Refuge (6 page)

My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t
eaten lunch. I grabbed my laptop and stood.

“Hey, don’t go,” Terrence protested. “I want
to hear about the crocotta.”

“The crocotta will have to wait. It’s
dinnertime, and I’m starving.”

He and Josh stood at the same time. Terrence
gave me a wide smile, showing off his dimples. “Perfect. You can
tell us all about them over dinner.”

I TOSSED MY sketchpad and pencil down on the
bed after staring at the blank page for the last ten minutes. I was
trying to draw the hellhounds, but even though I could see them
exactly as I wanted to sketch them, my fingers didn’t seem to know
where to start.

Rolling off the bed, I went to open the
window and listened to the heavy silence of the valley. It was too
quiet here at night. I’d give anything to hear the familiar sounds
of the waterfront or open my door and hear Nate clicking on his
keyboard. I missed Daisy’s three-legged gait and Oscar’s motorboat
purr. Hell, I even missed the imps scratching and chattering behind
the walls. I missed everything.

It was too early for bed, and watching TV
alone in my room didn’t appeal to me for once. I opened my door,
wondering if any of the other trainees were hanging out downstairs.
Seeking out company was a new experience for me, but I’d never
really felt lonely before I came here. I’d enjoyed having dinner
with the others tonight, instead of eating alone like I normally
did. For the first time since I arrived, it felt like I’d connected
with other people. I hadn’t realized how much I missed that until
today.

The common rooms were empty except for a
warrior I didn’t know watching an old black-and-white movie in one
of them. I stood in the main hall and debated where to go. The
north wing and west wing housed mostly living quarters like my own,
so there was nothing to see there. The first floor of the west wing
was training rooms and I’d seen more than enough of them already.
The south wing held the offices, meeting rooms, security, and the
living quarters for Lord Tristan, some of the senior warriors, and
important visitors. That left the east wing. During my tour, Claire
had pointed out the medical ward on the first floor. She’d also
told me there was a sick warrior recuperating in the wing. I stayed
away from the first floor so I didn’t disturb him, and I was very
quiet when I took the stairs to the second floor.

Strolling down the long second-floor hallway,
I ran a hand lightly along the dark paneling, struck for the
hundredth time by the grandeur of my new home. The walls on this
floor were hung with beautiful oil paintings and ornate wall
sconces that had been converted from gas to electric. I had not
asked anyone how old the building was, but I suspected it was well
over a hundred years old. The Mohiri lived for centuries, so it was
no surprise for them to hold onto their homes for a long time. What
was it like to live that long and to witness the coming of
electricity, automobiles, and the age of technology? What wonders
and changes in the world would I live to see over my own
lifetime?

At the end of the hallway, light spilled from
a room with the door slightly ajar. I pushed it open and I could
barely contain my excitement at the sight of the shelves of books
lining the walls from floor to ceiling. There was a large library
off the main hall, but it didn’t hold a candle to this room. This
one looked like something out of an English manor with dark walls,
floor-to-ceiling windows, and a large fireplace at one end of the
room. Two high-backed chairs faced the fire that crackled in the
hearth, and a lamp on the small table between the chairs cast a
soft glow over the room. It looked like someone had just stepped
out of the room, and I hesitated, worried they would mind my
intrusion. I turned to leave, but one more look at all those books
changed my mind.

The only problem with so many books was
choosing one. I liked a lot of the classics, but I had tons of them
in the boxes of books that had come with me from home. I inhaled
the smell of old paper, and a smile spread across my face. I had a
feeling I was going to be spending a lot of time here, and I
couldn’t help but think that my dad would have loved this room,
too.

I scanned the titles to see what treasures
the little library held. Automatically, my eyes searched for the Bs
because something told me there had to be some Brontë on these
shelves. I found what I was looking for high above my head, and I
had to roll the squeaky wooden ladder over so I could reach the
books. Reverently, I pulled out the copy of
Jane Eyre
and fingered the
cloth-covered spine. My copy was a dog-eared paperback that was
falling apart from too many readings. I opened the cover to the
first page and felt my eyes bug out. A first edition
Jane Eyre
in perfect
condition!

I shouldn’t be touching these.
Regretfully, I
reached up to slide the book back into its place on the shelf. My
old copy would do just fine. I’d be too nervous about damaging the
rare book to enjoy it.

The thought had barely passed through my mind
when my hold on the ladder slipped. I let out a loud gasp as I lost
my grip on the precious tome and it fell to the floor with a thud.
I grabbed the ladder again, just in time to keep from falling.
Climbing down, I picked up the book, relieved to see no damage to
the cover.

“If you are quite finished making a racket,
I’d like to get back to my book now,” said a voice in clipped
English from behind one of the chairs.

Startled, I almost dropped the book again.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was here.”

“Well, now you do. There is a perfectly nice
library downstairs where you can bother someone else.”

I bristled at his rudeness. I might have
disturbed him, but that was no reason to be nasty. I’d dealt with
too many bullies in my lifetime to let a faceless person push me
around. “Thank you for pointing that out, but I am perfectly
content here.” I moved toward the chairs near the fireplace, fully
intending to make myself at home.

With an irritated sigh, a man stood up and
came around the chairs. He was tall, and his dark auburn hair hung
in unkempt waves to his shoulders. His complexion was pale as if he
did not see much sun, but that did not take away from his handsome
aristocratic features. Hooded brown eyes glared at me, and his
mouth was turned down as he crossed his arms and blocked my
passage. I couldn’t help but notice that his pants and jacket
looked like they were from another era, and they were wrinkled and
lightly soiled.

I stared at him for several seconds, not
because I was afraid of him, but because he looked so much like
Stuart Townsend in
Queen of the Damned
. The resemblance was uncanny. I
think I smiled, which only made the man scowl even harder. After a
month of fighting with Nikolas and coming face-to-face with real
vampires, this guy was about as scary as Michael. There was
something slightly off about his stare and his disheveled
appearance, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“You must be new or you would know no one
comes up here. They prefer to use the other library. I am sure you
would be happier there.”

I met his dark gaze without wavering. “I
appreciate your concern, but I like it here.” I moved to go past
him, half expecting him to try to block me again, but he only
watched silently as I took the other chair and opened my book. I
felt his eyes burning into me for a long moment before he made a
grumbling sound and went back to his own chair.

Once he sat, the only sounds were the whisper
of pages turning and the soft cracks and pops from the fire. It was
hard to believe I was reading a first edition of one of my favorite
books, which had just been sitting on a shelf for anyone to read.
Maybe a book like this didn’t hold as much interest for people who
had been around when the book was first released. I ran my hand
along the open page and hoped I never got too old or too jaded to
appreciate things like this.

It took me a few minutes to realize I was the
only one turning pages. Something told me my companion was staring
at me again, but I was determined not to give him the satisfaction
of reacting to his behavior. If this was his attempt at scaring me
off, he’d have to try a lot harder. To prove it, I pulled my feet
up under me and prepared to lose myself in Jane’s world.

He seemed to settle down after that, and it
was another twenty minutes before I heard him shift in his chair
and make small huffing sounds. I was tempted to tell him there
could be no way I was disturbing him now, but I refused to
acknowledge him. Maybe he would give up or just go away once he
realized I was here until I was ready to leave. However, after
another ten minutes of listening to him fidget and grumble under
his breath, I was ready to throw a book at him.
And he said I was making a
racket.

“She was a beautiful woman, but always so
serious.”

His voice startled me into looking over at
him. “Excuse me?”

He waved a hand at the book I held.
“Charlotte. Most people said that Emily was the fairer one, but she
really had nothing to her older sister. Such a gifted but tragic
family.”

It took me a moment to understand what he was
saying. “You knew the Brontë sisters?” I didn’t try to keep the
disbelief out of my voice.

He looked affronted, and his voice rose a
notch. “Are you insinuating that I am lying?”

I shrugged. “I’m not insinuating
anything.”

“Still, I don’t think I like your tone.”

I turned my attention back to my book. “Then
don’t talk to me.”

He made another series of huffing sounds and
got up to go to the other side of the room. After a few minutes of
quiet I figured he had gone. I felt a little bad because I hadn’t
meant to drive him away, but I had as much right as him to use this
room. And it wasn’t like I had been disturbing him, except for
dropping the book. He looked like a twenty-year-old, but he behaved
like a crotchety old man who was put out because he couldn’t have
his way.

It surprised me when he appeared beside his
chair again with a different book in his hands. His body shook a
little as he sat, and I noticed a fine sheen of moisture on his
face.

“Are you ill?”

Apparently, that was the absolute wrong thing
to ask him. His nostrils flared and his eyes darkened even more.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he snarled, and I felt the hairs
rise up on my arms. Okay, maybe he was a little scarier than
Michael.

“It doesn’t mean anything. I just thought you
might not be feeling well.” Something told me he would not react
well to a sympathetic voice, so I kept my tone as normal as
possible.

“I am perfectly fine.”

“Good.”

“Why do you care anyway?” He still sounded
angry, but the snarl was gone at least.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s one of my many
faults.”

He was quiet again for a few minutes before
he griped, “Do you do this often, invade others’ privacy and tell
them they look awful?”

I looked up from my book again and met his
challenging stare. “As far as I know, this library is open to
anyone, and I did apologize for disturbing you. I did not say that
you looked awful, so please stop scowling at me. If I didn’t know
better, I’d say you were fishing for compliments.”

“I do not
fish
for complements.” He narrowed his eyes
at me. “You are an annoying little imp. It is no wonder you came
here instead of being with the other children. They probably can’t
abide your company.”

I stood, fed up with his churlishness and
insults. “Listen here, Lestat, you are no charmer yourself.”

“Lestat?
” His eyes widened and he jumped up,
sputtering. “Did you just compare me to a vampire – a
fictional
vampire?”

I didn’t know what had made me call him that,
but there was no taking it back. “You called me an annoying
imp.”

“Because you are annoying.”

“You’re not too much fun to be around
either.”

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out
of water. “You are an irritating person, and I am not used to
people talking to me this way.” He pulled himself up to his full
height, sounding every bit like a haughty lord. For all I knew he
was one, but that didn’t give him the right to treat people like
crap.

“If you don’t like how I talk, then don’t
talk to me. You read your book, and I’ll read mine.”

“I can’t read now. You’ve ruined it for
me.”

Good Lord, this guy would try a saint. “Then
leave if you don’t want to read.”

He looked like he was about to stomp his foot
like a little boy. “I was here first.”

I let out a heavy sigh. The man was
infuriating and rude, and I really didn’t need the aggravation.
“Fine. I’ll leave. Good night.”

“You showed up here and ruined my evening,
and now you are leaving?” Was that disappointment in his voice? I
could not understand this guy for the life of me.

“Yes.” I stopped at the door and wrinkled my
nose at him. “Something in here smells really
old
and musty. Maybe the room
just needs a good cleaning.” Turning away, I left before he could
see the satisfied smile on my face.

I barely noticed my surroundings as I walked
back to the main building from the menagerie. I still couldn’t
believe the hellhounds were here, and I had no idea what I was
going to do with them. They were huge brutes, and they growled
menacingly whenever anyone but me went near their cage. I couldn’t
leave them locked up in there forever, but Sahir was afraid – and
probably rightfully so – that they would harm someone if they were
let out. Their welfare and happiness were my responsibility now and
it weighed on me. I was determined to spend as much time as it took
to train them and make them safe for other people to be around.