Read Online Avador Book 2, Night Shadows by Shirley Martin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shirley Martin
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he spoke, she thought she saw a feral gleam to his eyes and sharp ears. Images drifted in and out of her eyesight, but just as quickly, his face reverted to what it had been. She wondered if fatigue was distorting her vision, or was it her imagination. She shook her head to clear it and told herself she should get more sleep.
Time flew past as casual conversation followed, and her doubts about him gradually dissipated, replaced by a renewed confidence, and an appreciation of his appreciation. For the first time that evening, she felt a lift to her despondent spirits, the hope that things would work out for her. She now had two male friends, and had already gained the confidence and friendship of the tavern waitresses; she didn't feel so alone anymore. Besides that, she knew she could make it on her own, because so far she had earned enough coppers to total three silver pieces. Up to now, no pursuers from Ros Creda had found her, if indeed, her father or Angus had sent anyone to search for her.
His voice intruded on her reverie. "There is a fair one nineday from today on the meadow by the Nantosuelta. Permit me the honor of escorting you there. There will be jugglers and other acts, music and dancing, even after dark." He threw her an appealing look. "Would you care to accompany me? In the evening? I fear I will be busy during the day."
Her mind worked. She still didn't know if she could trust him, nor would she give him her real name. Let him think of her as Angharad, for that was how she was known at the Snow Leopard.
"I'll meet you there," she suggested, still unsure if he was reliable. "There's a sprawling oak tree on the east side of the river. See you there at sundown. If for some reason, you don't see me, I'll be at the fair grounds." She knew from past experience with fairs at Ros Creda that everyone left at the same time at the end of the fair, so there would be plenty heading back this way. She would be safe.
A look of disappointment–or anger?--crossed his face, quickly suppressed. "Very good. I look forward to our encounter."
She rose from the bench, brushing off the back of her dress. "But now, it's late and I must return. Busy day tomorrow."
He stood, too. "Allow me to walk you back," he said, offering his arm. Yet even now, Gaderian haunted her thoughts, and she wondered why she should care.
* * *
Stilo watched Fianna step inside the tavern, her hips slightly swaying with each step, her firm buttocks an allurement that heightened his passion. A glow of satisfaction enclosed him, the certainty that he could entice her away from Gaderian. Oh, yes, he'd seen the woman walk off with Gaderian, seen the soulful looks they'd exchanged. But this was one time Gaderian would not win, for Stilo had a plan to capture the woman so that Gaderian would never see her again. Goddess, how he hated that vampire, one who could lure any woman into his bed. A spurt of jealous anger erupted inside him, a pounding in his head.
And he had a secret, one that none of the vampires even suspected. He was part bandrega, for his mother had been a vampire, his father a bandrega--a demon. The bandregas knew of his duality and accepted him, for they realized how he hated the vampires, but the vampires themselves remained ignorant. Clever how he fooled the undead, for he never went near them unless he was at his full power. He lived in both worlds, but his allegiance was to the bandregas, for his vampire mother had been cold and cruel, ignoring her son. He recalled times as a child when he'd wanted her to spend time with him, read him a bedtime story or play a game with him. But no, she always left early in the evening to feed and mingle with the other vampires, returning early in the morning, then to go to bed and sleep all day long. Against every inclination, Stilo had more easily adjusted to his mother's hours, so that he, too, slept during the day and stayed awake at night. But his mother had never had time for him, and even
Time flew past as casual conversation followed, and her doubts about him gradually dissipated, replaced by a renewed confidence, and an appreciation of his appreciation. For the first time that evening, she felt a lift to her despondent spirits, the hope that things would work out for her. She now had two male friends, and had already gained the confidence and friendship of the tavern waitresses; she didn't feel so alone anymore. Besides that, she knew she could make it on her own, because so far she had earned enough coppers to total three silver pieces. Up to now, no pursuers from Ros Creda had found her, if indeed, her father or Angus had sent anyone to search for her.
His voice intruded on her reverie. "There is a fair one nineday from today on the meadow by the Nantosuelta. Permit me the honor of escorting you there. There will be jugglers and other acts, music and dancing, even after dark." He threw her an appealing look. "Would you care to accompany me? In the evening? I fear I will be busy during the day."
Her mind worked. She still didn't know if she could trust him, nor would she give him her real name. Let him think of her as Angharad, for that was how she was known at the Snow Leopard.
"I'll meet you there," she suggested, still unsure if he was reliable. "There's a sprawling oak tree on the east side of the river. See you there at sundown. If for some reason, you don't see me, I'll be at the fair grounds." She knew from past experience with fairs at Ros Creda that everyone left at the same time at the end of the fair, so there would be plenty heading back this way. She would be safe.
A look of disappointment–or anger?--crossed his face, quickly suppressed. "Very good. I look forward to our encounter."
She rose from the bench, brushing off the back of her dress. "But now, it's late and I must return. Busy day tomorrow."
He stood, too. "Allow me to walk you back," he said, offering his arm. Yet even now, Gaderian haunted her thoughts, and she wondered why she should care.
* * *
Stilo watched Fianna step inside the tavern, her hips slightly swaying with each step, her firm buttocks an allurement that heightened his passion. A glow of satisfaction enclosed him, the certainty that he could entice her away from Gaderian. Oh, yes, he'd seen the woman walk off with Gaderian, seen the soulful looks they'd exchanged. But this was one time Gaderian would not win, for Stilo had a plan to capture the woman so that Gaderian would never see her again. Goddess, how he hated that vampire, one who could lure any woman into his bed. A spurt of jealous anger erupted inside him, a pounding in his head.
And he had a secret, one that none of the vampires even suspected. He was part bandrega, for his mother had been a vampire, his father a bandrega--a demon. The bandregas knew of his duality and accepted him, for they realized how he hated the vampires, but the vampires themselves remained ignorant. Clever how he fooled the undead, for he never went near them unless he was at his full power. He lived in both worlds, but his allegiance was to the bandregas, for his vampire mother had been cold and cruel, ignoring her son. He recalled times as a child when he'd wanted her to spend time with him, read him a bedtime story or play a game with him. But no, she always left early in the evening to feed and mingle with the other vampires, returning early in the morning, then to go to bed and sleep all day long. Against every inclination, Stilo had more easily adjusted to his mother's hours, so that he, too, slept during the day and stayed awake at night. But his mother had never had time for him, and even
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