“You sure hid it well.”
A tiny frown creased his brow, making me regret my bitter tone. “I didn’t want to interfere with you. For your sake.”
I was so confused and frustrated, I just said, “What?”
Lomen glanced toward the kitchen, where Caeran and Len were talking in low voices. “This is not the time or place to discuss this. I have a class tomorrow morning, but I’m free in the afternoon.”
“I’ll be done by two.”
He nodded. “Where shall we meet?”
My place, I thought, but maybe he didn’t want to be that private yet. “The duck pond.”
“At two o’clock. I’ll be there.” He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “I have been drawn to you since the day we both assisted Amanda.”
I looked up into his eyes. So green.
“Same here.”
His gaze shifted toward the front door. He turned and picked up an empty glass from the coffee table, then headed for the kitchen. For the second time that night, I was left with an enormous hard-on.
A moment later, Amanda came in. I shoved my hand in my pocket and shifted my stance to make my condition less obvious.
“Did you think we’d forgotten you?” Amanda said. “Sorry—we just needed to talk a minute.”
It’s OK.”
She picked up the pen and the agreement I’d signed. “Ready to go?”
Len and Caeran came in from the kitchen, with Lomen following. Len smiled at me.
“See you tomorrow night. Come hungry!”
We exchanged good-nights, then I followed Amanda out. Lomen stayed behind.
It was dark, now. A light on the front porch glowed golden. A breeze kicked up as we walked to the street, raising the scent of bark mulch.
Savhoran was waiting by Amanda’s car. He got in the back seat without a word, leaving me the shotgun seat.
“Really glad you joined Ebonwatch,” Amanda said as she started toward my apartment. “I think you won’t regret it.”
“Where’d the name come from?” I asked. “It’s pretty poetic for a research firm.”
“It’s the name of Savhoran’s clan. Actually a very old clan that’s just been revived. It’s made up of ælven who’ve got the disease, but who still live by the ælven creed.”
“Meaning what, exactly?”
“The creed is our code of honor,” Savhoran said, his voice low and quiet. “Among other things, we are bound to protect beings lesser than ourselves.”
The “lesser” made me bristle, but I kept my mouth shut.
“When we hunt, we give thanks for the sustenance we receive, and offer atonement for the harm we have done to our prey.”
“Atonement?” For murdering humans? My throat went dry.
“We in Ebonwatch do not take the lives of our prey,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “It is not necessary. We take only what we need.”
I was going to have to learn that thought-shielding thing.
“Sounds kind of like what the Navajo do,” I said, trying to make up for my cynical thoughts.
“Yeah, kind of,” Amanda said. “The ælven are very aware of the impact of their actions. They have a pretty holistic worldview.”
“Too bad humans haven’t managed that.”
Neither of them had anything to say to that.
“What kind of atonement do you do?” I asked for the sake of conversation.
“Usually we offer a small gift,” Savhoran said. “Something we have made ourselves, put our thought and energy into.”
“That’s nice. How do people react to that?”
“We do not usually see their reactions.”
Why was that? I decided I didn’t want to know the answer. The whole subject gave me the creeps, actually.
A virtuous vampire. Hard to wrap my brain around that. Myths getting in the way, I figured. Caeran was right, they distorted my understanding.
We reached my place, and Amanda shut off the engine. “I’ll walk you in. Be right back,” she said over her shoulder to Savhoran.
She accompanied me to my door. I took out my keys.
“Savhoran’s having a hard time,” she said quietly. “He’s still adjusting to living with this thing. It’s only been a few months since he manifested, so please, cut him some slack, OK?”
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to make him feel bad.”
She sighed. I could see the worry in her face. “He’s thought about suicide.”
Oh. Crap.
“It’s a major danger for them—all of the ælven. More so if they’re unlucky enough to get hit with the curse.”
Why? I could understand if they got the disease, but why would a healthy ælven consider suicide?
“See you tomorrow.” Amanda said. “Want a ride? I could pick you up.”
“Thanks, but it isn’t far. I’ll probably ride my bike.”
“Then I’ll drive you home after.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Yes it is. Either that, or one of them will escort you. Caeran doesn’t want any of us going out alone after dark, not while there’s an alben active in the area.”
“Isn’t that kind of extreme?”
“After you’ve been attacked a few times, you’ll feel differently.”
I blinked. “How many times have you been attacked?”
“Oh—four or five. It was kind of a vendetta, though. She fixated on me as a way to get back at the clan.”
Great. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
M
y dreams that night were restless. Lomen was chasing me and I kept running away, even though I didn’t want to. Then I started chasing Savhoran. He ran into a barn and I followed, but it was dark and I tripped and fell into a pile of hay and couldn’t get up. I woke up frustrated and still tired. My brain was mush.
The classes I had that day were Organic Chemistry Lab followed by its accompanying lecture class, both in Clark Hall. I’d never made it in to work on the lab assignment.
I resisted the temptation to enter the building from the parking lot and thereby avoid the spot where I’d found Kimberly. I decided that looking at it without a dead body there would give me some closure, so I walked around to the west side of the building.
The yellow tape was gone, and a line of glass votive candles sat atop the wall that masked the stairwell. A heap of store-wrapped bouquets sat at the foot of the steps, with a couple of bigger, nicer arrangements and one stuffed bear with pierced nipples. I stopped and stared, then slowly went over to look. The candle flames flickered in the shade of the building.
More candles on each of the steps, some sitting on top of notes written on scraps of paper. More flowers on the little landing at the top. There were a few greeting cards, and a photo of Kimberly that had been printed on a color inkjet and then gotten wet and smeared. It was still recognizable, barely.
A lot of people had liked her, I guess. I’d barely known her; I had lumped her and her classmates together and labeled them annoying in my mind. I felt a little bad about that.
As I stood there, a girl came up and propped a bouquet wrapped in cellophane against the half-wall. She shot me a glance and I recognized her from the Physics 102 class. One of Kimberly’s classmates.
I gave her a nod. She ducked her head and hurried away.
I’d see her later. Should I say something to that class? Did they know I had found Kimberly?
I went into the building, trying to shake off the discomfort of seeing the impromptu shrine. People did that a lot these days.
There were a few other students in the lab, already working. The assistant—a grad student—glanced up at me, then went back to whatever she was reading.
It was a relief to sit at a counter and pull out my lab work. Quiet, time to think, and be normal in a classroom. I needed that. I was a little distracted, but got through my assignment before it was time to head to class.
As I walked down the hall, passing other students, I had the feeling that everyone was looking at me. That was a feeling I was familiar with, and it had never boded well for me. My shoulder muscles tensed despite my reminding myself that it was just curiosity because of the dead body.
I had chosen UNM to get away from the anti-gay attitude in my home town. It was present in Albuquerque, too, but less so. Bigger city, without the heavy southern influence of Cruces. More liberal.
I turned in my homework, then took a seat in the front row and immediately opened my text to start reading. Kept my nose in the book until the prof started his lecture.
I failed to take useful notes, despite good intentions. Couldn’t keep my mind from wandering. Eventually I became aware that everyone around me was standing up. It was 12:20; class was over. I hadn’t absorbed a single concept.
I put my notebook in my pack and joined the throng shuffling out the door. Professor Baker, a thirtyish guy with Scandanavian looks—likeable, though married—stepped up and caught my eye.
“Heard you had a rough day yesterday.”
I blinked. Took a minute for me to realize he meant Kimberly.
“Oh. Yeah.”
“I half-expected you not to be here today.”
The crowd parted around us like a stream around boulders, heading for the exit. A couple of the students gave me knowing looks.
“Well, I kind of wasn’t,” I said. “Sorry—I had trouble concentrating.”
“I figured.” He handed me an index card with some page numbers written on it. “Go over that section in the text again. Should help.”
“Thanks.” I stared down at the card, touched and embarrassed.
“Call or stop by my office if you have any questions.”
“OK.” I slid the card into my pack, then met his gaze and managed a smile. “Thank you.”
“Sure thing.”
He turned to go, following the last few students filing out. I went out, too, and stood in the hall, blinking.
Afraid to move.
What if Lomen didn’t come? What if he’d changed his mind?
I took a deep breath, and forced my frozen feet to move. It would be ironic if, after all my fretting,
I
was the one who didn’t show up.
I chickened out and left the building by the east door. I didn’t need to see the shrine again. Outside, the sun was blinding. I paused to let my eyes adjust, then strode toward the duck pond west of Zimmerman library.
Amanda wasn’t working at the library this semester. I’d been disappointed to learn that, but now I wondered if it was because Ebonwatch had made her a better offer.
I swallowed. Don’t think about Ebonwatch. This is about Lomen and me.
I slowed as I reached the pond. All I saw were a couple of girls sitting on the grass and one chubby guy sacked out in the sunshine on the far side of the pond. My throat tightened as I scanned the people farther away, walking by on their way to and from classes, then I noticed someone sitting on a bench in the shade of some trees on the library side.
Crazy, the relief that went through me. I took a steadying breath and walked toward the trees.
Lomen was tearing pieces off a bread roll and tossing them to the ducks. Now and then a crumb would fall between his feet, and a little bird would hop out of the nearby bushes, snatch it up, and fly away.
As I stepped into the shade, he looked up and smiled at me. His clothes were rustic cotton, vaguely hippie-looking, like what Savhoran and Len had worn. His hair spilled loose over his shoulders. I caught my breath at the sight, wanting to run my fingers through that hair.
He tore the bread in half and offered a piece to me, but I shook my head. He went back to feeding it to the ducks, bit by bit.
I joined him on the bench. The ducks flinched away from me, but only for a second. The temptation of the bread overwhelmed their natural caution.
I took deep breaths, trying to slow my racing pulse. Watched Lomen’s hands: long fingers, every movement graceful. Thought about those hands on my body, about my hands exploring his.
When the last of the bread was gone, he laced his fingers and was still. Gradually the ducks gave up hoping for more and drifted away.
I looked up to find him watching me. Clear, green eyes, steady and calm. My heart gave a hard thump.
“So,” I said, then couldn’t find more words.
“I apologize for seeming cold yesterday,” he said. “I wanted to give you the chance to walk away.”
I gave a soft laugh. “Why would I want to do that?”
He lifted one shoulder slightly. “Relationships between humans and ælven can be ... painful.”
“Any relationship can be painful. That’s one of the risks in life.”
He tilted his head and a tiny line of concern creased his brow. “There are added complications.”
I stared back at him. Obviously, I had missed something.
He turned to face me on the bench. “You understand that we are immortal?”
Immortal. I gaped at him. Yeah, I’d missed that.
“You’re never going to die?”
He shifted and glanced toward the pond. “I could die. We’re not indestructible. Accident or illness, or attacks, can kill us. But we do not age.”
I swallowed. “How old are you?”
“Not quite two—”
Holy crap.
“—thousand years.”
Holy
crap!
“I’m rather young, actually.”
I had trouble taking a breath. My voice came out a hoarse whisper. “Why do you even bother with us?”
“Usually we avoid you—not because we dislike you, but for our own safety.” He sighed. “But we are easily tempted. Look at Caeran, and Savhoran.”
“I don’t understand why you’d be interested in us at all.”
He looked at me and broke into a smile. “You fascinate us. You live with such urgency—such fire! And you are amazingly inventive.”
These words almost turned off my brain. I took a deep breath, trying to stay on track. “Can I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“If you’re immortal, how come you aren’t the dominant species on the planet?”
His smile faded and his gaze dropped. A shadow of grief came into his face.
“You breed far more easily than we. For us, conceiving a child is rare. Many ælven never achieve it.”
I felt an odd sorrow, though I’d never been interested in kids myself. “Can you have kids with humans? Is that any easier?”
“Yes, in some cases. But the offspring are mortal.”
His voice was soft with sadness. I wondered if he had watched children of his own grow old and die.
There was another way that aelven could die. Amanda had told me about it: suicide.