Yes, that’s right.” Jonas lowered him down the wall to lean in close to his face. “I am
exactly
what you think I am.”

“But…they…don’t exist.”

“Oh, but we
do
.” Jonas spoke softly in his ear. The guy’s whole body shook, and he clawed desperately to get away. He was pathetic. Jonas almost wished he was still just killing them off. But perhaps this one more readily deserved what he had coming.

“I’m taking you to hell,” he whispered, “and then bringing you back.”

H
e couldn’t breathe.
This guy—this
vampire
—had hands like steel, an unbreakable grip. If he could just loosen one finger then maybe he could break it, he thought. Break the vampire’s grip. And get away.

He couldn’t breathe.

Vampire. His eyes focused on the dark face. Vampires were
real
. But why was it picking on him? He hadn’t hurt the girl. Not really. He hadn’t done anything she didn’t want him to do. The way she was dressed she’d been asking for it. She’d wanted it. He could tell.

He could always tell.

He dug his fingers into the vampire’s hands, kicked out with his feet, flung his weight around as much as he could up in the air as he was. Nothing worked.

“It doesn’t have to hurt,” the vampire said, “but after I’m done with you, you will be a scared little man who won’t even think about venturing out after dark ever again.”

He stared at the teeth. Long. Getting longer. And sharp like jagged ends of broken glass. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from them as the vampire leaned close, his mouth opening wider. The vampire released his throat suddenly, and he wheezed in a desperate breath.

Then he felt it.

A sharp pinch on his neck and hot searing pain radiated out. Fire coursed through his veins, engulfing his entire body. Razorblades of agony shredded his insides.

That one breath left him in a piercing scream and was gone. His body convulsed, he couldn’t draw in air. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t struggle. He couldn’t move.