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Authors: Lynsay Sands
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overheard. The bit about We’ve gone through three girls giving her enough blood to heal. Now we have to find others. Which boys did you have spying on her? I want them punished.
That part of the conversation bothered her for two reasons. For one thing, the bit about going through three girls made her think . . . Well, frankly, it sounded like he meant those girls had died. She had to be wrong about that though. She’d raised Damian right. He fed only when he had to, on the willing when he could, and never to the point of death. She’d pounded that into his head at an early age. It was how she was raised, and how she’d raised him.
As troubling as that had been, Divine was more concerned about Abaddon’s response when Damian had said that she was his mother and would never act against him.
I wouldn’t be so sure. If she ever found out . . .
Found out what? she wondered. What could Damian have possibly done that would make her withdraw her love and support of him? She didn’t know, but Abaddon’s words suggested he might have done something that would cause that withdrawal, and the fact that he’d flat-out lied to her about how she’d come to be injured was disturbing, as was the fact that he’d been so convincing in the lie. It made her wonder how many other lies he’d told her in the past.
Divine passed a billboard promoting the Kern County fair, and her mind turned to another worry. Marco. So his name was really Marcus Notte, and he was a spy for Lucian Argeneau. It explained why he was at the carnival. The man wasn’t rogue after all, and judging by the questions he’d asked last night, he might suspect she was Basha, but he wasn’t sure. That was a good thing at least. She also thought it was probably a good thing that she’d started dying her hair a couple of years ago. Not that anyone probably had a clear idea of what she looked like anymore, except perhaps for her uncle and some of the other older immortals who had met her when she was young.
They hadn’t had cameras back then, or portraits even, so wouldn’t have an image to go by unless Lucian had arranged for one of those sketch artist pictures or something. He might very well have done that, but if he had, he would have been depending on his memory, which was admittedly good. Still, he hadn’t seen her for more than two millennia. That was a long time. Besides, any sketch of her would show her as a blond which she presently wasn’t. She’d started dying her hair dark auburn just before joining the Hoskins Carnival and was now glad she had. It might not have completely put Marcus off her trail, but it couldn’t have hurt.
Divine spent a moment trying to sort out what to do about him. First she thought avoiding him would be best, but then that seemed useless. The man wasn’t going to leave unless she convinced him she wasn’t Basha and she couldn’t do that by avoiding him. The problem was, she was the woman they all thought of as Basha. That being the case, how was she supposed to convince him she wasn’t?
No ideas came to mind by the time she reached the carnival, and Divine decided the best thing she could do was act natural around him. If she didn’t act nervous or let on she knew anything, he might eventually decide she wasn’t the woman he was looking for. Aside from that, perhaps by talking to the man as if he were a friend rather than an enemy, she could learn just what the Argeneaus knew about her and her son. Maybe even what those risky actions were that her son and grandsons had got up to when she’d had to save him from her uncle.
Several people greeted her as she rode through the carnival grounds. She returned the greetings, but didn’t slow until she got to the RV. She made quick work of putting away the motorcycle and helmet and closing the panel, then turned and gasped, coming up short to avoid crashing into Marcus.
“How are you?” he asked.
Divine frowned briefly at the concern on his face. It was as if
That part of the conversation bothered her for two reasons. For one thing, the bit about going through three girls made her think . . . Well, frankly, it sounded like he meant those girls had died. She had to be wrong about that though. She’d raised Damian right. He fed only when he had to, on the willing when he could, and never to the point of death. She’d pounded that into his head at an early age. It was how she was raised, and how she’d raised him.
As troubling as that had been, Divine was more concerned about Abaddon’s response when Damian had said that she was his mother and would never act against him.
I wouldn’t be so sure. If she ever found out . . .
Found out what? she wondered. What could Damian have possibly done that would make her withdraw her love and support of him? She didn’t know, but Abaddon’s words suggested he might have done something that would cause that withdrawal, and the fact that he’d flat-out lied to her about how she’d come to be injured was disturbing, as was the fact that he’d been so convincing in the lie. It made her wonder how many other lies he’d told her in the past.
Divine passed a billboard promoting the Kern County fair, and her mind turned to another worry. Marco. So his name was really Marcus Notte, and he was a spy for Lucian Argeneau. It explained why he was at the carnival. The man wasn’t rogue after all, and judging by the questions he’d asked last night, he might suspect she was Basha, but he wasn’t sure. That was a good thing at least. She also thought it was probably a good thing that she’d started dying her hair a couple of years ago. Not that anyone probably had a clear idea of what she looked like anymore, except perhaps for her uncle and some of the other older immortals who had met her when she was young.
They hadn’t had cameras back then, or portraits even, so wouldn’t have an image to go by unless Lucian had arranged for one of those sketch artist pictures or something. He might very well have done that, but if he had, he would have been depending on his memory, which was admittedly good. Still, he hadn’t seen her for more than two millennia. That was a long time. Besides, any sketch of her would show her as a blond which she presently wasn’t. She’d started dying her hair dark auburn just before joining the Hoskins Carnival and was now glad she had. It might not have completely put Marcus off her trail, but it couldn’t have hurt.
Divine spent a moment trying to sort out what to do about him. First she thought avoiding him would be best, but then that seemed useless. The man wasn’t going to leave unless she convinced him she wasn’t Basha and she couldn’t do that by avoiding him. The problem was, she was the woman they all thought of as Basha. That being the case, how was she supposed to convince him she wasn’t?
No ideas came to mind by the time she reached the carnival, and Divine decided the best thing she could do was act natural around him. If she didn’t act nervous or let on she knew anything, he might eventually decide she wasn’t the woman he was looking for. Aside from that, perhaps by talking to the man as if he were a friend rather than an enemy, she could learn just what the Argeneaus knew about her and her son. Maybe even what those risky actions were that her son and grandsons had got up to when she’d had to save him from her uncle.
Several people greeted her as she rode through the carnival grounds. She returned the greetings, but didn’t slow until she got to the RV. She made quick work of putting away the motorcycle and helmet and closing the panel, then turned and gasped, coming up short to avoid crashing into Marcus.
“How are you?” he asked.
Divine frowned briefly at the concern on his face. It was as if
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