2. Darkness in the Blood Master copy MS 5 (11 page)

Sure enough, my ice princess co-worker stood at the top of the stairs with a lantern, wearing a cloak that looked like a reject from a Renaissance Faire. Nicolas stood at her right elbow, holding a sword. Nic… with a sword? My mouth opened and shut like a doomed fish. Explanations presented themselves, each crazier than the last, until I realized there was no way I could explain drawing his friend, a person I’d never seen. Besides, what if it was somehow actually important to him?

“I got nothing,” I said at last, collapsing back in my chair. He stared at me like he didn’t know whether to call the mental ward or the police. I hauled myself up out of my chair and willed him to believe me. “It comes with the weird eyes, ok? That’s all I can say.” I handed him the menu. “Take it. The last couple of my drawings have disappeared, and it might be important to you. So please. Take it. Just don’t tell anyone, ok?”

After a very long moment in which I dared not look at him, the drawing slid from my fingers. Strong hands slid under my forearms, supporting me. “Ok,” Erik said simply. I expected fear or suspicion, but saw only acceptance and concern on his plain, honest face. That was it? Ok? He wasn’t going to demand another explanation, or tell me I was crazy?

Suddenly, along the windowsill beside us, every single tea light in its votive holder flared roughly six inches high and sizzled out. Mrs. Alice and Mr. Markov both lined their windows with the same tea lights. They were both obsessive about keeping them lit as soon as darkness fell. The back of my neck prickled with cold and Shadows as I realized they must be some kind of magical defense.

The fact that they’d just failed, spectacularly and simultaneously, couldn’t be good.

The door flew open behind us in a whirlwind of warmth, laughter, and perfume. A small crowd poured across the threshold. They were the most beautiful beings I had ever seen. Dressed for high summer although the air carried a distinct chill, they moved as if nothing so base as the weather could touch them. Their skin was just a little too pale to be called true gold, but they glowed as if they had just walked off a beach. Everything from flowers to gemstones decorated the sun-streaked hair that framed faces on the cutting side of breathtaking.

I couldn’t count how many there were. I was too blinded by their brilliance to look past the ones in front. Erik hadn’t let go of me; the two of us stood frozen, transfixed by the remarkable creatures who stood in The Whitfield Coffee Shop. The one in the very front, a male, snapped his head back as if scenting the air.

“Our dearest cousins are not here,” he purred to the female beside him. “How disappointing.” His eyes, when they fixed on me, were green and slitted horizontally like a cat’s. My brain felt foggy and slow. Caught by his terrifying beauty, I thought of words like
sharp
and
cut
along with
please
and
beautiful
. I had never wanted to please anything or anybody more than I did this creature in front of me. I would have done anything he asked of me. Anything at all.

“No matter,” the female said, equally mesmerizing. “Our arrival shall surely bring one, or both, of them. If not, Saran can track them.” The cat-eyed male stood slightly behind her while the rest of them fanned out behind them with military precision. My brain grasped dimly for numbers, trying to count them, to take some notice of these beautiful dangerous creatures that didn’t belong here. Six? Eight? But every time I tried to focus on any but the two in front, the two who seemed to be in charge, my attention slid off them like Teflon and came back to the green eyed male or the female directly in front with hair like coiled gold.

She stepped gracefully closer as if dancing across a floor covered with shattered glass. “Are you Erik?” Her smile to him was a fractured jewel, brilliant and cutting. She wore nothing but a sheer, strapless sundress that skimmed the tops of her tanned thighs. Her feet were as bare as her legs; a heavy gold rope, studded with clear blue stones, cuffed her right ankle. “I’ve wanted you to play for me since I heard you at the Crossroads.” She took another step towards him. The rest of her creatures shadowed her. She studied the way he held me, supporting me. For just a moment, speculative cruelty replaced her lush summer beauty. Then she smiled again. “Play for us, Erik,” she commanded. “Let go of the girl and play for us. It seems my cousin has tried to keep you from me, and I do not share well.”

Chapter Eleven:

Such Creatures

Yes, I thought. Yes, anything. I desperately wanted to bring these radiant beings happiness. Erik’s calloused hands no longer gently supported my forearms. Instead, he gripped me wildly, as if I was an anchor in an unexpected storm. I pulled restlessly against his hold on me. Why wasn’t he doing as the lovely summer lady asked? How could he deny her? “Erik, please. Let me go and play for them.” Ultimately, he was powerless to do otherwise. His music swelled and soared in the familiar space, but in the presence of these radiant beings, it became something new. Something better. His lone husky tenor became a whole choir of voices. His single battered guitar sounded like many instruments at once.

The beautiful man with green cat eyes took me in the circle of his arms and we were dancing. They were all dancing to Erik’s music. I wanted so badly for them to be happy. I ached with wanting it, and told the cat-eyed man so. He laughed and his teeth seemed sharper than normal. “What are you?” I asked as one of his hands settled against the bare skin of my hip. Another cupped my neck. I was barefoot, the familiar wooden floor of my workplace somehow covered with soft white sand.

The world I knew, of work and coffee shops and small towns faded into something radiant. Brilliant colors danced and tugged at the edges of my vision: the full spectrum of sunsets and oceans and deepest night skies. But when I chased them, when I turned from the piercing gaze of the cat-eyed man, these spectral colors moved again, staying forever at the edge of my vision.

I realized I was dressed too warmly for summer. I began to unbutton things.

“We’re looking for our lost cousin.” The cat-eyed man’s low voice soothed me. I could almost hear the wind and waves crashing as he spoke. “A… friend, of sorts… told us she was here.” He pulled me closer, his breath hot against my cheek. “In exchange for bringing you to him,” he whispered. This was important information; there was enough of me left to know this as he caressed my cheek with his closed fist. But I didn’t care. I wanted to take off my shirt. It was too hot, too heavy. His hands skimmed my sides and it was gone. I stood in the circle of his arms in nothing but a tank top and jeans.

 “My sister likes your friend. Our kind does not have the power to create beautiful things like music and art and stories, so we collect those who do. She has a weakness for musicians. Tell me, silver eyes, what do I sense in you? What would you add to our halls, should I wish to collect you instead of delivering you to my friend?”

The air around us seemed to shimmer with heat. I felt my hair tumble free of its restraining clip. My blood was warm and scents of overripe fruits and flowers lingered just at the edge of my senses. “Art,” I murmured as more and more of my sense of self slipped away. “I’m an artist.”

“So you would come with me then, and paint for me in my far kingdom.” I could only nod, struggling for breath in the ever-thickening air. He brought my face close to his until all I could see were his green cat eyes. “Your name,” he prompted, my skin almost burning against his. “Give me your name, your true name, and no one can ever separate us.”

“My name?” The air in the circle of his arms was so thick I almost had to swallow it. “I’m Caspia,” I told him, embarrassed I hadn’t introduced myself sooner. But my answer wasn’t enough.

“Tell me all of it,” he demanded, his hands on me suddenly rough, nails digging into the skin of my hips. “Your full, true name. What is it?”

“Don’t,” said a new voice, low and furious. I knew this voice, the one that pierced the circle of heavy summer air. “Don’t tell him.” A familiar hand gripped mine tightly, pulling, trying to free me from the green-eyed man’s encircling arms. “Come back to me.”

“Ethan,” I murmured. His hand felt like ice-cold water. I suddenly realized how tired I was, as if I‘d been dancing for hours and hours. My skin hurt where the cat-eyed man dug his nails into me. But I wanted to stay and dance and forget. “I’m glad you’re here. You can come to the summer kingdom with us.”

“I don’t think so,” Ethan said quietly. He wouldn’t let go of my hand. “These are very dangerous creatures, Cas. Why don’t you come with me instead?”

“She doesn’t want to,” purred the cat-eyed man. “Do you, silver-eyes?”

“I don’t know,” I said, confused. “Why do I have to choose? Maybe we can both come with you.”

“Can you do something for me, Cas?” Ethan asked, our hands still firmly linked. I frowned at him. Why couldn’t he just enjoy the dancing? There were lots of summer girls to choose from. And he was wearing way too many clothes. “Can you show your new friend just how special you really are? Since he likes your silver eyes so much, can you show him what else you can do?” He squeezed my hand gently. “You want him to know how special you are, don’t you?”

Cat-eyes watched me carefully.

“If you’re sure,” I said doubtfully.

“Oh, I’m absolutely sure,” Ethan said.

I leaned into the summer man as if closing in for a kiss. “Watch this,” I told him, smiling brilliantly. I really wanted to impress him, so I dug deep for the darkest Shadows I could find. Thick lines of deepest black poured from my palm and down my arm in a double, then triple, helix formation. The edges sizzled like dark electricity in rain. “Neat, huh?”

The creature that held me hissed and shoved me. I caught a glimpse of shiny sharp teeth and fingers with extra joints and claws. I was falling backward into empty, brilliantly colored space. The beautiful summer man who’d been holding me swiped at Ethan, who held my hand so tightly it hurt. Before I hit bottom, Ethan pulled me up and behind him. The cat-eyed man growled like far off summer thunder, but made no move to reclaim me.

“I guess he didn’t like my trick,” I whispered. I felt drained, but still dazzled by the beautiful creatures in the room. “Don’t you want to go to them?” I asked, smiling at my former dance partner over Ethan’s shoulder. “How can you not? They’re so beautiful.”

“I don’t think they’re beautiful,” he said stiffly. “You wouldn’t either, if you could see through their glamour.” Cat-eyes looked interested when Ethan said that.

“Glamour?” I leaned against Ethan’s shoulder since he seemed determined not to let me have any fun. “What do you mean?” I nuzzled his neck. “Dance barefoot with me in the sand. I promise you’ll enjoy it.” My fingers worked their way underneath his t-shirt, but he caught my hands and held them tightly. Now I was totally trapped. I pouted.  The green-eyed man smirked. “Erik’s still playing, and there’s dancing. One of the summer girls would dance with you, Ethan. They’re all so beautiful.”

He spun so that we faced each other. I don’t remember the last time I’d seen him so angry. “Will you listen to yourself?” he hissed. “I don’t want to dance with a summer girl.” His blue green eyes snapped fire. “You still feel it,” he said at last, studying me. “You’re drunk with it.” As I laughed and pulled against his hold on me, he sighed heavily. “Dance with me, then, if you must dance. Until this madness passes.”

He locked his arms around my waist and pulled me tight. I rested my head against him until the sound of his heartbeat was at least as loud as the music. I wondered briefly how tired Erik must be. If dancing exhausted me, how would Erik feel after all that playing? “Ethan, tell me why you don’t feel glamour when Erik and I do.”

After a moment he cupped my head against his chest. I was surprised to find my shirt back on. “It’s complicated.”

“We really don’t need all these clothes.”

“Markov, hurry up please,” he growled. “Will you listen? I’m not as clumsy as we think I am, and adjusting to being human isn’t the reason I’m having so much difficulty with things like balance and coordination.”

The atmosphere around me still felt heavy and lazy and sensual. My fingers traced circles along Ethan’s bare back. Either he enjoyed it, or he couldn’t keep me trapped and fend me off at the same time. “Mmm. Really?” I said, because I thought I was supposed to. In reality, I was much more interested in the different textures of Ethan’s skin, in the low pleasant voices of the summer people, in Erik’s steady strumming.

“Caspia,” he snapped as I skimmed his side. I felt his muscles bunch under my fingers. Was he ticklish? Interesting. I’d have to file that away for later. “We think I can see through glamour and other kinds of magic. That’s why I’m so unbalanced and distracted all the time. Whitfield is full of the supernatural. It’s information overload. My brain has been trying to reconcile the impossible with the possible. We think magic doesn’t affect me like it does other people. In fact, we think it may not affect me at all.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “Caspia, do you understand? I’m saying that when I was changed, they made some kind of mistake. I’m really human. So very human that I have an immunity to magic. Maybe it was on purpose, or maybe it was a mistake, I don’t know. Do you realize what this means?”

“You’re saying that magic doesn’t affect you? Not even the appearance of it?” He nodded. The magnitude of what he was saying penetrated my glamour-addled brain. “Ethan, you realize that in Whitfield, that makes you incredibly unique. And dangerous.” He didn’t answer. His arms were tight around me.

The front door crashed open. Mr. Markov stood holding his cane, Mrs. Alice’s niece Cassandra and my co-worker Nicolas right behind him. His sightless eyes flicked rapidly over every single inhabitant of his shop. In one fluid motion the tea lights along the sill sprang back to life. As soon as they were lit, the oppressive heat and summer ambiance began to ebb. Erik hit a few false notes on his guitar. “Who has broken my wards?” Markov asked, as mildly as if he was inviting a customer to play chess.

Mr. Markov never, ever lost at chess.