“We are really married, and yes, I was married before. In 1640, so you can stop pretending you’re jealous. My first wife is long dead.”
There was no pretense about the quick spurt of jealousy that riddled me, but I ignored that comment just as I ignored the emotion, instead doing a quick calculation in my head. “You were married when you were seventeen?”
“Yes. It was a reasonable age for marriage then. I was apprenticed to a cobbler, and wed his daughter.”
A question rose up on my tongue. I tried to fight it, tried to keep my lips from forming the words, but my brain gave the go-ahead without my permission. “Did you love her?”
He looked somewhat startled by the question. “I wanted to bed her.”
“Lust and love aren’t the same thing,” I pointed out.
“No, they aren’t.” He was silent for a moment. “I suppose I loved her. She was pretty and we enjoyed each other in bed.”
“Oh, that really does my self-confidence a lot of good,” I said somewhat acidly.
The corner of his lip twitched. “I enjoy you in bed, too.”
“Not even remotely near as much reassurance as you’re going to have to provide in order to erase the memory of you hitting it off with another woman,” I told him. “But I am nothing if not magnanimous, and am willing to move past your lustful ways, so long as you provide the reassurances later, preferably in tangible form. So your wife hurt someone?”
The closed feeling was back in his mind. “Yes. A woman. Ruth said it was an accident, that an ox she was driving in a cart went mad and ran the woman down, but her companion would not listen. He killed Ruth, and because I was her husband, and thus must suffer as he suffered, invoked a demon lord to curse me forever.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, putting my hand over his heart at the sensation of pain deep inside him. “That was truly horrible. I can only imagine what you experienced trying to cope with your own tragedy as well as suddenly finding yourself soulless and a vampire.”
His lips tightened. “It was not pleasant. My mother was furious when she found out, and traveled all over the country looking for help, but she was shunned by the Dark Ones she met. After years of searching, she finally found one who would talk to her. He told her there was no hope for me other than a Beloved, but neither of us really believed I’d find one.” A wistful note entered his voice. “I would have liked my mother to know that I did, in fact, find you.”
“She knows,” I said, leaning forward to kiss him. “Just because she’s dead doesn’t mean she’s not still with you.”
He said nothing, but his fingers were back to stroking patterns on my thighs.
“How did Andreas come about?”
“The Dark One who consented to speak with my mother is his father.” His lips twisted with a wry smile. “My mother was quite attractive, and he always had an eye for women. Something he shares with his son.”
“Andreas is a ladies’ man, eh?” I said, musing on the irony to be found in life. “I’ll remember that. Maybe he would stop being a bastard to you if we found his Beloved.”
“I doubt it.” Kristoff lifted me off him and set me on the couch, rising to pull on a pair of pants. “Most Dark Ones don’t find their Beloveds. It’s not as if you can order one up.”
I puzzled over Kristoff’s unease and reluctance to speak of his past during the subsequent hours, even onto the plane that sent us winging back to the United States. Part of it could be attributed to the mention of his previous wife; he was obviously astute enough to recognize that I was not yet comfortable enough with our relationship to discuss his past loves, which was one reason why he shunned the mention of his late girlfriend. But even given that, there was something else that he was keeping from me, something that mattered so much, he kept it locked up tight inside him.
Something that I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like.
CHAPTER 12
“Home at last,” Raymond said, stopping next to a small white rental car and taking a deep breath of dirt, diesel, and smog-scented Los Angeles air. “The sights, the sounds, the scents of the city-ah, how I’ve missed it.”
“I haven’t,” Magda said with a sigh, dropping her suitcase next to the trunk of the car. “I could have happily spent the rest of my life in the Blue Lagoon.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I liked Iceland a lot, especially the second time around,” Raymond said hurriedly. “Without the . . . you know . . . murder and business with the police and everything. But I have to say that it’s good to be home. Or near home, in my case.”
“I really feel bad about using up all your vacation time running around chasing vamps and whatnot,” I said as I leaned against the car, quickly leaping away when the hot metal scorched through the thin material of my blouse. “The offer still stands, you know. You guys can stay in my house while Kristoff and I deal with all this. It’s not fair to ask you to help with a problem that isn’t of your making, and that way you’d have at least a little fun time before you had to go back to work.”
“And miss all the good stuff?” Magda snorted. “Not on your life. We’re in it for the long haul, aren’t we, pookie?”
“Absolutely,” Raymond said, nodding eagerly. “We’re one hundred percent behind you, Pia. This is the most exciting time I’ve ever had, even including the tour to Europe. I never thought I’d become a vampire hunter! I can’t wait to blog about this!”
“Er . . . yeah,” I said noncommittally.
“Welcome to the City of Angels,” Magda said, blowing out a long breath. “And to think I could be soaking in a hot spring at this moment.”
“There’s Kristoff,” I said, sighing with relief as a familiar figure emerged from the elevator. He wore his jacket and hat against the sun, but didn’t stick to the shadows, as he had in the past. “Everything OK?” I asked as he hit a button to unlock the car doors.
“I’m not sure,” he said, looking thoughtful.
I watched him closely as Raymond loaded the suitcases in the car’s trunk. Magda took the keys from Kristoff, murmuring something about knowing her way around LA better than he did.
What’s wrong? I asked. Was it the phone call you had at the rental car place?
“The phone call was from one of my associates in Paris.”
“Uh-oh. That look doesn’t bode well. Did your buddy find out something?” I asked, a bad feeling beginning to form in my stomach.
“No. That’s the problem. When we left Iceland two months ago, Alec told me he was going to follow up on the rumor of a new group of reapers around Marseilles, and then he’d return to his home. And yet my friend confirmed that Alec never arrived in Paris.”
“So where did he go?” Magda asked as Raymond slammed shut the trunk and took the front passenger seat.
Kristoff opened the back door for me. “That’s a good question. I’m working on the assumption that he would have gone home if he decided suddenly not to track down the French reapers, but thus far, my contacts haven’t found proof he’s been here, either.”
“Hotel first, then reaper headquarters?” Magda asked.
Kristoff got in after me, immediately pulling me up next to him. I gave myself a moment to enjoy the subconscious move on his part, my heart simultaneously mourning what it couldn’t have and enjoying what he could give me. “Neither. We will need to be prepared when we visit the reapers. Alec’s house is within an hour from here. We will go there first, and then gather our forces and prepare for the onslaught.”
Oh, Boo , I said, filled with gratitude. You’re doing that for me, aren’t you?
“Aye-aye, Captain,” Magda said, saluting.
I know how worried you are about your spirit.
You are the sweetest man I know, I said, leaning over to kiss him. Thank you.
“Onslaught,” Ray whispered to her, patting his jacket for the bulge that was his camera. “Exciting stuff! I’ve never been part of an onslaught before. I wonder if I have enough film for it.”