And To Cherish (2 page)

The announcer took over, gaining another spotlight, as well as the audience’s attention, over to the stage area. Sam would have to thank him later.

“And that, ladies and gentleman, is Nightshade. Oh. And the man with him is Doctor Samson Reid. Can’t forget him, now can we?”

Laughter greeted the man’s words. They probably thought this had been part of the program.

“If you think that was something extraordinary to witness, please. Accept an invitation to check out Doctor’s Reid’s demonstrations with the other raptors down at the sanctuary. The schedule of shows is in your brochure. And now I have to speak a bit on the business. Keeping these birds safe and healthy is time-consuming. It can be very costly, too. Oh. And Doctor Reid isn’t cheap, either.”

Another round of amusement greeted that jest. Sam was listening, but not consciously. He was still connected somehow to the woman. He could swear he felt her. Watching. Still sending out some sort of sexual-tinged vibes that should have embarrassed rather than continue to intrigue and fascinate.

“We really need your support, ladies and gentlemen. So. What do you say? Let’s get out those checkbooks. We’ve got attendants on hand to assist...”

The man droned on. Sam gathered his wits. Some strength. A bit of courage. Everyone seemed engrossed in writing. Talking. Other than a glance or two, nobody seemed to be watching him or Nightshade. Sam turned to check over his shoulder for the woman.

And saw nothing but empty space.

This was all wrong.

She was
mating
?

Oh no. No. Never.

Long ago she’d been informed that this might happen. She hadn’t really considered it. Not for her. Cherish couldn’t have a mate. And even if she did, didn’t she have to be supremely lucky to find him? And shouldn’t she want one first? Maybe suffer loneliness? Ache for companionship? Desire?
Something?

And besides all that, shouldn’t a mate be difficult to find? Surely, he wouldn’t appear one night in her hometown? Without one bit of searching?

No. Not now. Not here. Not like this. She refused to accept it.

Cherish was good at denial. That’s how she managed just about everything. She forced her mind to work it through. Cover the incident with something else. Alter it to a different experience.
The woman’s blood had contained some sort of drug.
That was it. Cherish had imbibed something odd. Something she couldn’t absorb. Maybe she was allergic, and this was a reaction.

That had to be it.

She was not allowing thirty minutes of time to destroy her afterlife. So. What had happened? She’d handled two kills. Fed. Nothing else. This was simply a normal evening...like all the others that had come before. She’d finished an assignment. It was time to return to her decaying wooden coffin that should be in the pauper’s section of the cemetery. That’s where they’d placed it. On that moonless night. During the Civil War. They’d buried her coffin beneath barely a foot of soil. Atop two layers of older coffins. Because nobody wanted to waste time and effort and space on an illegitimate orphan.

If anyone had opened the lid and checked, they might have suspected that Cherish hadn’t perished of any fever. She was simply resting. Waiting for nightfall. So she could rise, see the poor excuse for a burial plot they’d given her, and correct it. She’d moved her coffin the first night, breaking into the Bartlett Family mausoleum over in the hill section. Appropriating a rich man’s space. Nobody had noticed her poorly-equipped coffin in a back corner.

Not then.

Or since.

For some reason, the thought of her resting place caused her eyes to sting with a long-forgotten sensation of...could this be tears? After all these years? No. Impossible. This was stupid. And it was stopping.

Cherish blinked until her vision cleared. Set her jaw. Made her decision. She’d return to her coffin-home. Pull the shred of material they’d placed as her shroud over her. Rest. She was
not
suffering emotions. She refused. She denied. Tears were for the weak-willed, and that was one thing she’d never been.

Cherish bent her knees, prepared to jump, but something stopped her. It hit right through her chest, seizing her heart in a painful spasm as it stole her intent, along with her breath. It was unbelievable. Ridiculous. She hadn’t needed breath a half-hour ago. And now, she had trouble if it went missing? She scowled and wrapped her arms about herself, willing the sensations away. Why did this have to happen, anyway? And why her?

She refused to have a mate. She didn’t even like humankind. As far as Cherish was concerned, people were mean-spirited. Evil. Manipulative. Rude. Arrogant. Greedy. Hypocritical. Spiteful. Vengeful. She might was well stop listing traits. Her list was long. She’d received a good dose of what humans were capable of during her lifetime. Afterlife hadn’t altered her opinion one iota.

And she really detested men.

Especially good-looking men.

Like that Doctor Reid.

Cherish closed her eyes. Brought his image to mind. He’d been introduced as Doctor Reid. Doctor Samson Reid. Samson. Cherish licked her lips as a tingle of something blissful slid along her spine. Oh. Doctor Reid wasn’t just good-looking. He’d been amazingly handsome. Eye-catching. Tall. Fit. With blue eyes that caught. Hooked. Stole wits. Caressed...

She gasped. Her eyes flew open in alarm.

Deny it, Cherish
.

At least, the gasp had gained air. As if she needed it. She sucked in a huge gulp. Held it. And then eased it out. But before she’d finished, a shiver added to her troubles, racing along her skin, raising goose bumps before it centered in her belly. It started spreading warmth. And when it reached her heart, it wrapped that organ with a layer of pleasure that radiated outward with every beat. There was no denying that. Her heart was definitely beating. Rhythmically. Steadily. Inexorably. Each one sending more sensation. More awareness.

This was worse than terrible. Yet nothing stopped it. Nothing even slowed it. The return of sensations just kept happening. Without one bit of permission. She felt the chill of each misted breath as it hit her cheeks. Cherish stepped into the shadows, avoiding anything to do with the moonlit path before her. She was in the garden area alongside the hotel’s pool. Looking over shrouded lawn furniture.

This is all the farther she’d managed to move?

Damn everything
.

She needed help. There was only one place to get it. She pulled a cell from her inner pocket, pushed the buttons for her three-digit code, and that’s when she noticed that her hand was shaking. That was disconcerting.

“V.A.L. Headquarters. Lizbeth speaking. How may I direct your call, please?”

“May I speak with Akron?”

“Who is calling, please?”

“Cherish.”

“Last name?”

Cherish felt herself flush. In the shadow of night? By herself? Recounting her bastard status bothered this much? After so many years? Oh. This regeneration thing just kept getting worse and worse.

“Tell him Cherish from St. Louis is calling. He’ll know who I am.”

“Very well.”

There was a click. A slight hum of white noise, and then Akron’s voice filled the speaker with the sound of her name. The man was probably speaking in a normal range. It was intense and loud. Annoyingly so. Cherish moved the cell phone a fraction from her head because her ear started ringing. That was another issue she was placing at the feet of this mating curse.

“I...need some help. I’ve got...trouble.”

Cherish had been an introvert. Shy. Rarely seen. Never noticed. Those personality traits had been buried along with her. So, why did they start manifesting now? As if more than a century of time hadn’t passed? She winced as she finished.

“Lizbeth? Access the Abyss Link. Bring up St. Louis. Report anomalies, please.”

“I don’t have access to the Abyss Link, Sir.”

“Why not?”

“The politically correct thing to say is that I haven’t reached a level in my training that would allow it. But I think the reason is my trainer...and his archaic, preconceived, ill-advised, and incorrect notions of my gender.”

“Let me guess. You are referring to Nigel Beethan.”

“I hope I don’t regret saying this, but you should already know. He is a chauvinistic asshole. One – I might add – who even managed to miss the women’s movement that happened during his generation. Need I go on?”

Akron gave a heavy sigh that echoed through the earpiece. Cherish moved the phone farther from her ear.

“Forgive me, Cherish. It appears I have a small housekeeping issue to handle on this end. Can you spare me a moment to correct it?”

“Of course.”

“Lizbeth, please. Have Nigel fetched for me. And you may wish to avoid this chamber for the time being.”

“Yes, Sir.”

There was a span of silence. Cherish’s heart was thumping so mightily it hurt. She didn’t know if she should stay on the line or not. And she didn’t dare ask. The sound of a door opening and then closing came next.

“Nigel Beethan!”

Cherish jumped, moved the phone to her other ear, and rubbed at this one. She was grateful not to be in the same room with Akron. And she’d really hate to be on the receiving end of his attention. But for some reason, Nigel sounded completely immune.

“What is it, Sir? And you don’t have to yell. I am in the same castle as you are. I’m even in the same room.”

“Why doesn’t Lizbeth have access to the Abyss Link? I specifically instructed you to see to it.”

“I don’t trust her.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just because you trust her, doesn’t mean I have to.”

“Are you questioning my judgment?”

“Oh...yeah. Pretty much. That’s exactly what I’m doing. I mean, you are the one who placed me at Old Aberdeen Ferryden turntable that night. Made sure I was there. Right then. So I could see...
her
. With him. Why shouldn’t I question your judgment? It looks pretty faulty from my end.”

Cherish almost dropped the phone at Nigel’s answer. Shock was still a debilitating thing.
Damn this reanimation
.

“Ah. I see you’ve reached the blame portion of your guilt process. Deal making should be right behind it.”

“Deal making? I’ll give you a deal. It’s like you orchestrated this! I mean, gee whiz, Sir. Why did you have to make sure I knew? Why didn’t you send me over there sooner? Before they met? I’d give anything to go back in time and meet her first.”

“I was mistaken. It appears deal-making and blame will be concurrent events in your case. You wish to explain now?”

“Explain what?”

“You didn’t give Lizbeth access to the Abyss Link when I required it. There is a consequence for that. One I will not hesitate to place in action should it be warranted. I would suggest you enlighten me as to your reasons. Now.”

Cherish sucked in a breath. It was an automatic defensive reaction against imminent punishment, even if it was directed at another. That was another unwanted sensation from her past.

“Lizbeth is only half-turned, Sir. There is still the chance she will go back...to humanity. And who knows? If that happens, the Hunter Clan might reach her. They’re not entirely stupid. They’d love to get their hands on knowledge of the Abyss Link.”

Long moments passed while Cherish’s heart rate stabilized. It was still rapid. Hard. Fearful. Other sounds intruded. The fog-warped noise of a city that never slept. The hushed tones of traffic. A siren in the distance. Her own breathing.

And then Akron spoke, releasing the tension that had knotted her belly. Oh. How well she recollected that sensation, too. Reanimation was a disaster, as far as Cherish was concerned. There had to be a way to stop it.

“Very well. I accept your reasoning, Nigel. But it appears you’re fated to be at the desk. Until Invaris returns. Or Lizbeth accepts immortality.”

“I hope you remember at some point that you’re the one that grounded me from it tonight, Sir.”

Akron gave another sigh. It didn’t sound as angered as before. “Well, until you learn that accessing a certain lady’s social network page is not going to be beneficial to you, I had to step in.”

“But she’s so—”

“Nigel. We need to return to the subject at hand. And it isn’t you.”

“Oh. Right. I’m accessing the Abyss Link. What am I looking for?”

“St. Louis., Missouri. We’ve got Cherish on the line.”

“Cherish? Oh. Yeah. The orphan with a huge chip on her shoulder. Hates everybody. But I can completely relate to that at the moment.”

“Nigel. Hate is one of those tricky emotions. It’s malleable. Changeable. It’s often shielding something. Makes a great barrier. And, as you know, barriers are built to protect precious things. Like soft hearts.”

“I certainly hope you aren’t referring to me,” Cherish inserted.

“Of course not, Cherish. Forgive me. We are out of time. We will call you back.”

The connection ended. Cherish put the now-useless phone in her pants pocket for discarding later, and fished out another one. The night was getting colder. The metal bit into her fingers, making her trembling more severe. She detested everything about this mating thing.

The connection didn’t even ring before Akron was speaking. “Cherish? You there?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We’ve checked every incident report in St. Louis. Nothing too out-of-the ordinary happening. I’m going to assume the hits were accomplished, and knowing you, they were quick, clean, and efficient. No need for a 4-D team. True?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Since I am unable to figure out why you called us, you will need to explain. Please. You have my full attention.”

“I need to know if there is a way to stop the...um. The...uh.”
Why was this so hard?

“Yes?”

“I need to know about the...mating thing. Is there some potion to stop it? Anything?”

“Oh, man! Good question! I should have thought of that before my afterlife got completely effed-up. Where are my brains?” Nigel asked.

“Nigel.”

“Now what? Oh. Sorry for the interruption, Sir. But I just passed your interrogation and still have my head. I’m feeling...a bit overconfident. I’ll work on it. Okay?”

“Fair enough. Cherish? I take it you’ve found your mate? You have the physical manifestations?”

“Yes.”

“And...you don’t want this?”

“I didn’t expect it. I don’t want it. Please tell me there’s a way to stop it.”

“Oh. You tell him, Sister.”

“Nigel.”

“Oops. I know. Keep to the job at hand. This is not about me. Sorry, Sir. And you, too, Cherish. I apologize. Should I just go back to my room?”

“Not yet. I think you need to hear what I am about to say, too. You still there, Cherish?”

“Yes?”

“You both must have missed something when I first gave you immortality. Or, I am a very poor communicator.”

“You have to be joking, Sir,” Nigel answered.

“No. I am not joking. I am clarifying. Listen closely. Vampirism is immortality, true. It is not an afterlife. It is eternal un-death. An existence without emotion. Or sensation.”

“We got this part already, Sir. At least I did. How about you, Cherish?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Then I’ll continue. There is only one thing that can alter this un-death.”

Nigel answered. “Mating. Right. Got that, too. We all have a mate. And if we find them every sensation lost in death will be returned. End of story.”

“Mating doesn’t happen to every vampire. There are associates who have existed for millennia without finding theirs. You have to be extremely lucky to happen across your mate in the vast reaches of time and space.”