Companions (11 page)

"No, really. I did. For a while. Couple weeks back in the fifteenth century. He never paid me. Of course, I quit kind of suddenly." Why was he telling her this? Istvan didn't want to think about that time, what had happened. The urge to pour out the whole story was simply there on the tip of his tongue, drawn there by the intensely curious look on her face, the sympathetic interest she didn't realize she was projecting. What was wrong here? Confiding in his companion? How very… typical.

Olympias used to tell him private things about her past, share her sadness and the mortal memories of her abusive husband and the mad son that had died in a faraway land. He'd soothed her, held her, made stupid, comforting noises and gentle, passionate love to help take her pain away. And he'd genuinely
cared.
All because he was her companion and his mistress wanted him to care. He would not inflict that sort of false devotion on anyone.

Selena tried to fight off her consuming curiosity, but she'd never been any good at not being nosy. She eyed the vampire the other vampires were scared of suspiciously. "Dracula's real?"

"Real. Deadly. Cunning. Cruel. I liked him."

"Definitely your kind of guy." She found his affirming the existence of Dracula hard to believe. Not that he'd ever lied to her. Not that he'd had much chance; they didn't talk much. He had a perverse sense of humor; it was hard to take any comment seriously. His body spoke to her, though, with a wired tenseness in his muscles that got her attention. She'd learned to read intent from body language as a beat cop, and still as he held himself, she read that this was no joke. "You worked for the king of vampires?"

"No. That would be me."

"Your modesty — "

"Underwhelms you, I know."

There was an expression on his long, thin face all of a sudden, something in Steve's eyes that amazed her. There was eagerness there where his emotions were usually so closely guarded, and she saw hunger, too. She was used to seeing a predatory gleam in his narrow blue eyes, but this was different and not directed at her. At least not in a way she was used to. There were memories there, opinions, and a longing to share them.

She reminded herself that she hadn't had enough experience with this being she was bound to, to really know what to expect from him. She didn't know him. What she knew about Istvan was rumor, legend, whispered hearsay, and all she'd learned centered around his killing abilities. She didn't need anyone to tell her how dangerous he was or how much he hated his own kind. He was a force of nature, like a hurricane. Did a hurricane need reasons? Have a past?

Did the hurricane have to show up in her apartment just before midnight on a work night? She wasn't surprised to see him back in town, not after she'd found the body. Not when she'd already figured out that he meant Denver when he mentioned heading west. The action had moved away from the west, and he'd trailed the murderer back to Chicago. Good for him. Bad for the killer. She didn't know quite what to think of that yet. For the moment, she let speculation go and allowed her curiosity get the better of her with the matter at hand.

"There really was a Dracula?"

"The Romanian tourist attraction version, yes. I knew him." Steve stepped back to lean against the
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kitchen doorframe. "Met him. Who was I to know a prince? Or want to."

Who indeed?
She did not have to speak the words to receive a dark, warning glare from him. She pointed a finger at him. "I didn't start this. But if you're going to do the revelation thing, I'm going to do follow-up."

"Why?"

The combination of genuine annoyance and surprise made her laugh. She waved in the general direction of the bedroom. "I'm not in the habit of going to bed with strangers."

"Until you met me."

The most terrifying creature on the planet looked at her with such open vulnerability it made her toes curl. Selena knew he didn't know he'd completely dropped his hard facade. She couldn't completely let herself be glad that he had. It was unwise to dive beneath the surface here, but she took a deep breath and went on.

"Meeting you was — "

"Unfortunate."

"Don't interrupt."

The king of vampires ducked his head. "Yes, ma'am."

"Unfortunate," she agreed. "It wasn't fatal."

He smiled a little at that. "You won't recover."

She put her hands on her hips. "Yeah. From what I hear, neither will you. We're stuck with each other.

You run. I cope."

He took a dangerous step closer to her. "Do you?" His voice was soft, menacing, the words alone might have struck dead with terror anyone but her.

Selena snorted. "You want some coffee?"

Istvan looked at the kitchen clock. "Isn't it a little late for you?"

"I asked if
you
wanted some. I'm being a good hostess."

So she was,
he realized.
Simply being polite and not behaving as a devoted slave.
His tendency to underestimate her annoyed him. He ran a hand through his hair. "What were we talking about?"

"Bad books and old television shows."

Or old books and bad television shows. He shrugged.

What did it matter? They had been talking. No, he'd been talking. That was stupid. "You won't even call me by my real name. Don't pretend you want to get to know me." He'd done it again! He slapped himself
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on the forehead. He would have put a fist through a wall, but she would have yelled at him for damaging her property.

"Oh, for God's sake," she responded to his childishness. "Do you really want to be introduced to people as Istvan? That is
so
fifteenth century."

"It's a perfectly good name."

"If you live in Romania."

"What's wrong with living in Romania?"

"Nothing. But you don't. Steve's a good American name."

"Why must Americans change things? Simplify them?"

"Because we're good at it."

"What about diversity? Multiculturalism?"

"What about it?"

He was babbling. He didn't babble. He was the strong, silent type. Ask anyone who knew him who didn't flinch or faint at the sight of him. Which was about three people in the world. Three people too many. "I'm going to have to work on my numbers."

Selena wasn't the flinching or fainting type. And she knew exactly what he was talking about. "It only cuts down your Christmas list."

He couldn't stop himself. "What does?"

"Making everyone scared of you."

"It keeps me alive."

She knew what he meant this time, too. "Revenge isn't what keeps you alive. It's only what keeps you going."

But how did she know? And why did she care?
Not because she was a companion and she must care, he was certain of that. It shook him down to the soul. "You make me crazy."

She grinned. "Good."

The next thing he knew, she was on the floor beneath him, with her shorts pulled down and her bra hiked up. They were both breathing very hard. It tickled when her nails scraped across his back with all her strength. "Sex is no substitute… for co… munication."

"And it's hard on the knees," he acknowledged. "This floor is
hard."
That said, he hauled her up and over his shoulder.

On the way to the bedroom, she said, "I'm not impressed."

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He laughed. "Give it a few minutes."

At no point over the next several hours did he bite her.

Selena didn't know which was worse, having him in or out of her bed. No. The in bed part was fun, it was living in suspended animation the rest of the time that sucked. For that, she hit him on the shoulder once she finally recovered her breath and her senses after a particularly prolonged and intense orgasm.

"Okay," she admitted. "I'm impressed."

She expected and received a smirk. Then he rolled over and lay on his back, his long body stretched out beside her, and groaned. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

She wasn't sure if she was amused or annoyed at his sounding so chagrined. "Pleasure before business?"

"Turned out that way."

"I didn't figure you came back because you were horny."

"You should be offended."

"Cut the old-world gentleman crap. I'd rather know what you're doing here."

They spoke while staring up at the ceiling. Selena glanced sideways at the alarm clock on the nightstand.

It was very late at night or very early in the morning, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, Steve got to sleep all day; she didn't.

He turned toward her and lay a hand flat on her bare stomach. "You know what I'm doing here. I've had a talk with Ariel. I've seen the body you brought him."

"And…?" she prompted.

"Ariel no longer remembers you," he told her. "But, knowing you — "

"You don't know me."

"I doubt he'll forget you for long. You should keep your nose out of strigoi business."

"Not when they kill people in my town."

"It is not a companion's place to keep the nests honest. Ariel's a good Nighthawk."

"So was Maria, you told me once. Until she decided not to be anymore."

"Point taken." He flopped back onto his back, not touching her at all. She made no attempt to cuddle or cling to his warmth.

They'd never discussed Maria after her execution, any more than they discussed anything else. He'd come to town two years before, done his job, and left. During the proceedings, there had been a brief sexual interlude that utterly changed her life, ripped away all her psychic barriers, introduced her to the underneath world, and he left her to cope on her own. Steve didn't hang around for the aftermath. Two
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years she'd waited, wanted, and dreaded his return. Of course, he'd only returned because there was more trouble in town. Selena did not take kindly to this intrusion into her affairs.

"Who are you to tell me what a companion should do?"

Istvan didn't have to look at a clock to know the time. Nor was this a discussion he could afford to get into, even if there were plenty of hours left in the night. "I also told Ariel to forget about the case." His chest rose and fell in a deep, disgusted sigh. "I spoke too soon. Now I actually have to do some work."

"Which is where I come in."

"Which is where you come in."

Selena carefully schooled her thoughts and emotions. She'd been practicing shielding herself, with a lot of help from her aunt. Aunt Catie said Selena was good at mind tricks. It was because of worry for Aunt Catie that she didn't immediately mention anything about Lawrence being attacked in his sleep to Steve.

Maybe the Enforcers' Enforcer was in charge of the case, but Larry was in Aunt Catie's basement.

Selena wasn't setting her aunt in Steve's way. Even though he knew, and so far tolerated, Catie Bailey's being aware of the strigoi community, there was no guarantee he wouldn't kill her if he found out how deeply she was into the life. Besides, it was habit and professional pride that made Detective Sergeant Crawford still disgruntled with turning over a case to another law enforcement agency.

"Where do I come in?" she asked.

"The vampire's remains were seen and examined by mortals. All records of that have to be wiped."

"Well, duh. As if I haven't already thought of that. The paper trail is growing more confused all the time."

He reached over and patted her, his big hand cupping her breast when he did it. "You're clever. I'm thorough. I'm going to have to have a little talk with everyone who dealt with the body."

She sat up and looked down on him in a whirling mixture of terror, skepticism, and outrage. "You want me to bring all of them to you? What are you going to do to them?"

"Talk to them. Make them forget."

"Magic doesn't work like that! You can't make
everybody
forget."

He propped his hands behind his head. "I can."

Maybe he could. "Promise me you won't kill anyone you can't hypnotize."

He didn't argue. He yawned and closed his eyes. "I promise. It's dawn," he added.

Which didn't give her time to tell him she didn't believe his promise. It was just as well, as he might have gotten all outraged with wounded honor. Selena dragged herself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. All he wanted was a list. Fine. She'd get him a list, then maybe he'd get out of town. Out of her life again. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall as hot water poured down over her.

Another sleepless night spent arguing and in the arms of Steve left her shaking with reaction. Her fingers found the starred hole that had been left in the tile when she'd shot him a couple years ago. She almost smiled at the memory, except it reminded her that a companion with a weak bond or sufficient motivation
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was capable of killing a strigoi.

Steve would remember that as well. It made her wonder if she was his main suspect and if that was the real reason he was back in town. Maybe he was playing cat and mouse with her and would pounce once the mortal witnesses were disposed of. Maybe he wanted to see if she had accomplices. Her on-line companions' support group came to mind, and the thought was blocked as quickly as her tired mind would allow. She figured she was safe from Steve's mind walking intrusion for the moment. Even he had to experience a time lag between passing out at dawn and being able to project his thoughts while his body was frozen. Still, she was grateful she didn't know any of the other companions' real identities, so she couldn't be forced to rat them out, even if Steve found out about them.

When she got out of the shower, she got dressed and escaped the apartment as quickly as possible, without once glancing toward the bed. She rushed down the building's back stairs as the sun lit up a beautiful morning. The cool breeze helped revive her a little. She told herself she'd stop for coffee on the way to work. Frequently, she took public transportation, and she and Raleigh used a pool car to work cases. Today, impulse told her to take her own car. Her car was parked in the alley behind the old brick apartment building. She approached it with an odd sense of foreboding and wasn't surprised to find an envelope tucked under the windshield wiper on the driver's side. Somebody, it seemed, had left her a message.