Into the Woods (30 page)

The death of Kisten was not just a shock to the readers, it was also one to me. He didn’t actually find his end until the editorial rewrite of
For a Few Demons More
, when I realized that Kisten’s role was destined to become a dead end. I couldn’t stand to see his character wither and die, so I made a clean end of it. “The Bridges of Eden Park” was my way to say good-bye, and was added to the mass market edition.

I still miss Kisten.

Y
ou have duck sauce on your face,” Kisten said, smiling as he leaned into me to kiss it away.

“Kisten!” Flustered, I drew back. I wasn’t a prude, but we were standing atop the footbridge at Eden park, and there was an old couple sitting across the shallow lake watching, as if we were on display.

“What . . .” he complained, contenting himself with wiping it away with his finger and making me roll my eyes when he suggestively licked it off.

A quiver rose through me, halfheartedly suppressed. Squinting from the sun, I tossed my head to the ancient-looking pair. “I’m not going to end up with my picture in the
Cincinnati Gazette
again. My mom gets that, you know.”

Kisten turned to look, leaning against the bridge’s cement railing with his blond eyebrows high in speculation. The wind coming up from the distant river ruffled his blond-dyed hair, and when he smiled with half his face, he looked heart-stopping. God, what was it with vampires? When they were dead, they were attractive, but when there was a soul still attached . . . Damn!

“They don’t look like the paparazzi,” Kisten said as he turned back, giving me a slip of fang to think about. “I say we give them something to watch.”

I was tempted, man was I tempted, but the memory of my picture under the what-not-to-wear-to-a-stakeout headline made me a wiser woman. I still didn’t know who had taken it, and when I found out, I was going to put slugs in his or her glove box. Making a huff of negation, I angled too close for him to do anything, shifting my body into his and sending my arm about his waist. I rolled the bag of takeout down and handed it to him as a substitute for nibbling on my earlobe. He sighed at the mild rebuke, knowing it was a temporary stalemate. I’d pay him back after work.

Breakfast with Kisten could mean anything from fast food in his car to a three-course meal at the Carew Tower restaurant. Today it was Chinese at Eden park at noon. I didn’t mind. With him managing the affairs of his imprisoned master vampire and me trying to maintain my independent runner firm, our time together was often taken in snatches. It had been my suggestion to eat here, seeing as I wanted to go to the nearby conservatory to pilfer some of the orchid pollen for a charm, and if Kisten was with me, no one would say boo if I was caught.

Orchid pollen,
I thought, snuggling into the security of Kisten’s arm over my shoulders as we leaned over the railing to look eight feet down into the fast moving water. I didn’t think orchids even
had
pollen. But it was either I take my tiny makeup brush to the nearby conservatory or one of the local home improvement stores.

The water bubbling under the bridge into the large catch pond was soothing, and feeling Kisten relax against me, I sighed happily and breathed in the vampire incense he was unconsciously giving off. The rich, almost subliminal scent mixed with the sunshine and wind to give a sensation of quiet intensity. I trusted Kisten implicitly to not push his advantage as a vampire, but the potential was heady. Playing with fire, but it felt so good. Besides, as a witch, I wasn’t without my own “evolutionary adaptations.”

A faint smile quirked my lips. It was full summer, the sun was high, the wind was cool, and because I didn’t have a job today, all I had to do was find orchid pollen. Nothing could possibly ruin my mood of contentment.

The soft hum of Kisten’s phone vibrated through me, and I stiffened.

Well, that came pretty damn close.

Kisten shifted, and my jaw clenched. “You’re not going to take that, are you?” I complained, then dropped with my arms over my chest when he edged out of my grip. “I never take calls when we’re out.”

His smile showed a glint of small fang. He wouldn’t get the extended versions until he was really dead, but just that little glimpse started a quiver in my middle. Crap on toast, I couldn’t stay mad at the man.

“You’re not trying to run the city,” he said as he pulled the tiny phone from a pocket and squinted at the screen.

“Run the city . . .” I put my elbows on the railing and looked away to give him some privacy. “You’re not running the city; you’re running a nightclub.”

“In this case, it’s the same thing.” Kisten made a small sound of concern as he looked at the number. “It’s my sister. You mind if I take a call from my sister?”

I straightened in surprise. I hadn’t even known he had a sister. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll get us an ice cream.”

“Don’t leave. She probably just wants a number.” Kisten set the take-out on the railing and opened the phone. “Hi, Chrissie,” he said, and then his brow furrowed. “Where are you?”

My good mood hesitated, then worsened when Kisten peered past me at the distant road beyond the open space where people walked their dogs and flew kites.

“Shit,” he swore softly, his eyes pinching in concern. “Why didn’t you go to Piscary’s?” His lips pressed tight, and he put a hand to his head. “For Christ’s sake, Chrissie, what do you think I can do?”

He paused to listen, and the incense coming from him grew strong, taking on a sharper scent, aggressive. His eyes, too, were going black in anger as his pupils dilated. “Is he okay?” he asked softly. “No, you did okay. I’m at the bridge. Can you see me?”

Now I was really concerned, and I followed Kisten’s gaze across the open park. There was a young woman in a short business dress in heels trudging over the grass with a towheaded little boy in tow. She had a phone to her ear.
Kisten’s sister?
The woman was yelling, her pace quickening as she looked over her shoulder. I could almost hear her. The little boy holding her hand had to move fast to keep up, but if he was Kisten’s nephew, he was a living vampire and could probably run faster than me, even if he did look about six.

“I see you,” Kisten said, tension making his muscles hard. “I’ll talk to you in a minute.” My pulse fast when he closed the phone and turned to me. “You need to go home.”

Surprised, I dropped back a step. “If your sister is in trouble, I can help. It’s what I do for a living. What’s the problem?”

He hesitated as if to demand I leave, then exhaled. His fingers trembled when he took my upper arm and leaned close, but his gaze never left the edges of the park. His sister was still out of earshot, even for a vampire, but he leaned in close. “Short version,” he said. “Seven years ago, my sister had a fling with a vampire out of Piscary’s camarilla. Nine months later, she has a little boy, finds out Sean’s married, comes home, and life goes on with the addition of a car seat in the back. A few months ago, the bastard’s shadow junkie wife gets herself killed, which leaves Sean married but without a living heir, so he sues my sister to get custody.”

I turned to glance at the pair of them. The little boy was in a school uniform, and he looked tired, head down as he lagged behind. “What an ass,” I said, and Kisten bobbed his head in agreement.

“It gets better. He’s got no right to the boy because it’s been six years, but because Piscary is in jail, Sean thinks he can force the issue by way of possession. He just tried to snatch Audric from the schoolyard.”

Aghast, I looked past Kisten to the little boy. “Holy crap! Is he okay?”

Kisten smirked and turned to the end of the bridge as his sister approached, her heels clicking as they found the paved path. “He’s fine, but my sister is ready to rip someone’s head off.”

“I’ll bet.”

“She called the club and they told her where I was. I know they’re following her.” Kisten’s hands clenched and released. “I hope they’re following her.”

He was itching for a fight. I’d seen this before. Kisten wasn’t an especially big man, but he had a vampiric strength that he liked to use, and thanks to his occasional bouncer work, he knew how to use it.

“Kisten,” I urged, not wanting to spend my afternoon in the emergency room, “all we need to do is convince him that Piscary in jail does not make his vampires easy pickings.”

His eyes when they met mine were black, and though his emotion wasn’t directed at me, I felt a slither of fear-laced anticipation tighten every muscle. “That’s exactly what I intend to do,” he said in a flat voice.

I took a breath to protest, but the sharp click-clack of heels and the soft hiss of scuffing sneakers sounded against the cement footbridge. Kisten’s sister was in her early thirties, maybe. She must have had Audric young, but most living vampires did in case of premature death. The few lines in her face were from stress and anger. Dressed in a trendy business suit, she gave the impression of a pissed CEO, dragging her unfortunate offspring along on a day-with-mommy-at-work excursion, powerful and harried all at the same time.

“Damn it, Chrissie,” Kisten said as he gave her a hug. “I told you that Sean was scum.”

The family resemblance was uncanny, save that she didn’t dye her hair, letting the long, dark waves curl gently around her face. Anger was a dark sheen in her eyes, the pupils so large they looked black in the sun. She didn’t let go of the little boy’s hand as she embraced Kisten, her lips brushing his cheek for an instant. I could smell a whiff of citrus scented perfume.

“I love you, too,” she said dryly as she dropped back. Her eyes flicked to me, then back to Kisten. “Thanks for helping me. They aren’t far behind.”

Her voice was strong, but I could hear fear in it, not for herself, but for her child. She looked at me again, and I stuck my hand out.

“I’m Rachel,” I said, seeing as Kisten wasn’t going to introduce us. “Kisten’s girlfriend.”

Her grip was tight and preoccupied. “Nice to meet you. You’re a witch, aren’t you?”

I nodded, not surprised she could tell. Vampires had better noses than just about any non-human species, apart from pixies. “Yup.”

Kisten ruffled the little boy’s hair and said, “Rachel has her own running firm with Ivy.”

The woman actually blinked, and a thin rim of blue appeared around her pupil. “You live with Ivy? In that church? It is a true pleasure to meet you.”

Her smile became a whole lot more . . . accepting, as if she was taking me serious now. Not as in “I want to take a bite out of you,” but as an equal. It was a nice feeling—one I didn’t get much.

Seeing that we weren’t going to be at each other’s throats—literally—Kisten dropped down on his knee to Audric’s height. “Hey, Squirt. How you doing?”

The little boy looked up. There were tear marks on his cheeks, wiped away and probably vigorously denied. “Hi, Uncle Kisten,” he said softly as he rubbed his arm where a handprint showed. “I don’t feel so good.”

Kisten rose with the youngster on his hip, and it surprised me how right he looked there. “I’m sorry,” he said as he made a little hop to settle him. “Your mom and I are going to take care of that right now.” He turned to me. “This is Ms. Rachel. Rachel, this is Audric.”

I smiled, thinking he looked like Kisten. “Hi, Audric.”

The boy turned away to hide his face in Kisten’s neck.

“Audric,” Kisten admonished in a very adult voice. “This is a very handsome woman. She’s too old for you, but don’t be shy. Her name is Rachel.”

Chrissie put a hand to her hip. “Kisten . . .”

But Audric turned and gazed at me with big, beautiful blue eyes. His past tears made his eyelashes long and beautiful. “Hi, Ms. Rachel,” he said, and I knew he was going to break hearts when he got older. Vampires make beautiful children, products of centuries of careful breeding by their long-lived masters who enjoy beauty and have the time to play with bloodlines like master artists play with pigments.

“That’s better,” Kisten said, and my gut twisted at the thought that Kisten was as much a product of Piscary’s breeding as this child. “Never be afraid of beautiful women.”

“Kisten . . .” Chrissie said again, her tone carrying a lot more impatience.

Kisten looked across the park, a hint of worry in his eyes. “There’s always time to be polite,” he said as he picked up the takeout and turned to the parking lot and my car. I didn’t know how we were all going to fit. My car didn’t really have a back seat.

But we stopped when the distinctive sound of a van door sliding open scraped through the peaceful afternoon. Beside my little convertible, five people were getting out of a white panel van. They were all dressed in suits and wore shades. Living vampires, and not from Cincinnati. Their stance of brash confidence screamed of being on someone else’s ground but not giving a crap about it.

I turned the other way to find five men closing in from over the grassy knoll. “Too late,” I whispered as the three of us came to a clustered halt on the highpoint of the wide footbridge.

Audric’s eyes were huge, but he was silent. His mother took him from Kisten, managing his weight easily. “Don’t start a fight,” she said, fear in her voice.

Kisten turned to her. “How do you propose I keep him from taking Audric then?”

Think, Rachel, think.
“Sharps?” I called out, wondering if the resident bridge troll I’d befriended when I worked for the I.S. might still be here. He’d help even if it was sunny—as long as the I.S. hadn’t chased him out again. But there was no answering wispy gurgle or whoosh of water. We were on our own against ten living vampires.
Fair fight,
I thought, warming to the task, then realized I was standing over water. Damn it, I couldn’t tap a ley line to do a line charm, and all my earth charms were in the car.

“Stop right there,” Kisten said, hands extended both ways. His posture was hunched and he looked like a predator with his eager, black eyes. I felt the adrenaline dump into me, and I stepped from Chrissie to give myself room to move. I didn’t have my charms, but I still had my fists and feet.
This is so not good. I have to get off this bridge.