"Even Vampires Get The Blues" - читать интересную книгу автора (Макалистер Кейти)

Chapter 11

"Well, all I can say is it's lucky you're immortal." The voice cut into the black abyss in which I was floating. It was female, familiar, with a posh English accent… ah. It was Clare speaking. To whom was she speaking, I wondered?

"Hrng," a voice answered her. It, too, was female and familiar. I racked my brain for a moment to place the voice, realizing with a shock it was mine. "Narf ?"

"You see? I told you she would be fine. Elves can survive all sorts of injuries." Clare's voice was rife with authority. "You're worrying about nothing, Paen."

A dark Scottish voice rumbled around in my head, deep as the ocean and soft as velvet. Sam? How do you feel?

Confused, I answered, smiling at the voice. When did you drop Samantha and start calling me Sam?

He sighed. Is that really important?

Kind of. It's a sign of intimacy.

Sweetheart, we've been about as intimate as it gets, and you're making a big deal about a word?

You called me sweetheart! I said, my toes curling with sudden pleasure.

"I can see that I am worrying about nothing. Sam, you can open your eyes now. The bolt is out of your shoulder."

Bolt. Shoulder. The man who tried to kill Paen!

"Ack!" I squawked, my eyelids snapping open as I sat up. "Paen, are you—holy moly! What happened to you?"

A sudden zing of pain in my shoulder tried to claim my attention, but the sight of Paen standing in front of me, bloody and beaten, overrode all other concerns. The left side of his face was bloodred with what looked like a nasty burn, his eye swollen and starting to turn dark, a cut on his temple responsible for the blood cascading down the other side of his face. One arm hung limp, the sleeve of his long coat was shredded, while the entire front of his shirt was covered in dirt and blood.

"We were ambushed. How do you feel?"

"A lot better than you look. Your poor face! Your poor… um… what else is hurt on you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," he said, waving away my concern with a nasty-looking metal bolt. He saw me looking at it and quickly tossed it into the garbage.

"OK. What's going on here?" I asked, looking from Paen to Clare and on to Finn, who was standing to the left. Finn also looked worse for wear, although not nearly as hurt as Paen. "Why are you guys so beat up? What happened to Pilar? And why am I sitting here now with just a dull ache in my shoulder rather than being rushed to the hospital to bleed to death like any normal person would do?"

"Oh, Sam," Clare said, shaking her head as she wrung out a washcloth over a small bowl. She dabbed gently at a swollen spot on Finn's cheek. "You never were normal. Now you're less so."

"Pot calling the kettle black," I said, shifting my gaze from her to Paen. My heart dropped a little at his battered face. I slid off the desk and ever so carefully touched his reddened cheek. "Sunburn?"

"Amongst other things. The man who shot you attacked me with a two-by-four as I was trying to bring you inside. You're sure it was Pilar? I didn't see him clearly."

"I'm sure. Beppo was there, too." I took one of Clare's cloths to hold on the wound on his temple.

"Finn got the crossbow away from him before he could stake Paen," Clare said proudly.

"That's nice of him. Can you heal this?" I asked Paen.

"Yes. How is your shoulder? Did you hit your head?" He flinched as I tried to dab up the blood, taking my hand in his to stop me. No fussing.

Why? I like fussing over you.

Why do you like doing that? he countered.

I don't know. Because it makes me feel—I stopped before I could say something I wasn't prepared to admit to myself yet, let alone him.

Aha! I knew it! You're falling in love with me, aren't you?

Would I do something like that to you? I asked, innocence brimming out of me.

He gave me a dark look. Gratefully, I let the matter go.

"I'm OK, and yes, I hit my head, but only just a little," I said, rubbing a knot on the back of my head. "What did Clare mean about me being immortal? I'm not immortal. I never have been. I just have a longer life span than most people."

"It'll stretch into centuries now," Finn said with a slight smile.

"I'm lost. Why on earth would you think I'm immortal?" I asked him.

He raised his chin and sniffed the air. "Believe me, I know. Welcome to the family."

"Huh?" He just smiled at me. I turned back to Paen, who was standing with his eyes closed, concentrating fiercely on healing his wounds.

"You're Paen's Beloved," Finn said. "Thank you for that, by the way. It's nice to see him with a soul."

"Yes, it is," I said, watching as the redness in Paen's face faded slightly, the wound closing itself. The swelling in his eye went down enough for me to see a bright silver glint when he opened his eyes to meet my stare. His new soul shone like a miniature sun within him. "You want to explain all this to me now?"

"Not really, but I suspect you won't allow me to get away without an explanation."

"Damn straight," I said, crossing my arms and leaning my butt against the desk. "I'm all ears."

A little zipper of excitement had me quivering for a moment as he glanced at my ears, but I pushed that down as something to indulge in later.

"We were attacked, evidently by your old friend Pilar. You foolishly threw yourself in front of a bolt meant for me. While I was trying to carry you inside, Pilar attacked again. Finn got the crossbow from him, but couldn't stop him from cracking me a few times with a hunk of wood while I was trying to protect you. He left before Finn could disable him. It's noon now, or else Finn would have been able to track him. Everyone is fine. End of story."

"Oh, not even," I said, my arms still crossed. Paen's eye was almost down to normal, and although he was still covered with blood, at least the gaping cut on his temple had closed up and stopped bleeding. "I have lots of questions, like why Pilar would switch from attacking Clare to you? That question aside—"

"You are absolutely certain it was Pilar? Finn had never seen him before today, and I didn't get a good look before he attacked me," Paen asked, interrupting me.

"Yes, I'm sure it was him, although I didn't get a good look at him since I was too busy trying to shove you out of the way. Back to major confusion—your brother says I'm your Beloved, but we tried those seven steps, and you didn't get your soul back. What changed?"

"You sacrificed yourself for him," Finn said, stealing a kiss from Clare, who was bustling around gathering up bloody cloths. "It's necessary for a Beloved to be willing to sacrifice everything in order to redeem her Dark One's soul."

I narrowed my eyes at Paen. "You left that out of the list of steps."

He shrugged. "I didn't think it was pertinent."

"You didn't think—" My tiny little hairs on the back of my neck hackled up.

He held up a hand to stop the coming diatribe. "I meant that I did not think it was pertinent in the steps to Joining. My father said he hadn't been Joined until Mum offered herself up in his place, but I didn't connect that with us."

"So I was right after all," I said, feeling a warm glow of happiness at the thought of Paen having his soul back.

"Yes, you were right." He avoided looking at me, as if he wanted to hide something.

"Well, don't thank her or anything, brother," Finn said, rolling his eyes. "Talk about ingratitude."

"It's all right, he doesn't have to thank me." I examined his face, looking for some other sign that we were now bound together. There was nothing, no miraculous… something. I had no idea what I was expecting to see, but I felt a strange sense of loss that the indescribable something wasn't there. "I told him I would be happy to help him regain his soul."

"Yes, but—"

"Leave it, Finn," Paen said, shooting a look full of unspoken comment at his brother. "If you're feeling better, Sam, perhaps we can move ahead with our previous plans?"

The sense of something missing heightened. "Sure. Um. Just a second… I'm sorry, I guess I'm a bit more addled than I thought. We're Joined now, right?"

"Yes," Paen said curtly, using one of the damp cloths that Clare left to wipe the blood off his face.

"So I'm… what? I'm a vampire?"

"No, you're a Beloved," Finn answered, smiling when Paen scowled at him. "Someone has to tell her, Paen, and it's clear you're falling down on the job."

"I'm just trying to get a handle on this," I said with a faint apology. "I'm not a vampire, but I'm… what exactly? Still me or different?"

"You're no different than you were with the exception of being immortal," Paen said, tossing the now soiled cloth in the trash.

"Paen, that's not really fair… right. None of my business. You two work it out yourselves," Finn said, holding up his hands when Paen shot him yet another potent glance. "I'll just say this, Sam—there are three sorts of Moravians: Dark Ones, who have no souls until redeemed, Moravian men like me who were born with a soul, and females, who all have souls. Beloveds are more or less the same as female Moravians."

"Ah. Do the women…" I picked up a staple remover and made biting gestures toward my neck.

"Drink blood? They can, but they don't need to in order to live like we need to."

"That sounds rather unfair," Clare said, patting Finn on the arm as she made pouty lips. "All that biting you have to do that they don't."

He grinned at her. "Ah, but you like it when I bite you."

"So the females and down the line Moravians have souls, but the Dark Ones don't? Why are the males and females so different?" I asked.

"Ask him," Finn said, nodding toward Paen. "He's been researching the history of our people for decades."

"It has to do with the manner in which the first Dark One was created," Paen said. "No one knows for certain just how he ended up damned, but I hope to uncover the details soon."

"Ah. Sounds fascinating. But about this immortality thing—that's like payment for giving you back your soul?" I asked.

"Of a sort, yes. Any other questions?"

One. Why aren't you happier about getting your soul back?

I told you before—I don't need a Beloved. This changes nothing between us, Sam.

Oh, I thought it did, but this was clearly not the best moment to have a discussion about the new definitions of our relationship, so I let his comment slide and went over to my own desk, pulling out my phone book. "I'll call Mr. Race and see if he has time to talk with us."

"Thank you."

"Mr. Race? Our client?" Clare asked as she reclaimed her desk. Finn spun her client chair around so it was backward and sat next to her, allowing her to murmur soft little things to him every now and again.

Paen explained what he had been told while I worked my way through the hotel hierarchy of voice mail to leave Owen Race a message. I was just finishing when he picked up the phone, somewhat breathless. "Hello? Miss Cosse? Sorry, I was just coming into the room when I heard you leaving a message. Have you found it?"

"I'm sorry, no, I haven't. Not yet, but I'm working quite hard on it. I wonder if it's possible to set up an appointment to meet with you?"

"I don't suppose there's any chance of you coming to London for a few days?"

"I'm sorry, but that's out of the question," I said firmly, wondering why he wanted to see me so badly. "Unless you have a solid lead indicating the manuscript is in London, that is. Do you have such a lead?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone. "No," he said finally, regret audible in his voice. "I don't have a lead."

"We are working as hard as possible on it," I reassured him. "I believe you said you'd be returning to Edinburgh at the end of the week?"

"Yes. I suppose I could come home early. Since you refuse to come to me, I shall have to, shan't I?"

I didn't roll my eyes. I wanted to, along with wanting to point out to him that in this day of instant technology, on-site research all over the globe was not necessary, but I kept that to myself, as well. "I don't intend to rush you, naturally, but if you were coming back to town—"

"I will return tomorrow." His voice was clipped, as if he was biting off the words.

"Great. Can we meet as soon as possible once you return?"

"That would be agreeable. I am free in the early afternoon."

I raised my eyebrows at Paen, who was listening in on Clare's phone. He nodded.

"Yes, that would be fine."

We set an appointment time for early afternoon, and I hung up after reassuring him once again that we were on the case, and hoped to have results in the very near future.

"In other words, you lied to him," Clare said, frowning at me. White clouds suddenly appeared to darken the sun.

"I did not lie. I can't lie, remember? We are on the case, and I fervently hope and pray we'll have results in the near future. And stop clouding up the sky. We get little enough sun here, I'd like to enjoy it while I can." I paused a moment, glancing at Paen. "I can still go out in the sun, right? Beloveds don't burn easily, do they?"

"No. I told you—nothing other than your mortality has changed."

"Whew. I don't think I could do without sunlight. Let's go back a couple of minutes—why is Pilar after your blood now?" I asked Paen.

"I have no idea. Perhaps he wasn't really after me?"

A little chill sent goose bumps down my arms. "In which case, it means he's willing to kill anyone in order to get that statue."

"Why don't we take a look at it?" Paen suggested. "You said it's locked in a safe?"

"Mila has it in her office downstairs."

"I'll get it," Clare said, jumping up. "Mila knows me."

"As your sworn bodyguard, I will assist you," Finn said, following her to the door.

She cast a hesitant glance at the window. The sun was still shining brightly. "You don't have to. It's not that far."

"No, no, I want to. It's my duty."

"But I don't want you to get burned…"

"It would be worth it. Come on, let's go." Finn pushed her toward the door.

She paused a moment, then gave in. "All right, but we'll go the back way. There's less outdoor time that way."

I gnawed my lip as the door closed behind them. "You think it's OK to let them go off on their own with a murderous Pilar lurking around?"

"Yes. Finn will let me know if he needs help." Paen didn't look the least bit concerned. It went a long way to calming my jangling nerves.

"I suppose so. I don't know why he was so anxious to go with her. It's just downstairs… oh. The sex shop?"

He smiled. "That would be my guess."

I tipped my head as I looked at him with a critical eye. "You should do that more often."

"Reveal to you the unsavory side to my brothers?"

"No. Smile. It looks good on you. It makes me go all girly inside when you smile."

His smile faded, his eyes turning dark. "Sam, I don't like this."

"You don't like me complimenting you?"

"No, I don't like you falling in love with me." He crossed his arms over his chest and loomed over me, clearly trying to intimidate me.

"I never said I was falling in love with you."

"You didn't deny it, either."

Despite my tall parents' genes, I'm not a tall person, which leaves me a tad bit resentful when I'm loomed over. I stood up and faced him. "You want me to do something elfy to you?"

He frowned. "You're changing the subject."

"Yes, of course I am. I learned it from you. You want me to or not?"

"Do what? Curse me?"

"No. This." I leaned against him, closing my eyes, breathing deeply as I allowed my soul and his to merge. We were still Paen and Sam, but now we were one being made up of two. As we bonded into something new, I reached out with my inner elf, searching for the entry point. I found it and pushed through, pulling Paen with me, causing the world to shift slightly. It was as if everything had been ever so minutely out of focus before, but now everything was sharp and correct. "Welcome to the beyond."

"Beyond?" Paen asked, looking around my office. "The shadow world of the elves?"

"Well… kind of. Elves live here, but so do others. Faeries, for one."

His gaze touched the familiar objects in the office. "It doesn't look different."

I smiled. "My mother chose this building for our office. She's the original feng shui-er. Or rather, the first to do the elf version of it. She chose this location because it is in what the elves call a founded place—one fundamental to the world, rich in the essence of the beyond. Sympathetic to elfkind, in other words."

"Ah. I wondered why you chose Scotland to live if you needed sunshine. We're not known for our overabundance of sunny weather." A smile flirted with his lips.

I went all melty inside at that smile, but I tried to keep things light. "Any sunlight is good. It doesn't have to be a gloriously sunny day like today. The reason you don't see anything different in the office is because this building stands on land that is founded, but the area down the block isn't. If you can risk a peek out the window, you'll see the difference."

Paen used a folder to angle the sun off his face as he opened a window and poked his head out quickly. A low whistle of surprise followed.

"Pretty freaky, huh?"

"Different. It looks… unpleasant. Disjointed. Harsh."

"Yeah, it does. That's what our world looks like to elves who walk in the beyond."

Paen closed the window, looking thoughtful. "That would explain why there are so few of them around."

I nodded. "Only the ones like my mother who are comfortable in the mortal world live outside the beyond. The rest prefer this world, where they can avoid anything upsetting, and stay in founded areas."

"Understandable." His lips pursed. "How do we get back?"

I smiled. "Worried I'll leave you here?"

"Hardly." This close to him, and with my elf senses running amok in their native environment, I could feel every emotion in him. His face held polite interest, but inside him, curiosity was driving him nuts. "I'm merely curious. I had no idea you could bring a non-elf into this world."

"I've never been able to before, and yes, I've tried. I think it's because now we're bound together." I slowly backed up a step, pulling my soul from his, shifting us back into our reality.

"Interesting," he said. "You said elves are not the only ones who can enter the beyond?"

"Any Fae being can. Others as well—mages, for instance, can, or so I've been told. I've never seen any there, but to be honest, I've only been there a couple of times. I prefer this version of the world. Now, about your need to smile more… maybe you just need a massive influx of kissing?"

"We weren't talking about me smiling—we were talking about you falling in love with me, and why it's a bad idea," he said, not moving when I leaned into him and gave his chin a flirtatious slurp.

"No, we weren't. I haven't said one single word about being in love with you. Kiss me, dammit!"

"Sam—" Paen stopped me from lunging at him. I was teasing him, but I could see in his eyes—I could feel inside him—that he wasn't responding. "I'm quite serious. I can't allow you to continue down this path."

"You can't allow me…" I stopped, disbelief twisting painfully in my heart. "Oh. I see how it is. You have your soul, so you have no further need for me. I was just a means to an end, wasn't I?"

I pulled away, turning my back on him so he wouldn't see the tears that suddenly made it difficult to see. I felt betrayed, hurt, used. I knew that was unfair since he'd made it clear he hadn't been looking for a serious relationship, yet I felt like so much had changed in the last few hours. After what we'd been through together, how could he still want to close me out?

"I never asked you to redeem my soul for me." Paen's voice was filled with regret, but nothing else. "I am grateful than you did, more grateful than I can possibly express to you, but gratitude is—"

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to, I could hear the words as if he had spoken them. Gratitude was all he was prepared to offer me.

He was right. I knew that. But it still cut me to the bone that my newborn feelings for him were unrequited.

"Fine," I said, blinking rapidly to disperse the tears. I wanted to say something more, something sharp that would make him hurt the way he hurt me, but two things held me back—it wasn't a good business practice to hurt clients, and I couldn't hurt him even if I wanted to. That realization struck me like a wrecking ball—I wasn't falling in love with him; I'd gone right ahead and done it. At some point in the last few hours I'd gone from self-sufficient Sam, to needy, dependent Sam… and the man to whom I'd offered my heart didn't want it.