This is the advocate? God, the man is huge, six-four, if I had to guess, and built like he chops wood for a living. Menace bleeds off him, even before I see his scowl. And when he turns brilliant silver eyes on me that seem to glow in the dim light, I almost wet myself.
My throat gives a loud reflexive gulp.
I offer my cut hand, trembling hard enough to cause the blood to spill, and force out a raspy plea. “I need your help.”
He takes a step toward me, his mouth bending into a look of disgust as he scans me from head to toe. “You are no Gowdie witch.”
His voice reminds me of the sound of the struck match.
My chest rises and falls too quickly, and I attempt to slow my breathing so I can speak. Maeve prepared me for this. In a strong voice, I declare, “I perform this spell by the power of Maeve Gowdie.”
He sneers, studying me. My pulse races under his scrutiny, my breath coming fast again. This man of shadows, this advocate, whatever he is, an aura of intensity surrounds him. Undeniably beautiful, there’s a shrewdness in his eyes and a hollowness to his cheeks that make him look… hungry, wanting. The way he studies me makes me want to run.
“Your heart is fluttering like a sparrow’s,” he says, staring at my neck. I feel his gaze like cool fingers pressed to my pulse. “Maeve should know better than to allow little birds to call on me.”
“I’m not?—”
“What is it you need, little bird?” His face issuddenly close, and I make out the glistening tips of two pearly white fangs peeking from below a full upper lip. My breath catches.Oh my God. I glance down at the blood dripping from my hand, still hovering over the black flame of the candle. Has Maeve given me a spell to call a...
“Are you a vampire?” I blurt the question even as a new, prickling chill coasts over my skin.
He draws back, lids narrowing. “Are you a human? Is this why you called me? To talk about what we are and what we aren’t? Do you want pictures of my coffin?” He rolls his eyes. “I hate to disappoint you. I don’t sleep in one. Now take that candle and return it to Miss Gowdie and remind her that I am only bound to serve her direct bloodline.”
The edges of his elbows start to blur. Shit! He’s leaving! I fist my hands and find my voice, even as my heart threatens to break through my ribcage. “Please! I’m sorry if I offended you. I don’t care what you are or who you are bound to serve. I need your help, and if we could come to an arrangement...” I thrust my bloody hand toward him again.
His smoky outline solidifies. Nostrils flaring, his gaze darts to my hand. “Hmmm, the sparrow is willing to make a deal with the serpent in her tree?” His laugh is grit and cinder. “You’re either brave or a fool.”
“Neither,” I blurt, flustered. “I’m desperate. Maeve lent me the candle because my ex-husband… well, my husband still, I suppose… we’re going through a divorce. He’s abusive. Physically and emotionally abusive.” My God, it’s like talking to a statue. He stares down a blade straight nose at me, an impenetrable scowl on his face. At least he isn’t leaving. I take that as a sign to keep going. “After he hit me thesecond time?—”
“What is your name?”
“Eloise. Eloise Harcourt.”
“Are you asking me to exact vengeance against this man for abusing you while you sleep in his house and eat his food?” He glances around the room, seeming puzzled by a set of Egyptian boxes stacked in the corner.
“No. This is my house. I left him and moved here where I care for my grandmother, who is ill… dying.”
He takes a step closer, those shrewd eyes on me again. “You are free of this abuser, safe and warm in your own home?”
“He’s using a technicality of human law to try to steal this house from me. He’s trying to cast me and my dying grandmother out. This is where I grew up. It’s where my family is buried. And if I don’t do something, he’s going to take it from me. I don’t care about vengeance. I need your help saving my house.” A tear falls and I wipe it away.
The creature creeps closer until his toes are at the border of the symbol. “What do you offer me in exchange for solving this problem for you?”
I dart a glance toward my cut hand. “Uh… don’t you want my blood?”
Fast as a serpent strike, cool fingers wrap around my blood-tinged ones, and his tongue lashes out to lick across my wound. I gasp at the feel of it, warm and wet. Intimate. How could it not be? Naked in the dark with a man’s tongue on my flesh. I swallow again, not entirely out of fear this time.
“Does that mean you’ll help me?”
Those brilliant silver eyes lock on mine. Now that he is closer, I can see they are actually winter blue. The blue of ice. The blue of December twilight.
“Oh, my little bird. That was only me tasting what you have to offer.”
3
A Monster Calls
DAMIEN
