Shadow Keepers: Midnight (11 page)

And to make it worse, she was waiting in the blue room. Was it intentional, she wondered? Had Tiberius asked Mrs. Todd to put her here, in her old office? Of course he had—he never did anything without a purpose. This was his way of reminding her that she wasn’t welcome.

She moved around the room, memories burned deep rising to the surface. The hours they’d spent planning together. The mornings when he’d join her, agitated about some political miasma, and she’d pull him down onto her couch, abandoning the comfort of their bedroom for the quick necessity of right then, right there.

She remembered it all, and it had been right here.

But that was almost twenty years ago, and her things were gone, the furnishings changed. Even the walls were a different color, and the bright Mondrian canvases to which she’d been so partial had been replaced by more somber Wyeths, giving the room an almost sleepy atmosphere where once it had been so vibrant it practically hummed.

She wondered how quickly he’d changed things after he’d kicked her out, because that had certainly happened with head-spinning speed. For four months she’d been okay. She’d sneak off when the full moon taunted, sliding out of the mansion and heading to a warehouse she’d rented, well stocked with chains and locks. She’d ride the change out, her body ripped apart, the need for the kill eating her up inside as hours seemed to stretch into centuries.

And then it would be over, and she’d sneak back and park herself behind her desk in this very room and pretend that everything was business as usual.

Four months.

For four entire months that had been the way she’d operated, trying to work up the courage to tell Tiberius the truth, at the same time knowing she never could.

And then she’d gotten sloppy. Or maybe she’d just underestimated him.

A shrink would probably say she wanted to get caught, but that wasn’t true.

Not that it mattered; the end result was the same—he’d become suspicious. He’d followed. And he’d seen firsthand what she became.

Not that she’d realized it at the time. Back then, she didn’t know how to remain herself during the change. But she’d chained herself up good and strong, and he’d been smart enough not to come close.

He’d heard the stories about hybrids, after all.

She’d headed back home in blissful ignorance, certain she’d gotten away with it one more month.

How wrong she’d been.

She’d understood why he was angry. He’d told her about his past, and she understood why he hated werens to a degree that surpassed even the usual animosity between vamps and werens in the Shadow world.

She’d known that; she’d understood it. She’d known there would be a huge blowup.

She’d known that it would be hard and horrible.

Yet in the back of her heart she hadn’t expected him to kick her out. How could he, after everything they’d been through together? He was her life, and he had been for centuries.

But he had, and her last lingering bit of naïveté had died in that moment.

She pressed her fingers to her temples and silently cursed. She seriously needed to get out of this room. She didn’t want to think, she wanted to hit. To pound out her frustrations. She punched the air once, twice, and decided it was time to burn off some of the shit that was stirring inside her. She headed toward the door. Hopefully Tiberius’s stint at redecorating hadn’t run to eliminating or moving the gym.

More important, she thought as she eased up next to the door, she hoped he hadn’t put a guard outside her room.

She paused, her fingertips grazing the wood as she listened for movement outside. She heard it, and bit back a curse. He really
had
assigned a guard. Wasn’t that just the most fucked-up—

The scent
.

Slowly, quietly, she stepped closer, her chin tilted up, her nostrils flaring as she breathed in.

She knew it—knew him.

Tiberius was there, beyond the door.

Carefully she moved closer, her blood pounding in her veins, some emotion she didn’t want to name sweeping over her. Desire? Surely not. Anger? Maybe.

Curiosity?

Slowly she pressed her hand to the wood. That was when she heard it. More accurately, she felt it. The slightest intake of breath as if in reflex. And then a hint of warmth permeating the wood. Nothing a human would notice. But she wasn’t a human.

And neither was Tiberius.

Quickly she yanked her hand away, hating that she’d revealed even the slightest weakness to him, not caring in the slightest that her weakness had been his as well.

He’d find a way to turn it around on her. He always did, after all.

Frustrated, she headed back toward the desk. No way she was leaving the room now, not with him right outside the door.

She was just about to give in to temptation and call Gunnolf when her phone rang. She snatched it up, saw that it was Orion, and answered.

“I just heard,” he said. “Where are you?”

“Heard?”

“About—” He hesitated, and that was all she needed to know. He’d heard about Reinholt’s murder.

“Don’t say it.”

“Am I an idiot?” he retorted.

She had to smile. Richard Erasmus Orion III was her nephew, cousin, something like that. Whatever he was, it was a billion times removed. Point was, he was family. The only family she had left, for that matter.

More important, he knew what she was. And he alone knew what she’d done.

“I can’t talk right now,” she said.

“Where are you? And are you all right?”

“I’m with Tiberius.”

The silence hung long and heavy. Finally Orion cleared his throat. “So I ask again: Are you all right?”

She wanted to come up with a profound response. Something that illustrated just how
not
all right she was. But the words wouldn’t come. “Sure,” she said simply, and knew that she hadn’t fooled him when he swore softly under his breath.

“Like hell. What can I do?”

“Same as always—nothing you can do.”

“Caris—”

“No. I’m sorry, but you know it’s true. I appreciate the thought, I’m glad you’ve got my back, and all the rest of that warm, fuzzy bullshit. But ultimately it’s just me out here with my ass swinging in the air.”

“Least it’s a hot ass,” he said with a growl.

She couldn’t help her laugh. “I’m your cousin, you perv.”

“Aunt, I think, and I’m pretty sure we’ve passed the levels of consanguinity that make that sort of thing illegal.”

“Dammit, Orion, I’m trying to hang on to this pisser of a mood.”

“Go work it off,” he said. “Beat up some unsuspecting flunky or something.”

“You really do know me too well.”

She realized as she tossed the phone onto the bed that she meant it, and that the smile on her lips was genuine. Orion and Gunnolf—a human and a werewolf. The last time she stood in this room she never would have believed that the two people she depended on most in the world were so very unlike herself.

At least things were never dull.

And, yeah, she needed a workout.

She headed back to the door, expecting that Tiberius would be gone by now, surprised to find that he was still there. That scent. That heat.

Had he heard her conversation, heard her laughing?

She hoped so. She pressed her hand against the wood and hoped to hell he believed she was happy. Because she damn sure didn’t intend to let him see her pain.

But it wasn’t only her pain that filled the room like a sour stench. She sensed his as well, her senses no longer merely vampyric but something more.
She could feel it—raw emotion
. Pain and anger, but also longing. And, yes, that hint of regret. For a moment her throat tightened, and she realized she was watching the door handle, waiting for it to turn, cursing herself because she wanted it to.

And then cursing him when it didn’t.

Outside, Tiberius closed his eyes and drew back his hand. His fingers had almost closed around the brass knob. He’d almost gone in. He’d let the pull of what they’d once had overshadow the reality that lay between them.

He couldn’t do that.

He couldn’t do it back then. He couldn’t do it now.

And so he turned and walked away.