Nocturnal Part 21

"Then why are you so afraid every time I try to touch you?"

His question took me so off balance I didn't know how to answer him right away. He waited patiently, watching as I struggled to come up with a response.

"Arnold-I-look, I'm sorry. It's not you. Well, it is, sort of. It's just-"

When his fingers dropped from my cheek to my hand, cradling my shaking fingers in his, I paused. His clear concern made it harder to explain what was wrong. It took some courage to work my way up to coming clean, particularly considering this was coming on the heels of one of the worst breakup fights I'd ever had. My eyes still stung, and I was too exhausted to think of any tactful way to explain to Arnold that it wasn't abuse from Mark, but another source, that made it so hard for me to accept his touch.

Arnold had always been honest with me. He deserved better than social lies, or some other form of deceit.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but you're a mage."

Understanding dawned. He started to speak, but I held up a hand for him to quiet and let me speak. "Sara, I-"

"I know you're not David, but when he used me to get to Shia he did things I'll never be able to forget. Even if the scars fade, every time you touch me I can't help but wonder if you'll do the same."

Not to mention that weird pins-and-needles sensation against my skin every time he touched me.

Arnold didn't respond right away, his thumb lightly rubbing against my knuckles. He carefully turned our hands over and pushed up the cuff of my sleeve to see the web-work tracery of scars on my left arm. Runes carved into my skin, trailing from wrist to elbow. Fae runes that no one but Mark and my doctor had seen since that psychotic sorcerer, David Borowsky, had carved them into me. Even Shiarra hadn't seen them.

When I drew my arm away, he took hold of my hand again. Keeping our fingers twined, Arnold nudged my chin so I'd look at him. His expression betrayed a touch of anger, though his eyes radiated concern. The ember of crackling energy glimmering in their depths was more menacing than rea.s.suring.

"Sara, I can't undo the bad things that happened to you-but I can promise I won't ever let them happen again."

"How can you know?" I asked, tugging my sleeve back down. "I don't know what they are, or what they mean. How can you expect me to believe that, Arnold?"

"Those rune scars-that's nothing like what I do. I don't even know what they are for sure. Whatever David did to you goes against everything I was ever taught. Magi don't use that kind of blood magic-only sorcerers do that." He took a steadying breath, and some of the fae light died out of his eyes. "You and Shia are my friends. Maybe more than anyone at The Circle. I value that friendship, and I'd never do anything to compromise it. I promise."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, leaning into his embrace and relaxing just a trifle. Now that I'd spent some time close to him, that freaky tingling seemed to lessen. His arm around my shoulder tightened a little, a rea.s.suring squeeze. "I know you're not him. I just can't not think about it, you know? Knowing what you are."

He chuckled, a soft, pained sound. It was entirely unlike him.

"Sara, let me tell you a little story."

I closed my eyes and rested my cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as his voice rose and fell with the cadence of a lullaby.

"Once there was a kid who got beat up a lot in school. He was short, skinny, with big gla.s.ses and good grades. His family wanted him to have the best education possible so he'd be able to get by in the real world. They thought he needed it since he didn't have the spark-the inherited trait of a magic user."

"Did he also have reddish-brown hair and green eyes?" I asked, smiling at the thought of Arnold in school, wearing a pocket protector and carrying a heap of books.

"Shh. Who's telling the story here?"

"Sorry."

"One day his older brother decided to show off the latest spell he'd learned from his mentor by testing it out on the kid. A simple conjuration of wind, barely a beginner's cantrip. The showing off was nothing new; neither was tormenting his little brother. He used his power to scatter the kid's final report for his history cla.s.s all over the street right after the first bell, when they were all supposed to get to cla.s.s. The report that the kid had spent half the semester sc.r.a.ping up the information on and putting together until it was a perfect masterpiece, which accounted for a third of his grade and guaranteed he'd ace the cla.s.s.

"It had rained the night before, and most of the pages landed in puddles or on wet gra.s.s, so the ink started to bleed. The kid's brother and his friends laughed and laughed at him as he ran all over the front of the school, collecting up his ruined report. That's when the kid got mad."

Arnold quieted, tilting his head back against the bed. I opened my eyes and glanced up at his face, relieved to see he was smiling rather than getting angry at retelling the tale.

"What happened next?" I asked, lightly poking his ribs. He laughed and rubbed my shoulder, then resumed his story.

"The kid got p.i.s.sed off and used the same cantrip to shove his big brother into a locker. When his brother got out, he beat the snot out of him. Both of them got two weeks' detention. His mangled report got tossed, but the teacher gave him four extra days to put it back together. Their parents grounded them both and enrolled the kid in the same evening magic cla.s.ses as his brother."

"So the moral of the story is, when you get beat up in school, use magic to get back at the bullies? And then irony wins the day?"

"No." He laughed again, giving a playful tug on my hair. "Actually, I don't know if there is a moral. I continued to study under the wizard through high school and college and even for a couple of years after I graduated. He taught me the same lesson Ben Parker taught Peter-'with great power, there must also come great responsibility'-so, among other things, I stopped shoving my brother into lockers. Got my degrees in mathematics and engineering and still hold the rank as my old mentor's number-one student. I outcla.s.sed my big bro in the supernatural a long time ago. Doug went on to be a cardiologist. He didn't pursue the art the way I did, with the intention of being a full-time mage. My parents are proud of us both, though I think for a while they were worried I was going to pull a Lone Ranger and run my own wizarding business instead of using what I learned to get ahead in corporate life."

"I know that feeling," I said, Arnold arching a brow in question at my dry tone. I wasn't interested in explaining how my parents felt about me going into business with Shiarra. That argument had gone on right up until the day they died. "How did your brother get away with using magic out in the open like that, anyway?"

"He didn't. Though I don't regret what I did for an instant, my parents grounded us both for a year, almost ended up pulling us out of school. Especially after the princ.i.p.al called to find out what was going on. See, my parents are the types who think showing the mundanes you know a little witchcraft means you've opened yourself up to public ridicule, angry mobs, and a possible lynching. This was before September 11, so they still had good reason to be wary. People weren't supposed to know we existed. h.e.l.l, to this day, their neighbors still don't know what we are. If I had set out a shingle in Seattle for Potions, Spells & Other Hocuspocus, they would've disowned me."

"Yet they're okay with you working for The Circle?"

"Sure. Greater numbers equals greater protection. It's a bit different from going solo."

"Weird," I muttered.

"Yeah. So, feel better? I've learned to control my temper since high school."

"As long as you don't shove me into any lockers."

"You got it." He grinned, then stretched and clambered to his feet. "Hey, it's past nightfall. We should get going. Traffic to The Underground is going to be abysmal."

"Ugh, yeah." I scrubbed at my eyes with the heels of my hands before getting to my feet and tossing the damp pillow on the bed. Arnold sat on the edge while I went into the bathroom, calling out over the running water of the sink as I washed my face to remove any lingering signs of my tears. "Thank you, Arnold. I'm sorry I was being a b.i.t.c.h."

"Don't sweat it. Like I said-you're my friend. I don't want to see you hurt."

I thought about what to say to that as I toweled off my face, frowning into the soft cotton. Arnold had done more for me in the past few days than Mark had done in the past year and a half of our tempestuous on-again, off-again relationship. The mage was supportive of my friends and my work. He'd also saved my life-something Mark had never done.

"Arnold?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you feel about playing the rebound guy?"

He didn't answer right away, and I had to stop myself from taking a step back when he appeared in the door. Instead, I leaned my hip against the edge of the sink, meeting his thoughtful gaze with difficulty.

"Well," he said, tones slow and measured, "I'm not sure. I've never been the rebound guy before."

"If it's too awkward..."

"No, it's fine." He cut me off, taking my hand in his and placing a feather-light kiss on my fingertips, sending a little electric jolt of pleasure through me-an entirely different sensation than what usually p.r.i.c.kled over my skin when I touched him. It sent a thrill of nervous fear down my spine. This impulsiveness was unlike me, and putting so much trust in the mage was approaching a line I had never intended to cross.

"Tell you what," he continued. "Let's handle this mess with Royce first. Then we'll plan something. Just you and me. Okay? We'll take it slow and see how it goes."

"Okay," I agreed, inordinately pleased. Arnold had never done anything to hurt me, only to support me and my friends. There was a world of difference between him and Mark, a gap I was glad to cross. Another surge of emotion-joyful this time, rather than pained or angry-brought the tingle of tears back to my eyes. "Just you and me."

Chapter 8.

"The little bird's come back, I see," John observed as Arnold and I entered the same lounge I'd met Royce in the night before. The vampire's eyes narrowed as the mage following in my wake halted beside me. "I don't recall Mr. Royce retaining the services of The Circle."

"He didn't," Arnold replied, smiling down at the much shorter vampire. "H&W occasionally needs a little extra muscle. So here I am."

I had to restrain laughter. Arnold, while tall, was hardly Mr. Universe. Then again, he was a mage. He could probably flatten John with a snap of his fingers.

John set aside his displeasure long enough to bow theatrically before me, keeping his gaze steady on mine. "Regardless, it is wonderful to see you again, my dear. I don't suppose you'll-what are you doing?"

Arnold had put his hand over my eyes. After the initial surprise, I started plucking at his fingers. "Uh, Arnold? Creepy much?"

"Don't meet his eyes. This is exactly exactly why you need me along." why you need me along."

John was clearly offended, straightening and folding his arms. "I'm not so ill-mannered that I'd entice the lady against her will, spark."

A few people at the bar and lazing on the couches scattered through the room turned to stare, wondering at the epithet. I yanked Arnold's hand off my face by the wrist and turned a glare on John-soon shifting the look of mixed surprise and distaste to Arnold as he responded to the vampire in kind.

"That's nice, leech. Why don't you go slither off to your master and let him know we're here?"

While Others traditionally don't get along well with those outside their own species, it was rare for them to resort to such outright hostility in front of witnesses. Neither one seemed to care. John lifted his lip, showing his fangs in warning. Arnold tensed, the whispered words behind whatever spell he was casting lost in the throbbing ba.s.s of the music coming from the dance floor next door.

Before things could get any worse, I stepped between them, placing a hand against each man's chest.

"That is it! it! Knock it off, you two!" Knock it off, you two!"

The men glared at each other until I laid into Arnold, to John's intense satisfaction.

"You're here to help me, not embarra.s.s me in front of a client! Stop it!"

The smirk on John's face quickly shifted to alarm as I turned on him, putting his palms up to ward me off.

"And you! you! For the love of G.o.d, can you please keep your nasty little remarks to yourself? I'm here to help your boss, in case you've forgotten. Arnold is on our side, so can it!" For the love of G.o.d, can you please keep your nasty little remarks to yourself? I'm here to help your boss, in case you've forgotten. Arnold is on our side, so can it!"

Every eye in the room was on us. I'd backed John all the way up to the bar. He was extremely careful not to touch me. So careful, in fact, that he was practically bent over backward on the bar, his fingers tightly wrapped around the edge so he wouldn't risk laying a hand on me.

His panic was understandable. Without a signed contract, if he did anything to me that could be construed as a.s.sault-particularly before so many witnesses in a crowded bar-his b.u.t.t was toast. Despite that, I had no sympathy for the slime-ball. He was putting moves on me to either get me in the sack or drink my blood. Maybe both. That didn't inspire warm and fuzzy feelings on my part. Not at all.

"'Ere, now," rumbled a deep voice as a hand settled on my shoulder. "We'll have none of that."

Angus's grip was uncomfortably strong, and I didn't resist his urging to back off.

As I pulled away, John hissed a few hateful words. "Pity you're not as amenable as your sister."

Ice-cold shock froze me in place. This disgusting twit was the vampire Royce would have to keep away from Janine? Though I saw through his unthreatening demeanor and over-the-top charm, Janine was too naive to realize someone like him could be a danger to her. Not until it was too late. From his words, he was already familiar with her.

d.a.m.n him. If not for Angus's grip tightening in warning, I might very well have attacked John myself. Instead, I had to make do with baring my teeth in a silent, frustrated snarl, and content myself with the foolish hope that Royce would keep to his promise. This blackmail was detestable, but the idea of leaving Janine to fend for herself against John was terrifying.

After I backed up, John moved from arched against the bar to halfway across the dance floor in a flash, his eyes gleaming crimson as he watched us. I ignored him as best I could. Angus drew away and gestured for John and me to follow him. Looking sheepish, though still bristling with hostility, Arnold stayed quietly by my side the entire way to the security office in the back.

The cramped office positively crackled with unseen energy as John and Arnold were forced into close proximity. Something about the power they were radiating made the runes on my arm itch like mad. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides to keep from scratching, and pressed close to Arnold.

Angus paid them no mind, so I did my best to do the same, leaning over to see what he was pointing at in the thick manila folder he had spread open on his desk.

"Was this what you wanted me to come here for?"

John answered me instead of the Scot, his voice once again smooth and charming. "We have a few things to give you. Since the AOA is involved, we thought we might a.s.sign a bodyguard. Show you the location of a couple of safe houses if needed."

I was going to respond but Arnold cut me off. He was all confidence, his green eyes glinting with fae light as he folded his arms across his chest. The tingle on my arm got worse. "That's not necessary. I'm on the job."

John glowered at him but didn't reply.

"Now then," Angus said, bringing my attention to a few highlighted points on the papers, "your information was very helpful. We've put together a report on the Anti-Other Alliance for you. Most of this is from the Internet, but one of Mr. Royce's contacts in the NYPD and a few of his colleagues from the South gave us some additional information. The founder and many of the key members of the AOA used to be White Hats. I've heard your mage friend"-Arnold stopped glaring at John long enough to pay some mind to what Angus was saying-"has some contacts with them, so maybe he can find out more about what they want."

"Isn't it obvious?" I asked, surrept.i.tiously rubbing my wrist to ease the p.r.i.c.kling. "You guys are are vampires...." vampires...."

Angus's tone was patient as he collected the papers up and handed me the manila folder. "Aye, but what is their plan, la.s.s? Are they looking to attack Alec-or someone else? Blow up some property? Disrupt our business? We need more data to counter whatever they're planning. That's what you were hired for."

I managed a sheepish "Oh!" as he handed me the folder.

"They're a violent lot. We don't expect ye to get yourself killed, so see if ye can get that PI they're using, Finnegan, to contact me. Mayhap we can negotiate something." He turned to Arnold, one bushy brow arching. "Or would ye be willing to check with your White Hat friends if they know anything?"

"Sure. I'll call them later tonight."

"Be careful. White Hats are bad, but the AOA is worse," John warned.

"I know," I said, suppressing a shudder at the memory of the cigarette being held so close to my eye.

"Are you sure you don't want me to show you to one of our safe locations?"

The solicitous tone didn't do a thing to conceal John's eagerness for my response. How he thought I might be interested after his barbed comments about Janine was beyond me. Perhaps he was only eager to get his hands on me because Royce had put Janine off limits. Clearing my throat, I held up the file and gestured at Arnold with it. "Thanks, but we should get going. Start studying this thing. I'll be okay."

Arnold seemed just as relieved as the vampire was disappointed.

"Let me see you out."

I accepted John's offer with a nod. Before I could leave, Angus pressed a bit more into my hands-a list of phone numbers and an address, and a key.

"Take this with ye. If ye run into trouble, the numbers are sorted under the times we're available. Any of these people can help. Ye can also hide out at the address written there if ye need to-no need to call ahead. Security's been alerted that ye may drop by. Don't make any copies of the key; return it to me after we get this mess under control."

"Thanks," I said, and surprised myself by meaning it. "I appreciate it. Really."

He smiled at me, fangs peeking out behind the coppery tangles of his beard and blue eyes twinkling with something very much like mirth. "Anytime, la.s.s. Stay out of trouble, now, and do call if ye need us."

"I will."