Vigil (12 page)

them seem kind of big.”

Adin smiled at him as he pulled out his phone. “I imagine

you’ve still got some growing to do.”

“You didn’t get anything for Donte.” Bran looked a little

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concerned, as if he thought Donte would pout if they returned

with nothing for him.

“Au contraire, mon ami, feast your eyes on this!” Adin held

up a small leather case and opened it to reveal a pair of antique

opera glasses decorated with dramatic repoussé images of dogs

hunting an eight-point buck. “Very sportive, and charming for

the opera.”

“Vampires don’t exactly need binoculars.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Adin assured him. “It’s high

time to point out that Donte has been a little shortsighted of

late, and I’m thinking this, and a gentle note to that effect, will

do the trick.”

Bran stopped walking and turned to him. “You really love

him, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“But he’s inhuman—”

“He’s nothing of the kind.” Adin kept walking so Bran had to

continue along beside him, like it or not. “For some reason I find

him more human than the men I know who haven’t lost their

humanity. He… longs for it, when others take it for granted.”

“How can you love someone who left you to die?”

Adin controlled his irritation. If he didn’t understand it, how

was he going to explain it to a young boy, even one who had

a window into his head? “Donte is the only person I know—

besides my parents—who never has lied to me once.”

“But he did, I know he did. About some things.”

“He never lied about something important to me.” Adin used

the preprogrammed speed dial on his phone to call Boaz. “Not

once. Even when it would have been in both our best interests.”

Bran remained silent while Adin gave their location to Boaz

and asked for a ride. As far as he was concerned, Boaz was going

to have to earn his trust all over again, if he’d ever had it in the

first place.

78 Z.A. Maxfield

“Thank you,” Bran told him quietly while they waited. “I

don’t know why you bought me from those men, taking my side

and removing the chains. But I’ll never forget it. Or these.” He

indicated the bags of clothes both men carried.

“What happened to you was wrong, Bran. Whatever you are.”

“Maybe,” Bran agreed. He picked his way along the street

next to Adin thoughtfully. Adin saw uncertainty and unasked

questions in his brown eyes.

“No maybe about it. There isn’t a civilized person on earth

who wouldn’t have wanted to help you. I was there and I could.

That’s all there was to it.”

Bran didn’t look up. Adin wondered what could be wrong for

a minute until understanding dawned.

Adin nudged Bran’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

Bran sighed. “What?”

“I’m glad I did it because I like you. You’re a terrific kid. I’m

very, very glad to know you, Bran. I feel lucky that I was there

that night to help you.”

Bran flushed with pleasure.

“Just so you know, though… ” Bran cleared his throat. “So

there’s no misunderstanding. I fancy girls.”

“Oh, do you now?” Adin laughed until his lungs hurt. When

he finally got a grip, he patted Bran on his slim shoulder. “I guess

that’s a good thing because no self-respecting gay man would go

out with you dressed in these clothes.”

Boaz opened the trunk of a midnight blue sedan with tinted

windows that Adin had never seen before, and helped him and

Bran load their purchases. His luggage was already inside it,

and Adin guessed that was Boaz’s unsubtle way of letting him

know he’d been moved from his current hotel. Cars honked

and swerved around them. Adin caught a glimpse of Bran, who

looked reluctant to part with his purchases, even if only to place

them into the trunk. He pulled the bag with the overcoat in it

back out and handed it to the boy.

“In case you’re cold.”

Bran grinned at him. “Thanks.”

Adin felt absurdly pleased with himself. He turned to Boaz,

who was already heading for the driver’s side door of the car.

“Are we going somewhere?”

“Is there some reason you shouldn’t? Santos and Harwiche

both know where you were staying.”

“Yes, but they didn’t do anything about it for two days.”

“Doesn’t mean they won’t…” Boaz opened the door of the

car and got in. “Sir.”

Adin gave up and entered the car on the rear passenger side.

Bran smiled at him from the other seat in the back. Boaz keyed

the ignition, and Bran leaned over to whisper, “Do you think it’s

all right to go with him like this?”

“It’s fine.” Adin met Boaz’s eyes in the rear view mirror. “Are

you allowed to tell us where we’re going?”

“You’re not being kidnapped. Not this time, anyway. Donte

thought we might be more comfortable in a private home.”

“I guess that depends on whose home it is, doesn’t it?”

Boaz didn’t answer. Instead, he took the city streets to the

perpherique then found the highway south east, eventually

80 Z.A. Maxfield

leaving Paris behind. He put in a CD of classical music and

continued to drive.

“What about Donte?” Bran asked after about twenty minutes.

“He’ll take the train later,” Boaz replied. “He keeps a house

near Vichy, and the train there will be fast and comfortable.”

Adin grimaced. “Is that why we’re taking a car?”

“I’ve truly missed your sense of humor Dr. Tredeger.”

“Shit,” Adin muttered.

Bran’s face held wariness. “Is there something wrong?”

“Boaz is always at his most charming when I’m not going to

like the outcome of whatever little adventure we’re having.”

“You wound me, sir.” Boaz said cheekily into the rearview

mirror. “I’m merely relocating you and your charge to a rather

attractive country home, and Donte will meet us there later,

probably sometime before midnight. Did you have a pleasant

morning shopping?”

“Yes. It was very pleasant when the rain let up. Bran found

a number of outlandish vintage garments he’s determined to

wear.”

“So naturally you indulged him.”

“Naturally.” Adin grinned at Bran. “They will look very fine

on him, and Donte’s eyeballs will explode.”

Boaz eyed him briefly in the mirror but said nothing. While

Adin watched, Bran took out his coat and pulled it over him

like a blanket. He turned his face to the window, and soon the

motion of the car lulled him to sleep. Even Adin was beginning

to drift, so he found a comfortable way to rest his head and just

let the motion and the music take over. Whatever Donte had in

mind, whatever Santos was up to, or Boaz had up his sleeve, sleep

beckoned, so Adin let himself succumb. His last thought—as

always—was of Donte’s face. The handsome brown eyes, liquid

and rich, haunted Adin’s dreams and filled his heart with longing.

More than anything in that quiet moment before sleep, he wanted

Donte’s strong arms around him.

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Donte would have laughed at that.

Adin held his wineglass and meandered from room to room in the

sprawling country house, searching for the face of the man that had haunted

his thoughts, his every waking hour since he’d gotten to Princeton. The smell

of wine and other, stronger drinks and cigarettes assailed him, even though

the host required his guests to smoke outdoors. Most of the guests were men,

and nearly all were older. Still, no one said a word when he’d picked a glass

of red wine off the tray of a passing waiter. Adin guessed that Charles’s

crowd played at bored sophistication and the occasional underage young man

was more of a cause for celebration than censure with many of them. Adin

ignored the predatory and inquisitive glances thrown his way. He was here at

Charles’s invitation, not merely because he was young or pretty, but because

Charles respected his intelligence and was interested in him personally.

People passed by with food as well, with tiny plates of pungent tidbits,

cheese puffs and lettuce wraps. Crab Rangoon. Adin ignored them, because

butterflies filled his stomach with anticipation. When he finally caught sight

of Charles Holmesby his heart soared. Charles’s eyes had been on him,

Adin could tell. While Adin had been searching for Charles, Charles had

been watching him with a pleased look on his face, or so it seemed when he’d

finally found him.

Charles came over to talk to him. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Adin took a fortifying sip of his drink. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I wasn’t entirely certain you were ready for what you’ve been asking me

for. I didn’t want to presume.”

Adin deliberately misunderstood. “Ready to drink wine? Ready to listen

to inane party chatter?”

“You know what I mean.” Charles studied him as if he were trying to

see something written on Adin’s skin. Adin was annoyed with it, as though

he were looking for a ‘best by’ date or a tag that said, ‘Do not open until

Christmas.’

“Stop that, I’m not inexperienced if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“It’s not that. I imagine you’ve had hundreds of lovers.” The smile that

played on Charles’s mouth told Adin he believed no such thing.

82 Z.A. Maxfield

“I know, who I am, Charles. I know what I want. From the moment I

met you I—”

“Not here.” Charles took his hand and led him through the French

doors to a terrace where they could speak more freely.

As soon as they were alone in the shadows Charles pulled Adin to him

and pressed a kiss to his lips. Adin wrapped awkward arms around his

neck and kissed him back hungrily, until his mouth was bruised and he had

beard burn from the scrape of Charles’s cheeks across his young skin.

“You’re the brightest student I’ve ever had in a class. And the youngest. It

says something about you that you lasted when your friend Edward imploded

so quickly.”

“Edward missed his family.”

“What about you?”

“At first I admit I missed my parents. But everything changed when I

started working on your research project.”

Charles smiled. “You like my ancient smut?”

Adin frowned. “Don’t call it smut, Charles.”

Charles ran the tip of a hesitant finger along the skin of Adin’s forearm

where he’d rolled up his sleeves. He turned Adin’s arm over to inspect his

watches. “You wear two timepieces?”

Adin lowered his lashes. “Before I left for school my father gave me his

watch and told me to keep it on Pacific Standard Time so a part of me could

always be with them. I looked at it a lot when I first got here.”

“How sweet.” Charles’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re blushing.”

“You think it’s silly sentimental claptrap.”

“I said I think it’s sweet.” Charles’s face was a study in flirtation. “It’s

fantastically consuming, isn’t it? To know that men in every age have written

of the passion they felt for one another, for comrades in arms. Kings, soldiers,

saints, and prophets? How can you be homesick when you know that you

and I are a part of something that powerful and permanent? That excites

you, doesn’t it?”

Adin preened when Charles included him in his work. “Of course it

does. It’s like peering through a window to history where I can see my deepest

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feelings, my darkest fears, my desperate desires, have been shared by men who

are long dead. I can see to it they’re not marginalized or forgotten. It’s my

chance to resurrect them.”

“You have bright eyes, Adin. Beauty like yours doesn’t always come with

matching intelligence.” Adin peered at Charles to see if he was teasing.

“You just want me to do your grunt work so you can use your paid

assistants for the more glamorous things.”

“No, I mean it; you’re special. Every bit as unique and deep and

thoughtful as the kind of work we seek out.” Charles hesitated, his lips close

to Adin’s ear as he whispered, “I do want to use you. I want to love you, does

that make me very wicked?”

Adin’s cheeks heated and his body tightened with the first stirrings of

real passion. “I don’t think so. No,” Adin told him breathlessly,

“It has to be our secret at the University. I can’t have anyone from the

department—”

“Of course I wouldn’t tell anyone! It’s no one’s business but ours whom

we love.”

“You’re a bold boy, Adin. Do you think you’re ready?”

“
Fortes fortuna adiuvat.”
Adin’s voice didn’t quite work.

Fortune favors the bold.