“What?” I asked. “You can’t just stop in the middle like that!” His eyes, so dark they had no color, revealed thoughts I could only guess at. “Her name was Nylla, and she had been turned in the time of Napoleon. She found her avhar dying of starvation in a POW camp during the Civil War.” He stopped again.
I was so proud I didn’t kick him I promised myself ice cream at the next opportunity. Gritting my teeth I said, “Go on.”
“Like me, she hoped for… something beyond mere experience. I suppose in Tobias she sought”—he shrugged and shook his head—“the missing piece. The bit that should have prevented her from letting her soul slip to begin with.”
“Did she find it?” asked Cassandra.
He nodded. “They both discovered something… new. Something beyond humanity. And yet not Vampere. Because Tobias stopped aging, but he continued to walk in the light. And Nylla ceased hunting, but she did not wither. Eventually they disappeared, as have all successful pairs before them. But their story remains, giving the rest of us”—his eyes touched mine—“hope.”
“That explains a lot,” said Bergman. “But it still doesn’t answer my question.” Vayl’s upper lip lifted. In him it was nearly a snarl. His need to avoid the subject made me want to know
. “Tell the man,” I demanded.
He couldn’t play politician now that I’d put in the request. His eyes bored into mine as he said, “If, for instance, an avhar were to be snatched out of her bed by enemies of her sverhamin . If they were to take her to a dark room, bleed her for days, and then call her sverhamin and make certain demands in return for her safe homecoming, they would have him at their mercy. Because they could be assured he would do anything to get her back. And I do mean anything. I could tell you stories. Perhaps I should. Once a vampire named Henri—”
I didn’t want to hear. So I interrupted, saying, “Vayl. We don’t negotiate with—” He waved away my policy-book quote with an impatient hand. “Do you think I would give a rat’s damn about procedure if I heard you screaming at the other end of the phone?” I bit my bottom lip, not sure how to reply. It was Bergman who asked, “And a Trust protects Jaz from this? How?”
“It brings the power of the Whence onto our side. As a Rogue couple she and I had few rights. But as members of a Trust we are much better armored. Those who would not have hesitated to move against us before will seek easier prey now rather than risk the ire of the Prevailers.” When he saw our puzzled expressions he explained, “The Prevailers are a group of thirteen Elders who rule the Whence.” Good to know.
He pulled his legs back, sat up straighter. “At any rate, Jasmine is safer within the Whence if she can call upon the protection of a Trust. So I began to consider creating one. With the advent of such an excellent circle of work partners, I made the decision to formalize the proceeding.”
“You formalized—without asking any of us?” Cole demanded.
“Why would I do that?” Vayl asked mildly. “It was only a paper organization. Something never meant to touch your world.”
Cole rolled his eyes toward me like, Come on, Jaz, jump in! Why aren’t you as pissed about this as I am? And I was , kinda. Except I had a bigger secret than Vayl’s, so the guilt was outweighing the outrage.
This is a bad way to begin a relationship, said Granny May. She’d dumped the rocker and decided to water the plants that lined her front porch rail. Why don’t you just insult all his relatives while you’re at it?
Reluctantly, I said, “Uh, so if we do have to take this off paper, you know, into the real world? This will be a democratic organization. Right?”
Vayl nodded slowly. “As long as you all understand that I would be the president.” I looked at Cole. “Can you deal with that? Theoretically?”
Cole blew a bubble, making me wonder where he’d found black gum and if it tasted like the same color jelly beans. After it popped and he retrieved it he said, “Only if I can be Secretary of Social Events.” Before I could point out that no cabinet in the world carried that position, Vayl said, “Done.” Cole nodded with satisfaction.
Hey, maybe I should invent myself a cool new office too.
While I pondered the possibilities Raoul said, “As long as we are avoiding the subject we should really be discussing, I’d like to know why Jack keeps looking at me like that.” He sent a curious glance at my dog, who’d trotted back to the table and commandeered a spot between Vayl and me. He panted as he pointed his ears toward my Spirit Guide.
I said, “He thinks you might have a T-bone hidden under that nifty camo jacket of yours. Which looks fresh as a sheltered young virgin, by the way. Don’t you ever sweat?” Raoul chose to ignore me as he leaned over to pet the dog. “Don’t let her teach you bad words,” he said.
“It’s too late,” I snapped. “He swears like a drunken sailor.”
“How do you know how much drunken sailors swear?” asked Vayl, one brow lowering. Not in jealousy. He knew I wouldn’t waste time with anybody who couldn’t walk a straight line. Nope, that expression meant pain, and when I looked I could see his wound was still seeping.
His refusal to sustain himself on fresh blood usually increased my respect for him. Except for now, when his slow heal made me think it was the stupidest damn decision he’d ever made. Especially when all he had to do was put his name on a list and willing donors would line up at his door like Black Friday shoppers.
“Jasmine!” Vayl reached over to shake my arm.
“What?”
“Your focus seems to have shifted.”
“Oh yeah, um, drunken sailors. Well, my dad was a Marine you know. He knew guys.” Cassandra scooted her chair back, causing it to screech along the patio’s surface like a mom who’s had just about enough of her kids’ bratty behavior. We turned to her.
“Did you have something you wanted to say?” asked Vayl.
She nodded graciously. “Yes.” She looked Raoul straight in the eye. “I know I couldn’t have made a worse mistake. But I’ve spent the past five hundred years living the best life I knew how in hopes that it would be enough to save me.” She gulped a little before asking, “Was it?” He shrugged. “I’ve been allowed to come, so you could take that as a good sign. Or maybe someone with more clout than me just wants to make sure Jasmine doesn’t die again.”
“Why?” asked Vayl, his voice deepening. “What happens if she is killed?” Raoul stopped petting Jack and sat up. He avoided my eyes when he spoke, choosing instead to stare straight into Vayl’s. “The human body can only bear so much, even when it has been enhanced to recover from the terrible damage death deals, as I have done for Jasmine twice already. Which is why the next time she dies—she won’t be able to come back.”
Cole sat forward so fast his chest hit the table with a low thud that made us all stare at him. “So you’re saying she’ll be like you? Just spirit material?”
Raoul shrugged. “It’s a little more complicated than that. Sometimes—like now—I can take physical form. But I’m limited by my own strength as to how long the form lasts.” He looked at me then, so I stopped biting my lip, unclenched my fists, and made myself breathe. No sense in showing how deep his little info-bomb had just torn into me. He said, “In my penthouse, when I’m visiting with you, I can take on an even more solid body. But in the place where I fight other sorts of creatures, where I spend most of my time, in fact, physical form is a hindrance.”
Silence, deep and shocked, like when people have really heard about a death. Bergman spoke first.