Stealing Time (18 page)

“Seriously?” James asked, looking dumbfounded. Absentmindedly, he backhanded a beast that lunged at my flank, and I watched with satisfaction as it sailed high overhead and smashed into a tree. Its velocity was so great, the bodach pretty much exploded on impact.

It was one thing to know we were strong—James even more than me because of his age—it was another thing entirely to observe the violent application of that strength.

“Thanks.”

He flashed a fang-filled grin. Reversing the tree trunk and crushing another bodach’s haunches, he finished it off with an effortless kick—his lethal grace and speed calling to me on multiple levels.

The ground was littered with the shaggy forms, none of them moving, as the last creature came at me. I stepped forward to meet its charge, balancing on the balls of my feet as energy flowed through me. A quick spin, a vicious shot to the creature’s spine, and it hit the ground, shrieking its rage and pain. I bent my body into the killing blow, the heel of my hand crushing the bodach’s ribcage and stopping the heart. The entire thing took less than the time between breaths.

When I straightened, James was looking at me, slack-jawed. I rolled my shoulders and bounced a little on my feet, trying to shake off the fight-high, watching him as he composed himself.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Just thinking that maybe I should’ve had
you
fight Liam.”

I laughed. “Nine years of martial arts training is very…empowering. I wasn’t kidding when I said I hate feeling helpless.”

“My dearest, there’s nothing helpless about you,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around me. “The way you fight…
ma mie,
you were magnificent.”

“Oh…well,” I said, blushing at his admiration. I glanced down and noticed that our clothes had been sliced up by bodach teeth and claws, although our skin was undamaged. It made me grin—being a vampire surely had its moments.

The newcomer stirred and James knelt to his level while I kept an eye out for any more bizarre creatures. Part of me—a rather large, aggressive part—was fervently hoping something else would show up that needed stomping. It was invigorating, using my new strength and speed in a fight, and I wanted
more
.

“Where did those things come from?” James asked, but the male was unresponsive.

Coming to a decision, James took one of the stranger’s arms and got him vertical. Easily slinging him over his shoulder, James headed toward the house. Sighing—I so yearned for another fight—I turned and followed. When we reached the door, I scooted ahead and moved one of the chairs closer to the fire, standing aside as James levered our guest onto the soft upholstery.

Our seeing in the dark consists entirely of varying shades of gray—excellent for moving around at night, but not for seeing the kinds of details the firelight showed when it struck the stranger’s face. He was pale as old bone with deeply shadowed eyes and cadaver-hollow cheeks. He panted like a human who’d run a bruising marathon and his heart pounded frantically, as if it didn’t have enough blood to send through his system.

After a few moments, the stranger roused, lifting his head and blinking as if he had trouble focusing. When he raised his hand to his face, it shook so hard it looked like he could do himself harm simply rubbing his mouth.

“What happened to you?” James asked, his voice rough with shock.

The stranger tried again to speak, but no sound came out.

I asked James, “Could he be thirsty?”

A low sound came from the male, equal parts desire and despair. He closed his eyes and laid his head back on the chair, feebly shaking it side to side.

James was gone and back with a heavy mug in his hands. “Here, drink this. It will help.”

The stranger’s eyes opened and the misery I saw there made me flinch. I looked at James in alarm. “Slayers?” I mouthed.

“Not their style—he’s still breathing.”

As if his hand had a will of its own, the stranger reached shakily for the mug. Seeing that he wouldn’t be able to manage, James lowered it to the stranger’s mouth and helped him to drink. In seconds, the mug was empty and the stranger tilted his head back against the chair. His gaze was infinitely sad. “I…I should…thank you.”

James set the mug down and moved with me to sit on the hearth facing the male. I noted that James positioned himself between us and was warmed by his protectiveness, although this miserable creature was no threat.

“What happened to you?” James asked kindly.

The newcomer sighed and closed his eyes as if thought was overwhelming. After a moment, he returned his gaze to us. “I should start with my name. It’s Rob Gagener. Everybody calls me Gage. I live…I used to live in California. In between classes at UC Santa Cruz, my friends and I spent all our time surfing from North Jetty in Arcata to Santa Cruz and Huntington Beach.” A soft smile played across his features before disappearing. “My mom used to say I was on the six-year ‘surfer degree’ program.”

I studied him as he talked. He had a surfer’s wiry, athletic build, and was deeply tanned—given his coloring, he would have looked like a golden demigod riding the waves, his blond hair wild, blue eyes bright. I had no trouble imagining him in his element, surfing with his friends, flirting with pretty girls. College wouldn’t have stood a chance.

“The last thing that made any sense was the night we had a bonfire on the beach. Just a bunch of us who’d surfed all day and anyone else who wandered in, wanting to party. And there was this girl—standing just outside the firelight, staring straight at me. She was so beautiful. I’d never seen anything like her.”

James’s and my eyes met.

“She held her hand out and
looked
at me. We walked off down the beach. She never said a word, just held my hand and smiled. After we’d gone a ways, she stopped and, man it was weird, but she knocked me down.” He was clearly embarrassed by this and avoided our eyes. “She was little, but so
strong…
”

“What happened?” I prompted when he fell silent.

“She leaned over and…she
bit
me.” Gage trailed off, lifting his gaze to read our expressions. He was apparently relieved by what he saw because he continued. “I couldn’t get her off me. I heard somebody shout and she was gone. My friends must have come looking and found me there. I passed out and when I woke up, somebody’d put me in the morgue—like they thought I was dead. That scared the crap out of me, waking up like that, with all those dead people.” He shook his head, horror clear in his eyes.

“What did you do?” I had to prompt him again.

He looked at me, surprised that we were listening to his wild story so calmly. “I ran.”

“How long ago was that?” James asked.

“A month? I don’t know.”

“And the bodach? What were fae creatures doing chasing you through the Canadian Rockies?”

That’s when the creatures’ name clicked. While I was a Rhodes Scholar, I spent my free time exploring Ireland. Consequently, I knew a lot about fae, preternatural beings called by many names—sidhe, fair folk, elves—and the lesser creatures they commanded, including the bodach. I also knew that fae were nothing like Tolkien’s elves, but rather, deceptively beautiful creatures who thrived on lethal intrigue and treachery.

Self-loathing filled Gage’s eyes. “I had
hurt
people…I’d been trying not to, I’m not a murderer, but since then, I…I’ve been running all day, every day, trying to get as far from people as I could.” He shifted his gaze from the floor to cast furtive looks at us, no doubt expecting outrage at his confession. When we did nothing but wait patiently for him to continue, he frowned, returning to his study of the floor. “Two nights ago, a huge white deer ran across the trail right in front of me. I couldn’t help myself. I mean, I’m a vegetarian but at least it wasn’t human, right? So, um, I chased it. But the thing was like smoke. It just disappeared after about a mile. A few seconds later, this crazy wind blew up and I was suddenly surrounded by riders on black, red-eyed horses. I couldn’t believe it, but they were
fae.
I recognized their descriptions from Classic Lit, the only class I could stay awake in.”

Again, Gage paused, still waiting for us to freak out. Remembering my own college days and seeking to reassure him, I recited a snippet of Yeats. And, sure, fine, I was showing off a little for James.

“The host is rushing ’twixt night and day, And where is there hope or deed as fair?”

James grinned. “The Hosting of the Sidhe.”

“The very one,” I said, enjoying the way he looked at me.

Gage cleared his throat, not noticing the green-black streaks darkening James’s eyes with sudden territorial irritation. “Anyway, at first, I was so thrilled fae were real. Man, I couldn’t believe it. Like a book come to life. Then I remembered the stories about them and what happened to humans they came across. I got scared and ran. Their leader set the bodach after me and, well, you know the rest.”

A ghostly white deer, mounted huntsmen on terrifying black mounts. Shaking my head, I muttered, “It was the Wild Hunt all right. And you got between the Huntsman himself and the White Stag. Holy crap.”

“Only the bodach trailed you?” James asked, intent. “Not the riders?”

“Yeah,” Gage’s exhaustion was clear as his eyelids drooped. “They even said I wasn’t worth them or their hounds chasing. Just the bodach. I got the impression it was an insult.”

James leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Do you understand what has happened to you?”

“I don’t have a freaking clue about anything that’s happened since that night on the beach.”

“The girl who bit you was a vampire,” James said, his tone soft. “You are one now too because of that bite.”

“Wh…?” Gage gasped. “That’s crazy!”

“As crazy as a bodach swarm? As crazy as fae riders?” I asked. “As crazy as what you drank not ten minutes ago?”

James and I waited while Gage’s thoughts gyrated. We could practically hear the
click
when he put the pieces together.

“How do you know?” he whispered in horror.

Keeping his voice gentle, James said, “Because we are too.”

Gage bolted out of the chair and was across the room, his eyes wild.

Neither of us moved from the hearth. “You’re safe here.”

“But…” He looked poised for flight.

“Why don’t you come back and join us,” James said, his voice compelling. I realized he was putting his will into it and listened, fascinated. Vampires couldn’t whammy other vampires, but it seemed we could influence each other. “Be at ease. You are safe here.”

Looking ready to spook at any moment, Gage edged across the room and stood a few feet away, trembling with fear and fatigue. “
Okayyy.
You’re not going to bite me or anything…?”

Keeping my face straight, I said, “No, we don’t bite.” James shot me a mischievous look.

Seeing Gage’s heavy lids and his struggle to keep his head upright, James explained his need for rest. We led him to the guest room and James helped him stagger onto the bed. Already half-unconscious, Gage mumbled something and was out.

We went back to the hearth and James put another log on the fire—the heat felt great and I stretched like a cat in front of it. He pulled me back into him and nuzzled my neck.

“That was very kind of you,” I said, snugging his arms against my waist.

“Right place, right time.” Burying his face in my hair and holding me tightly against his chest, he breathed my scent deep into his lungs. I could feel his smile against my neck.

“What are we going to do with him?”

“I have no idea. He’s not up to fending for himself right now—he’s had far too rough a start.”

“Mmm.”

“Perhaps Leo would take him in. He taught me a great deal when I was young. I think he would be pleased to help Gage as well.”

“We can’t exactly stick him on a bus and send him to Leo.” I imagined a changeling on a bus filled with delectable humans and shuddered.

There was a lot of growl in his tone. “No. But his being here is…difficult.” James rubbed his cheek along mine, as much marking me his as it was an expression of his affection.

I looked at him over my shoulder. “You mentioned the proprietary thing before. But you must know that—”

“Yes, but instincts and intellect rarely agree.”

“We could call Leo on the satellite phone, ask to meet him somewhere and to take Gage.”

“No, I will deal with this. The instincts are manageable and, besides, my reaction is one I am not proud of.” He kissed my hair. “Gage has been through too much to send him away, especially for such a little thing.”

I smiled. “Very kind…”

James gave a genuine growl. “I have my limits, however.”

Chuckling, I said, “It doesn’t say much for my feminist sensibilities, but I have to admit—I’m rather enjoying your reaction.”

He dipped his head to kiss my neck. “This is mine.” His mouth moved to my cheek, “And this.” His lips found mine and he murmured against my mouth, “And this.” He sighed and tilted his head back against the wall. “Not proud at all.”

“Maybe if you think of him as a younger brother?”

He was quiet while he considered this. “That might help. I would have liked to have had a brother.”

I turned to look up into his eyes…and was floored by the image of my own face superimposing itself over James’s.

“What is it, Evie?”

Blinking, I willed my vision to quit with the bizarre after-images or whatever they were doing. “Ever since I got shot, I keep getting these little echoes. Impressions and feelings. It’s really weird.”

He went still. “What kind of impressions?”

“Just then, it was like I was looking in a mirror. But the angle was all wrong. I was looking down at myself looking up.”

A smile tugged at his mouth and he brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Incredible.”

“What is?”

“I’ve only read about it.” He trailed off, bemused.

“You’re making me crazy here.”

James’s eyes refocused. “Sorry, love. We have our own legends, of course, and one of them is about sharing blood. The story is that, when enough blood is shared, a sensory bond can be created. It is said to be very rare and only happens between mates who are particularly close.”