“Guess so.” She stirred, patting the aisle seat with delicate fingertips. “You can sit down, you know. It’s okay.”
Did he dare take such a sweet, hesitant invitation? A moment later the bus lurched and it was too late; she had turned away, her eyebrows drawing together and mouth tightening, all luminous interest withdrawn.
He contented himself with reading the street signs, listening to the thumping pulse of each mortal—unique, the sounds strained through mood, heredity, body shape, density, diet, carrying reams of information concerning prey’s fitness or weakening—and absorbing the varied panoply of night. So far he had sensed one or two others of the Blood in this city, but a sanguinant of his strength was well able to deflect interest orawareness. Covering her scent was a matter of reflex; no others would be able to track her as he had.
And he had almost lost the golden thread several times, distracted by the madness. Some kind divinity had impelled him, or perhaps it was a matter of mere chance.
Mortals had ever considered Fortune a goddess. He might well join their number before long.
The bus stopped, started, wallowed, creaked, rumbled, belched along. Even that cacophony was music, for his leman was nearby and tranquil, watching the night as well.
His lovely prize had a destination in mind, and once they left the loud, lurching omnibus she set off in decided fashion down a wide, deserted sidewalk, barely glancing to mark his position—almost as if she had learned to take his presence for granted, accepted her protector’s attentions as natural or at least inevitable.
He knew it was not so, and yet.
“No night bus—GreyhoundorTrailways—and no direct train connection.” She shook her head, her hands thrust deep into her coat pockets, and lengthened her stride.
So, she would teach him how mortals traveled. He could of course bear her a great distance at speed… but clearly she was unaware of the fact, or unready for such an event.
“Are there no hired coaches to be had?” It was enough that he could make a reply, hopefully inducing her to further conversation. “I seem to remember that being common enough.”
“Not these days. Taxi and rideshares aren’t a good idea.” An amused side-glance, dark eyes now flashing with less tint of green or yellow, lacking the kiss of bright electric light. “I didthink the airport would be a better bet for what we need, but when I looked it up last night, it’s too small.”
Airport?Flight was a modern mortal miracle, though far less efficient than mistform or simply skating the terrain. He had hazily understood the purpose of the giant silver beasts coursing the stratosphere even in his madness, seeing them far above; the smaller, lower, buzzing craft sounded venomous but were ultimately harmless. “We will not be… flying, then?”
“Nah.” Despite her seeming unconcern, his leman was also sharply mindful of their surroundings. She must have perfected the skill of covert awareness while hunting other fledglings. “Never liked it even when I was human, and it’s never really on time. If I pass out at dawn on a plane, it could end badly.”
“Indeed.” He considered the problem carefully. “What of a private plane, as a railway car?” The latter was an expensive habit of very wealthy mortals, he seemed to vaguely remember from the time of the fire—a flash of knowledge there and gone in a moment, yet leaving a promise of return.
Healing proceeded apace. Soon he might know more of his own history. Which did not matter, but was still a reasonably pleasant prospect.
“Only if you’ve got, like, a billion dollars.” Rich amusement in her lilting soprano, bubbling with restrained laughter. “No, trains are always better, and buses too. I can hop off anywhere and find a place to rest.”
She was teaching him already; the pleasure threatened to undo him. “I see.”
“But best of all is a car.” She indicated what had to be their destination, a large, ugly concrete cake of a building. A sign on its scabrous hide buzzed desultorily, repeatedly announcingPARKING - SHORT/LONG TERMin silent stutters. “You ever stolen wheels before, Mr. Old Vampire?”
“Not that I can recall, darlin’.” He could not help the endearment, though it was much easier now to mimic her accent. “I’d love to learn.”
She studied the mechanical arm and control box imperfectly blocking a cavernous exit before slipping past a grimy sign proclaimingNo Pedestrians, turned hard right at the end of the ramp, and set off into the depths. Night wind moaned at the corners of the building; traces of sandy dust lay against faded paint-lines, settling on crouched metal shapes. She selected an inner door and the metal slab swung wide, revealing steps turning back and forth, stretching both up- and downward.
They descended, surrounded by faint echoes. Her small faithful boots sometimes tapped, sometimes remained instinctively silent; he would teach her finer control soon. The stairwell was dirty, ill-lit with buzzing fluorescents, and more than one mortal had apparently urinated in the corners; the smell was atrocious before he filtered it from consciousness.
How much time did she spend in places like this, a solitary doe moving through a jungle of iron, concrete, reeking filth? Her very presence hallowed the environs, yet he did not like them at all.
She deserved so much better.
“What we want is long-term parking.” She peered through another heavy, battered swinging door, wrinkled her nose. “Generally on lower floors, since nobody wants the weather getting to their ride. Here we are.”
He could sense no danger in the echoing concrete cave, though healsodid not like how she seemed careless of such elementary precautions as checking before leaving cover. Much to instruct her in, and he anticipated the lessons being enjoyable.
Particularly the rewards for fine performance, should she deign to grant any.
“Want something sturdy enough to go through the boom,” she said, softly, slowing to a stroll. “And look there—security camera, but it’s more than likely a dummy. Not even plugged in.”
“No electricity,” he confirmed, barely bothering to glance at the grimy plastic box bearing a clouded glass eye, tucked in a high, prominent corner. “If there were, I would already be blurring us both, my darling.”
“You can do that?” Sweet surprise lilting in her tone, only slightly mocking. Another of those darting, apprehensive glances, gauging his reaction.
