Do you think it’s Donald and Nelson?
Their memories were wiped, so if it is them, they’re operating on whatever information the hard drive or whatever gadget we missed contained.
Which could be a little or a lot.
Their feathered companion swung away just as a scent reached Seth.
You smell that? he asked.
Death.
They banked, circling around to follow the vulture to its feast.
“Are those vultures?” he heard a guard down below ask.
“Yeah. I told you the body was too close. If the wind changes it’s gonna smell like shit.”
The vulture led them to the body of a mercenary who had been shot in the head.
Seth and David joined the bird in circling above it.
Do you think it’s one of the men Lisette, Etienne, and Krysta tagged? David asked.
I’m not sure. Why kill only one of them?
And, if they killed him because they found the tracking device, why are they still here? Why aren’t they all bugging out?
Let’s widen our circles so we can fly over without raising suspicion and pick their brains. Perhaps they’re busy designing a trap if they think we know where they are.
Reading the minds of the guards from this distance was a challenge, simply because maintaining this form already took a lot of concentration, but both elders could do it.
You weren’t exaggerating, David said. Had they been in their usual forms, Seth knew David would be shaking his head. They know almost nothing about the outfit that employs them.
Most don’t care because it pays so well.
I’m not hearing anything about traps. No anticipation of our arrival.
Nor any mention of the tracking devices.
They seem to regard the slain one as a betrayer, yet can’t say why.
They were told he had betrayed them, but not how.
A couple more vultures joined them, circling the carcass below.
I’m going to read the minds of the men in the hangars and the barracks, Seth said. You take the men in the main building.
It was a time-consuming task. Holding these forms for extended lengths sapped their energy, but neither complained. What they learned here could save lives.
By the time they finished, half a dozen vultures were picking the dead soldier’s bones clean.
I got nothing, David said at length. None are aware of any plans to capture us. No one has been warned about or knows anything about the tracking devices. And, while they’re all speculating and coming up with their own ideas, none know why the dead soldier was deemed a traitor.
Apparently only the commander of the army knows why and he isn’t here.
And, of course, they don’t know where he is. This is ridiculous , David said with irritation he rarely exhibited. There is a point at which gullibility ceases and stupidity begins.
I know. They passed that point as soon as they saw their first paycheck and, because they assume that everything they are doing is legal and at the behest of some government contract, they have no problem with the killing.
Money has made them imbeciles!
They were imbeciles before that. The money just gave them a chance to confirm it. How are you holding up? Generally the only time David’s mellow temperament succumbed to irritation or anger was when he was in pain. They had been out in the strong midday sun for a few hours now while expending large amounts of energy to retain the forms of vultures. While Seth was weary, David was probably really feeling it by now.
I could use some blood, he admitted reluctantly.
We aren’t going to learn any more here today. Let’s head home.
The fact that David didn’t protest told Seth the pain was substantial. He should have asked David to shift forms and wait on the ground in the shade at least an hour ago.
Five miles beyond the fence, Seth banked toward the ground.
David followed without question.
Seth shifted just above the grass and landed on his feet.
David did the same, but stumbled.
Seth braced him until he could get his balance, then drew him into the shade of a nearby tree and placed his hand on David’s chest, absorbing his pain. “Forgive me. I lost track of time.”
“I didn’t. We needed the information.”
When David sighed with relief and nodded, Seth removed his hand and clapped him on the shoulder, teleporting them home.
“You seem nervous,” Krysta said, eyeing Etienne with some concern. The only other time she had seen him this nervous was when he had been about to ask Seth if she could be transformed.
Even facing multiple vampires and mercenaries didn’t make him nervous. So what was up?
The two continued to arm themselves for the night’s hunt while she awaited his response. Cam was training with Sean in the home gym down in the basement.
Sean hadn’t been as pissed as she had thought he would be when she had transformed. He actually had seemed relieved that she would now be much safer when hunting.
Etienne cleared his throat and opened his mouth. Let it hang open. Closed it and turned back to the cabinet in which he kept his many daggers.
“Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad,” she coaxed. “Can it?”
He gave her a quick glance from the corner of his eye. “Do you have enough daggers?”
“Just tell me what it is!” she blurted, then clamped her lips shut. “I’m sorry. It’s just that imagining whatever catastrophe might make you nervous is beginning to make me nervous.”
“It isn’t a catastrophe,” he muttered. “Or wasn’t. I seem to be making it one. Cam warned me I would, damn him for being right.”
She pursed her lips.
Crossing to him, she took the dagger from his hand, slipped it into its sheath and turned him to face her. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
He smiled. “Have I mentioned how much I like it when you call me that?”
She smiled. “Yes. So, what’s up?”
He leaned back against the cabinet and crossed his arms over his chest. “I talked to Chris earlier. He mentioned assigning you your own Second now that you’re immortal and said he has a couple of houses in mind for you and Sean to choose from.”
“Oh.” Her stomach sank. She had thought . . .
Well, she hadn’t thought. Not about this.
When she and Sean had first moved in, living with Etienne and Cam had been a temporary arrangement. She had even mentioned staying in a hotel. But then she had gotten to know Etienne and fallen hard for him. They had made love and admitted their feelings for each other. He had transformed her and helped her adjust to her new condition. They had spent nights hunting together and days . . .
She hadn’t slept in “her” bedroom in weeks. She spent the days with him in his. The subject of moving out had just never come up.
“I don’t want you to go,” he said.
Relief left her buoyant. “I don’t either. I mean, we never talked about it and I don’t want to push you into anything you aren’t ready for—”
“I love you, Krysta.” He straightened and took her hands. “I don’t think I could sleep without you beside me. I don’t want to sleep without you beside me. And I want you to be right there with me every evening when I wake up.”
“Me, too.”
He pulled her into his arms and claimed her lips in a kiss that seemed to carry with it everything she felt herself: relief, excitement, lust, love . . .
“Too bad we have that meeting tonight,” he said, trailing heated kisses down her neck.
Her pulse leapt. “We’re both immortal now. Can’t immortals have quickies?”
He laughed. “Immortals give quickies a whole new meaning. But . . .” He drew his hands up her sides and brushed her breasts with his thumbs. “I like to savor you.”
“That disappoints me and excites me all at the same time.”
He brushed her lips with his once more. “So you’ll stay with me? You’ll live here with me?”
“Yes.” Happily.
“How would you feel if I told you that I’m an old-fashioned guy—”
“I already knew that.”
“—and wish to marry you and spend the rest of eternity as your husband?”
She stopped breathing. “You want to marry me?” Marriage was big for immortals. For them, ’til death do us part could mean hundreds, even thousands, of years.
“More than anything,” he vowed, the sincerity in his voice unmistakeable.
Krysta threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, sliding his arms around her and burying his face in her hair.
“Yes. A very enthusiastic yes!”
He hugged her close and said with some regret, “I wanted more time to woo you.”
She grinned. “To what me?”
He popped her lightly on the butt. “Stop mocking me.”
She laughed. “I can’t help it. It’s fun.”
Straightening, he brushed her hair back from her forehead and cupped her face in his large hands. “I wanted to spend months courting you properly. I planned to spend months courting you properly once we’d quashed this latest threat. But Chris kept mentioning the damned house . . .”
“Etienne, you have been courting me.”
“No, I haven’t. All we’ve done since we met is train and fight vampires and mercenaries.”
“Sweetie, I’m not a flowers and chocolates kind of gal,” she said, leaning into him. “Well, maybe the chocolate.”
“I was going to say.”
She laughed. He had seen her put away a lot of chocolate. “I don’t need flowers. I don’t need jewelry. I don’t need . . . whatever other frilly things men give the women they’re dating.” She hadn’t dated anyone long-term since Michael and couldn’t remember what men usually brought their girlfriends. “I need weapons. And you have given me some beautiful weapons.”
She no longer carried Lisette’s weapons. Etienne had, over the weeks, gifted her with her own personal arsenal. Shoto swords. Katanas. Daggers. Throwing stars. Glock 18s. Sigs. Her very own uncomfortable rubbery suit to wear if she had to venture into daylight.
