Books by Maggie Shayne (242 page)

She met his eyes. "They're mortals. That's reason enough." Then she bit her lip and shot a look at Alicia. "I've met very few of them who are trustworthy. Even fewer who are as exceptional and brave as our dear Alicia," she added quickly.

Alicia lowered her head, her cheeks blushing red.

"We have to get this back to Willem," Amber said.

"Half of it," Jameson said. "The other half should be in Eric's lab, so he can duplicate the formula. Otherwise, we'll be right back where we are now when this batch wears off."

"How can we know half is enough to keep him alive," Amber asked.

"We can't," her father told her. "We can only hope."

Alicia tucked the diskette back into her pocket. "I tried to open this to get a glimpse of its contents on the computer in Brooke's room, but it's password protected."

"Can you get to it, Alicia?"

Alicia nodded. "If I can't, Morgan can. We should get this to her in Salem, then we can e-mail the file to Eric."

"Guess it's time to split up," Amber said. "So who's going where?"

Rhiannon's Mercedes still sat where they'd left it, and Alicia's Corvette was parked nearby. Edge stepped up beside the 'Vette and stiffened his spine in preparation for a battle, though he hoped like hell it wouldn't be necessary. He said, "Nice little car, Alicia. Bucket front seats, no rear." He held her eyes. "No room for passengers, though. It only holds two."

The little blond mortal seemed to pick up on his meaning immediately. She pulled a set of keys from her pocket and tossed them to him. "Why don't you and Amber take it?"

Jameson opened his mouth to object. Edge saw it clearly, then saw, too, the way his tender little wife put a hand on his shoulder, silencing him. "I think that's a good idea," she said, before anyone else could object. "The rest of us can fit quite comfortably into Rhiannon's Mercedes."

"Good, then," Edge said. "We'll take the half that's going to what's-his-name's lab."

This time Jameson did speak up. "I'd prefer you take the dose of serum to Will in Salem. I don't want Amber within reach of Frank Stiles."

Edge lifted his brows. "I have unfinished business with Stiles. And believe me, I'm not going to let him get his hands on Alby again."

Amber cleared her throat. "Is everyone conveniently forgetting to ask me what I prefer to do?"

They all looked at her. Rhiannon seemed to be restraining a smile.

"I think Edge is right, we should go to the lab. Eric and Tamara, Donovan and Dante, and even Roland are there to back me up should Stiles try anything. And it's imperative I be on hand as Eric runs his tests." She nodded at the vial. "This is the last of Stiles's original batch. We need to know how to duplicate it, and my blood is the key ingredient."

Edge tipped his head to one side. "You make a good point."

"Yeah. Way better than your petty need for vengeance," Amber told him. "You're going to keep your hands off Stiles until I say so. If you won't agree to that, here and now, you can just leave and I'll go alone."

One corner of his mouth pulled into a grudging grin. "You'd turn me out, here, on foot, alone?"

"So fast it would make your head spin."

Edge sighed, turning to face her father. "As I think you can see, your daughter and I have some things to work out." Then he wiped the smirk from his face, turning serious. "You can trust me, Bryant. I won't let any harm come to her."

"I believe you, Edge." Jameson sighed. "Just remember, if you do, you'll answer to me."

"Understood."

Amber looked surprised, maybe because he didn't reply to Jameson Bryant's threat with sarcasm or lip. Actually it surprised him a bit, as well. But he understood the man completely, even respected him for his devotion to Amber Lily. He opened the car's passenger door for Amber. With thinned lips, she got in, pulled on her seat belt and slammed the door.

Jameson handed him the vial. He'd already sucked a portion into a syringe he'd found in Rhiannon's emergency first-aid kit, in the trunk of the car that had everything, to take to Willem Stone. "You're hauling precious cargo, Edge. Don't forget it."

"Not for a minute." He took the vial, held the man's eyes for one extended heartbeat. Something passed between them. They understood each other, Edge thought. Then, finally, Edge turned and went around the car to the driver's side. There he glanced at Alicia, offered her a warm smile. "Thank you for this," he whispered.

She nodded. "Be worth it, Edge."

He got in, started the engine and pulled the car into motion. And all of a sudden, the notion of several long hours alone with Amber seemed less appealing than it had before. She was angry, though he was uncertain why. And he had no idea what to say to her.

She finally looked at him after the first few miles of silence. "Well?"

"Well, what?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "You obviously wanted to get me alone so you could talk to me. So talk."

He slanted her a look. Smiled a little. "Now when did I ever give you the idea that talking would be my reason for wanting to get you alone? Hmm?"

Her face colored a little, and she looked away.

"Don't pretend to be offended, Alby. You've never played games with me before, don't start now."

"I'm not playing games. And I am offended if you think anything could be more important than—than what I'm facing right now."

He reached out to trail the backs of his fingers over her cheek. "What
we're
facing, you mean."

She shook her head slowly.

"What, you don't believe me? You think I'm going to take off and leave you to it?"

"Not until you get what you want," she said softly.

"And what is it you think I want?"

She frowned at him. "You've been pretty up-front about what you want all along, Edge. At least, once you decided to stop lying about it. You want Stiles. You want your revenge on him. That's all you ever wanted."

"No," he said. "Not all." He drew a breath, sighed deeply. "I don't suppose I get any points for leaving Stiles and coming after you when I thought you might be in trouble?"

She said nothing.

"Come on, please? Just enough to cancel out the black marks I earned for choosing to go with him rather than you in the first place?" He turned those eyes on her, flashed that blasted dimple. "It was a stupid mistake, Alby. I knew it the minute I was away from you, and I've been kicking myself for it ever since."

"When are you going to get it through your head that I don't care what you do?"

"When it's true, I suppose. It isn't. Not now, at least."

She shrugged. "It's going to be daylight long before we make it all the way to Wind Ridge."

"Yeah, well, I've got no intention of getting into the trunk again, lady." He eyed her. "Besides, you look exhausted. When's the last time you slept?"

She thought about it, realized she didn't remember. "I don't know. Since before we left Stiles's place."

"Curl up, love. Take a nap. I'll drive until I have to stop."

She blinked slowly, shook her head. "You don't even know where we're going."

"You can tell me before you rest."

She flipped open the glove compartment, took out a pocket-sized road atlas, flipped pages. He watched her. Not her finger, tracing a path along the map. But her face, as she frowned in concentration. The little lines between her bent eyebrows and the shape of her nose. Her tongue as she licked her full lips.

"You can pick up the highway about fifteen miles ahead. You'll probably have to stop before we need to turn off."

He nodded, only half listening, darting quick looks at the road ahead. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

She looked up quickly, startled, perhaps, by the abrupt change of subject. She mulled for a moment, then shrugged. "All right, I suppose."

"You're as pale as alabaster."

"You should talk." She said it with a slight smile.

He grinned back at her, relieved to have her teasing him. It was, he thought, a good sign. "Well, I have reason to be."

"So do I, although the way I've been feeling, I would think green would be a more accurate skin tone than alabaster."

His smile died. "That bad?"

"I can't be more than a few days pregnant," she said. "I can't believe it's already giving me symptoms. And when I'm not queasy or puking, I'm eating everything I can get my hands on. I seem to be getting fat just for the hell of it." She looked away, seemed suddenly nervous, and spoke rapidly. "I mean, it has to be from all the food I've been shoveling in," she said, her hands on her belly. "It can't be the baby. It's only been a few days."

"Just gives a man more to explore, love."

She looked away. "I've begun to wonder if… maybe there's something about me that makes things happen… sooner. I know it seems farfetched, Edge, but I suppose Eric could confirm that, with a few tests and—''

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," he said quickly. He frowned at her, searching her face. "God, you're still thinking I don't believe you."

She didn't look up, kept her eyes focused on her hands in her lap.

"Alby, look at me."

Licking her lips, she forced her head up, met his eyes.

"I have no idea in hell how this could have happened. No more than you do. But I don't for one minute think you're lying about it."

"I'm not sure I'd believe it, if I were in your place."

He sighed hard, hit his hand on the steering wheel. "This is about my initial reaction, isn't it? Hell, Alby, naturally I
assumed
the child wasn't mine. As far as I knew, there was no possible way it could have been. And you didn't tell me differently, don't forget. You didn't give me a chance."

She shrugged. "So you really don't… question this?"

"Of course I question it. I question how the hell it happened, why it happened, whether it's something about my body chemistry, or something about yours, or some chemical reaction that happens when the two meet. God knows there's something pretty damned explosive between us, after all. But I don't question
you
, Alby. I won't. And I don't need your friend the science geek running any tests to prove it, either."

She stared at him, her eyes wide, for the longest time.

She didn't say anything, just stared. He glanced at her a few times, but every time, it was only to see her staring back at him.

He drove on in silence for several hours. Eventually Amber tipped her seat back as far as it would go and curled onto one side, still facing him. He was beginning to wonder if he'd sprouted a second head or something by the time he looked at her to find her eyes had closed at last, dark, thick lashes resting on her cheeks. Her lips, full and moist, were slightly parted. Her breaths flowed in and out of her like waves rolling up onto the beach and then slowly back out to sea again.

He knew the instant she fell into a deep sleep. He felt the shields she'd erected around her mind slowly dissolving. The resistance melted away, and he could not quite resist the urge to tiptoe through her mind, to look in on her dreams. It wasn't ethical, but he'd never been the most upstanding citizen of the dark realms, anyway.

He slowed the car to a crawl, so he could focus more easily on her, on her mind, on her dreams. He saw it unfold, all of it… so clearly in her mind's eye.

He saw her lying in a large bed, her hair tangled, her face damp with sweat. He saw himself, on the other side of a strange bedroom, picking up a small, ornately carved wooden box, carrying it toward her.

He could feel her whispering in her mind,
No, no, please, I don't want to see this again
! And yet the dream unwound, unfurled, spun its images for both of them to see.

His dream self brought the box to her bedside, lowered it toward her, and then he could see, through her eyes, what was inside. A tiny, beautiful baby, with stunningly dark lashes and eyebrows and pale golden hair. It was still, still and white as porcelain.

A black veil slammed down on the dream images, but he could still hear Amber's thoughts swirling through her mind.

I'll lose the baby
, she whispered, frantic, panic-stricken.
And even if I could bear it, it's only the beginning, because I'll lose him, too
.

He frowned, jerking his attention back to the road, realizing he was sending up a cloud of dust, having veered onto the shoulder.

I can't love him. I can't love the child. I can't let myself hope, because none of it matters.

"Dammit, Alby, that's just not true."

A car blew its horn, snapping him back to reality. Edge jerked the wheel, pulling back into his own lane and narrowly avoiding the oncoming car. Amber sat up straight, startled wide-awake.

He got the car stopped safely on the shoulder of the road. Amber sent him a questioning glance. "It's all right," he said. "I… I just got distracted for a minute."

She blinked at him, and he could see the trauma in her eyes, the grief, the worry. But then she went cold, pulling that curtain down over her emotions, over her feelings. And he understood it now, that sudden pulling back, the distance she seemed determined to put between them. He understood it—but he was damned if he knew what to do about it.

She looked past him, toward the sky, then turned to scan the area where they'd come to a stop. "At least you picked a good spot for it," she said.

He was so distracted that he didn't get her point, until he followed her gaze to the wooden sign, swinging in the breeze.

"Haven Inn, Bed & Breakfast," he read aloud. Then he lifted his brows. "As good a place as any, I suppose."

"If the room's too sunny, we can always stick you under the bed, or in a closet or something."

He smiled at her. "Gee, thanks. That sounds so inviting."

"Doesn't it?" she asked, slightly teasing.

His spirits rose, because hers seemed to be a bit lighter. "I can only hope they have room service."

"Going to order up a pint?" she asked.

"I was thinking more of just eating the waiter."

She sent him a smirk, and he smiled at her, then pulled into the driveway and up to the inn. Aside from the imitation gas lamps outside, the place was pitch-black. "I hope we'll be able to rouse the innkeepers before the sun rises," he muttered, killing the engine and headlights, getting out of the car.