A FEW DAYS LATER, ON a Thursday night, Ryan pulled up to a nondescript apartment building in nearby Sacramento. I knew because I was sitting in the car with him. After he refused to let me accompany him to Clair’s house, I had shared with him my newfound ability to see things in other rooms of the house, even if I wasn’t there. He didn’t believe me at first, but after I showed him what I had been able to see with Ivy and Sam fighting about me, he changed his mind. Suddenly, despite the risk that we may have been walking into a trap, Ryan was happy for me to keep watch in the car while he confronted Clair.
It was pretty nice digs for a college student. The girl obviously had money, or a rich vampire–daddy renting her a sweet pad. The navy cashmere sweater Ryan wore was just loose enough to conceal the G23 Glock, his favorite pistol, in the waistband of his pants. If Clair turned out to be a problem, well, the bullets in that gun were enough to blow her head clean off. Not that I really wanted to think about that, but he had gleefully gone into graphic detail on the drive over. Thanks for that.
Ryan adjusted his sweater to fall just right over the Glock that sat sandwiched between his belt and the small of his back. The street was pretty quiet. After a final glance my way, he got out of the car and stood dead still next to it. I knew that he could hear the slightest branch break underfoot half a mile away. I watched as his keen eyes scanned the bank of windows at the front of the apartment block, taking in minute details in each apartment, like seams on curtains and shopping lists stuck to refrigerator doors. The curtains in Clair’s apartment were drawn shut, and neither of us could see anything other than the soft glow of mood lighting behind the heavy drapes. He sniffed the air, taking in freshly mown grass on the nature strip, engine oil dripping from the car in front of his, the damp smell of a nearby dog.
Nothing appeared suspicious. It felt fine—which worried Ryan and made me uneasy. It was much better to walk into an ambush when you knew it was there, I supposed. This picture of normality was evidently something he was not accustomed to.
Clair’s apartment was on the third floor. Ryan crossed the street and entered the foyer casually. Onlookers wouldn’t have been able to catch it, but I had watched as he broke the lock on the door to gain access rather than buzz Clair’s apartment. I guessed that the element of surprise was something a vampire held in high regard, especially when a potential trap was involved.
After he disappeared from my sight, I closed my eyes and breathed steadily, letting my other senses take over. Pretty soon a picture started to unfold in my mind’s eye. I found it interesting that, as well as seeing what Ryan was doing, I could feel what he was feeling and sense what he was thinking. It was almost exactly like the visions he had shared with me—only now we were operating in real time. It was a vision in technicolor, streaming live.
It must be the bond.
The foyer was empty, and Ryan immediately turned towards the stairwell. Elevators were just asking for trouble when one was being cautious—they could trap a vampire easily and permanently. It didn’t help that they were normally made of steel and were essentially moveable prison cells that could seal you in and make you undetectable even to a powerful witch like Ivy. It was safer just to take the stairs, and when you lived forever, you could spare the extra few minutes.
Ryan took the stairs two at a time, his arms loose by his sides and ready to react to danger. He sprang forward on the balls of his feet, making it easier to move quickly if required. He had ceased all breathing upon leaving the car, using the extra quiet to open up his supernatural senses and really listen to his surroundings.
Humans were noisy. Ryan was lucky though; he had lived for so long, he was able to filter noise in a way most younger vampires would find impossible. He heard, processed and discarded noises such as people talking, doors opening and closing, a dishwasher humming, someone talking on the phone. I felt him concentrate as he let his supernatural senses reach Clair’s apartment, and he listened for what he might find.
Upon reaching the third floor landing, he hesitated briefly. He could hear Clair’s breathing, and her slightly elevated heart rate. She was nervous; about a first date or something more sinister, he couldn’t tell. She was fussing in the kitchen by the sounds of things, putting groceries or dishes away perhaps. There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the apartment.
Seemingly satisfied with his initial scan of the building, he exited the stairwell and made his way down the hallway. Clair’s apartment was right next to the stairs, a detail that did not escape his attention. Was it just a coincidence, or had she chosen to stay there because the stairwell offered a quick escape in case of a crisis?
A crisis like a vampire coming to kill her?
He knocked on her door three times and stood back and to the side. If she was going to try anything through the door—like, say, a shotgun or a spell—he would be safely out of the way. He heard footsteps, a lock turning, and then she was standing in front of him with a smile. Both Ryan and I were struck by how pretty she was. Her eyes were big and blue, her hair the color of straw and pulled up in a messy bun.
“Hi,” she said radiantly, and he was struck by her effervescence and charm once again. “You’re early.”
He was half an hour early. It always helped to show up before the enemy expected you, if indeed she was the enemy. If not, she could be a good time for a few hours, maybe something to snack on if the night grew long. He had no doubt of his ability to get her into bed. He could be very persuasive.
I should know. I cringed at his blasé attitude towards munching on the poor girls neck and wondered if he knew his every thought was being streamed directly into my brain. He probably did. It was typical Ryan.
He greeted her with a hello and a kiss on each cheek, immediately noticing the Asphodel flower still in her hair. On closer inspection, I could see that it wasn’t an orchid at all. It had the same basic structure as an orchid, but each white petal had a single pinkish line straight down the middle. Thin stalks rose from the middle of the flower, each topped with a cluster of bright orange pollen. It burned Ryan’s nostrils and made his eyes water, and in the car I wiped at my own eyes as they, too, began to brim with water. He made a mental note to get the flower away from her, somehow. I hoped he did. It was stirring up my allergies so badly my skin was starting to crawl.
Ryan handed Clair a bottle of wine and stepped inside her apartment. It looked like it had been put together by an interior designer, with not a single thing out of place. He smiled to himself as he realized why he had been attracted to this girl in the first place. It was her striking resemblance to Ivy, and it seemed the similarity ran more than skin deep. Clair seemed to be a neat freak as well.
He followed her into the kitchen, taking a moment to once again appreciate her ass as she opened the wine with speed and efficiency. Had she worked at a bar? No, he mused, she’s too young. But somehow she operated a corkscrew with skill beyond her youth.
“So,” Clair said, pouring them both a glass of wine and hoisting herself onto the bench. “Was that your sister with you today?”
So she had noticed me. I heard Ryan wonder if she had noticed what I was. And it hit him, for the first time, that Caleb didn’t know that Ryan had Turned me. For all he knew, I was still a human hostage and Ryan was on a bloodthirsty vacation. He was thankful he’d moved the heart to a new hiding spot before leaving the house for his date. After all, it could be that Caleb had zero interest in getting me back, and was only interested in the heart in the jar. He stiffened momentarily, aware that I’d probably shared this revelation as he was having it.
I sat bolt upright in the car. He seemed worried that I might have heard what he was thinking about. There was no point pretending I hadn’t been eavesdropping on his every thought.
We’ll talk about it later, I addressed him through our bond.
“She’s just a friend,” Ryan answered Clair, swirling his wine and subtly sniffing for any signs the glass was smeared with poison. It seemed clean, so he took a tiny sip.
“Cool,” Clair said, her wine untouched. “I thought she might be your girlfriend or something.” She blushed a little, and Ryan thought it was a great point of the conversation to test her honesty. With vampiric speed, he stood in front of the bench, his eyes millimetres from hers. My head was still spinning from how quickly he had moved, when he plucked the flower from her hair. He swore as it burned his fingers and threw it down on the bench.
Clair appeared shocked, and I went still as Ryan focused all of his attention on the pretty blonde girl who was most likely going to try and kill him tonight. He had met assassins before. None of them had lived long enough to remember meeting him, though.
“What’s your real name?” he pressed, compelling her with his voice and his eyes. His voice was irresistible. I felt sorry for her if she was innocent.
“Clair Madison,” she replied robotically, pinned to the spot as he continued to compel her.
Madison. He scanned his memory for any trace of that name, drawing a blank. It was a pretty common name, though, and he certainly didn’t know the last name of everyone he’d ever met.
“Are you following me?” Ryan asked. No point beating around the bush, I supposed.
She shook her head. “No.” Her eyes were big and round and she wasn’t blinking.
“Who are you working for?” Ryan continued pressing her, his power like fingers squeezing the truth from her brain.
Clair’s pupils swelled under the pressure of Ryan’s gaze, a gaze that he knew could damage her if he wasn’t careful. “Valentino’s,” she said blankly.
Valentino’s. He knew the place; they did fantastic pasta. The owners also happened to be a mix of Italian mafia and vampire, although half the restaurants in the city suffered the same credentials. In itself, it wasn’t enough to distrust her. It also explained her skill at opening expensive wine.
Ryan smiled broadly, easing off the compulsion. “Well,” he said, looking around. “You sure must get some nice tips at Valentino’s to pay for this apartment.”
Clair smiled, a little more normal but still not all the way there. Ryan fretted that he might have pushed her too far, damaged her frontal lobe. “I’m house–sitting for my uncle. I wish this was my apartment.”
Ryan raised his eyebrows, gesturing for Clair to drink her wine. “I shouldn’t,” she said. The fact that Clair hesitated was good, because it meant the compulsion had worn off. “I don’t drink a lot. It interferes with … running,” she explained.
Ryan excused himself to go to the bathroom. While he was in there, he turned on the faucet and took the opportunity to snoop through her cabinets. In the bottom drawer, he happened upon a cache of painkillers strong enough to kill ten men. Fentanyl. Hospital–grade morphine patches. Even a small bag with what appeared to be some heroin powder in it. There were neatly packaged syringes and a rubber tourniquet, rubbing alcohol and stacks of gauze strips. It must have belonged to the uncle, unless Clair was a junkie. Ryan hadn’t noticed anything off about her speech or balance, so he guessed that it belonged to somebody else.
The rest of the evening went pretty well. They ended up staying in. Clair cooked, Ryan ate, and neither of them killed the other. Ryan even got a goodnight kiss from the pretty blonde. He had grown to like her so much over the course of the night that he didn’t even attempt to seduce her or take her blood.
Thank goodness, because I was not in the mood to experience some crazy feeding ritual through our bond.
The vibe seemed good. It was normal. It reminded me of home, in some strange way. The simple actions of meeting a friend, having a meal, saying goodnight. Those things had become so foreign to me. It didn’t help that I flipped out Vampira–style every time I opened the refrigerator at Ivy’s house.
When Ryan finally got back to the car, I was stretched out in the backseat, too aware of everything to contemplate a nap. As he grew closer, I heard a familiar pounding that I’d heard before. The thumpthumpthump of the heart in a jar.
“I know about Caleb,” I said to him immediately, before he’d even sat in his seat. “I know he might not even care that I’m gone OR if I go back to Blairstown. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ryan started the car and dropped his head momentarily, rubbing his temples. “I need to think about this, Blake,” he said wearily. “I don’t know what’s going on here. Besides, you agreed to stay here with me until we get your bloodlust under control.” He shot me a pointed look. “And, spoiler alert, it’s not.”
I slumped in my seat, pissed at him. Mostly because he was right.
We didn’t speak for a few moments. I sat sullenly while Ryan eased the car away from the kerb and we drove away from Clair’s apartment building.
“I take it you heard everything?” he asked finally, sounding uncomfortable.
“Of course,” I replied, still pleased that my new skill of ‘seeing’ things in other places was apparently something of a rarity. “It was full color and surround sound.” I gestured to the folded napkin he was holding, which contained the Asphodel flower he’d ripped from Clair’s hair.
“What’s up with the flower?” I asked. “I thought I was going to break out in hives or something. It was a full sensory experience.”
“Oh, really?” he teased. “A full sensory experience. Did you enjoy kissing a girl, Katy Perry?”
I pulled a face. “Whatever. I was too busy being bored to death. I thought you were going to come out once you realized she wasn’t a threat?”
“She could still be a threat,” Ryan said, glancing at me.
“The flower,” I prodded. “Can you please throw it out of the window?” I felt my skin getting hot and itchy. “Is this some vampire allergy thing? It feels like I’m standing in the sun all over again.”
“It’s an Asphodel flower,” Ryan explained. “They only grow in a few places, including The Underworld.” He shoved it into the glove box between us, and my skin immediately felt a little less hot and bothered.
“Why are you keeping it?” I asked, annoyed that it was still in the car with us.
“I need to show Ivy. She might be able to tell me something about its origins, or where it was grown.”
“I don’t know why you trust her,” I said, without thinking. He laughed.
“What?” I said, a little embarrassed that I had said that about her. He had known her for a lot longer than he had known me. “Am I being a bitch?”
Ryan smiled, clearly entertained by me. How nice for him. “No, you’re being smart. I don’t trust Ivy. All I know is that she hates Caleb even more than she hates me.”
“Why?” I asked, more curious about her than ever. “Why does she hate you both?”
Ryan’s smile vanished. “She hates Caleb,” he began slowly, “because Caleb took away her entire world. He thought that I was getting distracted by her. So he told her father that we were planning to marry, and where I had hidden her. It’s Caleb’s fault her father discovered her pregnancy. It’s Caleb’s fault her father beat her to death before I could get there in time to save both of them.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I tried to think of my own father being angry enough to beat me and my unborn child to death. What a horrid way to end one’s life.
“And why does she hate you?” I asked.
Ryan was quiet for a long while, and I eventually thought that he wasn’t going to answer me.
“I loved her very much,” Ryan said, showing a brief glimpse of the pain and rage he usually channelled into being an asshole. “But she consumed me completely. We were no good together. We would go on rampages together, feeding and killing whoever we felt like.
“It was dangerous. We were both becoming … demonic, almost. So one day I left her. I left her all alone and didn’t see her for fifteen years.”
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. “And the next time you saw her –”
“—was in Mexico,” he finished. “So, yeah, I don’t trust her.”
I wanted to think about the whole Ivy / Caleb / Ryan issue some more. There was something I was missing, something that involved me. But Ryan’s mind was like a well–guarded vault, and I couldn’t gain access. Besides, we were home, and we had gotten way off topic during our long–winded conversation.
“Anyway,” I said clearly as Ryan pulled into the garage and shut off the engine. “Caleb. He probably just wants his heart back, Ryan. So why don’t you give it to him and get him off your back?”
He looked at me, really looked into my eyes and studied my face. He reached a gentle hand over to touch my cheek, and left it there. It was such a lovely, innocent gesture amongst all of the other crap that I closed my eyes for a moment. And in that moment, I saw exactly why he wasn’t about to give the heart back in a hurry.
Another vision? Jesus, my brain could only process so much information.