pavement.
“What are you doing?” he called as he glanced around , his muscles tight and the skin between his shoulder blades tingling.
They weren’t alone.
“Quiet!” She tilted her head, listening.
A black figure, like the shadow of a man , flowed toward her with the smooth grace of a water moccasin gliding through the water, deadly and sure.
“Don’t—” Who was he warning? Quicksilver or the vampire ?
Neither paid attention.
She cracked one whip in the air, a warning that brought the dark figure to a fault, not realizing he now presented a target for her weapon. The whip flicked out like lightning toward the abnormally still form.
Kethan blinked.
Quicksilver stood alone, the whips sagging in her hands.
She must have hit him, killed him, but when Kethan glanced around, there was no sign of ash. Nothing. Just a stretch of oily, black pavement that smelled of hot tar and gasoline fumes and car lights bearing down on them.
“Quicksilver! Get out of the road!”
She sprinted back to the sidewalk, a puzzled look on her face. “What just happened? I got him—I know I did.”
“I…don’t know.” Kethan studied the shadows for movement and the faces of a few pedestrians who hunched over as if protecting their necks and avoided eye contact as they hurried home. “Who was it? Sutton?”
The lithe form hadn’t looked like Sutton ’s short, muscular frame, or even Jason’s more slender one. It looked like…a stranger.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. He was…unclear. I don’t understand it.” Her hands shook as she coiled the whips and affixed them to her belt. “He had to be one of Sutton’s, doing the master’s bidding.”
“We don’t want a war.”
“It may be a little late for that.”
“It’s never too late for peace.”
“Nice sentiment. Idealistic and sweet, but not very realistic.”
Palms up, he gestured surrender. This was not the time to argue philosophy. Whether she killed the vampire or not, tensions were escalating and they needed to let things go for now.
He picked up the second helmet and settled it over his head as he slung a leg over the rear seat of the cycle.
After a moment’s hesitation, s he grabbed her own helmet, a full model in opalescent silver with a dark face plate that completely covered her features. In silence, she climbed on in front of him.
His additional weight destabilized her for a moment when she kicked off , but she quickly compensated and with a bone-rattling roar, the cycle sped out into the street. At the next intersection she made a wide circle, and they roared back the way they’d come.
She slowed down when they reached the Orchard Hotel. Going no more than twenty miles per hour, she drove past the hotel, her head moving from side to side as if searching for something , or someone.
Of course. The missing girl, Kathy. He prayed the girl had left this dangerous area and found her way home. If anything happened to her, tensions would escalate, and he would fail.
He refused to fail. Kethan settled back, resting his hands lightly on her waist. Speech was impossible with their helmets blocking their ears and the wind whistling past them. The night air whipped through his thin wool jacket as if he had nothing on but his plain, white, cotton shirt.
Goosebumps prickled over his arms and down his back. Quicksilver seemed oblivious. She leaned forward as if welcoming the embrace of the icy wind.
S everal times they backtracked, circling blocks when a movement caught her attention. It took them nearly an hour to get to their next destination less than two miles away. He straightened in recognition.
The Convent of the Weeping Madonna , or rather the children’s home since its conversion a few years ago.
The old, sprawling building hugged a small hill at the outskirts of town, watching over the streets below like a guardian angel. A few windows twinkled with golden light, welcoming the weary traveler and easing some of the tension in
“What are you doing?” he called as he glanced around , his muscles tight and the skin between his shoulder blades tingling.
They weren’t alone.
“Quiet!” She tilted her head, listening.
A black figure, like the shadow of a man , flowed toward her with the smooth grace of a water moccasin gliding through the water, deadly and sure.
“Don’t—” Who was he warning? Quicksilver or the vampire ?
Neither paid attention.
She cracked one whip in the air, a warning that brought the dark figure to a fault, not realizing he now presented a target for her weapon. The whip flicked out like lightning toward the abnormally still form.
Kethan blinked.
Quicksilver stood alone, the whips sagging in her hands.
She must have hit him, killed him, but when Kethan glanced around, there was no sign of ash. Nothing. Just a stretch of oily, black pavement that smelled of hot tar and gasoline fumes and car lights bearing down on them.
“Quicksilver! Get out of the road!”
She sprinted back to the sidewalk, a puzzled look on her face. “What just happened? I got him—I know I did.”
“I…don’t know.” Kethan studied the shadows for movement and the faces of a few pedestrians who hunched over as if protecting their necks and avoided eye contact as they hurried home. “Who was it? Sutton?”
The lithe form hadn’t looked like Sutton ’s short, muscular frame, or even Jason’s more slender one. It looked like…a stranger.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. He was…unclear. I don’t understand it.” Her hands shook as she coiled the whips and affixed them to her belt. “He had to be one of Sutton’s, doing the master’s bidding.”
“We don’t want a war.”
“It may be a little late for that.”
“It’s never too late for peace.”
“Nice sentiment. Idealistic and sweet, but not very realistic.”
Palms up, he gestured surrender. This was not the time to argue philosophy. Whether she killed the vampire or not, tensions were escalating and they needed to let things go for now.
He picked up the second helmet and settled it over his head as he slung a leg over the rear seat of the cycle.
After a moment’s hesitation, s he grabbed her own helmet, a full model in opalescent silver with a dark face plate that completely covered her features. In silence, she climbed on in front of him.
His additional weight destabilized her for a moment when she kicked off , but she quickly compensated and with a bone-rattling roar, the cycle sped out into the street. At the next intersection she made a wide circle, and they roared back the way they’d come.
She slowed down when they reached the Orchard Hotel. Going no more than twenty miles per hour, she drove past the hotel, her head moving from side to side as if searching for something , or someone.
Of course. The missing girl, Kathy. He prayed the girl had left this dangerous area and found her way home. If anything happened to her, tensions would escalate, and he would fail.
He refused to fail. Kethan settled back, resting his hands lightly on her waist. Speech was impossible with their helmets blocking their ears and the wind whistling past them. The night air whipped through his thin wool jacket as if he had nothing on but his plain, white, cotton shirt.
Goosebumps prickled over his arms and down his back. Quicksilver seemed oblivious. She leaned forward as if welcoming the embrace of the icy wind.
S everal times they backtracked, circling blocks when a movement caught her attention. It took them nearly an hour to get to their next destination less than two miles away. He straightened in recognition.
The Convent of the Weeping Madonna , or rather the children’s home since its conversion a few years ago.
The old, sprawling building hugged a small hill at the outskirts of town, watching over the streets below like a guardian angel. A few windows twinkled with golden light, welcoming the weary traveler and easing some of the tension in
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