A Vampire's Soul (14 page)

I leaned over the railing to see if my visitor was in the yard, but all I saw were pockets of darkness. Places where neither the moon nor the light from my kitchen window reached. If my owl was down there, he was clever enough to keep himself hidden. I put out my hand to catch the edge of the swing and halt its movement . . . and noticed the book lying on the cushion.

Okay, not an owl but something a little bigger. I smiled to myself. It had to be Aleksei. Who else was going to sit outside in the middle of the night, reading? Obviously, Gabriel entering my home while I slept was okay, but for Aleksei, it would be the wrong thing to do. Still, if he had been told to keep an eye on me, I didn't see why he had to be uncomfortable doing it. Pleased that Aleksei was respecting my boundaries, I also realized it was past time to establish some ground rules.

Picking up the book, I turned the slim volume over and frowned. It had the look of something that had been passed through many hands, and a strange, uneasy feeling fluttered in my stomach. The pages rustled lightly beneath my fingers. They were thin, not translucent enough to be considered true onionskin, but close enough. I stared at the title page, and gave a sigh of frustration. A single word, written in a meticulous hand, was centered on the page. Unfortunately I had no idea what it said and couldn't begin to decipher what language it was written in. Still, if the book belonged to Aleksei, then it was possible the writing was a form of Cyrillic. Turning a few more of the delicate pages with care, I saw more of the same indecipherable words, all apparently written in the same hand. This was an heirloom, something beautiful and precious, and also very private.

“Aleksei?” I called his name over the railing but got no response. I called again, and then once more, louder this time, all to no avail. I wondered if he was turning a deliberate deaf ear. Perhaps he wasn't supposed to be here after all. My finger stroked the spine of the slender volume in my hands. How could he leave something so lovely to be exposed to the elements? With a shake of my head, I decided the best place for it was on my bookshelf. As I turned to go back inside, the hair on the nape of my neck stood up.

I wasn't alone.

A
figure materialized out of the shadows at the far end of the porch, eliciting an involuntary
gaaack
response from me. The only two people I would expect to see at this time of night were both vampires, and this was no vampire. I didn't know what he was, but thanks to the big red alert flag that popped up in my head, I knew he wasn't human. At least not entirely. No matter how deliciously yummy he looked.

Fear can provoke some unpredictable responses, depending on how an individual's fight-or-flight response is wired. Anything from paralyzed muscles to peeing your pants to complete and utter disbelief. Staring at the figure moving toward me, I discovered my own F-O-F response must have short-circuited somewhere because I was filled with the irresistible urge to giggle. Not what I would call the best reaction to finding myself in an unfamiliar and possibly dangerous situation. But there you have it. I was a hiccup away from hysterical laughter.

Standing in the circle of light spilling from the kitchen window, my visitor made sure I got a good look at him. Tall and slim, he had a face that looked like a Renaissance painting come to life. Dark brown hair, highlighted with streaks of gold, fell to his shoulders in soft waves. His eyes were the color of a tropical sunset, and stubble shadowed his jaw. The five o'clock shadow seemed out of place, almost as if he needed to reassure one of us of his masculinity. Instead of the robes that my brain said he ought to be wearing, he was dressed in faded jeans and a Charlie the Unicorn T-shirt. Though he was nowhere near as muscular as Gabriel, the definition of his chest and abdomen was clearly visible beneath Charlie's prancing hooves, and his jeans were snug enough that I could tell he dressed to the right. The idea that I was in any danger seemed absurd, so I made absolutely no effort to protect myself.

“May I?” he asked in a voice that was both hushed and awe-filled at the same time. It reminded me of the way you automatically lower your voice in a library . . . or church. He held out a hand, and I stared at his fingers. They were unnaturally long and malformed. It took me a moment to work out that each had an extra joint. Even the thumb.

“May you what?” I asked, jerking my eyes back up to his face.

“May I have my book back?”

I looked down at the slim volume in my hand, and then back up at him. Of course the book was his; who else's could it be? Shyly I held it out to him, watching his fingers curl around the spine. It was hard not to shudder.

“What is it?” I asked, trying to be polite.
Yeah, you do realize you might be standing next to a homicidal maniac, but make sure you're not being rude about it! Sheesh! You gonna invite him in for coffee, too?
“I couldn't understand the title.”

“It says
Beowulf.”

I remembered reading the poem in high school and getting an A on my report. I think that was because I was one of the few who actually did read it all the way through. Everyone else in my English class found it the most monumental bore, but I found it very romantic.

“What language is that?” I asked, pointing to the volume now almost hidden inside his palm.

“English.”

I snorted. So much for manners. “It doesn't look like any English I've ever seen.”

The smile that lit up his face was a thing of absolute beauty.

“Perhaps it would be more accurate to say it's the original Anglo-Saxon. Every translation I've read always fails to capture both Beowulf's despair and his hope.”

He passed his hand over the volume and—
poof!
—it disappeared. My knees wobbled, but I didn't faint, although I probably would have if I'd known what else was coming.

The air around me grew noticeably warmer and was filled with an odd rustling sound. I looked at my unexpected visitor, and my mouth dropped open. I know it did. How could it not? I stared at him in disbelief. He had wings that couldn't possibly be real . . . could they? It occurred to me that perhaps I wasn't awake after all. Still lying in my bed, I was actively engaged in some fantastic dream conjured up by my exhausted brain. But in my dreams I'm never affected by the weather, and right now my nipples were standing at attention, a consequence that owed more to the cold night air than my visitor's handsome face. After all, the last time I thought I was dreaming and felt cold, it turned out to be something else.

If this wasn't a dream, or a wide-awake hallucination, then there could only be one other explanation. After taking my blood not a dozen steps from where I was now standing, Gabriel must have accidentally ruptured a vessel or caused me to throw a clot or something else equally fatal.

“Aw, fuck it—I'm dead, aren't I?” My visitor laughed, a deep sound that was a surprise coming from such a lithe frame. I'd been hanging out with vampires too much, forgetting that not every male had to be built like a brick outhouse. “No, that comes with a lot more bells and whistles.”

“Oh, really?” That was good to know . . . I think.

“Yes, really. Think more Las Vegas. Besides I'm not an escort.”

“You ought to be,” I said in frank admiration. “I mean you've got it all going—” His slightly disapproving look cut me off in mid-sentence. Shit! Wrong type of escort! “Are you sure I'm not dead?”

“Would you like me to prove it?”

Curious to know what this might involve, I nodded. I didn't see him reach for me, but I felt his arms around me, pulling me in close. There came a whisper of air as feathers folded around me, and then his mouth was covering mine and he kissed me. And he knew how to kiss—oh boy, did he ever!

His lips were soft and warm. His tongue stole inside my mouth, filling me with honeyed ambrosia, and promising me things I didn't even know I could want. Part of my brain went all Jiminy Cricket on me, demanding to know why I wasn't stopping him, while another part was telling me to just enjoy it. I doubt there are many girls who can say they've been kissed by a vampire and an angel in one lifetime, and I could go one better. I'd been kissed by both in the same twenty-four hours. When he finally let me go, his expression said the experience hadn't been quite what he'd expected. Not bad exactly, just different.

In some ways he was more attractive than Gabriel, but I viewed his ethereal beauty with a peculiar sense of detachment, admiring him much as I would a really hot model in the pages of some glossy magazine. Oh, don't get me wrong, the kiss was spectacular, and one I'll never forget. My lips still tingled, but as I stared up into eyes that were a reflection of a perfect sunset, I felt absolutely nothing. My heartbeat kept the same steady rhythm, and everything south of my navel dozed. Even the feel of his erection through his jeans didn't provoke my interest—filled me with mild concern, yes, but didn't turn me on. My internal flame, now that it had been lit, was only going to ignite for one male on the planet. “Who the fuck are you?” Truthfully I didn't mean to swear, given what he was and all, and I was grateful he didn't seem bothered by my slip. I guess it wasn't the first time he'd heard the word.

I'd always been somewhat ambivalent regarding the existence of angels, and my recent recollection regarding Gabriel's origin had done nothing to change my mind. Pictures of rosy-cheeked cherubim resting on clouds disturb me. I think it's because behind the dimples and smiles, I suspect they're secretly pissed that they never got the chance to grow up—and fuck up—like the rest of us. I don't trust them, so I guess it's a good thing that if an angel had to show up on my back porch, it looked like the one standing in front of me now. A perfectly gorgeous guy with a pretty nice six-pack and a hard-on. If some naked, chubby Little Lord Fauntleroy look-alike showed up with wings a-fluttering, I'd probably run screaming.

I told myself I was handling things remarkably well, but actually my brain was simply compartmentalizing this latest phenomenon so I could process it later. Having an angel appear on my back porch didn't seem quite as unnerving as you might think. And I was fascinated by his wings. Not all angels have white ones, apparently. His were a breathtaking blend of reds and gold, matching his eyes perfectly. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if the color had any significance when they suddenly disappeared. Like the copy of
Beowulf.
One minute they were wrapped around me, the next I could feel cool air along the backs of my arms. I bit the inside of my lip so I wouldn't ask what he'd done with them.

“Interesting,” the angel said, taking a step away from me. Folding his arms across his chest, he gave me a questioning look. He had pretty good biceps, but nowhere near the definition I'd been used to seeing lately. “You didn't ask what I am or even if I'm real, both of which I would have expected. Instead you want to know
who
I am.”

“Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint you,” I said. “My view of the world has been expanded recently, and seeing you is just another curveball aimed at my head.”

“How delightful you are, Rowan.”

His voice took on a lovely, musical lilt that I imagine was very soothing in any number of situations. But lovely or not, it didn't explain how he knew my name.

“You still haven't answered my question,” I said pointedly.

He sighed. “Forgive me. Knowing Gabriel, I should have expected you not to be surprised by my appearance.”

“
You
know Gabriel?”

“Of course I do.” He seemed both puzzled and surprised by my question.

“So, did he send you?”
And do you actually know he's a vampire?

“No, he did not.” Leaning forward, he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Given how possessive they can be, I would appreciate it if you didn't mention my being here.”

“Vampires.”

Well, that answered that question. “If you know how possessive Gabriel is, why did you kiss me?” I asked him.

He gave me a sly grin. “Sometimes the reward is worth the risk.” I wondered just how well he knew Gabriel. Tucking a curl behind my ear, I repeated my initial question, but a little more politely this time. “So, who are you?”

“I am Sebastian.” He tilted his head, and the light from the kitchen window caught his hair, making the highlights shimmer.

Frowning, I wracked my brain. I'd heard the name before but couldn't quite place it, and then it came to me. “You're not a football fan, are you?”

His grin could have lit up the entire eastern seaboard. “Ah, so Gabriel has told you about me!”

“He's mentioned you,” I said. Didn't mention anything about wings, though. “And I'm guessing he told you about me?” How else would he know my name?

“Oh, Rowan, he didn't have to. I've always known about you.” Ever since Gabriel had come into my life, I'd been feeling like I was running a half-step behind everyone else, and now it was happening again. Gabriel had made a minor reference to Sebastian on the first date we had, mentioning a fondness for football that I shared, but he had never spoken of him again—something that struck me at this particular moment as very curious. Why wouldn't he mention being on first-name terms with an angel? I could understand his not wanting to hold a press conference to announce the fact, but he could have told me.

I shivered and rubbed my arms. An angel on my back porch should have been enough to make me forget any physical discomfort I might be feeling, but his arrival was just another facet of my newly expanding world. As fascinated as I was, it didn't stop my teeth from chattering. I wiggled my toes inside my slippers and then noticed Sebastian was barefoot.

“Aren't you cold?” I asked, pointing at his wonderfully perfect toes. The shake of his head didn't come as a surprise. He didn't feel the cold, and neither did vampires, now I thought about it. Whatever was behind this surprise visit, my celestial guest didn't seem to be in a hurry to get to the point, so I took it upon myself to move him along.

“So let me guess, you've come bearing tidings of great joy, right?”

He laughed again, and shook his head. “No, I missed that one, but I hear it was quite a show.”

How could an angel miss the presentation to the world of God's only son? I would have thought attendance was mandatory. What was he doing—washing his fabulous hair? If Sebastian was concerned by the oversight, he didn't show it. Then again, he'd had some time to get over it.

“Look, I don't want to be rude or anything, Sebastian,” I continued, seeing the cold air turn my breath to smoke, “but I'm freezing my ass off, so could you just cut to the chase and tell me what you want?”

He focused on my face, his expression becoming pensive. Was he hoping my nose was going to tell him who had built Stonehenge or something? He probably already knew that, but it was something
I'd
like to know. Maybe I should ask him.

The wind picked up, blowing my hair about my face. The angel's silent examination was starting to freak me out. Perhaps Sebastian wasn't trying to find the answer to anything complicated, perhaps he just wanted to know why I wasn't turned on by him. Save me from male ego! In all fairness, if he'd been my first supernatural contact, then I would have been all over him, but he wasn't, and I couldn't do a thing to change that.

Finally, he blew out an exasperated breath, saying, “I've come to ask why you have not fulfilled your part of the ritual, Rowan. Why are you unwilling to return what was surrendered?”

In a way, it was a comfort knowing that at least one angel inhabited Clueless Land. Of course, it stood to reason that he would be off-the-wall weird, even if he did have the requisite feathers. Whatever expression I was wearing inspired Sebastian to grace me with a beatific smile and recite,
“You are a Vampire's Promise . . . given by word . . . accepted by deed . . . and bound by ritual to keep safe that which has been surrendered.”