He stared at me. "And how am I supposed to do that?"
"Well, I don't know!" I slapped my hands on my legs in exasperation. "You're a vampire, aren't you? Doesn't that mean you can mind meld with people? Or brain wave them into doing what you want?"
"With my mesmerizing powers, you mean?"
"Yes! Those!"
He sighed a martyred sigh. "I am a Dark One, Zorya."
"My name is Pia."
"I do not have magical powers that affect mortals. So no, I cannot stare deep into someone's eyes and convince them to give me a room without first providing my passport and credit card." He went back behind a half wall and brought out a really filthy-looking blanket.
"Well, what's the use in being a vampire if you don't get any special powers?"
"I didn't say I don't have any powers—I simply said that I do not have any over mortals. And the only one I can mind meld with, as you put it, is someone close to me, like a Beloved, and I sincerely doubt such a woman exists." He plopped himself down on a couple of the bales of hay, and pulled the blanket over him.
"What are you doing?" I asked, feeling somewhat lost and alone. I rubbed my arms against the cold—it was cold and dank in the barn, the night air teasing its way in through a dozen or more missing slats in the walls.
"Going to sleep." The words emerged with a surly edge to them.
I considered the black lump that he made in the near darkness of the barn.
"Where am I supposed to sleep?" I asked, hating the pitiful tinge to my voice, but feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment. Being helpless in the company of a murderous vampire will do that to a girl.
"I made you a bed over there."
The black lump bulged in the direction of the clumped bales of hay with the dirty feed bag. I looked at the so-called bed, moving hesitantly toward it. The rustling had stopped. Maybe it was the wind, not rodents.
"Turn off the flashlight."
"Not on your life," I said, edging my way over to the bed. One squeak, one sign that there were rats or mice near my bed, and I'd go sleep in the car, small as it was.
"Fine. If you want the police to come investigating who is hiding out in a barn that's supposed to be unoccupied, leave it on."
"Are you deliberately being as obnoxious as possible?" I asked, hefting the flashlight. It had a nice solid feel in my hand. It would make a reasonable weapon in case anything with four legs decided to attack.
Why did I have a feeling it was the two-legged predators I had to worry about more?
"I thought I was being pleasant."
"Pleasant." I snorted. "You wouldn't know the meaning of the word. Don't I get a blanket?"
"No."
I sat gingerly on the edge of my makeshift bed. "You have one. I'm cold. Why can't I have one?"
Kristoff sighed heavily and rolled over to glare at me, his eyes glowing with a teal light in the dimness of the barn. "Because I don't have a bloody bag full of clothing and you do. Now, will you turn off that light and go to sleep?"
He rolled back over, leaving me staring balefully at his back.
Chapter 11
I had to admit that Kristoff, no matter how brusque, had a point—I had all my clothing, while he had nothing but what he wore. I opened my suitcase and pulled out a sweater and scarf that were intended for use during a visit to a glacier… a visit I wouldn't get to make.
Bundled up as much as I could manage without actually crawling inside the bag, I sat huddled on my appointed bed and shivered, flicking the light around the barn to make sure there weren't bats or anything that could come swooping down on me while I slept, occasionally sending the light over to the lump Kristoff made.
He didn't move.
I told myself to stop worrying and just go to sleep, but tired though I was, the cold and discomfort kept me from relaxing. At every little rustle, every cold draft, every breeze wafting the smell of mildewed straw and ages-old manure, I hunkered down, more and more miserable, until I couldn't stand it any longer.
"I'm still cold, Kristoff."
He was silent so long, I thought he might be asleep. Finally he sat up and tossed me his blanket. It stank of mildew and horse and sweat, but it held delicious warmth from his body.
"I'm not going to take your blanket!" I said, reluctantly throwing it back to him. "Isn't there another one?"
"No." He didn't insist I take the blanket, just wrapped it back around himself and laid down. "Put on some more clothes."
"I've put on everything I have that's warm, and I'm still too cold to sleep."
The silence was even longer this time, and I could have sworn I heard another martyred sigh, but at last he yanked the blanket out from where it was tucked underneath him. "Get under the blanket, then."
I didn't wait to be told twice. I also didn't examine the wisdom of cuddling up next to a murderous vampire—I clutched my flashlight and scooted over to his bed, crawling in behind him, shivering as I carefully tucked the blanket over me. It didn't quite reach all of me.
He suffered through a good ten minutes of my teeth chattering and shivering before he swore in Italian, sat up, jerked off his leather coat, and slapped it over the top of me, on the outside of the blanket. He laid back down on his side, giving me his back.
"Oh, thank you," I said gratefully, and scooched in until I was pressed against his back, blissfully soaking in the warmth he radiated. It took a few minutes before I realized that he wore nothing but a thin black T-shirt. The blanket itself wasn't very warm, and with his leather jacket draped over me, and my cold body pressed against him, he couldn't be staying very warm in the cool summer night air. I sat up and peeled off the couple of extra layers I'd donned, draping them over our bodies on top of the blanket before curling up behind him again.
"You are a strange woman," he said after a few minutes.
Pressed against him as I was, I could hear his voice rumble around in his chest. It was an oddly pleasing sound.
"So I've been told. If you didn't kill Anniki, and Alec didn't, who did?" I asked, drowsy enough that my mouth operated without its regular inhibitions.
He was silent for a few minutes. "I don't know."
I opened my eyes and looked at the back of his head. There wasn't much I could see but a black outline, but I looked at it and wondered why he was lying, then wondered why I knew he was lying.
"Are you an Ilargi? One of the soul-sucking ones, that is?"
He stiffened for a moment, then spun around inside the cocoon of blankets and clothing, those beautiful eyes of his narrowed as they examined me. "Who exactly are you?"
I blinked in surprise at the question. "You know who I am—I'm a tourist from Seattle."
"No tourist knows about the soul reapers without having some experience with them."
"I spent some time with the Brotherhood people, so I'm not entirely clueless. I found out about the difference between their folk and the Ilargi."
"They're all reapers." He snorted derisively and rolled back over.
I listened to the sound of his breathing, slow and even and rather soothing.
"Was that man who attacked us really going to kill me?"
It took a few minutes for him to answer. "Yes. He was a reaper."
"But that can't be right. They knew I was the Zorya. Why would they want to kill me?"
"You were with me. Go to sleep and turn off that light."
"You didn't answer my question. Are you an Ilargi?"
His sigh was truly admirable, filled with martyrdom. "No."
I bit my lip. Did I believe him? I had believed it when he said he didn't kill Anniki, but everything was pointing to him doing just that. Only… I shook my head at my crazy ideas. He didn't feel to me like he had killed Anniki. Yes, he took down the reaper who attacked us, but that was a self-defense situation. Going on my gut instinct, I judged he was telling the truth.