Asanni (2 page)

“Liv, darling, another of your little
schemes, huh? You know they never work with me.”

“Should I remind you it didn’t work when you
were in charge either?”

“Done talking, you two?” Tristan said.

“She’s lovely. Don’t tell me later I didn’t
warn you,” Livia said and passed the phone back to her husband.

“Tristan, I’ll be there next Tuesday,” Jack
said. Maybe it’d be better if you didn’t tell Astrid anything. Just
be there to introduce us.”

“Should I call James?”

“I’ll talk to him. See you on Tuesday, then.
You two, keep that girl safe.”

“Pfft, piece of cake,” Livia said. “They can
only get to her over our dead bodies, and that won’t be easy, you
must admit. See you, soon, Jack.”

Tristan placed the phone on the night stand.
“She’ll go this time, you’ll see.” He stretched on the bed and
moved closer to his wife.

“Ella and Arnaldur should’ve told her more
about her mother, and Seth and his plans,” Liv said. “She still
knows almost nothing.”

“They’ve been trying to protect her.”

“Tristan.” Liv braced herself on her hand and
looked at her husband. “We’ll stay nearby, right? Seth won’t stop
trying, even if Astrid goes to Red Cliffs with Jack.”

Tristan turned toward his wife, mirroring her
position with his head propped on his arm.

“Of course, as long as she needs us. Unless
Seth’s people take care of him soon, we might face another little
battle alongside our old friends.” He let out a short laugh. “Not
that I would mind. It’s been a while… I have an itch to do some
serious thrashing. But now,” he whispered as he pulled Liv closer,
“now I have something else on my mind.” His hand lazily traveled
along Liv’s arm.

She smiled as her hand disappeared under his
nightshirt. Her fingers traced the firm, smooth muscles of her
husband’s chest. “It’s going to be interesting to see how Astrid
and Jack will react to each other. I have a hunch—”

“We’ll see soon. But right now Jack’s
somewhere in South America and Astrid’s peacefully sleeping in her
house down the street. I don’t want you to think about them now. I
need your undivided attention, my love.”

HIDDEN BEHIND an old spruce tree, Jack
watched as Astrid unlocked the door, turned the light on, and
stepped in. One by one, the other lights went on: he followed her
from the hallway to the kitchen, to the living room, bathroom,
bedroom, and back to the living room again, where she walked to the
window and closed the blinds.

He was still able to see her, of course. The
clear outline of her body heat, electric-blue, not red like it
would be among his kind, continued to move through the house. Now
she was back in the kitchen, bent over in front of the
fridge...

HE HAD spent several hours in her house that
morning, going through her computer, papers, books and music. Alec
and Drew’s report, based on six months of discreet surveillance,
focused on her safety rather than on the things he needed to know:
what kind of person she really was, what she liked, how she spent
her time after her long shifts in the operating room of the local
hospital.

The interior of the house was decorated in a
Japanese style: sparse furniture, although tasteful and obviously
expensive, plenty of free space. Clear vertical and horizontal
lines, including the sliding doors that divided the kitchen from
the sitting area and her small office from the bedroom. Natural
colors prevailed: butter-yellow walls, a beige sofa and armchairs,
deep brown furniture, dark parquet floor. It would have appeared
rather gender neutral if it hadn’t been for the decorative accents
in different shades of pink: the soft cushions, the carpet under
the coffee table, lamps, the woolen blanket on the sofa, a big
bouquet of pale-pink roses in a vase. Lots of pink in her wardrobe,
too.

Hanging on the wall there were several
Japanese ink paintings with a four-season theme: orchards, bamboo,
chrysanthemums and plum blossoms. More
sumi-e
artworks of
misty landscapes, flowers and small animals adorned the opposite
wall.

When he stepped into her bedroom, the floor
made a high-pitched sound. He nodded in silent approval: a
nightingale floor, designed to make sound when walked upon. The dry
boards creaked under the pressure of footsteps and the flooring
nails rubbed against clamps, producing chirping noises. A nice,
simple security device assuring that nobody could sneak into her
room. He’d heard about it, but never seen one. Smart girl, he
thought.

Her choice of music was a bit of a
revelation, too. She probably had more CDs than the local radio
station. The report had mentioned she liked listening to music, but
didn’t say anything about her taste. Iron Maiden and Guns’n’ Roses
were the last CDs she’d listened to. The jewel cases lay open, and
the discs were still in the player. Besides heavy metal and hard
rock, the pile of recordings that had been recently played
contained John Meyer, Sting, Santana... Dire Straits’
The
Sultans of Swing
. He smiled—his all-time favorite. Then he’d
opened up two big bottom drawers in the shelf, filled with
classical music: Bach, Beethoven, Handel, Haydn... Symphonies,
concertos, operas. At least a dozen different recordings of
Die
Zauberflöte
. How appropriate—
Wolf
gang Amadeus
Mozart.

He browsed through her books, hundreds of
them packed tightly on the shelves that covered a whole wall. Her
literary tastes were also interesting. ‘Tell me what you read and
I’ll tell you who you are.’ He smiled. Well, in Astrid Mohegan’s
case it wouldn’t be so easy. She seemed to like everything from
Aristotle to Asterix. Classic titles stood side by side with
contemporary bestsellers and graphic novels. A lot of supernatural
romance fiction. On the floor beside the sofa, with a bookmark
tucked somewhere in the second half, lay
The Name of the
Rose
by Umberto Eco, read numerous times, judging by the
condition of the book. Lots of medical books and magazines, but
that was hardly a surprise.

JACK KEPT his eyes on the house, following
her from the fridge to the kitchen table, where she pulled out a
chair and sat.

He expected her to start eating, but the blue
outline of her body was barely moving.

Too still, he thought.

Then several things happened simultaneously:
a sense of something being wrong flashed through his mind, her
scent reached him from behind, and her cold fingers closed in a
strong grip around his windpipe. At the precise moment when her
hand touched his throat, a gentle, warm wave washed over him,
reaching every cell of his body and every corner of his soul. She
winced, and he knew she’d felt it too. She tightened her grasp.

Oh, God!
was all he could think.

“Who are you and why are you watching me?”
she asked in a low voice.

Before he could answer, a man appeared behind
her seemingly out of nowhere.

“Tristan.” She announced his presence without
moving or turning to see him.

“Wrong time to be late, Tristan,” Jack
said.

“It’s okay, Astrid; sorry, Jack,” said the
man, familiar to both of them. “I think we need a formal
introduction. Astrid, this is Jack Canagan. Jack, this is Astrid
Vandermeer-Mohegan, James’ niece. Why don’t we go inside the
house?”

Astrid released the man’s throat and stepped
forward, studying him with open curiosity.

Jack Canagan, her Uncle James’ stepson. She’d
heard about him, but she’d never met him before.

Jack cleared his throat. It didn’t hurt, but
her grip had been pretty strong.

With a curiosity that matched Astrid’s, he
took in his tall, slender, golden-brown haired and blue-eyed
step-cousin he knew only from photographs.

“If you’re here, then who’s sitting at your
kitchen table?” he said.

She raised her eyebrows and kept her blue
gaze on him. “Somebody’s sitting at my kitchen table? Are you
sure?”

ASTRID WAVED toward the sofa and, as if on
her command, the two men sat on opposite ends. She took a seat
across from them, on the armchair.

“You separated from your aura. How did you do
that?” Jack said.

Astrid shrugged. “I didn’t separate from my
aura. Nobody can do that. I created an illusion. I knew you were
watching me.”

“The element of surprise, huh? Neat.” Jack
said.

Tristan smiled. “She surely knows a trick or
two. Well done, Princess.”

“So Jack Canagan, how did you find me?”
Astrid asked.

“It looks like you found me. What should I
call you, by the way, Rosalie or Astrid?”

The man didn’t suffer from a lack of
self-confidence, Astrid concluded. She took in his long,
outstretched legs and his arm casually draped over the back of her
sofa.

She also noticed his clean, proportional
facial features, bright amber eyes, light-brown hair and powerful
physique.

“Astrid will do,” she said.

“Astrid,” Tristan said, “I’ve known Jack for
almost my whole life. I think you really should talk to him. Just
consider what he has to say, okay? Don’t say ‘no’ right away.
Promise to think about it. Arnaldur knows about this, too.
Please.”

“Okay.” The tone of her voice clearly stated
she hadn’t promised anything.

“Take a day off tomorrow. You’ve been working
for ten days in a row.”

“Tristan, I’ve been taking a few days off
each month on a regular basis, remember? Besides, Mrs. Fontaine is
getting a new kneecap tomorrow. I have her scheduled for 8
a.m.”

“Then take the afternoon off... Talk to Jack,
please. I’ll see myself out. See you tomorrow. And Astrid—”

“I know, I know. Say hello to Liv. I’ll see
you tomorrow, Tristan.”

A long silence fell until Astrid stood
up.

“I need coffee. Do you want a cup?” she asked
and walked toward the kitchen.

“Please. Half teaspoon of sugar... Astrid, I
need to see your next change. Is it okay if I stay here with you? I
think that’s easier for everybody.”

Arms crossed over her torso, Astrid leaned on
the kitchen door and looked at her visitor. She could still feel
the traces of the warm current that had splashed over her body when
she had touched Jack’s throat.

“If you say so.”

“I want to be as close to you as I can. That
will help me to figure out what’s going on with your
shape-shifting.”

She took a deep breath. “Of course you can
stay. I’ve been expecting somebody to come for a while, but now
that you’re here I don’t know how to feel about it.”

Except that I’m confused
.

“I want you to come with me to Red Cliffs,”
Jack said, when she came back with two delicate porcelain coffee
cups and saucers on a silver tray.

Astrid took her place on the armchair and
sipped her coffee. “I’m not sure I’m ready to go.”

He sighed. “Wrong opening. I apologize. Why
don’t we talk first and then you decide? You must have a ton of
questions for me.”

“And you for me, I’m sure.”

“Yes.”

Astrid moved her finger around the rim of her
cup several times before she set it down on the table. She lifted
her head and found his eyes. “All right then. May I start? You are
James’ stepson, right?”

“I am.”

“Okay. Next question. How did Tristan become
a part of this?”

“Your grandfather and Tristan came to talk to
your uncle James a year ago, immediately after you were attacked.
Arnaldur talked to you then, but you didn’t want to come to stay
with us. You chose to come here instead. Tristan and Liv agreed to
stay with you to protect you. We thought that might not be enough,
so six months ago, James sent two of our people to watch over
you.”

Her eyes narrowed into two glints of angry
blue. “Somebody’s been watching over me? How come I haven’t noticed
anything?”

“You refuse to use your gifts. They masked
their scent and they didn’t come close enough for you to sense
them. You sensed me today, though. How?”

She ignored his question. “There are so many
things I don’t understand and I don’t know how to deal with them.
I’m not sure that I want to understand them, mind you.”

“I know that it’s difficult for you to accept
who you are. We can help you, Astrid.
I
can help. You are
our kin, you are not alone.”

She rubbed her forehead. “You know, I’ve been
aware of my wizard skills since my childhood. My grandparents
taught me how to use and control the power I have. My overall
abilities are average. Among my kind there are far more powerful
wizards, my grandparents included. We’re careful, however, with our
powers because we try to blend in with humans. I’m a twenty
six-year old surgeon, that’s where I’m special. I’ve only ever
wanted to be two things: a singer, and a doctor. I couldn’t be a
singer because my kind must keep a low profile, so I’ve become a
doctor, and that makes me happy. It makes my life appear normal. I
want to be an ordinary person with a simple life. I’m not thrilled
to be a wizard who can’t use her skills, and I’m even less happy
with my monthly flip-flopping into a furry folk-tale monster. No
offense.”

“None taken. Speaking of monsters, two of
your best friends aren’t actually cuddly humans. You didn’t have a
problem accepting that.”

“As far as I’m concerned, Tristan and Liv
could be members of a local Goth club, having fun on weekend nights
drinking tomato juice. At least vampires keep their human form.
They don’t turn into a giant, hairy dog.”

Jack made a soft chuckle. “You turn into a
werewolf, Astrid. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

“You say werewolf, not... what’s the word?
Bleithast?”