Authors: Amy Corwin
They’d survived another night.
Kethan studied Quicksilver as she stood
next to her motorcycle, staring at the pavement and shifting from foot to foot. Her sudden uncertainty caught at him. He looked away, feeling as if he’d caught her in a private, unguarded moment.
“
You want a ride?” she asked at last.
When he
glanced at her, she looked away with studied nonchalance.
“
Sure.” He waited, expecting her to ask him for his destination. Instead, her lips compressed into a thin line, her brows drawn down over her eyes.
So, she had h
oped he would refuse her offer. A chuckle rumbled in his chest, but he kept his face expressionless and made no comment.
After a long look
, she thrust her helmet onto her head and tucked long strands of hair under the collar of her leather jacket. Her jacket and jeans made her appear elegantly slim and boyish until he caught sight of the sleek curves emphasized by her stretchy, slightly shiny, gray shirt.
Body thrumming, he grabb
ed the half-helmet resting on the seat behind her before climbing onto the back of the motorcycle. He held his arms rigidly at his sides in an effort to keep his hands from wandering. Finally, he rested his palms on the sharp curve of her hip bones, praying neither of them would misunderstand the situation. Despite the cold rush of dawn air, his leg muscles burned with the heat of her thighs.
The motorcycle vibrated
to life. The low grumble of the engine rebounded from the brick buildings like thunder. She twisted her wrist and gunned the motor. They leapt forward into the misty morning.
To his surprise, she
headed back toward the business section of town and roared into a quaint area littered with small art and antique shops. For several blocks, they bumped over the cobblestone road, passing discretely wealthy, stylish buildings with woodsy green awnings and cedar shingles.
Without warning, she turned the motorcycle
sharply, and their knees nearly scraped the pavement of a narrow alley as they rounded the corner. Then they slowed to navigate the dank alleyway that was little more than a walk-way, partially blocked with a wide, dark green metal garbage container next to the backdoor of a beauty parlor. The sharp, chemical scents of peroxide and ammonia clung to the damp brick walls looming over them. The smell burned his throat until they emerged onto another quiet street lined with brick shops that had the worn, blocky look of the nineteen-fifties.
She
slowed, and he could feel her body relaxing.
He
glanced around, amused to find her apparently at home in such a smug, old-fashioned neighborhood. She seemed more like the ultra-modern apartment type to him. At the edge of the commercial area, they slipped behind a two-story building. She maneuvered the bike toward a small shed that occupied most of the tiny backyard.
A moveme
nt caught his eye. He glanced up at the roofline. A flick of blackness, like the hem of a coat barely visible against the brightening sky, snapped over the edge of the roof. Then it was gone.
A vampire
?
How could it be when it was almost morning? Then he realized that despite the ribbons of pink sky, the sun had not risen above the horizon. The thought justified his presence behind her on her motorcycle. He hadn’t been overly paranoid about her safety and if she had been alone….
Wh
en they rolled to a stop, he got off, his muscles vibrating from the bike. He removed the helmet and swept a hand through his hair as he watched Quicksilver unlock the shed and push the bike inside.
After s
winging the wooden door shut, she twisted the lock shut and joined him.
“This is it.”
“You live here?” He looked around.
She pointed to a narrow wooden stairway going to the floor above one of the shops.
“Up there.”
A rippling, slapping sound echoed against the bricks.
When he touched her elbow, he felt her body stiffen. A short, stocky man emerged from the shadows.
“Sutton,” Kethan said, stepping in front of Quicksilver.
She straightened, her hands going behind her back.
“Mr.
Hilliard,” Sutton acknowledged, staying at the edge of the deep shadow cast by the brick building at his back.
“Isn’t it late?”
Kethan asked.
“Aye. Late enough,” Sutton agreed, crossing his arms over his barrel chest. His eyes gleamed red as he studied the woman at Kethan’s side. “You’d best be on your way
, then.”
“No.” Kethan placed a
restraining hand on Quicksilver’s arm when she moved. “I’m staying here.” He felt her thrumming at his side, her muscles tense.
Don’t argue, please
. “To ensure peace.”
“Peace?” Sutton laughed, his needle-sharp fangs
flashing. “I have business with this lady. You know how it is, tit for tat. Best be on your way, Mr. Hilliard.” He cocked his head to one side. “It might get messy.”
“You’ve no business here. I’m staying as a guarantee
of peace. There will be no fighting on either side.”
“
Don’t trust him.” Quicksilver tried to edge past him. “We need to finish this. Now. You know we do.”
“She speaks the truth,” Sutton agreed complacently
, giving himself the illusion of height by rocking forward onto the balls of his feet. He seemed to loom over them, filling the space around them with a deathly chill, before rocking back to stand flat-footed in front of them.
“No
, killing each other won’t solve anything.”
“It will
, my fine lad. It most certainly will. If you wish to negotiate, we must have even ground.” Sutton moved in a blink to stand a few yards away. “She killed Tyler. The deed is done. The debt must be paid.”
“No
. There’ll be no more death. It ends now.”
Ignoring him,
Sutton shifted in and out of the shadows, circling them. “So you’ll leave her to hunt us? Day is coming.”
“I will ensure your safety.
I’ll stay with her—”
Sutton’s eyes flashed with
crimson anger before he stepped back, disappearing into the dense shadows shrouding a fire escape. “Watch her, then, and luck be with you. You’ll need it.” The whisper bounced off the bricks, echoing into silence.
The sound of rushing wind
slapped their backs.
Quicksilver pirouetted and crouched. One whip snapped out,
the silver fall merging into the swirling darkness before Kethan caught her wrist.
“Stop!” he ordered, searching for the vampire.
Soft laughter greeted him. It drifted away on the morning breeze.
Quicksilver straightened. The popper at the end of the whip jerked
across the pavement in an uncoordinated movement as she coiled the weapon. He studied her, noting her pallor and the slight tremor in her hands. Fear tightened her features into a porcelain mask.
Sutton
hadn’t agreed. Despite Kethan’s efforts, she wasn’t safe despite the coming of dawn.
Kethan glanced around
, studying the alleyway. They were vulnerable here, trapped in the narrow gap between the buildings.
“Come on.
We can’t stay here.” When she didn’t move, he climbed the rickety stairs ahead of her. He was half-way up before he heard the thuds of her steps following him. He grabbed the railing, feeling the wooden structure sway under their combined weight.
But the wooden stairs held
despite their groans. When they got to the tiny deck at the top, she pushed him aside with her shoulder in silence. She unlocked the deadbolt on her gray metal door and shoved it open.
Meow
.
He turned quickly, scanning the area,
his heart thumping at the noise. A marmalade cat leapt onto the railings, swishing its long tail. Quicksilver didn’t seem to notice the animal and flicked on the lights just inside the door. When he slowly held out a hand to the animal, it bristled and leapt down.
“Leave it alone!” She
swung around to face him, her eyes hard, her hands fisted at her sides.
“Sorry. I
s that your cat?”
She looked over the railing and then shoved
past him, her body rigid with anger. “No. But there was no reason to scare it away.”
“I didn’t realize it was that skittish.”
He studied the alleyway. The cat stared back from a precarious seat on the edge of a metal dumpster.
Sutton must have left, at least temporarily, for the animal to be willing to sit there
in the open, flicking its tail.
Feeling
unwelcomed and on edge, he followed Quicksilver inside. Ironically, the more irritated she got, the more he wanted to remain with her, as if he could shield her from the consequences of her anger.
To ensure her safety
or something else? What was he really doing here?
S
he flicked on another light in the living room, her breath huffing over her lips with impatience. Ignoring her, he looked around. A deeply disturbing sadness settled over him at the starkness of her quarters. The room revealed more about her than she realized.
The living space was just one large room
. A narrow, squared-off section protruded from the wall in the far corner announcing the location of a tiny bathroom. It represented the only private area in the barren, open space.
On his right
ran a long counter, interrupted by a stove and sink, comprising the kitchen. An old, white refrigerator, missing the chrome strips at its base, stood in the corner at the end of the white Formica counter. Next to that, a small round table with one wooden chair leaned drunkenly toward the wall.
He took a few steps past the counter and noticed
a narrow, single bed with an iron frame midway down the far wall. Next to the bed was a plain, wooden nightstand.
He’d never seen a more
Spartan or depressing apartment. Loneliness and a determination to stay that way saturated the place. She had made no attempt to add any welcoming decoration, any family pictures, or even sufficient furniture to accommodate a guest.
A single,
cushy chair with a large, square footrest stood near the center of the room, turned so she could watch an old television on a metal stand shoved against the opposite wall. From that chair, she could see the door, raising the permeating sense of paranoia to a new level.
Floor-to-ceiling mirrors paneled the entire back wall,
cut in half by a ballet dancer’s bar at waist height. The mirrors reflected back the entire room, making Kethan and Quicksilver seem small, insignificant, in a vast space. He turned away, disliking the illusion. The apartment was small and they were large, the opposite of what its cold echo of reality displayed.
Then he realized its usefulness for a woman who hunted vampires. Anyone who entered would be reflected in its silvery surface, unless he or she was a vampire. The test would be quick and effective.
The air in the room smelled of soap with a light undercurrent of chlorine, and he sniffed, the astringent odor tickled his nose. He rubbed it absently. Even the scents were no-nonsense, practical without any effort to make the atmosphere more pleasant by plugging in an air freshener with the scent of freshly baked pie or cookies to recreate the sense of coming home.
Two dark windows
, covered with pale green drapes, broke up the far wall. A matching set of double windows graced the wall above the kitchen sink. The heavy, unattractive drapes shut out the streetlights and any gleam of life from passing cars.
“I told you not
to come up.” Despite the defiance in her stance, her voice was soft, sad. She glanced around once and then stared down at the counter in the kitchen, refusing to look at him. “I don’t have room for guests.”
“You have room
. Lots of room. You just don’t want guests.”
She glanced up then, and h
er eyes flashed, silver sheet-lightning rippling through the depths. With controlled violence, she threw her keys on the counter. They skittered over the surface and clinked to a stop against the edge of the stove.
“Why don’t you go home?
You’ve done your duty. I don’t need a guard—what I need is sleep. I have a class at ten tomorrow morning.” She looked at a small, round clock hanging above the kitchen window. “In four hours.” Her eyes glinted with sudden, sardonic amusement. “How about if I promise not to kill any vampires between now and then?”
“That’d
be a relief, that’s for certain.” He took off his jacket and draped it over the back of the kitchen chair before sitting down. The chair wobbled beneath him on uneven legs and he hurriedly slapped a hand on the table before the chair tipped him over onto the shiny floor. He cleared his throat, trying not to feel like an idiot. “However, I’m not just protecting them. There’s also this inexplicable desire to protect you from them.”