Immortal (13 page)

“Campus police.”

“T-this is Lenore Whiting. The guy—the white-haired guy—”

“Where are you?”

“In front of Zuni.”

“Get inside.”

“He's fighting—”

“Get inside, now!”

I couldn't agree. I couldn't move. I stared in horror as the white-haired guy caught Caeran in a hold that couldn't be comfortable. One of Caeran's arms was twisted up at his side, and he looked like he was having trouble breathing.

“Lenore, are you there?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you inside?”

“No.”

Pepper spray! I shoved the phone in my pocket and scrabbled in my pack for the spray. Caeran was straining against the other guy's hold, but his knees were bending.

I found the spray and set up to use it, but I didn't want to hit Caeran, too. The two of them were still grappling, and—weirdest yet—they were starting to glow.

Caeran's free hand shot up toward the other guy's face. A blinding flash made me gasp and flinch away. When I looked back, Caeran and the white-haired guy were both lying on the ground, face down.

I think I whimpered as I forced myself go toward them, pepper spray at arm's length. My gaze stayed on the white-haired guy, though it was Caeran I was trying to get to. He moved, making me jump and let out a squeak.

Caeran pushed himself up to his knees. I kept the pepper spray pointed at the white-haired guy, though he seemed to be out cold.

“Are you all right? Oh, God—you're bleeding!”

He blinked and put a hand to his forehead, fingers coming away bloodied. “It is nothing. Go inside.”

“Caeran—”

He looked over his shoulder, grimaced, and shot to his feet, grabbing my arm. He practically carried me to the door of my dorm.

“Go inside,” he repeated.

“Come with me. Let me fix that for you—”

“No need.”

He started to pull away but I caught his arm. “Please don't go. Please!”

I sounded panicked, and it wasn't because I was scared of the white-haired guy. I was afraid Caeran would disappear and I'd never see him again.

He glanced backward, frowned, then relented. “All right. Quickly.”

I shoved the pepper spray into my pack and got out my card. Swiped it through the lock and we were in. Caeran took hold of my elbow again and propelled me through the lobby like he knew his way around.

My cell phone rang. I dug it out of my pocket.

“Hello?”

“Lenore? This is campus police. Are you inside?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Stay there, and stay on the phone.”

Caeran pushed me into the elevator and punched the button for my floor. I stared at him, wondering how the hell he knew it. Maybe I was thinking too loud again.

“Tell me what you saw,” said the cop on the phone.

I closed my eyes. I didn't want to make trouble for Caeran, but I'd already mentioned the fight. I decided to stick to minimal details.

“I heard a noise behind me. When I turned I saw the white-haired guy and another guy fighting.”

“Two men? Anyone else?”

“I didn't see anyone.”

“Can you see them now?”

“No, I'm in the elevator, going up to my room.”

“Does your window look that way?”

“No, it looks east.”

“That's OK. Tell me when you get to your room.”

The elevator doors opened. As we got out Caeran shot me a sharp glance, but said nothing. We walked down the hall to my room. I unlocked the door and we went in.

“OK, I'm in my room,” I told my phone buddy.

“Stay there until we contact you again. Do you want me to stay on the line with you?”

I looked at Caeran, who had sat on the end of my bed and dropped his face into his hands. “No, I'm all right. Thanks.”

I put the phone on the desk and dumped my pack on the floor beside it. Caeran didn't move, except that I could see his breathing. I wanted to wrap my arms around him. Instead I went into the bathroom and fetched a damp washcloth and my box of bandages.

Now that the crisis was over, I noticed that Caeran's hair wasn't in a ponytail; it was braided in a queue that hung halfway down his back. He didn't have his pack, though he was wearing a jacket of the same soft buckskin.

I knelt by the bed and gently pulled his hand away from his bloodied forehead. He resisted a little, then gave in and held still while I dabbed at his cut.

Except I couldn't find the cut. I gently wiped the blood away, and all there was beneath it was a fresh, pink scar. I stared at it for a moment, unable to understand, then moved on to wipe the blood from his hand.

His fingers curled around mine, stopping me. I looked up into his eyes—those eyes unlike any others I'd seen.

“This is why I cannot be with you, Len.” His voice was rough and low. “I am not human.”

I laughed in surprise, so suddenly I hiccuped. “Oh—what are you, an alien?”

He shook his head slowly, no humor in his face. “My people have lived here since before yours evolved.”

My heart gave a painful squeeze. “Your … people?”

“The ælven.”

“Excuse me? Did you just say you were an elf?”

He frowned, letting go of my hand to make an impatient gesture. “'Elf' is a corruption—laden with misconceptions. We are
ælven
. We are immortal.”

I stared at him. He was talking about the stuff of legends. It made sense in a weird way—or rather, it made a lot of other things make sense. The mind reading. The uncanny grace and beauty.

Madera's handmade furniture. If you're immortal, you've got plenty of time.

I swallowed. “Your family, too? Madera?”

“Yes.”

I was having trouble breathing. There didn't seem to be enough room in my lungs for more than short little gasps. I pointed toward the front of the building.

“What about him?”

Caeran leaned back a little, his gaze sliding toward where I pointed. “He is of our kind, but different. He suffers a disease—”

“Other than psychopathy?” I was getting giddy.

“—a disease that interferes with his digestion. The only food that will sustain him is blood. Human blood, or ælven.”

“A
vampire
?”

“The source of those myths, yes. But many of the myths are wrong.”

I stared, open-mouthed, out of questions. My mind was quietly exploding.

Caeran caught my hand again. “I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble.”

“No,” I whispered, still reeling.

“I fear I may have—”

“Madera!”

Caeran looked startled. “What?”

“That guy—the vampire—he was in the library today. He was looking at the Spanish colonial section! He was looking for Madera, wasn't he?”

Caeran's cheeks paled. “Possibly.”

I grabbed my phone from the desk and held it out to him. “You've got to warn him.”

His brows drew together. “But the police will have found the alben—the vampire—by now.”

“You're saying he can't get away from them?”

“Not easily, as I left him unconscious.” Caeran's wry tone tugged oddly at my heart. I loved his humor—rare as it was—even though this wasn't the time for raptures.

“You used that thing on him. The flash of light thing, same as Mirali did to me.”

“Yes. The alben have less skill with it.”

The phone in my hand rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I answered it.

“Lenore Whiting.”

“Miss Whiting, this is Officer Gordon from campus police. We responded to your call about a suspicious person.”

“Yes. Did you find him?”

“No. We found a small amount of blood on the sidewalk.”

I stared at Caeran. From his expression he had either heard Officer Gordon or he had read my thoughts.

“Out in front of Zuni? That's where he was fighting.”

“Yes. We're still looking for him, but you should stay inside, all right? Don't leave the dorm.”

“Right. Thanks.”

I hung up, then held the phone out to Caeran again. “Better call.”

“I do not know the number.”

“I programmed it in. Just in case. It's under ‘M.'”

He gave me a pained look, then took the phone. I got up and went back to the bathroom to give him some privacy. Rinsed out the wash cloth, put away the bandages. Tried to get a grip on what was happening—what I was learning. If I could believe it.

I splashed some water on my face, then rubbed it hard with my towel, making sure I was awake and not in the middle of some fantastic dream. When I looked in the mirror my skin was red, my eyes stressed. I ran a brush through my hair, took a deep breath, and went back out.

Caeran was talking rapidly, quietly, into the phone in the strange fluid language that must be their own. Ælven language. I fought down an urge to giggle. There was nothing funny about our situation. There was a killer—a freaking vampire—loose on campus.

And if it hadn't been for Caeran, I'd have been dinner.

He ended his call and handed me back the phone. I put it on the desk and sat next to him on the bed.

“Um, thank you for saving my life.”

He turned his head and a small smile touched his lips. “I had no choice. I could not let you be harmed.”

Well, that made me feel good. “How did you know, though?”

He glanced down at his hands. “I heard about the first attack, and could not rest until I knew it had not been you. I came here, to the campus, and learned that you were safe, but I also found signs that the attacker was alben. Since then I have been watching over you.”

“What? Since when?”

“Monday evening.”

Caeran had been tailing me for three days, and I'd never noticed? But then, he was an ælven—my brain still had trouble with the word—and he had magical powers.

“What about your family? Will the vam—the—”

“Alben.”

“Alben. Will he bother them?”

“The others have left. They have gone … to join Madera.”

His gaze grew stern, as if he was cautioning me.

I drew a sharp breath. “Can the alben read minds?”

Caeran nodded, and my stomach sank. I tried to remember if I had thought about Madera's home in the library that afternoon. I didn't think I had, and I quickly turned my thoughts away from it now.

“H-how close does he have to be?”

“Fairly close.”

“In the same room?”

“Not necessarily.”

I groaned. After all my efforts to be sneaky taking his picture, the alben had probably known the minute I did it. No wonder he wanted to kill me.

“He will not harm you,” Caeran said softly.

“Thanks, but I can't expect you to devote your entire life to protecting me.”

He laughed. “That should not be necessary.”

“Don't fight him again, please. I don't want you to be hurt.”

“I will try to avoid injury, but I cannot promise not to fight him. He will continue hunting until he is stopped.”

I stared miserably at the floor, knowing he was right, and suspecting that campus police were no match for the alben. Maybe with Caeran watching me he would go after easier game, which was a horribly selfish thought, one I was immediately ashamed of.

Caeran shook his head slightly. “He knows you are aware of his nature, and he is also drawn to you. It is the ælven blood—it runs strong in you.”

“Ælven blood?
Me?
”

“All humans have ælven blood in their ancestry.”

“What?!”

The phone rang again. Stifling a curse, I grabbed it.

“Lenore Whiting.”

“Len? Are you all right? You didn't call, and then your phone was busy—”

“Oh, I'm sorry, Man.” I rubbed a hand over my eyes. “I got distracted. I'm fine.”

“What happened? Did you see the guy?”

“Yeah. I called the cops—that's why the phone was busy. They're looking for him. Don't leave your dorm.”

I talked with Amanda a little longer, though there wasn't that much to say. I didn't mention Caeran. Things were complicated enough.