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Authors: Melissa F. Olson
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since Ambrose seems to react to sunlight, but a few agents thought he was faking it.”
“No, it’s real.” She shrugged and amended, “Well, sort of. We are much weaker when the sun is out—generally we slow down to human speed, human everything. And if I were left in a desert all day with no shade, it would kill me by nightfall. But ducking in and out, sticking to the shadows, we can survive just fine during the day. I suspect that’s where the name came from.”
Alex looked disappointed. “Aw, so you don’t explode into dust?”
She laughed. “Would I have gotten on a plane with you if I did? No, you should assume that most of the vampire legends you’ve heard are bullshit. Most of them were rumors started by us, in fact.”
Alex couldn’t help a yawn, then—a big one. He’d been awake for a long time. She smiled, and he returned it with visible embarrassment. “Sorry. Do you sleep?” he asked her. “Ambrose seems to, but our people think he might be faking.”
“Eventually. We usually catch a couple of hours right after sunrise, just to give our muscles and skin a chance to recuperate,” she replied offhandedly. “We can go days without it, though, if we need to.”
The plane began to fill up, and Alex was conscious of the civilians moving past them: harried mothers, cranky toddlers, older men with briefcases. He wished they hadn’t needed to fly commercial—he had about a thousand questions for this woman, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say anything that might give her away, not in front of the arriving passengers. The wall separating them from first-class was directly in front of them, and the BPI had managed to buy out the row directly behind them, where Chase was already snoring against the window. But there were still far too many people moving past.
So he watched Lindy quietly, marveling at how human she seemed. Even after meeting Ambrose—maybe especially after meeting Ambrose—he had considered shades an Other. Not a thing, exactly—he wasn’t one of
those
people—but the way he’d reacted to Alex’s blood . . . it was like hanging out with a mountain gorilla.
Lindy was a different story. She looked harmless, of course, but she also had regular human mannerisms—checking her lipstick in a compact mirror, jiggling a leg when she was impatient, even flipping through the in-flight magazine during the flight attendant’s safety speech. And she was undeniably attractive. If he’d stopped to really consider what a female shade would look like, Alex would have pictured a stereotypical badass: all muscles, dangerous glares, and leather from head to toe. Lindy, on the other hand, looked as if she spent her weekends chaperoning church camp. She twirled a strand of hair around one finger while she was reading, for Christ’s sake. He couldn’t think of her as a shade at all, just a woman.
Which probably made her far more dangerous than Ambrose, he reminded himself, with or without the plexiglass cell.
Chapter 7
Agent McKenna was quiet for the first part of the flight, just giving her the occasional sideways glance. He was a fidgety man: cracking his knuckles and shifting his position, as if maybe if he just squirmed around enough he could make his body believe it was in motion. When the seatbelt sign went off and the rest of the plane settled into a low murmur, Lindy could practically see him start to salivate. “Are you ready to tell me about that brother comment?” he asked quietly.
Lindy closed the crappy in-flight magazine and sighed, checking her watch. “Twenty whole minutes. I never thought you’d make it this long.”
McKenna didn’t smile. “You’re going to have to trust me with this eventually,” Alex pointed out, “if you’re going to help me put him away.”
His tone felt sanctimonious to her, and she whipped her head around to look at him. “Another trophy for Camp Vamp?” she spat.
“If he makes it that far,” Alex said levelly. “A guy kills this
“No, it’s real.” She shrugged and amended, “Well, sort of. We are much weaker when the sun is out—generally we slow down to human speed, human everything. And if I were left in a desert all day with no shade, it would kill me by nightfall. But ducking in and out, sticking to the shadows, we can survive just fine during the day. I suspect that’s where the name came from.”
Alex looked disappointed. “Aw, so you don’t explode into dust?”
She laughed. “Would I have gotten on a plane with you if I did? No, you should assume that most of the vampire legends you’ve heard are bullshit. Most of them were rumors started by us, in fact.”
Alex couldn’t help a yawn, then—a big one. He’d been awake for a long time. She smiled, and he returned it with visible embarrassment. “Sorry. Do you sleep?” he asked her. “Ambrose seems to, but our people think he might be faking.”
“Eventually. We usually catch a couple of hours right after sunrise, just to give our muscles and skin a chance to recuperate,” she replied offhandedly. “We can go days without it, though, if we need to.”
The plane began to fill up, and Alex was conscious of the civilians moving past them: harried mothers, cranky toddlers, older men with briefcases. He wished they hadn’t needed to fly commercial—he had about a thousand questions for this woman, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say anything that might give her away, not in front of the arriving passengers. The wall separating them from first-class was directly in front of them, and the BPI had managed to buy out the row directly behind them, where Chase was already snoring against the window. But there were still far too many people moving past.
So he watched Lindy quietly, marveling at how human she seemed. Even after meeting Ambrose—maybe especially after meeting Ambrose—he had considered shades an Other. Not a thing, exactly—he wasn’t one of
those
people—but the way he’d reacted to Alex’s blood . . . it was like hanging out with a mountain gorilla.
Lindy was a different story. She looked harmless, of course, but she also had regular human mannerisms—checking her lipstick in a compact mirror, jiggling a leg when she was impatient, even flipping through the in-flight magazine during the flight attendant’s safety speech. And she was undeniably attractive. If he’d stopped to really consider what a female shade would look like, Alex would have pictured a stereotypical badass: all muscles, dangerous glares, and leather from head to toe. Lindy, on the other hand, looked as if she spent her weekends chaperoning church camp. She twirled a strand of hair around one finger while she was reading, for Christ’s sake. He couldn’t think of her as a shade at all, just a woman.
Which probably made her far more dangerous than Ambrose, he reminded himself, with or without the plexiglass cell.
Chapter 7
Agent McKenna was quiet for the first part of the flight, just giving her the occasional sideways glance. He was a fidgety man: cracking his knuckles and shifting his position, as if maybe if he just squirmed around enough he could make his body believe it was in motion. When the seatbelt sign went off and the rest of the plane settled into a low murmur, Lindy could practically see him start to salivate. “Are you ready to tell me about that brother comment?” he asked quietly.
Lindy closed the crappy in-flight magazine and sighed, checking her watch. “Twenty whole minutes. I never thought you’d make it this long.”
McKenna didn’t smile. “You’re going to have to trust me with this eventually,” Alex pointed out, “if you’re going to help me put him away.”
His tone felt sanctimonious to her, and she whipped her head around to look at him. “Another trophy for Camp Vamp?” she spat.
“If he makes it that far,” Alex said levelly. “A guy kills this
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