Deep Deliverance: The Deep Series, Book 3 (7 page)

“It will be nice to have him around again. I’ve missed him.”

Adin’s heart gave an unhappy lurch at the thought of seeing Boaz again. At the thought of Donte laughing with his servant over how they’d manipulated him. “Are you
trying
to start a fight with me?”

“I don’t have to try with you, Adin. You always have a fight simmering on the back burner. Maybe I’m simply exhausted. Maybe I’m only now recognizing how peaceful it is here without you.”

The lacy frost of ice crept through Adin’s veins. “Well, then, enjoy your peaceful pot farm.”

“Enjoy your independence, Adin.”

“I will.” Adin disconnected the call and muttered, “You transparent bastard.”

All right, all right. You win, I’m angry again.

Not homesick. Not heartsick.

Not lonely.

One emotion at a time…

Chapter Nine

Boaz joined Donte on the sun porch after thoroughly cleaning the cabin. Donte and Adin kept things tidy, but Boaz had cleaned every room top to bottom anyway. He probably wouldn’t be content until he’d touched everything—until he made certain everything was just so.

Donte stayed well out of his way until he’d declared the process finished.

At last, Boaz brought Donte a cognac to go with his cigar. “Let me guess—”

“Don’t.” Donte glowered at him. He didn’t know which was worse, that he’d allowed Boaz to take the blame for something he hadn’t done alone, or that Boaz had come up from Denver the moment Donte’d called, faithful as always. Ready to do whatever Donte asked, even though the last time he’d followed orders it got him sent away in disgrace.

Even though it meant the entire community shunned him.

Boaz cleared his throat. “It wasn’t unintentional that Adin saw your laptop, was it?”

Donte didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. Boaz knew he’d never make a mistake of that nature. One didn’t survive as long as he had by leaving incriminating evidence lying around for people to see it.

“Dear God.” Boaz’s tone was weary. “In all the years we’ve known each other, you’ve never appeared to be an idiot. Why on earth would you start now?”

“It wasn’t right.” Donte took a puff of his cigar. Considered the glowing tip. “Letting you take the blame entirely.”

“Before Adin, you wouldn’t have given ‘right’ a second thought. Before Adin, you only cared what was expedient.”

“Do you think that’s news to me?” Donte fussed with his robe, straightened the sashes so they lay against the silken brocade
just so
. “I’m well aware that Adin has changed everything.”

“You still have your fangs and your dick? Or did he take those with him?”

“Fuck. Off.” Donte ground his teeth. “I could still exsanguinate you in the blink of an imp’s eye.”

“Do you need anything else this evening?” Boaz stood stiffly, hands behind his back.

“For Christ’s sake, Boaz. Have a seat. You’ve been stalking around all day. It plagues me.”

“I—” A frown crossed Boaz’s features at his boss’s tone. “I’m very sorry, sir.”

“Stop it.” Donte tossed his cigar into the ashtray on the cocktail table. “What should I have done, eh? He wasn’t happy. The sheer exhaustion of keeping the truth from him was a misery. Now it’s all in the past. He’s angry, but his anger is driving him forward. He was starving himself, and now he’ll thrive, if only to spite us.”

Boaz sat, at last, sighing deeply. He picked up Donte’s discarded cigar and took a puff for himself.

Donte’s gaze followed his movements. “Help yourself
.
”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Boaz’s grin was feral. “Sir.”

“Hmph.”
At last. The imp comes out.

“You deliberately drove him away?” Boaz asked. He probably already knew the answer.

Donte shrugged. “Perhaps I did.”

“Was that wise?”

Donte considered the question. Adin had every right to be furious with him. He’d meet others now.
Kind.
They would pull him deeper into their world. Farther away from the humanity he believed he cherished. Unless he fought with every bit of his soul, he’d forget why his humanity was worth fighting for, just as Donte had once forgotten. “He has his own journey to take.”

Boaz must have agreed. He didn’t do more than nod and hum quietly around the cigar.

“I hope he comes back,” Donte said finally. “But I wouldn’t like to bet my life on it.”

Boaz’s smile was brief and slightly bitter. “Good thing you’re not technically alive then, isn’t it?”

Chapter Ten

The next morning Los Angeles foundered under a true miracle: gray skies and buckets full of much-needed rain. The streets were crowded with drivers who had no clue how to drive. Major intersections had flooded, and people in sandals and board shorts splashed around, watching dirty water clog the gutters as though they’d never seen such a thing.

The words from every news outlet: Storm Watch. Memorably, one network had called it “The Aquapocalypse.”

From the back of the town car, Adin watched it all, strangely detached except for the nagging worry he
should
care. He was certainly glad he didn’t have to leave the hotel swathed head to toe in clothing and sunscreen. He was glad it wasn’t ninety and sunny and sweltering.

“What is it about this city? It’s as if they have collective memory loss,” Santos said after a near miss with a taxi. “It
has
rained here before.”

“Deana says the drought has been going on for so long, any rain is likely to do more harm than good.”

“You talked to her?” asked Sean.

“Not this trip, no.”

“You ought to call her.” Santos turned around to face him over the seat back. “She’s the only family you have left, right?”

Adin didn’t answer. The less Santos knew about Deana, the better, although that ship had probably left the harbor and gotten lost in the Bermuda Triangle.

“You don’t have to tell her about any of this.” Santos indicated himself and Sean. “But you will regret it if you give up contact with her completely. She’s your sister.”

“I’ll regret it more if I forget myself and rip out her throat.”

Sean pinched his leg. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Sean’s right.” Santos turned back around. “The weather is accommodating, and you’re about to attend the burial of an irritating rival. Cheer up.”

As they pulled into the cemetery entrance, Adin tried to see through sheets of rain. Over the years, the odious Harwiche had had him blocked from private auctions, outbid him at public ones, and finally tricked him into a nearly fatal encounter with thugs. But in the end, Adin had posted in the win column more than the loss. This was a final victory of sorts.

Why not enjoy his funeral?

Under his raincoat, Adin wore a black Dolce and Gabbana suit over a crisp white shirt. He’d selected a brilliant blue and gold paisley tie precisely because he didn’t want to show up to Harwiche’s funeral dressed like a crow. His clothes fit him spectacularly. Harwiche had never looked that good in his life. Adin wore no makeup, this time. He no longer had anything to prove, but it seemed a little sad not to thumb his nose at the man one last time.

“All right.” Adin shrugged before he exited the car. “Sure. Let’s do this thing.”

“That’s the spirit.” Santos waited until Gabriel came around with an umbrella before cracking open his door. There were dozens of people lining up to go into the chapel.

“Harwiche sure was connected.”

“He was. Not well-liked, but well-known.” Sean came around to join Adin, and together they squelched over the damp earth, following Gabriel and Santos toward the chapel.

“There will be Kind here, as well as others.” Santos motioned for Sean to follow him. “Sean and I will need to meet with them. We’ll rejoin you if we can.”

“Wait, you’re leaving me?”

“You won’t need us. Look who’s here.” Sean jerked his chin toward a group of people by the door. A figure Adin recognized with pure pleasure detached himself and came toward them.

“Tuan!”At the sight of his old friend, Adin’s heart flipped happily in his chest. Things turned awkward when he tried to wrap his arms around Tuan without considering his umbrella.

“Watch it.” Tuan ducked in for a warm hug. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I didn’t expect to be here.” Adin closed his umbrella. “I’m so glad to see you. Where’s Edward?”

“He stayed home with Bran.” Tuan’s eyes narrowed. “You know how it is. There are lots of Kind here, and—”

“Of course.” As much as he wished to see Edward, it wasn’t safe for vampires to be anywhere near Bran. “Christ, I wish things were different.”

“No more than I do.” Tuan glanced back toward the chapel. “They’re about to get started, so you’d better find a seat. I’ll fill you in on the rest later. Where are you staying?”

“The Ritz.”

Tuan’s smile was wry. “Donte does love his little luxuries.”

“I’m here with Cristobel Santos and Sean Callahan.” He turned, thinking he’d find them hovering somewhere nearby, but both vampires had disappeared from sight. “No fucking way. Okay. I came with them, anyway. They’re supposed to be babysitting me so I don’t make some protocol mistake.”

Light glanced off Tuan’s glasses as he glanced around. “Santos left you alone?”

“I guess. I have a million questions for you.”

“I have to find someone, but I’ll make time, I promise.” Tuan pulled him toward the entrance. “I owe you answers, and as soon as the service is over, we’ll go for a drink.”

“All right. As long as I’m back by ‘cocktail hour’.” Adin made air quotes. Santos had reminded him several times he expected Adin to attend his gathering of Kind. “See you later.”

Tuan gave him a quick nod and then disappeared back into the mob of people entering the chapel. Other than him, Adin didn’t know anyone there.

Great.
He felt like a kid whose parents had dropped him off at the curb on his first day of school.

It was a funeral though. Not a human sacrifice. Surely he could attend a funeral without someone watching over his shoulder.

Unobtrusively as he could, he made his way through a sea of black suits and wide-brimmed hats with old-fashioned veils. He didn’t recognize anyone, so he went into the chapel to look for a place to sit.

Harwiche’s coffin sat on the dais at the front of the church, strewn with flowers—roses and lilies and great sprays of gladiolas, all white. There were enough flowers to open a florist shop, so apparently someone had spared no expense. Top-of-the-line casket, thankfully closed. Adin had prepared himself to face Harwiche’s corpse, and he could only imagine what time and illness and a botched attempt to transition had done to it. Harwiche had probably looked like something from a Hieronymus Bosch painting.

Thankfully, they’d all been spared that particular visual.

Adin unbuttoned his raincoat as he looked for somewhere to sit.

Despite the cool weather, the interior of the chapel had already grown too warm. A thousand scents—colognes and candles and flowers and the very human odors of aging and body odor and disease—clogged Adin’s throat and burned his eyes. Maybe red eyes would make him look sufficiently mournful.

Faking it was his only hope.

Even faced with this very final evidence of Harwiche’s mortality, he wasn’t the least bit sorry Harwiche was dead. Of his many encounters with the man, the last, where he’d discovered how far Harwiche was willing to go to extend his mortal life, had been enough to eradicate Adin’s finer feelings for good.

“Excuse me. Dr. Tredeger?” Someone tapped his shoulder.

Adin turned at the sound of his name and discovered a woman waiting for his attention. She was quite, quite young, and as lithe and willowy as a ballerina, with a single braid of magnificent hair that flowed over her shoulder, nearly to her waist. He studied the color, and couldn’t begin to pick one. There were strands of gold and red interwoven with sable. It was either the world’s best dye job or she’d hit the genetic lottery. She had arresting, golden eyes with unusual, almost vertical pupils, finely sculpted features, and Hollywood-red lips.

“Are you
the
Dr. Adin Tredeger?” She was smiling as though finding him there delighted her.

“Yes.” He glanced around rather awkwardly. This was a woman accustomed to people looking at her. Model? Actress? He didn’t think he’d seen her before. He’d have surely remembered if he had. “And you are?”

“I’m Elizabeth Harwiche. Ned’s daughter. Oh gosh. I’m so honored you’ve come.” She took his hand, laced his fingers with hers, and pulled him toward the front. “Sit with us, we’re in the second pew.”

Adin’s shock had to have shown on his face. A thousand things popped into his head, none of which he could say. He settled for, “Sit with you?”

“With me and my brother, Barrett. Father told us so much about you I feel like we already know each other.”

Adin pinched himself discreetly. It hurt. Obviously he was awake. “Your father—”

“You’re surprised, I understand.” She graced him with another amazing smile. “Father wasn’t exactly known to be a family man.”

“Er—”

“He was an utter bastard to our mother, and he left long before we were old enough to remember. But once we got older, Barrett and I let go of our anger. I’m glad we made our peace. Especially because…well. He was so ill at the end.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Adin let her tow him to the front of the church. He felt a little helpless against her. Her enthusiasm was overwhelming. “I—”

“You don’t have to lie, you know. Nobody’s really sorry, but that’s Father’s fault for being such an unredeemable cad.”

She made her way down a wooden pew toward a young man with that same multicolor hair, blond and brown and red, the same colors as hers, but cut shoulder length and oh, Christ, when it caught the light it sparked like it was on fire. Her brother was just as beautiful as she.
How did these people come from Ned Harwiche?

“Barrett? This is Dr. Tredeger.”

“Call me Adin, please.” He tried not to stare.

“Finally, a face to put to the name. Come, sit.” The brother’s smile was a high-voltage stun gun of sensual challenge.

“Er—thank you.”

Barrett slid over as if it was the most natural thing in the world to welcome his father’s professional rival to sit next to him. He all but patted the seat before Adin slid in beside him.

Elizabeth sat on Adin’s other side.

Barrett continued to look him over. “You must think this very strange, but we’ve always been so curious about you.”

Adin blew out a breath. “It does seem rather—”

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw you walk in.” Elizabeth’s smile was a shade more reserved than her brother’s. “I just had to capture you before anyone else did.”

They were in their early twenties, Adin guessed. Close enough in age he couldn’t tell which was the older.

Barrett gushed. “I never dreamed you’d come. I’m so glad.”

Adin glanced around, distinctly uncomfortable. He was at a funeral, for God’s sake. He ought to be able to think of
something
to say. “I saw your father in Paris, the last time I was there. He mentioned he was ill.”

“Oh, yes. Quite ill. And of course he had several schemes he thought would delay the inevitable.” Elizabeth waved her hand like she was shooing away an insect. “There was always some con, wasn’t there, Barrett?”

“Con. Yes, that’s exactly it.” Barrett nodded.

Adin wisely kept his mouth shut. After all, it was often because of him that Harwiche’s schemes failed.

“That was Father.” Barrett clasped his hands between his knees. “As far as we can tell, the only thing he ever got right was us.”

“Barrett.” Elizabeth gave him a stern look. He wondered if she might be the older, but maybe not. Deana wore that look an awful lot, and she was younger than Adin by three years. Maybe that was simply a sister’s look.

“Well it’s true.” Barrett’s lower lip gave a petulant shove, but just as suddenly, he laughed. “Sort of. Thank heavens we take after Mother’s family. I swear to God, if I had to look like the old bastard, you’d have attended my funeral long since.”

At that Elizabeth laughed, and even though the sound was light and lovely, and even though the very musicality of her laughter put images of waterfalls and perfectly tuned wind chimes into Adin’s imagination—as if she was showing him a slideshow presentation of paradise—the skin on the back of Adin’s neck prickled.

These two were not human.

There probably weren’t many humans at Harwiche’s funeral at all, but these two seemed less human than most.

And there sat Adin, between them. Elizabeth was humming.

Or was she purring…?

Adin resented the hell out of Santos right then. And Donte and Sean and anyone else who’d had a hand in popping his paranormal cherry.

He folded his hands in his lap and tried to appear patient. This wasn’t any different from going to the opera, which he liked to do very much. It wasn’t any different from watching
any
play in a foreign language without a goddamn program or list of the characters or even the tiniest clue what was going to happen next.

Except in an opera—even in Wagner’s long and tiresome operas—the danger usually stayed on the stage.