Chapter 6

London, England

Two months ago

 

Valerie sat alone at a small square table that had a nice view of the High Street. Her three hour long Monday class was over and she'd decided that staying conscious during an incredibly boring lecture on Ptolemaic History deserved, maybe even required, a nice lunch as a reward.

Cafe Rouge was near her dorm. It was a chain restaurant that Val feared she liked more than it deserved. Everything was black, white, or red and pictures of burlesque dancers, cats and bicycles decorated the walls. The decorations were meant to be French, but Valerie suspected that the decorator thought this was how people expected a French cafe to look, rather than how one actually did.

The waiter, a stinky and authentic French import, was busy talking at the bar and had been ignoring Valerie's bring-me-my-check-or-die stare for at least five minutes. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her wallet, deciding the flash of cash might help speed things up.

As she righted herself, she saw a man sitting at her table across from her as though he’d been there the whole time.

Oh shit! Her bag dropped to the floor in shock.

“Lucas,” Val said in a hush, like saying his name too loudly would give him power—or wake her up from a dream. What could he want? She lifted her hand, nervously tucking a strand of long brown hair behind her ear.

His eyes—a blue so Arctic and cold that it could give freezer burn—  followed the movement, shifting ever so slightly to watch her hand before dipping down infinitesimally, and she just knew he was looking at the pulse of her wrist. Was that the equivalent of a guy checking her out? Scoping out her pulse? She was fucked.

“It’s daytime!” she said, like it wouldn’t have occurred to him that he could burst into flame at any moment.

“A benefit of my longevity,” He said quietly.

“Can other vampires come out during the day?” She looked around the restaurant as though she might see a huge group of vampires dining on blood pudding and eyeing the patrons hungrily.

“No.”

How old is this guy?

Hastily, she looked away from his face, not wanting to be caught by his gaze—  again. Everything she knew about him rushed through her mind like a tidal wave. Ever since he’d saved her she’d tried to learn about him. She didn’t know much, just that he was rumored to be well over a thousand years old. And back in his mortal days he’d been a warrior. He was intensely private and no one knew anything about him.

No one ever found his bodies. Whatever he did with them, there was never anything to associate a death with him.  She realized she was kicking the table with her leg in agitation and stopped.

He looked like a warrior. Repress all thoughts about being conquered!

His looks were cold and Nordic. Patrician features, a blue gaze, square jaw and grim mouth. And yet, when Valerie thought of warriors, she thought of action, passion and speed. Lucas was contained, almost reptilian in his quietness. He was still, patient and detached, as though he had utter mastery over himself, his emotions and everything around him. Everything orbited around him without effort because he was so magnetic.

 If there was action and passion to him, it was buried deeply under a mantle of icy boredom.

Lucas waited for her, almost politely, his legs crossed, power and confidence reined in, as though not wanting to startle her. He gave her a small smile. He was beautiful. Inhumanly so.

            He scared the crap out of her.

His hair was long and thick, the color of ripe wheat ready to be harvested. It fell beyond his shoulders, heavy and straight. His lips were a pale pink, lighter than a human's would be, but fitting with how pale the rest of him was.

His hand was suddenly extended across the table to shake hers. Val blinked hard, she hadn't even seen him move.

“Valerie Dearborn. We meet again.” She hadn’t remembered that he had an accent. It was like he'd blendered up twelve languages and drunk them down in a gulp, so that when he spoke the words had odd pauses and cadences.

I will not harm you, he'd told her that night in the forest. Did he remember that now? Any chance it still applied?

Valerie looked around her. The waiters and waitresses were oblivious. Why wouldn't they look over here and see the beautiful and incredibly scary man sitting at her table? She sure as hell wouldn't be able to look away! Her gaze went back to his, then dropped to the hand that was still outstretched. Would he kill her? Could she run? She had to know! Fear blossomed within her—  not like a flower, but like blood welling from a gunshot wound, spreading throughout her entire body.

“I will not kill you, but I do wish we could get past the formality.” He nodded towards his outstretched hand.

Her voice was shocked and thready, “Can you read my mind?”

“No, but I understand your expression.”

Hesitantly, Valerie slid her hand across the table until it was clasped in his. A current of sensation ran up her arm and swirled over her body like water sizzling on a stove.

She shook her head, denying the feeling. She tried to pull away but he didn’t let go, gently keeping her hand in his. The almost painful sensation retreated like he'd turned the volume down.

Lucas still held her hand and there was something odd about the handshake but she couldn't figure out what it was. His hand looked normal…but it was perfectly conformed to hers, as if bones didn't matter or stop him from moving in any way he might choose.

It meant that his palm was slightly closer to hers, her hand encompassed by his. She pulled her hand away and he let her, leaning back, then idly picking up her iced chocolate milk.

He stared at it curiously for a moment, as though it were a small animal that had crawled into the palm of his hand. Almost hesitantly, he lifted it to his lips. He took a sip, his brows raising slightly.

What the hell did that mean? “Would you like some? I'd happily order you one. Even twenty if you let me out of here, you know, alive.”

Lucas stared at her in a disinterested way, not acknowledging her words, and the moment became painful, her heart thundering in her chest, as she wondered and dreaded what his silence meant, why he was here and what he wanted from her.

An eternity ticked by. “No.”

“No, what?” Her throat was parched.

“I will not kill you.”

Gulp. She was waiting for him to say ‘yet’.

“I am sixteen hundred years old, Valerie Dearborn. Your emotions shine from you, your expressions convey every thought in your head. I can chase you down in a moment. But I will not. Would you like me to promise you again? I promise I will not hurt you. I swear it on my very being.”

“Lucas, is that like Cher?”

He continued to watch her in his reptilian way, so she kept talking, nerves prompting her to speak, “Only one name, no last name or family name?” Shut up, Valerie!

“Would you like to know my full name? I do believe it’s hard knowledge to come by. Lucas Tiberius Junius.” Each word was like a stone, a rock thrown into a pool that rippled outwards and all around the world.

“Tiberius Junius? Isnt’ that Roman?” she asked, fascinated despite herself.

“Are you familiar with the Visigoths or the Goths?”

“Probably not as much as you are. I thought they were separate.”

“They are. But I was uncertain of your historical education.”

What, he wanted to know if she got a good grade or something? The chocolate drink was in front of her and Val knew she was going to finish it. If she was going to die she wanted to go out with chocolate in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. She hadn’t realized that she’d been quiet for a few moments until he spoke, breaking the silence and interrupting her deadly contemplations.

“My Hunter is dead.”

His words yanked her back to the present. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t repeat himself and so she had to think about what he’d said.  “You had a Hunter? Like what my dad and Jack do or the Hunters who hunt animals?”

Another small smile was bestowed upon her, as though there were no difference. Perhaps there wasn't. Was he actually telling her that one of the Hunters helped him? That would be a huge betrayal.  

“How else would you humans find us?”

She was surprised by his easy arrogance and snapped back, “Because people are intelligent and can follow clues and decipher patterns. Hello, CSI. Or Sherlock Holmes, if that helps you. I know you vamps get a little stuck in the past.”

He actually laughed. It was rich and dark, relaxed and happy, not a laugh appropriate for a vampire. Uh oh. It slid through her, twined around her thighs and slipped inside of her body, making her twist in her seat, an unwelcome, no, a terrifying, glimmer of desire covering her like glitter.

She flashed a look at him. The laugh had stopped abruptly and he was looking at her oddly. Did he know? If so, how?

“A vampire is a master at deception and can travel faster and farther than a human. A vampire is stronger and more experienced than a human can be, centuries of practice honing our abilities to kill and survive. A human’s skill will always be paltry in comparison. It’s never been a fair fight and it never shall be. Every time a Hunter kills a vampire, it takes preparation and help. I provide it. The man I used to give information to is gone.”

She had a horrible suspicion she knew who it was. “Gilbert Arthur.”

“Good.” He didn't sound particularly pleased with her, despite the praise.

“Why would you sell out the vampires?”

“Every creature needs to be policed.”

“Yeah, right.”

“What is a vampire’s instinct but to kill and take? The division between gluttony and survival is slight.

Val spluttered in outrage. “Then you are doing a really shitty job, because lots of people—  children and parents get slaughtered by vampires every day and there doesn't seem to be any policing going on.” She flushed and looked away. Taking a deep breath, she wondered if she should apologize. I'm sorry I don't stop and think first. Don't kill me, pretty please?

“Do not let your emotions be your undoing.” His words were deadly quiet.

“Are you threatening me?”

A lengthy pause, sky blue eyes boring into hers. Fucking hell, she needed to look away. She looked down but he leaned towards her, crowding in close to her so she could smell his cologne, see the strands of his hair inches from her fingers that rested on the table. She had to look back up and keep track of him.

“I am not threatening you. I am speaking to you, the very heart of you, asking you to be more careful with your emotions.”

“I have a temper. I know it’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

He waved away her apology, “I presume you don’t have a temper. In fact, you are undoubtedly quite tolerant. Loyal. And have a strong sense of right and wrong.”

The words sounded like a compliment but his tone had been almost sad or cautionary.

Lucas leaned towards her, his hand on the table. His hand was large, long fingers, buffed and short nails but there were faint scars on top of his hand. A lot of them.

“Why do you have scars? Shouldn't you be...blemish free?” She'd wanted to say 'perfect' but thought poor word choice might lead to her doom.

“Injuries received when one is mortal are permanent.” His hand was on the polished wood and Valerie found herself staring at it intently, forgetting where she was or the danger she was in, conscious only of the long, tapered fingers and the back of his pale hand before her.

She acted thoughtlessly, would later wonder what the hell had possessed her as she reached out and traced one of those fine white scars across his hand from his wrist until it disappeared between his middle and ring finger. His hand stayed still, allowing her to touch him without interruption.

“They are from swords and knives when I was a boy.”

 Val could imagine him with a sword, an avenging angel who could kill with an effortless swing. His scars were intriguing, humanizing, the flaw adding to his perfection since it was a reminder of his former humanity. His vampiric good looks were almost harsh in their otherworldliness, intimidating, while the scars made him seemed fragile, approachable.

Fallible.

Val realized what she was doing and yanked her hand away from his, hiding it beneath the table. He was watching her almost warily.

Sure, big bad wolf afraid of Little Red Riding Hood.

“I take great care to keep the killings down. Vampires have feeding partners, which ensures some stability and keeps loss of life to a minimum. We become attached to mortals, just like mortals do to each other. To take blood elsewhere can even be an affront to the relationship if a bond is strong enough.”

WTF? “Where’d this come from? You make it sound like there is some kind of, what, love involved? Equality? I've seen what vampires do to their victims. I know how they…eat. If this is how you think vampires are, then no wonder you do such a crappy job policing them.” Her heart started pounding. What the hell was wrong with her? Did she want to die? There was no way it was a good idea to push him.

“You are a Hunter’s daughter and therefore you only seeing a vampire at their very worst, when they have behaved so poorly that the world notices. Why would you think there was anything kinder?”

Closing her eyes, Val tried to calm herself, wanting distance from her emotions so she wouldn’t keep provoking him. “Can I just apologize, very sincerely, for saying things that are...bad for my life expectancy. I have no idea why I can't seem to shut up.”

He was silent and finally she opened her eyes to see him watching her with an almost curious fascination. “Do not concern yourself, it is in your nature to provoke.”

Huh. Maybe he does know me. “Is that on my face too?” she said sarcastically.

Lucas blinked slowly, then drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

That night, long ago when he'd saved her and forced her to kill the attacking vampire, he'd said he wouldn’t kill her, maybe he'd even said he'd never harm her. She couldn’t remember. Not if he’d actually said the words, implied them, or if she’d made that up in her mind.

 But her idea of him, the golden vampire who’d saved her, would never hurt her. She trusted that like she trusted the news from the National Enquirer, and yet….Shit.

His hand smoothed across the checkered tablecloth in a gentle and distracted gesture, as though he were brushing bread crumbs away from him. It was an oddly human gesture but she suspected he was angry, that the gentler he became the more worrisome it was for whoever pissed him off.

Lucas sighed, and again it was a surprisingly human gesture.

“There was a time when things were different. There was a balance in the world. There were Others. Not only vampires, but werewolves, fae, witches, empaths—  they were all real. All powerful. If one group became too bloodthirsty or powerful, the others could unite long enough to restore a balance.” A long moment passed.

“What happened?”

“Only vampires remain and I rule them all.” His tone held no inflection, he was simply reciting facts, and the depth of his detachment raised goose bumps on her arm. It was really weird.

“Vampires have changed. Grown darker. The humanity leached out of them, stewards to nothing. There is no longer a balance.”

“Hindsight’s a real bitch.”

He gave a Gallic shrug. 

Lucas turned his head away to look outside. People passed by on the street, talking on cellphones, carrying groceries, and shopping.

A sliver of sunlight fell across his chiseled cheekbones; his skin was flawless, poreless and pale as marble. Val breathed in, expecting him to burn in the sun but he didn't. Nothing happened. He closed his eyes and tilted his face upwards, letting the sun touch him fully for a few moments before he turned back to her.

He could stand the sun?

“Even the sun cannot kill me now.” he said, no doubt reading her face again, or her mind, or whatever it was he did so that he knew the answer to questions she didn’t ask.

“My expectation from you is this. You are to research for me and do as I bid. I shall give you information about the groups that I once knew of and you will see if you can find traces of them. If they exist, I want to know of it. I want treaties with them and their integration back into the human world. From time to time I shall give you information about vampires that can be exterminated which you will pass along to the appropriate Hunter.

He hadn’t mentioned her father or Jack. “Why would I do this for you? If they're so powerful and you're the Grand Poo-bah, why don't you take them out?”

“I kill vampires for specific infractions that are known to all. When a vampire dies his maker sees the death through the eyes of the departed. They know who has executed their progeny. If the last thing a vampire sees is a Hunter, then not only does it take attention away from me but it makes Hunters seem stronger than they actually are. I use Hunters to maintain distance as well as give the vampires something to fear. The older vampires are my responsibility. You and your men could not hope to kill an older vampire. Like Marion.”

He paused, no doubt to watch her reaction and keep her in suspense. “She will kill Jack if he does not desist.”

Her heart squeezed. Thinking of what he said made her stomach roil. “So, basically you have humans do your dirty work?” He didn't respond, didn't get offended. And why on earth was she still trying to provoke him anyway?

“I do find you interesting Valerie. Val. Like Valkyrie. You speak when you shouldn't. You do not cower. You have abandoned those who love you—  even though it creates a hole inside of you. You are perfect for my purposes. An insider on the outside. Also, there is leverage for me which insures your loyalty.”

My father and Jack.

Lucas leaned forward again, crossing his arms on the table, his heavy biceps flexing under his white, collared shirt. “Do you not find it interesting that your men have lived so long? Most Hunters do not survive more than a few years. They can only run for so long. Like a mosquito buzzing around, finally they draw enough attention to themselves that someone gives them a swat. And yet, your father has been hunting for more than a score of years and Jack for near a decade.”

Trembling, Val dug her fingers into her thighs to try to contain herself.

“They are protected by me and shall continue to be so.” His cold blue eyes burned into hers and she couldn't look away from him. Unless she created a problem, they'd live. He didn't bother to finish the threat. Yeah, she got it. She was really trapped, wasn't she?

His hand extended towards her and a file appeared in it, seemingly from out of thin air. “This information is for you. Search through it. I shall come to you again and tell you what to convey and to whom.”

“Where should we meet?” Could he be ambushed? Could she get Jack, Nate, every Hunter in the known world to come and try to take him out? Would that even be enough? Forty odd Hunters to one bad-ass monster? Probably not.

 “I will come to your little room.”

He wanted to come to her dorm? Hell, no! Like she'd invite him in. “Here!” she said quickly, “I'll meet you here.”

“No. Too public.”

“But all these people have already seen us. Who are you worried will see you?”

“I have no concern for myself, only you. I do not want other vampires to know of my association with you. As for this cafe, no one has looked in here. And they won't. But expending that much power, to make all passersby disinterested, is foolish and might draw attention as well. It would not be wise of me to do so again.” He had shielded them somehow, done something to make people not want to look into the cafe.

“But what about these people? They have seen you too.”

The cold, almost haughty look continued, as though he didn't exert energy for facial expressions. A few tense seconds passed and Valerie felt compelled to fill the silence. “Have you ever played poker? You'd clean up, let me tell you.” Her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat, crossed her arms as though she was cold and leaned back, pressing her spine into the hard wooden chair.

“You do not understand me and what I am. I am king to my kind. You must know me and my capabilities.”

Lucas raised an elegant hand, prepared to snap his fingers and Val felt an overwhelming dread of what he might do. “No!” She lunged forward across the table, spilling the water and chocolate, felt the cold liquid seeping into her shirt as she gripped her hands around his to stop him from doing-something. Whatever he’d been about to do.  

He allowed her to grasp his hand, pausing in midair while he looked at her with a painful intensity and animation. Her eyes went up to his, imploring him. “Don't do it! I understand. I'm sorry. I can't help it. I know what you are. I do!”

“What would I have done?” The words were spoken quickly, at odds with his previous unnatural calmness, almost as though he expected something of her.

“I don't know.” She felt his hand beneath hers, icy cold and dry, light callouses on his palm. She feared letting go, tightening her grip to keep him still, even though her instincts were screaming at her to pull away and run as far from here as she could.

Lucas shifted in his chair, lowering his arm slightly so that his elbow rested across his crossed thigh, opening his palm in an almost peaceful gesture. Shifting her hands, she continued to hold on, only readjusting her grip.

The fear of letting go and what he would do if she did was greater than her desire to flee. His big hand engulfed both of hers so that when his fingers closed gently over hers, they were almost covered by his one.

His voice was soft, still interested, almost a bedroom voice used between lovers. Like he didn't want to be overheard but her answer was important to him, “You knew something. Tell me what it was, be it foolish or not, what did you think I would do?”

“Nothing. I just felt...dread. Fear I guess.”

He nodded at her in a brisk motion and opened his hand, releasing her then gesturing to the room around them, the other diners and waiting staff. “I will only erase their memories of us.”

“Does that mean I don't have to pay the bill? Crap- I mean- why would you feel like you needed to wipe us out of their memories?”

He didn’t explain.

She sighed in irritation and he continued, “Events are happening that I am not in control of. There is no need to draw attention to you from my kind.”

“Humph. Then maybe you should leave me alone altogether.”

She thought he was thinking about it. He looked at her lips and her hair then away from her, brow knit in concentration. “I cannot imagine letting you go. Many would kill you just because of your relationship to the Hunters. You are not safe. You cannot get out of this destiny. You can only go forward.”

“I don't want a destiny.” Just thinking about it made her feel a little broken. Val wanted to scream at him to go away. Force him to understand that she'd just gotten her life the way she wanted it and that he was ripping it from her. Her dreams and future had just been thieved from her. Helping him would probably kill her.

“What about Jack? Your father? Even you? Do you think you are all safer with my help and protection or without it?”

What could she say? Certainly Jack and her father would be better off with his protection. Her? Probably not. But she couldn't turn her back on them to save herself. Her father and Jack would say that she'd already abandoned them, that by coming to England and going to school she'd run away. She couldn't believe that was true. They chose their lives and she was choosing hers. But if she told Lucas she didn't want him to protect Jack and Nate... there was a real chance they might die. And that would be her fault.

 “If I don't help you, what will happen to them?” Might as well get this situation crystal clear. How crappy of a situation was he going to put her in?

 “Your father is too old for this job. Jack is bloodthirsty and angry, but passion is not always a useful attribute.”

Here was the question she was scared of asking, although the answer probably should have been obvious to her. “Do you want to kill them?”

Lucas ran his hand through his hair and the action startled her. He'd been so still that she had taken it for granted. “I don't enjoy killing or dislike killing. It makes no impact upon me either way. But, I remember a very long time ago that I did care, and that I used to believe human life had value. I curb my vampires excesses because of those memories.” There was a small pause where he watched her so closely she wanted to cover her face with her hands to break the penetrating contact, “Don't forget what I am, Valerie.”

Tears filled her eyes. She didn't really see how she could forget that. But it conflicted with her memory of him. When he'd helped her and saved her. Val hadn't realized how important that memory was to her until he'd shattered it just now. “Why did you save me that time if humans mean nothing to you? Was it even me? Why were you there?” Each word seemed to become a little more desperate and high pitched so that by the end she could have won an Emmy.

Lucas negated her words with a gesture. Apparently, the time for conversation was at an end.

“I will come to you. And you will invite me in.” The file was on the table as he stood and walked out the door. The sunshine touched him, glinting off of his long, heavy hair, making a halo around him.

There was something about his presence that gave a feeling of peace, of death so quietly offered that it was drawing. Alluring and relaxing.

The sun kissed him and a slight breeze ruffled his hair.

He disappeared.

Val left the restaurant as quick as she could, throwing money on the table and bolting out the door. Crossing the street, she walked by a small church and glanced at the old gravestones before hastily turning away. In that little churchyard there were mausoleums that were so old and weathered, the lids were broken in and cracked on the sides. More than once, she'd tried to peer inside, half afraid she'd see a skeleton or the glint of a coffin through the broken rock. But it was pitch black and she’d never seen a damned thing.

She’d never look at that cemetery the same way again. She’d be like that. Dead and time marching onwards so that she’d be forgotten, dust to dust and Lucas would still be perfect, immortal, making every place he visited glow with his splendor.

How many people had he watched die? Had he ever loved a one of them? No one could be that cold and have cared for anyone or anything.

And yet, he’d been so compelling and fascinating, looked like some sort of medieval champion in Gucci, that if he was the face of evil, what the hell did good look like?

Not only had Lucas saved her life, he’d helped her—  been patient with her, taken away her fear, gone on to star in some of her better fantasies. And now, to see him again?

What did he want from her? Really want? Help, maybe. Did that guy need help from anyone? Nah. So he was here for something else. Is he here for me? Desire—  heavy and smooth as gold weighed on her.

He’d been reserved and icy but every so often, when she crossed her arms, licked her lips or moved her hands he watched her avidly.

How do you say ‘no’ to him? She huffed, it was probably just as difficult to say ‘yes’! Sure she liked the idea of being with someone so hot but man that was a lot of pressure. No amount of waxing, buffing or painting could make her feel secure enough to sleep with him. Don’t forget the fact that he might fucking eat you!, a tiny and sane part  of her brain said.

Eat and kill. That’s what vampires did. She’d be just like her mother.