Lucas (22 page)

She looked around and saw they’d arrived at a
house .
 . . of sorts. She couldn’t see much, but even the moonlight was enough for her to see that the structure was ancient by American standards. Not historic like the castles of
Europe
, as one of her favorite comedians would have said, but definitely built more than fifty years ago. Way more than fifty years, in this case. Either that or whoever had built it had a really lousy set of construction skills.

It appeared to be made of wood plank. It was small—she would guess no more than 1200 square feet at best—with a covered porch that was sagging both underfoot and overhead. The wood appeared dry and gray by moonlight, and she could only imagine it would be worse in the bright light of day.

Kathryn studied it doubtfully.
This
was where Lucas planned on having their private conversation? Did it even have plumbing?
And what about heat?
She hoped it didn’t use one of those wood-burning stoves, because those things smoked, and the smell was impossible to get out of her hair and clothes.

“It doesn’t look like much from out here,” Lucas murmured against her ear.

Kathryn managed to stifle most of her jump of surprise, but not all of it. She turned a glare on him, but he only winked playfully. Next time he snuck up on her like that, she was going to shoot him. Let him see how funny he found it then.
Sneaky bastard.

Nicholas came around the side of the house. He’d apparently gone around back for something while she’d been, um, admiring the architecture. He hurried over to where she stood with Lucas and handed
her the
keys to her rental. She gave him a questioning look.

“It’s parked on the side of the house,” he told her with a quick wink. “The driver took a different route out of the city and beat us here.” He turned to Lucas.
“My lord?”

“We’ll stay here,” Lucas responded to the unvoiced question. “You guys know the drill. Kathryn and I will be fine in the main house. Make the usual arrangements for morning.”

Main house?
Kathryn thought to herself. There was something smaller than this? She turned her head, searching the surrounding area, but couldn’t see anything that resembled a living structure.
Wait.
Morning?

“Yes, Sire,” Nicholas was saying. “Should one of us perhaps remain with you, and—”

“I’ll be fine, Nick. Kathryn won’t shoot me, will you,
a
cuisle
?”

Kathryn gave him a dirty look. Clearly she was going to need an Irish translator app for her phone. He’d used that particular word several times, and she could tell from the context that it was probably some sort of endearment, like
sweetheart
or
honey.
 
It had
better
be something like that. If it was
babe
or
baby
or, God forbid, anything like
little one,
she was going to set him straight. Just as soon as she figured out what he was saying.

“Kathryn?”

She smiled to herself. He sounded worried that she hadn’t responded right away to his question about shooting him. “No,” she said finally, letting regret flavor her reply, “I don’t plan to shoot you.”

He gave her a narrow look at her regretful tone, but told Nicholas, “Settle in for the night, Nick. You’ll know if I need you.”

Nicholas was plainly unhappy about the arrangement, and Kathryn wondered if he actually thought
she
was a danger to Lucas. But he followed orders, giving his boss a nod and disappearing around the back of the house.

“Where are they going?” she asked Lucas, as he started for the porch.

“There’s a bunk house out back. They’ll be quite comfortable.”

Kathryn doubted that. Just as much as she doubted she was going to be too comfortable in the
main
house, but what the hell. She’d come this far, and she wasn’t staying long anyway. She followed Lucas, stepping gingerly onto the sagging porch, imagining the narrow tip of her high heel going right through the boards if she wasn’t careful. But it was surprisingly firm, not even sagging under Lucas’s much greater weight as he strode to the front door and inserted a key. The door lock was very sturdy for such an old structure, and a closer look revealed that the doorframe had not only been reinforced, but the door was also more than it appeared. She was no locksmith,
but .
 . . she tapped her knuckles on the door’s surface. It was steel.

Lucas glanced at her. “Looks can be deceiving, Kathryn.” He pushed on into the house with Kathryn on his heels. She was curious now. How much of what she’d seen was just for show?

Lucas whispered a few words, and Kathryn felt the brush of something along her skin, like static electricity. All at once the room lit with warm light. Candles flamed up on the mantle, but most of the light came from several shaded lamps throughout the room, which was definitely not what she’d expected.

And then it hit her. She’d just
witnessed .
 . . magic? Impossible, but what other word was there to describe it? Lucas had whispered, and suddenly there was light. If it had been only the lamps, she would have assumed some vampire version of clap-on/clap-off, but candles? She strode over to the fireplace and took a good look at the fat columns of lightly scented wax. The flames appeared real,
but  .
 . . she licked her fingers and pinched the wick on one of them as a test. It sizzled out between her fingers, and Lucas laughed behind her.

“The candles are quite real, as is the flame. I abhor those fake, electric ones. There’s no romance.”

Kathryn spun to face him with a narrow look. “Who said anything about romance? We’re here to talk.”

Lucas tossed his jacket aside and shook his head in mock dismay. “Such a practical woman you are, Kathryn Hunter. It pains my heart. There is romance everywhere. Or there should be. The world would be a better place for it.”

“Uh huh,” she said skeptically and studied the old house with new eyes. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to give the appearance of disrepair on the outside. But in here, there was no pretense. Whoever had decorated the main house at the ranch had worked on this one, too. The living room was small—there was no faking that—but it was filled with comfortable-looking furniture. A huge overstuffed couch of reddish brown leather, with two chairs that matched it in both size and color, occupied the space in front of the fireplace—which flared suddenly to life.

Kathryn gave Lucas a sharp look, and he grinned back at her, doing an elegant little gesture with his hand like some sort of stage magician. The only thing missing was a triumphant “
ta-da
!” And wouldn’t she like to know exactly how he did that? Nothing she’d read indicated that vampires had real magic, beyond their extended
lifespans
, that is.

She turned her back on his far-too-pleased-with-himself expression and continued her perusal of the room. A rectangle of dark wood, pitted and scarred beneath a thick resin finish, sat atop a chunk of natural rock and served as a coffee table. Most of the floor was hardwood, but a large area rug of a deep, rich red sat beneath the table. Looking all the way to the right, Kathryn saw a kitchenette that was little more than a sink and a microwave with a small set of cabinets and a bar refrigerator underneath. A small kitchen table of pale pine stood next to the window with four chairs, one on each side. Vampires didn’t require much in the way of kitchens, she supposed. The table was probably more for extra seating than potential dinner guests.

She glanced up and found Lucas watching her size up the place. “This is very nice,” she commented, running an appreciative hand over the soft leather back of the couch.

“Not what you expected, though,” he teased.

She smiled in spite of herself. “No,” she admitted. “But you’re a sneaky guy.”

Lucas clutched his chest. “And once again, you wound me.”

Kathryn rolled her eyes and walked to the other side of the room. There were two open doors; one led to the bedroom. She did no more than glance at that one before quickly moving on to the other, which was a guest bathroom, with only a sink and toilet. She wondered if there was a master bath off the bedroom, but had no intention of finding out. This was clearly Lucas’s hideaway place, which meant that was his bedroom. Not going in there. No way.
Nuh
uh.

“Would you like a drink?” Lucas asked, strolling over to the bar like a big, lazy cat. Did the man never simply walk?

“Water, if you have it,” she replied politely. “I have to drive back to the motel later.”

Lucas gave her an unreadable look, but pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to her after twisting the cap off with an audible crack of the plastic seal. She thought it likely that he did that on purpose, to demonstrate that there was nothing in there but water.

For himself, he took a crystal tumbler from the cabinet and poured
an amber
-colored liquor from the matching decanter on the counter. The smooth scent of fine whiskey filled Kathryn’s nose. She wasn’t a whiskey drinker, but her father had been, and the scent brought back memories of her childhood. She couldn’t say they’d been better times, but maybe they’d been less complicated.

Lucas took his whiskey neat. He indicated the furniture in front of the fireplace, and Kathryn moved around the big couch. She was tempted to sit on one of the chairs instead, but that would have been too cowardly. So she sat on the couch, far enough from the middle that it didn’t invite any intimacy. Something poked her side as she settled into the cushions, reminding her she was still wearing her Glock. She unclipped the holster from her belt and laid it on the coffee table.

One side of Lucas’s mouth lifted in a smile as he circled the table, then fell gracefully onto the couch and put his back in the corner opposite hers, one knee cocked up on the cushions.

Kathryn took a small sip of the cold water. “So how do you do it? How do you light candles and fireplaces and turn on lights without touching anything?” She flipped her hand in the general direction of the fireplace.

He shrugged dismissively. “I am Vampire. Has no one told you what that means? I would have thought the FBI would know that much at least.”

“Maybe they do, but I don’t. You said you’d answer my questions if I came with you. So, enlighten me.”

Lucas regarded her with a thoughtful expression,
then
asked, “What
do
you know about vampires? Or rather, think you do.”

Kathryn
blinked,
somewhat surprised that he’d given in so easily. She didn’t trust “easy,” especially not when it came to Lucas
Donlon
. But she wanted answers, so she’d play along for now.

“Not much more than what’s commonly known,” she admitted. “And I assume a good percentage of that is fantasy.”

“Most of it, I’d wager,” he agreed, and took a slow sip from his glass. He eyed her for a long moment. “Do you believe in magic?”

“No,” she said instantly. “But I believe something can
look
like magic, if one doesn’t understand how it’s done.”

“Or if one cannot do it, while another can,” Lucas agreed.

“Exactly.
So how do you do it?”

“I cannot explain it,” he said matter-of-factly. “It would be like Einstein trying to explain how he was able to see the universe the way he did, or a football quarterback trying to explain how he’s able to hit the precise spot his receiver will be seconds before the man gets there.”

“Einstein?” she repeated archly.

Lucas laughed easily. “I knew you wouldn’t like that one. That’s why I threw in the quarterback. No pun intended.”

Kathryn groaned, but she couldn’t help smiling at the same time. He was so damn charming, even when he was being arrogant. Quarterback indeed. She was pretty sure he thought he was Einstein, not some football hero.

“Okay, Einstein,” she drawled. “But please try to explain to this mere mortal what you feel when you do it. Do you just think it, and it’s true? Can every vampire do that?”

“No, to both questions.
Every vampire is changed in some way by the transformation from human to vampire. But very few have the extraordinary levels of power necessary to become a vampire lord.”

“And you, of course, are one of the few.”

“It is not vanity, Kathryn, but fact. And did you not just tell me that one cannot argue with the facts? I will admit, however, that I cannot take any credit for my abilities. It is a twist of fate, and no one, not even the most powerful among us can predict who will be a vampire lord and who will not. On the other hand,” he continued deliberately, “I can and do take credit for what I have done with those abilities. Even Einstein had to discipline his genius.”