More important was the other detail. “How many others you met then, darlin’?”
“A few. They all growl and try to bite me.” She busied herself with dials and switches, glancing frequently at him as if expecting each movement to bring swift retribution—and the wanderer didnotlike that. Yet she still clung to thin, nervous calm, and every conversational exchange was at once a revelation, a gift, and a victory. “Uh, can I ask you something?”
“Anythin’ you like.” What would he deny his new prize? Nothing, save self-harm or escape. Now her behavior made more sense—so young in the Blood, mortal instincts and the urge to flee what was essentially a predator would occasionally strike. He must be careful, coax her into recognizing his intent to guard.
To cherish.
“How old are you? If that’s, you know, something I can ask.” Even more tentative, as she pulled a small lever. A mechanical thump, a shuddering, and the contraption was freed from stasis, lurching into wallowing motion. Gravel crunched under the rubber rounds, and he watched carefully as she used the wheel to steer, her right leg twitching as she switched between floor-pedals.
What a marvelous dance.
“I…” How to explain? “I don’t know, ’zactly. There ’us a fire.”
Electric floodlights cut a swath before them, glittering on raised dust and dazed, swooping night-insects. She had parked not only to take advantage of the view but also positioned the vehicle for easy egress along the gravel road, most intriguing. Care and forethought in one so young—why was she so surprised he could speak?
Of course, incoherent raving had been his lot before her arrival. Fledglings catching her scent would be reduced to utter drunkenness, an Elder deeply distracted by the lovely miracle; a daywalker, even though of might surpassing both as sanguinant o’erpassed mortals, would become entirely fastened upon the need to bite and claim.
Miraculous that the city’s burning had not killed him, doubly so that the wandering afterward had failed to do so, and now a leman. Truly he was fortunate, even among the children of the Blood.
She stared out the front, as if wholly absorbed in her task. Or, more likely, not daring to inquire further, since her scent nowheld a more definite edge of fear—tormenting, teasing, poking at the mating-thrall. A surge of hot protectiveness ran through his marrow; the animal in him wished to remove whatever was frightening her before offering comfort in unmistakable, highly specific fashion.
He would take her again after hunting and before sunrise, he decided. Slowly, with great care, attending to her smallest pleasure.
“Whole city burned down,” he added. Perhaps he could entice her to further questions, more clues. “Flames hurt me bad, but I ’us already daywalker so…”
Thatearned him a sweet, startled glance. “Daywalker?”
“It takes a bit o’ doing, to stand in th’ sun. But some manage it.” Age was a prerequisite, though not entirely the measure of such a feat, he thought. Even with his memory and reason fractured, he had retained an instinctive grasp upon sanguinants’ ways and methods, if only to hold both territory and his own survival. “Your Maker din’t tell you?”
“There wasn’t a lot of conversation.” Her knuckles had turned white. The wheel groaned softly before she swallowed, convulsively, and loosened her hold. The vehicle swayed, rumbling into a turn, and bumped up onto a paved road. In the distance a lone streetlight leaned, beaming an orange message-glow toward cracked concrete.
She was growing more fearful by the moment. The vehicle hummed, gathering speed, and whooshed past the streetlight onto a long dark stretch of ruler-straight country road. His suspicions about her Maker became even bleaker, and the concomitant fury crept a little deeper into his bones.
“Well, now.” He tried for the quietest, most soothing tone he had ever heard a mortal male use, hoping it was enough. If he could remember anything before the fire, perhaps it would bebetter… but he was forced to use what little he had. “How ’bout you tell me what did happen, darlin’?”
His leman was silent for a long moment, pressing a lever on the column holding the wheel, then leaning slightly forward to touch a button on the instrument panel. The long, thin-walled carriage accelerated once more, settling into a high happy hum. No wonder the mortals liked these conveyances so much—the sense of smooth speed gained by simply pressing a pedal was satisfying, though relatively slow compared to an Elder’s ability of skimming along topographical features or riding the night wind in mistform. The deep hum of the wheels was pleasant as well.
How long had she traveled in this fashion? Five years was nothing, yet she had no measure of time save the mortal.
What hadhappened? How could a leman, a fledgling, be wandering unclaimed? The more he learned, the more puzzled he became.
“No,” she said, quietly. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
There was a metallic click, and she wrenched at the wheel. A scream of metal, a sudden coughing sound, and the world turned over rapidly.
A bright orange blossom of flame filled his vision, a rush of heat, the acrid smell of petrol.
CHAPTER 9
Flingingherself from a moving vehicle wasn’t the hard part.
It did cause her a pang or two to start the self-destruct sequence; she’d had that little gift installed by a mechanic Barry knew in Illinois, a woman in clean, pressed blue overalls who took cash and asked no goddamn questions.
Don’t go blowin’ yourself up now, you hear?Laughing while she said it, but Miz Kendra’s big brown eyes had been cold and considering, and she had never turned her back on Simone.
Which had been kind of… not irritating, but a little sad? Attempting to learn a bit about engines would have been pleasant, but some sure instinct—feminine, not vamp—had said that Kendra knew goddamn good and well what Simone was now, and didn’t like it.
Still, bloodsucker money spent like anyone else’s. And Simone had paid with a smile.
