Tracking the Tempest (14 page)

Conleth, however, didn't seem to be all that impressed.

“Don't give me that crap,” he was shouting at Ryu. “I trusted everyone, and everyone lied.”

“I understand that,” Ryu said, his voice exuding reason and calm. “I understand why you wouldn't trust us. But we can help you.”

“I help myself,” Conleth snarled. “That's what none of you get. You have your little society, your little world, all set up. But you're weak and I know it. You're old, and you're weak, and you're done. Your time is done.”

Conleth was practically spitting with rage, his face deformed into a horrible grimacing mask. Ryu's power swirled around us as he fortified his barriers. I touched my lover's fingers, splayed on my hip, adding my strength to his shields.

“Jane and I are the future. We're not weak like you.” Conleth turned his head to smile at me, and suddenly his expression was beatific. “She's beautiful, inside and out, and she's powerful. Just like me.
We
are the pure ones. Not you. Us. Our humanity makes us pure.”

Great
, I thought, as soon as the word “pure” entered Conleth's speech.
It's the halfling version of Jarl. What is it with lunatics and purity?

Personally, I liked things nice and corrupt.

Ryu was nodding along to everything Conleth said, as if he were really, really interested. Which I knew was standard negotiator procedure, as I'd also seen that movie. Unfortunately, Conleth must have seen it as well.

“Stop nodding, you idiot,” he shrieked at Ryu. “You don't believe me. You don't agree with me. You're just like all the others. You're a liar and you're complacent and slow and weak. And you're being replaced. Don't think I don't know what's going on. I know about them, even if they won't come to me. But soon I will lead them, and do away with all of you!” Conleth turned to me, again. “Will you join me, Jane?”

I knew better than to inform him I liked talk of me being at his side even less than I did delusional murmurings about “them.” Did he mean Phaedra and her lot replacing Ryu in the investigation? Why would he think he could lead
that
bunch? Anyone associated with Jarl would hate halflings, even if they hadn't taken executing Conleth as their most recent assignment.

Ryu kept trying to shove me farther behind him, but I didn't let him. He would need my extra swirl of power if he wanted to go on the offensive, and Con was up to something. He was shifting around as if he were trying to position himself for an attack.

“Stop touching her,” Conleth demanded, staring at where Ryu's hand was stretched behind me to grab my hip. “She wants to come to me and you won't let her.”

Conleth said this with such adamancy that, for a second, I almost believed it myself.

“Conleth, this isn't about Jane,” Ryu said, reasonably. “We'd all like a chance to talk to you, hear your story, but if you want that to happen, you're going to have to come with us…”

Ryu had stretched a hand out to Conleth, opening his frame and exuding warmth and understanding. He was staring the ifrit halfling in the eyes with such noble intensity that I would have bet money Conleth was a goner and would be ours in minutes.

I would have, if I hadn't seen the flash of the knife come out of Conleth's sleeve, at his wrist, and into his hand. It was rather ineptly done, if truth be told. The point to this story
is
, after all, that I'm a jackass.

When I was a little girl, about four, we had a really old grandfather clock. It was very unstable, but we kept it propped up against a back wall. It had been in my father's family for ages, so there was no way we were getting rid of it. I was playing on the hall floor one day, in front of it, when it started to topple over. My dad—my human parent—was at the other end of the hall going through all the old boots in our front closet, deciding which to keep and which to donate.

My mother, and then Nick and Nan—our neighbors who learned the story from my mom—would say that he was bent over a stack of shoes one minute and the next he was there, holding me away from the clock as it smashed to pieces right where I'd been sitting. My dad was big at that time, all muscle and limbs and not exactly known for his speed and grace. But he'd moved like a panther, my mom had said, to get to me.

I couldn't really remember the event, except for all the noise when the clock broke and being in my dad's arms. I couldn't remember where he'd come from or how he got to me so quickly. To be honest, I don't think I'd ever entirely believed that story to be true.

Until I, Jane True of the anti-athleticism, moved like a striking adder. One minute I was slightly behind Ryu's hip, Conleth about six paces in front of us, and the next I was hurtling myself in front of my lover.

Who was, by that point, standing about five feet away. No fool, Ryu had also known Conleth would try something, and he was a fuck of a lot quicker than I. Too bad I hadn't figured that out before I decided to save his damned life.

Ryu's shocked eyes met mine in what was a regrettably brief out-of-body experience. I looked from Ryu's face to Con's, seeing his expression shift from rage to a confusion that mirrored Ryu's and finally to horror. Because at that point the blade had already sunk deep.

Into my hand. I stood there, gaping at the steel sunk straight through my palm, Conleth still holding the hilt as if he were about to serve up some sort of bizarre cannibalistic kebab.

I didn't stay out of body for long.

“Mother
fucker
,” I breathed, staring up into Conleth's wide eyes as he let go of the knife. “You
stabbed
me.”

And that's when the pain hit. I'd never felt anything like it before—it was like getting hit, so there was an impact kind of pain that was sort of bone-deep and involved lots of achey bruised tissues. And probably the breaking of some delicate little hand bones. On top of that, obviously, there was the slicing—which was searing and hot and agonizing. I knew, finally, why people writhed when they were wounded. It's because pain was like a thousand millipedes with burning feet running up and down your nervous system. My legs gave way and I sat down.

Ryu was there, of course, his face white as a sheet. Caleb was also there in a flash, and they were both staring at my hand as if strategizing how best to proceed. Conleth buggered off in a fiery blaze, doing his little rocket-ship trick and flying away. Various people gave chase in the direction of his comet's tail, while the glamour police got to work on the surrounding humans. I would wonder later about what they told the bewildered populace of Allston. Comet sightings? Falling stars? Bad acid?

At the time, however, I didn't give it much thought. I was too busy, what with the knife through my palm.

“Get it
out
,” I whined through gritted teeth, extending my hand to the satyr. Caleb nodded, as Ryu knelt behind me. His arms went across my chest and I thought he was hugging me. I realized he was keeping me immobile only when Caleb moved forward and, with one swift movement, pulled the knife from my hand. I shrieked incoherent, made-up swear words as the pain stopped messing around, bent me over, and made me its bitch.

Ironically, I still didn't fucking faint. I fainted all the damned time, except when I really wanted to. How shitty is that?

The second the knife was out, Caleb started healing. I ground my jaw together, wondering whether it was possible to pulverize your own molars. There must have been a lot of damage done to my hand for Caleb's ministrations to hurt like that. But looking at the knife lying on the ground in front of me, it made sense. It was huge, as in Crocodile Dundee “Now that's a knoife”
huge
.

“Motherfucker stabbed me,” I repeated, as Ryu kissed my cheek and then used a finger to turn my face toward his.

“What were you doing, baby?” he asked, gently.

“Saving your life,” I informed him, my voice an interesting admixture of humiliation and sarcasm.

He chuckled. “Oh, Jane. What were you thinking?”

“That I was Robo-Jane?” I responded, wincing as Caleb's healing magics wrenched a few more tiny bones together.

Ryu kissed me gently, his lips staying against mine as he murmured what I'd known was coming.

“You took a knife for me, baby. Thank you.”

I blanched, pulling my face away to watch Caleb play doctor. I knew Ryu was interpreting my actions as some ultimate declaration of my affection, something I wasn't entirely comfortable with.

You did just take a fucking “knoife” for him
, my brain chipped in drily.

And now Ryu totally owes you
, my libido added, making lewd suggestions about how he could pay me back.

I ignored both my brain and my libido and instead concentrated on not snatching my hand back from the satyr and running back to Rockabill where everything was simple.

Ryu's hand stroked my hair. He was clearly waiting for a response.

“Yeah, well, stabbing
hurts
, Ryu. A lot. I never want to do that again.” It wasn't subtle, but it made him clam up. He chuckled, and I glanced up at him from the corner of my eye. He was still very white. Normally my vampire had a nice healthy glow about him. I think he used sun beds, but I didn't have the heart to ask. The men I'd grown up with didn't go tanning.

“Pity that,” Ryu murmured, as Caleb took one last look at my hand. The big goat-man eyed my palm professionally, until he declared me healed.

I thanked him, withdrawing my hand. Before I could inspect it properly, however, Ryu had already snatched it into his own.

With long strokes of his tongue, he cleaned the blood away, causing my breath to catch in my throat. Caleb coughed and walked away as my vampire sucked each of my fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue along the length of each. Then Ryu carefully licked the creases between my fingers, until my hand was entirely free of blood. That's when he drew me to him for a kiss.

And I surreptitiously wiped my wet hand on the seat of my jeans.

Trailing kisses from my mouth to my ear, Ryu's voice came low as his breath sent shivers down my spine. I was seriously incorrigible; I'd just been stabbed and there I was all horny. I should be drinking soup. Not vampire.

“Pity that,” he repeated. “Since I was planning on taking you home and then bathing you.”

I gasped again as Ryu swept me up in his arms.

“First in my shower and then with my tongue.”

I cooed, cuddling closer to his chest as he carried me off to his car.

“And then…
I'll
give you a stabbing. Only the good kind.”

He does owe us,
my libido primly reminded me.

And I gotta admit, my still-aching hand heartily agreed that some sort of payback was
definitely
in order.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

W
hile staring at Ryu's ceiling, I flexed my hand, trying to work the stiffness out of my fingers and wrap my head around the fact that I'd been stabbed last night. And not Ryu's euphemistic stabbing, but stabbed. For real. With a knife.

In fact, there had been no euphemistic stabbing. Halfway to Ryu's, I'd gone a bit shocky and blue. Two big healings in as many weeks had sapped me physically. While Caleb's magic orchestrated everything, it was my own body's energies and tissues being eaten up.

Plus, I had seen a knife sticking through my hand, never a pleasant experience. So when he got me home, Ryu sat me in his wet room, under hot water, till I'd stopped with the shivering and the blue-face routine. Then he'd made me drink lots of fluids, and he put me to bed with a large dose of valium. I'd slept like a baby.

I was out for about fourteen hours, and when I woke up—for the first time—Ryu was doing his death sleep next to me. Except for the fangs and the little sips of blood, there was nothing “vampirish” about my vampire. Human stories had gotten most things wrong. But while he wasn't a dead man, he did sleep so hard that I could understand why the legends claimed his kind must be corpses.

So I got up, ate every last thing I could find in Ryu's apartment, and drank an entire liter of orange juice, while avoiding thinking about how I'd been stabbed. Then I crawled back in bed to sleep some more. I was really going to need a swim soon, but nap first.

When I woke up the second time, it was evening and the bed was mine alone. I heard Ryu talking to someone, and after a moment I realized it must have been the Peapod guy delivering the groceries we'd ordered yesterday. I could eat only so much restaurant and takeout food, no matter how good it was. Knowing I should join the land of the living, I eventually got up, went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face, and tried to muster the will to shower. I finally just gave up and went back again to lie in Ryu's massive bed, stare at the ceiling, and finally address the fact that I'd been stabbed.

After he put away the groceries, Ryu joined me. He pulled off his T-shirt and his black lounging pants before sliding between the sheets. I held out my arms and he pulled me close.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine,” I said after a few seconds.

“You're sure? You sound not so fine.”

“I am fine, really. It's just weird to think about.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, kissing my cheek. “It is.”

“Thanks for not making fun of me.” If I'd been in his shoes, I totally would have taken a moment to point and laugh by now.

“Baby, you tried to save my life. Yeah, you got yourself stabbed for no reason, but do you realize how it feels to know you did that for me?”

I blinked in the darkness. It had all happened so fast; I can't even remember what I was thinking when I did it. Was I thinking I loved Ryu and had to rescue him? Or was it just reflex? Would my father have moved that fast for any child, or just for his daughter?

Shut up
,
you,
the libido butted in, silencing my thoughts.
He still owes us nookie
.

As usual, my libido won and my only answer to Ryu's unspoken questions was my mouth on his.

We made love slowly and gently. I didn't want him to know my hand was still aching. Anything athletic was out of the question, but it was not what either of us wanted, anyway.

Then we showered and he left to go investigate another of the two leads, besides poor Tally Bender, that we'd gotten from Silver. The old doctor had known where we could find Pat Hampton, who'd been the medical coordinator brought in by the new sponsor for all of Conleth's “testing.” Hampton had led a double life: married with kids in one and gay as a bird in the other. Which had saved his life, although his family hadn't been so lucky. While he was holed up in hiding with his secret lover, his wife and young sons were burned in their beds by Conleth. But Silver had told us where to go, and Ryu had coordinated a team to retrieve Hampton while I'd slept the previous evening.

Ryu kissed me good-bye, promised to be back in a few hours, made
me
promise not to open the door to anybody but him or his deputies, and left me to my own devices. I was still exhausted, and getting stabbed had put the kibosh on my investigative gusto.

The first thing I did was call home. My dad was fine, but worried about me. He was also wondering why he could never remember the midget nurse's name. I told him I loved him and I'd be back soon, which was true, hopefully. Then I called the bookstore. They were about to close, and Tracy was being super cagey and had gotten off the phone pretty quickly. I could have sworn I heard Miss Carol yelling at someone in the background.

Oh gods. Is Miss Carol covering for me at work?

I prayed that I still had a job and that Tracy wasn't going to kill me, as I slipped on undies and one of Ryu's dress shirts. Then I went downstairs to prepare dinner, rooting happily through the refrigerator, then the cupboards, humming to myself as I surveyed my spoils. Before executing my culinary genius, I first poked at Ryu's iPod, set in his state-of-the-art sound dock thingie, until I found the Killers and put them on shuffle. I was officially obsessed with the Killers, not least because of the lead singer's slightly-spastic-yet-strangely-sexy dance moves. I did a little dancing of my own, until my tummy grumbled a hungry protest. I gave one last shimmy before I started pulling out ingredients. I was going to make puy lentils, Provençal style, with two beautiful filet mignon steaks, cooked very rare. Also on the menu was a green salad, heavy on the spinach, with this super-garlicky dressing I'd gotten from a Barefoot Contessa cookbook. Itwas a family favorite and went well with the spinach. Lots of iron was required when one was dating a vampire.

Favoring my sore hand, I slowly chopped onion, leeks, and carrot, and then did a fine dice on the celery. After unwrapping Ryu's Le Creuset pot, I gave it a quick wash and set it on the stove to melt a little butter with olive oil. When it was just starting to bubble, I added the vegetables and then turned down the heat to let them soften. I washed the fresh herbs I was using in my bouquet garni, tying them into a little bundle using a string of sliced leek. I then started finely dicing the garlic, a few cloves for the lentils and a few cloves for the dressing, which got an additional mashing. It was lucky the garlic thing was untrue about vampires, because no garlic would have been a deal breaker. If Ryu couldn't live with garlic, there's no way I could live with him.

When I finished chopping the garlic, I set the knife down to stir the veggies. I was just pulling the lentils and a package of chicken stock out of the cupboard when there was a loud knock at the door.

I froze, then stood like that for about thirty seconds before the knock was repeated.

I figured it had to be one of Ryu's deputies, or Stefan's people wouldn't have let whomever it was through to the door. But just in case Conleth had killed my guards and was standing outside bearing chocolates and death, I scraped the last of the garlic off Ryu's massive Santuko knife and took it with me.

I'll show that halfling a “knoife,”
I thought as I stood on my tippy-toes to peer out of Ryu's peephole. All I could see was warped man chest. So I made like a granny and called out, “Who is it?” in a tremulous voice.

“Jane?” came the growling response. I knew only one talking dog-man who growled like that.

“Anyan?” I asked, just to be sure.

“Jane.” He sounded pissed.

As I started in on the locks, my suspicions were confirmed. Before I'd even finished with the dead bolt, I heard his rough voice again.

“Shit, I should have known you'd be here.”

“Nice to see you, too,” I replied as the door finally swung open.

Anyan, in human form, responded by glowering at me, so I glowered right back. Or at least I tried to. But his iron-gray gaze was too intense, and I broke, focusing on his frown instead.

“Catch Conleth?” I asked, grasping at conversational straws.

“No,” he said. “Fucker's quick. Are you going to let me in?”

I moved aside so he could squeeze past. As he did so, I finally broke down and ogled.

He was just as big as I remembered, maybe even larger with clothes. My eyes swept up his big black boots, up his worn jeans, and over a thick leather motorcycle jacket. There was a saddlebag thing over one broad shoulder, and he held a helmet in his hand. I smiled at the sight; I'd always wondered how he got around. He couldn't run everywhere, could he?

When my eyes finally met his again, he was still frowning. I also noticed that his longish hair was suffering a bad case of helmet head.

“I didn't know you'd be here,” he said, “or I would have changed.”

I was about to tell him that he certainly didn't have to dress up for me, when I realized he didn't mean his clothes. Anyan meant his shape. I was about to ask him why he always came to me as a dog, when he saw the knife.

“Expecting someone?” he asked, nodding toward the gleaming Santuko.

“Oh, I'm feeling vengeful. Got stabbed yesterday.”

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and his frown deepened so much that, with his big nose twitching at me and his hair flattened, he looked like Sam the Eagle from the Muppets.

“What?”

“I got stabbed,” I repeated, as I remembered that I hadn't locked the door. So I turned around to do so, and when I turned back, I caught him staring at my legs. I went red as I realized I was only wearing Ryu's shirt.

“Lemme change,” I squeaked, running up the stairs to my right.

I dug out a pair of black stretch yoga pants and a tank top before I remembered I needed a bra. Then I still felt a little naked and was about to put Ryu's shirt back on when I changed my mind and dug out my own purple cardigan. I took a moment to compose myself and brush my hair and my teeth before I realized with a little aria of swearing that I'd left the vegetables on the burner.

I raced downstairs and into the kitchen, expecting to find a conflagration of burned onion. Instead, Anyan was stirring the vegetables with one hand as he stretched his long arm out toward the sink to rinse the lentils.

I stared at his back, unsure of what to do, as he used the colander to flick off the tap and then dumped the lentils into the pot. Then he stirred it all around a bit, just as I would have done, before adding the carton of chicken stock. Then he rummaged around in the cupboards till he found another, dumping that one in, too.

I took a seat across from him at the island to watch, my brow furrowing, as he raised the heat and stirred everything. He brought my bouquet garni up to his long nose and sniffed it before adding it to the pot. He ground a bunch of pepper into the mix, added some salt, and gave it one last stir before he turned to face me. He placed his palms on the cool granite of the island and leaned over to stare into my eyes.

He'd taken off his jacket, and I noticed that his black T-shirt sported an advertisement for Milk-Bones. If he hadn't been staring at me so sternly, I would have laughed at that.

“What in the hell are you doing here? And what do you mean, you got stabbed?”

I eyed him warily. “You usurped my lentils.”

“The stabbing, Jane,” he replied, not batting an eyelash.

“Did you add the garlic?”

“Yes. Tell me how you got hurt.”

“I usually cut the stock with water.”

“I don't. Now what happened to you?”

“That's kind of a waste of stock.” I noticed that the very tip of his nose was starting to twitch.

“I swear to the gods that if you change the subject one more time, I'm going to put
you
in the lentils.”

“The pot's about to boil over.”

Anyan swore and wheeled about to lower the heat and stir the broth into submission. He also took a moment to visibly gather himself before turning to face me. I took the opportunity to compose myself as well. It's not just that I was trying to be difficult; it was also that I didn't know how to act around Anyan the man. The dog Anyan was no problem, but the man was a whole different kettle of fish. Kettle of man. Kettle of supernatural shapeshifting man-dog. Whatever.

And he
had
usurped my lentils.

Anyan picked up the wooden spoon again to dredge up a bit of broth. He turned around, blowing on it to cool it, before holding it out for me to taste.

“Check the seasoning for yourself,” he demanded, so I did. “Is it fine?” I nodded. “Good, now forget the lentils and tell me what happened to you.”

I glared at him, but did as he asked in as few words as possible. As I told him, I unconsciously rubbed at the aching spot on my palm where the knife had gone in.

When I was finished, he stood there, staring at me. Then he walked around to where I was sitting. His large hand gripped mine, and he held it gently, probing at it with magic.

I shivered at the touch of his power and pulled my hand from his.

“Anyan, it's fine—” I began to protest, but he silenced me with a thumb over my lips. The barghest cradled my jaw with his hand, forcing me to meet his gray eyes with my black. I could smell cardamom and leather and man. And maybe the faintest whiff of clean doggy.