Chapter Two
I GREW calmer the farther away we got, even though I soon realized none of the small towns we were passing through—Glacier, Maple Falls, Kendall—had hospitals, only small clinics that were closed at that time of night. I drove like a bat out of hell after deciding I was better off just driving the kid back to Bellingham.
A half mile after passing a gas station, I nearly came out of my skin when icy-cold fingers wrapped around my wrist.
“Oh shit!” I yelled and struggled to get control of the truck because Tiago held the other hand in an iron grip.
“Where am I?”
“One sec,” I bit off as the truck spun out in the middle of the road and came to a rocking stop, jolting us hard against our seat belts.
Once my heart was out of my throat and back in my chest, I asked as nicely as I could what the fuck he was doing.
“Did I catch you off guard?”
Understatement of the year.
He let go, and I drove the truck off the center divider, pulled over onto the dirt shoulder, and put it in Park.
It took me a few moments to get it together enough to talk to him because, for fuck’s sake, after the night I’d had, I felt like one more thing was going to splinter me into a million pieces. I didn’t have scares anymore; my life was steady nowadays, without the adrenaline rushes that came from life-and-death situations. I was out of practice.
Finally I took a breath and turned to face him. “So do you remember who I am?”
“Of course,” he assured me, scowling. “I simply lost my bearings for a moment.”
“Can you tell me what hap—”
“They bled me but did not drink because they feared that I carried him in my veins,” he announced, his beautiful face lit up in happiness. “And of course I do. He has saved me countless times over the centuries with his precious blood, but nothing of his body could ever be unclean or—” He paused as if to cut off his ramble. “They are all superstitious fools.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Who was he, and what superstitions? Centuries? I kept quiet, letting him talk, knowing shock when I heard it.
“When they learned to whom I belonged, their only thought was to drain enough of my blood that they could burn me alive so he would never know I had been there.”
I gasped, horrified.
“As if that could ever happen,” he scoffed, arrogant, voice dripping with conceit like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever said. “As though he would be unaware of my whereabouts at any given moment.”
When you pulled people out of a combat situation or saved their lives, the first things that came out of their mouths weren’t words of thanks, but a rant. Some of them were indignant, saying that whatever it was, they could have handled it. Others would just start talking about people in their lives and how they wouldn’t have liked this or that. It was like the mind protected itself by way of speaking about something familiar and safe and strong. I was thinking normal equaled whoever “he” was for Tiago.
“As though I’m not precious to him.”
“I’m sure you are,” I soothed, reaching for his cheek, wanting to comfort him. I had no clue what he was talking about. “I’m so sorry. You must’ve been so scared.” I could only imagine how much therapy he was going to need not to jump at his own shadow after being bound and attacked.
He made a noise filled with derision. “I assure you I was not frightened in the least.”
But how could he not have been?
“I would have never allowed them to actually harm me.”
I’d heard the same kind of bravado in war. Lots of guys I knew shrugged off the horrors, repressed them and ended up blindsided by a flood of emotion down the road. “I promise that you’ll have time for your mind to heal once your body—”
“I am already close to full strength,” he informed me, sounding more than a bit smug.
I really studied him, and I was amazed to see he was right. “I…. You looked like crap just a bit ago, but now you look much better.”
He sighed deeply as he gazed at me. “Though I needed it not, your first thought was to save me, Jason Thorpe, and I thank you.”
“Oh, you needed saving, all right. Your buddy Hadrian thought so too.”
The inelegant snort was interesting. “Hadrian always believes the condition of the world to be far more dire than it appears. But what can one expect from the head of the drek-kee?”
“Dre-kee” made no sense to me. But what did make sense was Hadrian clearly cared for Tiago, and how lucky Tiago was. I had no one keeping tabs on me. My parents traveled constantly; my sister had her own life with family and friends in San Diego. We weren’t connected. And a month ago, Eddie, one of my oldest friends, lost his battle with cancer. I was so very alone.
After the funeral I was in the kitchen helping clean up, and Eddie’s wife, Rachel, surprised me by stepping in front of me and taking my hand.
“Rach?”
“Jason, honey, I need to tell you something, and I need you to let me get it out.”
“Course.”
She took a breath. “You have been such a wonderful—”
“Oh, no, sweetie, you don’t have—”
“What did I say?” She pinned me with a look.
I needed to shut-up. “Sorry. G’head.”
Her smile was watery. “Goodness, but the Lord did bless me with hardheaded men.”
“Simple men,” I corrected her.
She chuckled softly and straightened up, head back, eyes on me. “I need you to know from the bottom of my heart that I appreciate everything you did for Eddie and me, from building the ramp out front for his wheelchair to staying with us for six months to drive him to all his doctor’s appointments while I was finishing up my residency, and then another four after that just to get us set up in our routine. I’ve been more than blessed,” she said, her voice cracking, tears slipping down her cheeks before she wiped them roughly away, trying so hard to remain strong. “No one could have asked for a better friend, and I hope you know that he loved you like a brother.”
I nodded, too choked up to even attempt any words.
“So—” She took another breath, quiet for a moment, composing herself. “—he left you something.”
“What is this?” I asked, taking the large manila envelope she passed me.
“You remember Eddie’s grandfather?”
“Destry Lane.” I remembered all the stories about the old man Eddie used to tell me while we were out on endless patrols. His grandfather was indelibly linked to my time in Afghanistan just by the sheer number of anecdotes I could recall. “Man should’ve been a writer with a name like that.”
“Oh, that’s very good.” She sighed because we both knew that was how Eddie began every memory of him. It was important I remembered.
“Eddie loved him so much.”
“Yes, he did,” she agreed, sniffling as she patted the envelope. “And he loved Eddie, which was why, in his will, he got his grandfather’s favorite building, and why now that very same building is yours.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Eddie wanted you to have it, to remember both him and his grandfather.”
“Rachel,” I said, tucking the envelope under my arm before taking her hands in mine. “Sweetie, I’m not about to forget your husband for the rest of my life, so please… you keep the building and—”
“No,” she insisted, shaking her head. “This is what Eddie wanted, and I’ll be damned if you get in the way of his wishes, Jason.”
“Honey, you—”
“No,” she said implacably, her face carrying so much sadness but strength as well. She was not about to bend on this. “He wanted this, and we both know that there was nothing, ever, that that man wanted that I didn’t deliver.”
It was true and went both ways. Theirs had been a love for the ages.
“So,” she said, easing the envelope out from under my arm and putting it back in my hands. “This is what he wanted, this is what I want, and this is what his folks want.”
“But you could go there and live and—”
“My life is here in Seattle, not somewhere I’ve never been.”
“Then you could sell—”
She gasped. “Oooh, how pissed would he be at you for even suggesting such a thing?”
It was true; Eddie wouldn’t have liked hearing the word sell in any sentence that had to do with his grandfather’s building.
“Just suck it up, Thorpe,” she ordered, almost growling at me. “Do what my dear sweet super-annoying husband wanted.”
“Don’t you think it should stay in the family?”
“Oh, honey, it is,” she told me, leaning in to give me a hug. “You go live in the French Quarter, and I’ll visit.”
“Rachel, I don’t deserve—”
“You so do,” she argued, stepping back to look up into my face. “And it’s time you start living your life, don’t you think?”
“What’re you talking about? I have a life.”
“Eddie didn’t seem to think so, and, I mean, he lived a lifetime since he left the Corps. You haven’t done anything at all.”
That wasn’t quite true. I had work, but coming back to the world was hard for me, even though I knew reenlisting would have been just as bad. I’d started to develop what my captain called a God complex. There were situations I thought I could handle alone, and the chances I took became problematic. The last time, after I went missing for three days because I went out alone to save a little girl and her family—which I did—they told me I could either go home or face a court-martial. My heart was in the right place, but I didn’t get to make the decisions about who I would help and when. I wasn’t kicked out… not exactly. My record was beautiful, spotless, so I could have gone into law enforcement, but it wasn’t for me.
I needed to take a step back from thinking I could save the world. I couldn’t even save Eddie Clayton.
“He didn’t need saving,” Rachel said, wiping away my tears, making me realize I’d said that last part out loud. “He just needed us by his side, and guess what… that’s exactly what he got. You and me.”
I deflated because, yeah, she was right. Whatever Eddie wanted was always for the best.
“Just think how tickled he would be to know you were there in New Orleans.”
She was right. He used to laugh at me as I bitched about the cold. After all those tours in Afghanistan, I’d gotten used to the heat. So really, if I lived, I’d pack up and go.
However, the “if” was big because, as usual, I’d gone somewhere I shouldn’t have been, and now I was sitting in my truck with a stranger I’d just rescued.
No one who knew me would have been surprised. Eddie would have shaken his head as he often had, worried about my sanity. I had a real knack for rushing headfirst into things without thinking them through. But what were you supposed to do when faced with a life-or-death situation? Sit there and analyze it?
Hardly.
It was time for that change my best friend wanted for me.
Tiago furrowed his brows as he studied me. “Why are you sad?”
I cleared my throat, trying to get my voice to function as I worked through my epiphany. “I need to make a change and… I thought about it earlier, but I just realized how important it is that I don’t wait another second.”
“Oh?”
I shook my head, smiling at the same time. “Sorry. I’m in the middle of some weird existential crisis, and you were fighting for your life. Forgive me for being a selfish prick.”
“I promise you that all your actions prove you to be the exact opposite of selfish.”
“Yeah, but you don’t wanna hear boring crap about me, and besides, I need to get you to the hospital so we can make sure that—”
“Stop,” he ordered, not allowing me to put the truck in gear, slipping his hand around my wrist and holding tight. “I assure you that I will not expire in the next few moments, and I would love to hear all about you.”
“Yeah, but you’re—”
“Please, Jason. Everything about you is riveting. Just speak with me for a time.”
My scoff was loud in the small space.
“Cross my heart.”
I checked his face, and since he really seemed to be interested and did look pretty good with his color back, and because he was just sitting there waiting, I went ahead and rambled on. “So I’m about a minute and a half away from being the neighbor that no one notices is dead.”
He shook his head. “No. Not at all. Believe me, I would notice.”
I forced a smile. “That’s sweet, but as soon as I get you taken care of—I’m in for a change.”
“Oh yes, you are,” he said, eyes widening.
“What’s wrong?”
He appeared startled. “I had not taken notice before, but now… I can smell your blood,” he said, aghast. “I thought you were one of… but you are human.”
Smell my blood? Shit. Something new I hadn’t considered. They’d drugged him. “Hey, lookit me.”
“I am unable to do anything but,” he declared, smiling slightly.
“No, I mean, open your eyes real big?”
“Whatever for?”
“Just—” I couldn’t wait and took a gentle but firm hold of his face and, with my thumbs, moved the lids so I could check his pupils. Sure enough, they were enormous. “Oh man, what’d they give you?”
“The scent of your blood is really something,” he insisted, slipping a still-icy hand around my wrist, brushing his thumb over my pulse point.
“Uh-huh,” I agreed, a new concern in my head as I let go of him, put the truck in gear, and pulled off the shoulder and back out onto the road. I was flying down the highway, again, just as I had been earlier, and didn’t care how fast I was going. If a cop stopped me—great! Whatever law enforcement pulled me over could give me an escort to the hospital, and once we were there, could take my statement at the same time. Two birds with one stone.
“Jason, why do you smell like that?”
“I just smell like me, kid.”
“Yes, but there must be a reason.”
Ignoring his ridiculous comment, wanting to keep him talking and calm, I asked, “So what were you doing with the Rothschilds that you ended up strapped to a cross?”
“Human,” he repeated as though in a daze.
“Hey,” I said loudly, wanting him to stay awake now, no more falling asleep. For all I knew, he had a concussion too. Just because I couldn’t see any damage didn’t mean there wasn’t any. “Tell me what the hell was going on.”
“I—it is a lengthy tale.”
“Well, we have a long ride, so go ahead and start,” I ordered, using the tone I used with new guys when they froze in battle. Somehow they thought because we went out on patrol with Afghan troops, they’d be safer. Nothing was further from the truth. Sadly, inevitably, they would end up hugging the wall, eyes glazed, mouths open, having just seen their buddy killed in front of them. My tone and volume got them moving again. Part power, part comfort, and they followed every time.
“The account concerns who I am,” he said, the dazed expression still all over his face.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Who are you?”
He preened, sitting up straight, flipping his hair out of his face. He was about to say something that made him feel good about himself. “I am Tiago Martín, the rhah-jon of the drah-gore’s court,” he announced haughtily.
I waited for an explanation. That was two more words that meant nothing to me, even though he certainly was all puffed up about them.
He just sat there.
“Is there more?” I prodded gently.
He snapped his head sideways so he could glare at me. “I am the trusted counselor of the prince.”
“Ah.” Prince. Now we were getting somewhere. Between what I’d seen and heard at the Rothschilds’, finding him trussed up like a sacrifice, the way those people all clustered in one place far away from town—isolated, self-sustaining with their own rules and leaders—all of that led to one conclusion.
He was part of a cult.
I was surprised it took me so long to figure it out, but again, I was out of practice with thinking on my feet, and in my defense, I had been woken from a sound sleep when I heard him screaming.
“You poor kid,” I sighed.
“I beg your pardon?” He was indignant.
I glanced over at him, and he was glowering at me, not at all pleased with my sympathy. “What?”
“Please tell me that whoever keeps you has the good sense to tell you that their prince is called the drah-gore.” He was terse, imperious, and each word was clipped.
Then the words sank in. What the hell was he talking about? “Keeps me?”
“They need to at least give you the generalities so you know your place.”
My place? “Meaning?”
“You should address me with far more regard.”
“I see.” I was placating him. I couldn’t get mad and tell him he was nuts. Clearly he’d been drugged, and I’d seen that they’d bit him or cut him, and maybe, initially, he’d been kidnapped. This could be a case of Stockholm syndrome and brainwashing…. God only knew what he’d suffered and for how long before I showed up. Certainly his brain had warped the truth of what was being done to him. He was probably really messed up. “So that word, drah-gore, is weird, huh? How’re you spelling that?”
A deep, long-suffering sigh. “Give me your mobile.”
“What? Why?”
“Just give it to me now.”
I pulled it from the breast pocket of my coat, unlocked it with my thumb, and then passed it to him.
“I will type some words for you since your education is so horrendously lacking. I can assure you that when the prince finds out that you were not even told the basics, he will be sorely vexed.”
“Vexed” was not a scary word. “Sure,” I agreed, playing along, not wanting him wound up, not wanting his adrenaline to spike and get whatever drugs were in his system pumping any faster to his heart and head.
“Very well,” Tiago said, typing into whatever app he’d opened on my phone. “This is what I am. Look at the word, I will watch the road.”
He turned the screen so I could see he’d typed the word “rajan.”
“And that’s you?”
“That is my title, yes.”
“It’s a pretty word.”
“It is,” he agreed. “And there are many others, and you will need to know them all as they are of great importance.”
“No doubt in my mind.”
He had drah-gore as draugr and drek-kee—whatever it was he’d referred to earlier—as dreki, and he spelled out the word rekkr—“reck-ur,” which he said I should know because that’s what Hadrian was.
“He’s a good guy,” I chimed in.
“He follows all the rules.”
The way he said it, with an eye roll that I caught as I glanced at him, told me what he thought of that. “And why is that such a bad thing?”
He gave me a dismissive wave; evidently the subject of Hadrian was closed.
“So tell me what you do as the rajan.”
“Well,” he began, brightening, happy, it seemed, to talk about his place in the cult. “A rajan is quite similar to an ambassador. I always precede when meeting a new clan or when the prince has a question for a clan that needs answering.”
“So you go somewhere, maybe take a gift, and make the introductions for your boss.”
“Yes,” he said, beaming at me, “precisely.”
“But you have backup so nobody hurts you, and that’s Hadrian.”
“Yes, if I do not return within a set amount of time, the prince sends Hadrian, the rekkr—the leader of his dreki—after me.”
So that was dreki. The prince’s guard. “Which explains why he was looking for you.”
“Well, it’s great that the prince sent him and all, but maybe you should just have them travel with you from now on.”
“I—no! They are all animals. I could not possibly spend vast amounts of time with them.”
The disgust he was trying to convey didn’t come off as genuine. He was protesting a bit too much. I bet he was into one of the guys and, for whatever reason, didn’t want to cop to it.
“You have a question?”
“No. I just think if you traveled with them, maybe you wouldn’t get hurt.”
“I assure you that I was far from hurt, only momentarily drained.”
I shot him a look.
That put-upon sigh again. “I am sure it appeared quite catastrophic to your untrained eyes.”
“Again, I’m gonna bring up the chains and the blood and the part where you were turning blue out there, and finally I’ll come back around to Hadrian because he was concerned as well.”
“It is his station! What do you expect?” Tiago retorted, his temper flaring. “He frets like an old woman.”
Ah. So Hadrian was his guy. “I really liked him,” I threw in, just so he’d know.
“I cannot possibly be expected to discuss Hadrian with—Jason,” he said, wrapping his hand around my forearm again, holding tight. “I desire to know all about you.”
Who cared about me? I was nobody; he was the one running from crazy cult people. I was going to say that, try to jog his brain into the real world and start pummeling him with questions, but I wasn’t a trained psychiatrist, and I was thinking he would need one. Me trying to get any real answers out of him would be a total waste of time.
“Jason?”
“Yes,” I said gently, still worried he was hurt more than he thought.
“Some strange aura surrounds you, something I cannot quite place, and… even though it is forbidden, I want to drink from you to see what you are. Would you allow that?”
Drink from? “You mean drink with,” I corrected, grimacing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. Even though you look and sound much better than you did, we still need to get you to the hospital,” I advised.
“You are indeed odd.”
I’d been called much worse.
“Jason.”
“Yeah?”
“You—” He cleared his throat. “You feel no compulsion to do as I ask, do you.”
I squinted at him. “No, because I know what you need, and that’s to be seen by a doctor.”
“I—”
“You were assaulted and God knows what else,” I said sadly. “I’m thinking they must’ve drugged you, which is what accounts for your present condition and state of mind, but we won’t know ’til we get you seen.”
He murmured something under his breath.
“What was that?”
A quiet cough. “Normally all comply with my requests before those requests even turn into commands, but you… you are completely impervious to me.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” I tried to soothe him, patting his chest gently. “I just wanna help you if you’ll let me.”
“But I do not need your help. What I need is to know what you are!”
The poor kid was a mess, and I was pretty sure he was still scared out of his mind. I needed to make him feel more secure. “Listen, I’m not gonna leave your side until we get this all figured out, all right?”
He seemed confused. “Jason, are you actually still worried about me, even after I told you who I am?”
“Of course.”
“Extraordinary,” he breathed.
“You’re just a kid. You need someone to look out for you.”
A moment of silence.
“Pardon me, what did you say?”
I groaned. “Sorry, sorry. Young man. I meant to say ‘young man.’”
“For your edification, I am not a child!”
“Yeah, but—how old are you? Seventeen? Eighteen?”
“I am a millennium old,” he intoned icily, trying to use a big voice on me.
I nodded, certain he felt ancient after the ordeal he’d been through. Even beyond that, he was still a teenager with all the drama and angst that came along with being that age. “I’m sure it feels like that sometimes, but—”
His laughter surprised me. When I glanced over, his smile, so big and bright, surprised me too. “Jason Thorpe,” he sighed, “whatever under heaven are you?”
“I don’t know what you’re asking me.”
“I know!” he half yelled in frustration. “I have never met nor seen nor even heard of anything such as you, and yet here you sit.”
I concentrated on the road. If I focused on him and how me just being nice to him was such a revelation, it would make me sick. If basic human kindness and concern was this big a deal, I could only imagine how awful he’d been treated. I was betting his “prince,” whoever the guy really was, wasn’t so great after all.
“Jason, I am as healed by your proximity as I have ever been by blood, and all I want now is to taste of you so I might know if you are human, as I suspect, or something else altogether.”
“I’m as human as you are, buddy.”
He laughed again, more shrill this time, and I was certain he was actually deep in shock.
“Are you still cold?” I asked, pulling off the highway again, then taking off my coat once I’d put the truck into Park.
“No, I am not cold at all! Why on Earth would I be cold?”
But he had to be. I was, and he was tiny, with zero body fat. He had no natural insulation at all, and the karate gi thing wasn’t doing anything for him. His hands, when he touched me, were still icy. I had the heater going full blast, but apparently it wasn’t enough to warm him up. “Here, I wanna put this over you, all right?”
“Absolutely not. I have no need for your off-the-rack outerwear,” he protested, face scrunched up like he’d bitten into a lemon. “What is the origin of this garment?”
“It’s pleated corduroy, and would you just—here, lemme tuck it around you.”
“I am not—I cannot be observed in this jacket! I only wear couture and… I would be the laughingstock of court should anyone see me!”
“I’m not gonna take a picture of you in it. I just want you to stay warm and—no, not halfway down your chest, put it up under your chin,” I directed, using my coat to wrap him up like a burrito. “Now you just rest, all right? We’ll be there soon.”
“You are the most infuriating man! You are not listening to me at all,” he grumbled, pouting, the epitome of a pissed-off kitten. He really couldn’t have been any cuter. “I have slaughtered thousands.”
“I’m sure you have,” I said, brushing the golden waves of his hair out of his face before pulling the truck back out onto the road.
He growled, and I couldn’t stifle my chuckle.
“For your information, the reason they bled me was because they feared me.”
“Of course they did.”
“You placate me, and I will not have it!”
I shouldn’t have asked, but I had to know some details about the cult for when I eventually talked to the police. “So do you know, are the people you were with one giant group, or do they belong to different chapters, and there’s a head of all of them?”
His groan of disgust was loud.
“What? I’m just trying to get it straight in my head.”
“Your head will only be straight one way, and that will be when you speak to my prince,” he informed me. “I will say this: had the Rothschilds not attacked me, they would have been owed a debt by my prince.”
“And why’s that?”
“Had you not been there among them, I would never have found you, and thus he, too, would be absent of your presence in his life.”
“Who would be ‘absent of my presence’?” I asked.
“My prince.”
His prince again. Poor kid, they had him totally buying all this bullshit.
“Listen to me. You must—”
“Why don’t you tell me about him?” I suggested, wanting him to stop working himself up. “I’d love to hear about your boss.”
“He is not my boss,” he insisted. “He is my lord.”
“Sorry,” I said, attempting to mollify him. “Go on.”
“You will be his—of that I am sure—because you possess some innate power that healed me, and that sort of strength must only be meant for my prince. Of this I am certain.”
I changed tactics. “So what were you doing up there? Just seeing if the Rothschilds wanted to join your clan thing?”
He rolled his eyes. “No. I was investigating charges leveled by a member of the Rothschilds’ household that they were killing young men sent there from other clans.”
“Oh my God.” I was horrified, I jolted in my seat and veered in my lane, unable to control my reaction. Luckily there were no other cars around. “Why didn’t whoever just call the police if they suspected something so horrible?”
“We handle these things ourselves,” he explained. “That is the purview of the prince.”
“I see. Then you were sent here by the prince, and when you arrived, they jumped you?”
“Basically yes.”
“I heard you screaming,” I said, remembering the high-pitched howl that reminded me of war. The memory had rousted me from sleep in an instant. “I got to you as quick as I could.”
“I know, Jason, and I am well pleased.”
I got choked up. The poor kid really needed a keeper. “You mentioned that they were superstitious?” I needed to change the subject before I offered to adopt him.
“Yes. They believed my blood tainted by the prince. They bit me many times but did not drink.”
The drinking-his-blood part didn’t surprise me. I’d seen the evidence myself. “Do you think it’s true, then, what the people reported to you guys, that they were killing young men at their house?”
“I do, yes.”
Something I heard earlier that night clicked into place. “So Hadrian’s there now rounding up Mr. and Mrs. Rothschild and whoever else and taking them to see the prince?”
His wrinkled brow made him look confused. “Is that what he said he was doing?”
“He said he was gathering up the heads of the clan to take to the prince.”
“Oh! Yes,” Tiago replied, sounding like I’d cleared something up for him. Again, weird, but the whole night had been, so it was par for the course. “That’s precisely what he’s doing.”
“How many young men did they say were killed?”
“Three.”
“Jesus,” I breathed, sickened by the thought. I forced my attention back to the road. “Tell me what happens now. Do you go to the police?”
“No, as I said, we address incidents of this excess ourselves.”
“And you have the jurisdiction to do that?”
“The prince does, yes,” he confirmed, “and therefore Hadrian.”
“So the prince sends you out to investigate, you report back, and he acts?”
“In the normal way of things, yes, but not in this instance.”
“Well, no,” I agreed. “This time you getting jumped and then nearly killed basically answers any questions of guilt about the Rothschilds,” I concluded, and at the same time, it hit me that this whole thing, with me being there, was nuts. Eddie was right. Weird shit always happened to me no matter where I was.
“Even had they not acted so stupidly,” Tiago explained, “the prince would have divined the truth. He always does.”
I could hear the respect and awe in his voice.
“He always makes the eminently wise decision,” he added as an afterthought.
“Is that why you work for him? Because he’s a good man?”
“I do not work for him, I serve him, and yes, he is a very good man.”
As I thought about everything Tiago had said, I realized it wasn’t really right, not based on his previous explanation of what he did. “But you don’t really serve him, though, do you? You’re more of an advisor, aren’t you? More his friend?”
Tiago was quiet for so long I finally turned to check on him. The stunned look on his face told me perhaps I’d hit the nail on the head.
“T?”
Slow pan to me. “T?”
“Sorry,” I amended quickly. “Tiago.”
He moved his hand to my thigh. The touch was hesitant but tender. “I—no one has ever dared to show such familiarity toward me.”
“Well, I promise I—”
“No, you misunderstand,” he whispered. “It was surprisingly dear.”
I grinned at him, and he flushed again before putting his face down in my jacket, inhaling deeply like he was steadying himself. I really felt sorry for the freak-out coming his way. Once his adrenaline burned off, he was in for quite the crash.
“Please continue.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I—” he began hoarsely, his voice bottoming out. “My prince has often insisted I am more than an emissary, but I—I never believed him.”
“Maybe second-guessing him isn’t such a good idea, huh?”
He fell quiet for several long breaths. “Perhaps.”
“If he says you mean something more to him than as his ambassador, that he thinks of you as a friend—couldn’t hurt to believe him.”
He nodded slowly.
I really hoped some part of what he was telling me about the cult was positive. If the prince turned out to be a guy who was a true horror, that meant Tiago, in turn, would be even more screwed up for having put his faith in a monster. I was scared for him, and of the fallout—for his mind, his psyche—if what I was afraid was true actually was. But maybe there was someone above this prince of his.
“May I ask a question?”
“Certainly.”
“Is the prince the supreme authority?”
“I do not understand your question.”
“I mean, does he just decide on a sentence and carry it out, or are there more checks and balances in your cul—clan?” I corrected fast, hoping he missed the slip.
“Only him.”
“Then does he get to decide whatever punishment he wants?”
“Yes.”
“Anything?”
“Yes.”
That was too much control for one person. Tiago needed out of this cult yesterday. “Does he say who lives or dies?”
“Of course.”
“How? I don’t understand. Why would you people give him that much power?”
“We give him nothing. He is the prince. He leads; we follow.”
That was so much worse. “But people shouldn’t blindly follow any—”
His long sigh interrupted me. “Herein lies the problem. You believe me to be speaking about people, and I am not. Were I, then you would be correct, as no one human in your world is allowed to mandate who lives or dies.”
“How about the court system and—”
“I mean a single voice of judge, jury, and executioner.”
“Absolutely not.”
“But my prince does, as he rules over no one in the human world.”
So we were back to this, to me being human and him being… not. “Human world?” I broached the subject even though I shouldn’t have. I really needed to leave all of this to a qualified medical professional, but I was so curious about what had gone on at the Rothschilds’.
He ignored my question. “I am not speaking now of human laws, but of our laws. And even though your clan has been sorely negligent by ignoring your education in many areas—you know naught of the prince!—I can assure you that in our world, the prince is the lawmaker, charged with meting out justice when the laws are not followed.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” I sighed, saddened just thinking about the shock the kid was in for. His whole world was going to come crashing down around him once he got a big dose of reality. I hoped he had a family somewhere, people who were missing him and still loved him. If not, maybe I could visit him in the hospital.
“I know you do not,” he said, returning my attention to him. “Perhaps I might explain it all to you on the plane home to Malta.”
“Sure, kid.” Oh, he was so out of it. Now he was planning for both of us to escape to another country.
“I assure you I—”
“You need to be checked out and maybe stay a couple of days before you get on that plane home,” I said, trying to appease him. I had no right to burst his bubble—that was for other people to do. What I could do was be his friend. “Do me a favor. Could you give me the names and phone numbers of any family I can contact?”
He shook his head. “There is only the prince. I lost my parents a lifetime ago.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said and reached out to pet him again, my hand in his hair, scratching his head for a second before I let him go.
“You have a very soft heart.”
I grunted.
“You do. I know. I have met millions of people in my centuries.”
“Yeah, well.” I brushed him off. “I—”
“But more importantly, you are very pleasing to the eye.”
My snort was self-deprecating, and the way he looked at me, as though stunned, made me choke out a laugh.
“No one is ever allowed to disbelieve my word!”
“I’m not. I just think it’s funny that you complimented my heart and then had it take a back seat to what I look like. That’s funny, don’t you think?”
It amused me that he was trying to give me compliments on my appearance at all. Here he was, an angel who’d fallen to Earth, and on the other hand… there was me. I put the A in average. Brown hair, brown eyes, slightly tan skin from a Native American ancestor somewhere in the family tree, and muscles first built up in high school football as a free safety and then later, in the Corps, by carrying a pack that weighed more than some people and endless hours of weight training when not on patrol. Being a contractor made me even more bulky; I carried materials up and down ladders, swung a hammer, worked with power tools. So other than my body, which Tiago couldn’t see, the rest of me was downright forgettable.
“You dare laugh at me?”
I scoffed. I couldn’t help it. I had seen puppies scarier than him.
“You—”
“The kindness in your heart should be more important than anything, right?” I teased. “I mean, certainly more important than whatever the hell’s on the outside.”
“I should eviscerate you,” he muttered.
I patted his knee. “I’m not trying to annoy you, I promise.”
When he turned and I caught the glower, or what was supposed to be him all dark and deadly, I coughed to cover my chuckle.
“I swear to you that there are horrific accounts written about my wrath!”
“I have no doubt.” He was getting loopier by the second. He was really adorable with his sharp elfin features, porcelain skin, enormous violet eyes, and full dark red lips. I would bet he drove all the boys and girls wild.
I returned my attention to the road, and after another few miles, when I checked, he was fast asleep.
Big and scary, my ass.
AN HOUR later I pulled into the St. Joseph Hospital parking lot in Bellingham, parked, and then took off my seat belt, ready to get out.
“Wait.”
I was pleased to see Tiago awake, alert and staring at me.
“Let’s go in, all right?” I said softly, gently. “They’re nice here. This is where I came after I got hit by a drunk driver.”
“You were—when was this?”
I dismissed the question. “Years ago, now c’mon,” I said before I got out.
Strangely when I locked my door and turned to go around the truck to get him out, he was there beside me.
I jolted, couldn’t hide it, and took a step back, my mind scrambling, tripping over itself, to justify his speed.
It was much too fast.
No one should have been able to do that, not with the laws of physics and all.
I should have seen him. It should have taken several moments to get around the truck, even scrambling as fast as I knew I could do it, considering my training. There was just no way.
And yet he’d done it.
I stood there and stared.
When he took a step forward, I took one back.
“Now you are afraid?” He sounded incredulous.
I took another step away from him. I wasn’t scared, but I was… wary. There had to be an explanation, and I started cycling through options. Maybe I’d been hit with something too. Maybe the bonfire was full of weed I hadn’t noticed and I’d been stoned this entire time. Perhaps what he was saying would have made sense if I were in my right mind. I didn’t feel like I was out of it, but then what accounted for his movement? “I’m not sure” was all I could say because I really wasn’t.
He rushed me and took my face in his hands, and most unnerving of all, his skin was still cold on mine. It focused my attention back on his welfare. He wasn’t well, wasn’t himself, and probably neither was I. Maybe my own crashing adrenaline was playing tricks on my mind. But I didn’t matter. What was important was him and getting him inside to see a doctor.
I reached to move his hands. “Okay, let’s—”
“Forgive me,” he said with a wince but didn’t let go. “But I need you to come with me, and I must gain your agreement before the others arrive.”
“The others?” I said, latching on to his words.
“Hadrian and the dreki.”
“Oh,” I said. Now I understood what the holdup on seeing a doctor was. “Will you go into the ER if they’re here? Are you scared?”
“No, I—”
“Because if you’re more comfortable with your guys instead of me, I get it,” I clarified for him. “That’s completely understandable.”
“I am not entering that facility, Jason.”
I was still scared for him, knew he needed to be seen. “So what, then,” I snapped, pulling free of his hands, scowling. “You let me waste my time driving you down here when you had no intention of going in?”
“I told you so,” he asserted, taking another step closer.
“The hell you did!” I yelled, backpedaling from him, recoiling. “You need to—”
“Jason—”
“You’re more hurt than you know.”
“No!” he maintained, glaring at me. “I am not injured at all. That is not a concern at the moment. I only need gain your permission—for somehow I can do nothing without it—to take you with me.”
“Tiago—”
“No,” he snarled, and then he took a breath, visibly willing himself under control. “Agree now to accompany me!”
I put several more feet between us. “Listen—”
“No, you must listen,” he rasped, and I saw it then, the pain in his eyes, and heard the frustration and pleading when he spoke. “I beg you. The dreki come even now, and the protocol resulting from an attack upon me is to deliver me to the prince immediately. They will not listen to reason, and only my prince will hear me, but I will not see him for days, and—if you agree, they will convey you as well, but without your accord, I will be forced to leave you, and then—”
“You’re saying your own guys are going to kidnap you and take you home?”
“Not kidnap, but… yes,” he conceded.
“Because they’re worried about you, and they’re going to take you to a safe place to get all checked out?”
“They have no fear for my present well-being, purely for my continued safety.”
I couldn’t have been more relieved.
Whatever the situation was, I’d misunderstood the role the prince played. Yes, he was apparently some high-ranking—if not the highest-ranking—person in the cult, but within the organization, one of the rules was his people stayed safe. I still worried for Tiago’s long-term mental health in this situation, though my immediate concern was his physical health. What it sounded like to me was the prince would also be concerned, and therefore it fell to Hadrian to see to Tiago’s safety. If the plan was to take Tiago home and get him rested and well, then who was I to argue? It didn’t look like I was going to be successful in my attempts to get him into the hospital, so having Hadrian take custody of him seemed like the next best thing.
I saw him realize what he’d actually said to me, his reaction washing over his features, and something between awareness and dread filled his eyes. “No, no, no, Jason, listen to—”
“I’m still not sure about this prince of yours because of what you said earlier about him deciding who lives and dies, but I also know that you are really fuckin’ out of it, so I’m not totally sure if you know what you’re saying or not.”
“Jason!”
“Hadrian seemed like a good guy, not really a brainwashed cult member—not that I’ve met any cult members, so I could be wrong on that front as well, but—”
“Jason, I beg of—”
“But,” I said, lowering my voice, trying to soothe him, not mad anymore about him not going in because, as it turned out, he would be taken care of anyway. “I do appreciate that this prince of yours seems to really care about his people.”
Two huge black SUVs came speeding into the parking lot, tires screeching, throwing up the water left on the ground from the snow that had fallen earlier in the evening.
“Jason,” Tiago implored, moving too fast again, crowding me, hands on my chest as he stared into my eyes. “I need you to meet my prince. He will be ill that I could not bring you with me and furious at himself for giving the order that the dreki listen to no one but him.”
“I’m not going with you,” I made clear, squeezing his shoulder as I stepped free. “But please take care of yourself. You take too many chances.”
“I have never ‘taken a chance’ in my life!” he roared, and I couldn’t help but smile.
The ridiculously big SUVs parked at each side of my truck. Hadrian was out of a passenger side door fast, and when he saw me, his eyebrows jumped, and he snapped his head up before I got a smile. “You yet still live?”
“Don’t sound so shocked,” I groused.
His laugh was deep and throaty, and I liked the sound. Then two men in black grabbed Tiago and pushed him into the back of one of the SUVs.
“Jason!” Tiago screamed as the door slammed shut and the SUV took off. Three men remained with Hadrian.
“You’ll keep him safe, yeah?” I directed at Hadrian.
He put his hand over his heart, just as he’d done earlier. “I can do no less, Jason Thorpe.”
“Good. He needs a keeper.”
“Agreed.”
I held out my hand to him. “Have a safe trip home.”
The men around us appeared surprised, and I was clueless as to why.
Hadrian took a quick breath. “You would take my hand?”
If I’d met him at a bar, I’d take a lot more than that. Tall, dark, and handsome did not do him justice, and with that accent now warming his voice….
“Of course,” I replied, shelving my interest, still holding out my hand. “C’mere.”
He grabbed hold and squeezed tight, covering our joined hands with his other, smiling at me, his eyes crackling almost amber in the reflected glow of the overhead lights.
“You take care,” I said, taking a step back when he let me go.
“And you, Jason Thorpe, the blessings of the goddess be upon you.”
“Thank you,” I said, genuinely pleased, appreciating all the kind words I could get.
As I watched them all get into the SUV, I wondered how long it would take me to get to New Orleans. I was so overdue for a change, and if this latest run-in with crazy had taught me anything, it was that life was to be seized, not trudged through.
It was time to join the land of the living.