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arrangements for a hotel?” Adin shook his head. “From Santos’s

place I can get papers for Bran, and make travel arrangements.

Please, Adin.”

Boaz had never,
ever
said please to him before. The car was

stopped momentarily at a traffic light, but whoever followed

them was only three car lengths back. He met Boaz’s eyes in

the mirror again. Boaz was worried. He cared a great deal for

Bran, who looked up to him. Plus he was something equally not

human, and he made Bran feel less alone. Without Boaz, Adin

didn’t have a prayer of taking Bran back to his home in the States.

“All right,” Adin agreed. “Make the call.”

Ancient iron gates closed behind the sedan as Adin looked

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back to see how close their pursuers had been. Five men emerged

from Santos’s home, their height and coloring all similar to that

of the man who had evicted them from Donte’s. They wore dark

overcoats and black leather gloves against the chilly spring air,

and hats pulled over their brows. They moved with precision and

power, their faces covered by blank white Venetian carnival masks,

giving them the look of exquisite, if merciless, marionettes.

“He does clone them,” Adin whispered, waiting for a signal

from Boaz that it was safe to emerge from the car. “He must.

Why are they wearing masks?”

“It’s intimidating isn’t it?” Boaz murmured. “Mostly it’s to

keep the sun from harming them, but it serves the dual purpose

of frightening off the unwanted.”

“How come I didn’t notice them before?” Adin shuddered.

“It’s like a Jean Cocteau film.”

Bran stuck to Boaz like glue. The older man put his arm out

to comfort him. “You came as a guest last time and it was late

at night. This time they’re here to see to any trouble. Santos says

they know to stay away from us though, especially Bran, until

Santos finds out why the hell the healer’s men reacted that way.”

Adin watched as the car that had been following them sped

past. “Do you expect further trouble?”

Boaz glanced at Bran then back to Adin. “Yes, count on it.”

Adin pushed his fork lazily around the dish placed before

him. It appeared to be a blue cheese soufflé accompanied by

some sort of spring mix of greens, topped with Bosc pears, more

blue cheese, and candied nuts. He stared at it listlessly. He’d called

Donte’s cell phone and the farmhouse repeatedly but no one

answered. Donte must know he needed reassuring. Something

had to be terribly wrong. It drained him of his strength and his

desire for food, although he was trying to act naturally for Bran’s

sake. But even Bran, teenage boy and bottomless pit, seemed to

have little or no appetite.

Whatever immediate threat the men following them posed,

Santos’s minions had neutralized it. Now, nearly night, they’d

seen nothing of their host’s private army for hours. Boaz had

managed dinner and disappeared as well, leaving Bran and Adin

alone to dine. Adin poured himself a second glass of wine.

Bran finally broke the silence. “May I have wine?”

Adin shot him a tired smile. “Pour some water into your glass

first.”

Bran did as he was told and Adin added some of the deep red

cabernet to it. “You’re worried I’ll become a drunk.”

“For the record, that’s the least of my worries.” Adin leaned

back in his chair. Unbidden, a horrible thought occurred to him.

“Can you tell me, do imps lay eggs?”

“Excuse me?”

“The only thing Boaz ever cooks is eggs. He’s very inventive,

but it’s always eggs.” Adin pushed his plate away. “Donte once

pointed that out. Suddenly, I’m not hungry.”

“These are chicken eggs. I saw the carton.” Bran looked at

him thoughtfully. “You’re still worried.”

“Of course I’m worried. Donte is…”

148 Z.A. Maxfield

“He’s what?”

“He’s my happiness. I know that’s maudlin drivel. I’m a grown

man, and I don’t believe in fairy tales, but—”

Bran’s eyes widened. “Why not?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you believe in fairy tales? It seems to me that once

you learn how the world really works, fairy tales make a lot more

sense. There
are
fairies. And imps. Things that are dark and dead

scary and sources of magic that ordinary people never find out

exist. Undead people walk the earth.”

“I never thought about it that way.” Adin frowned a little.

“I’ve seen your dreams Adin. I know why you don’t believe.”

Adin stiffened. “And why is that?”

“Come on. Do I have to spell it out? Do you know how many

blokes try it on with a boy living on the street?”

“I certainly never—”

“Charles used you Adin, as much as any pimp who ever

picked up a runaway boy at the station. He had to change the way

you saw the world to get you to go along with his schemes, and

then he used you. In your dreams you see that clearly.”

Adin picked up his glass and drank. “I know Charles used me.

But in no way did he change the way I saw the world.”

“No. He just made you feel like the worst fool that ever lived.”

Adin didn’t know what to say to that.

“So you think Donte is…?” Bran asked.

“I can’t bear to think they couldn’t help him. I don’t like not

knowing,” Adin admitted.

“It must be nice to have a connection to someone.” Bran’s

face twisted. “I wish I knew what it was that I did to make him

sick!”

“I’m sure you didn’t do anything. What could you even have

done? You saw each other for a brief moment before you went

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upstairs. I’m certain there’s been some sort of—” Adin’s cell

phone rang and he motioned to Bran that he was going to take it

in the kitchen. He answered as he walked. “Tredeger.”

“Adin.” Santos’s voice sounded concerned. “My man

confessed he was rough with you. How is your arm?”

“Broken.” Adin heard Santos curse.

“You have my sincerest apologies.”

“Thanks for that.” Adin paused. “Is Donte—”

“Fedeltà is perfectly safe in Madame’s hands, which is more

than I can say for Peter once Donte finds out he manhandled you

until you broke. Peter said you fought like a man possessed. I’m

impressed.”

“I was distraught. They made me leave without him. Without

saying good-bye. I think that was the worst I’ve ever felt,” Adin

admitted. “Can you tell me what the hell happened? He aged

overnight.”

There was a palpable silence on the line. Adin knew Santos

weighed his options. He’d been, at times, an implacable enemy, at

times charming, almost kind. One never knew where one stood

with Santos. Adin held his breath.

“It’s the boy,” Santos said finally.

Adin rested a hip on the kitchen counter and glanced back to

make sure Bran couldn’t hear him. “How can that be?”

“Mme. Restieaux conjectures that the boy manifests a

powerful natural energy very similar to that which is given off by

the sun. We’re simply allergic to him.”

“That’s absurd; he’s as flesh and blood as I am.”

“Is he?” Santos asked. “Things aren’t always as they appear.

Nature’s process is relentless. All living things are part of its cycle.

The vampire is its antithesis. We represent the manipulation of

nature. The avoidance of death. These require deep magic—for

lack of a better word—that is as old as nature, and in opposition

to it.”

150 Z.A. Maxfield

“If he were made of sunlight why am I not affected? I would

be irradiated. I would be burned.
I
would be growing older—”

“I said it was similar to sunlight. It’s as if he’s made of life

itself. At any rate, it seems the undead are unsafe within his

sphere of influence.”

“He has no idea of that.” Adin peered into the dining room

where Bran sat, eating his salad and finishing his watered wine.

“What should I tell him?”

“Tell him nothing Adin,” Santos warned. “When you took

off Bran’s chains, his strength grew and it impacted everything

around it. He’ll only get stronger. More dangerous to those of us

who must not face the sun. You cannot protect him and Donte

both. You’ll need to choose.”

“No.”

“Madame said that Bran’s nature is older than time. I am

sorry.” Santos’s voice held real regret. “Truly. I had in mind to

twit you with hard choices, but not… never fatal ones.”

Adin took the apology to be sincere. “Thank you Santos.”

“Odd to hear you say that.”

“Nevertheless.” Adin swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

Santos disconnected the call.

What a clusterfuck
.

Adin tried Donte’s number and once again, it rang straight

through to voice mail.

Bran spoke from behind him. “If you want, you and Boaz can

go to Donte. I’d have to borrow some money, but—”

“There is not a chance in the world that I’d leave you alone to

fend for yourself,” Adin told him tiredly.

“I’ve been alone most of my life, Adin.”

“Donte has been fine without me for centuries. He’s with

friends. He’ll come for me as soon as he can.”

“What if he doesn’t? What if he decides he can’t risk being

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151

around me?”

Adin gave Bran a smile that was probably as weak as he felt.

“It’s his call to make. His survival. That’s as important to me

as my own.” Suddenly, Adin felt the cold in a new and more

profound way. He left for his bedroom to find a sweater and

a little privacy. Once there, he removed his sling and paused in

front of the wardrobe drawers, allowing himself to consider

what it might mean to him if Donte wrote him off.

He reached into his suitcase for an Aran wool pullover that

he’d had for years and slipped it over his head, painfully pushing

his soft cast through the worn, loose cuff of the sleeve.

There were others, surely, who could care for Bran. With the

correct papers, he could be placed with a family in Washington,

somewhere Adin could be a regular part of his life. Tuan would

know about otherworldly immigration and they could all come

up with a suitable solution together. Bran could be happy and

live a semi-normal life. Maybe even find a family that could love

him as much as…

Boaz appeared behind him in the mirror as he pulled his sling

back on. “I found a place to go for documents. It could be tricky

because we’ll have to deal with people we would normally avoid.

We won’t be able to go to the usual forgers because Bran can’t be

around the undead.”

Adin turned. “Why does putting myself into the hands of

criminals feel so much worse than being around people who

want to eat me?”

Boaz shrugged. “If you’d rather stay here, I could take him.”

“No.” Adin followed Boaz from the room and down the

stairs. “I’d feel better if I went with you. I don’t know why, really.

Of all the players, I’m definitely the weakest link.”

“He trusts you,” Boaz said quietly when they walked down

the stairs together.

“Yes. I know.” Adin sighed.

“When you’re finished eating then?”

152 Z.A. Maxfield

“Yes.” Adin stopped on the bottom step, already tired. “I’m

exhausted and my arm is throbbing. How far is it?”

“Not far. I’ll get your meds. It’s nearly time for you to take

them.”

“Thanks.” Adin leaned against the railing at bottom of the

stairs. “I want to go home.”

“Where? To Washington or your sister’s in Los Angeles?”

Adin shook his head. “Maybe San Francisco. I want to see

Edward, and ask Tuan for help. If I go to Los Angeles I’ll have

to explain Bran to Deana.”

“I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Thank you Boaz.” Adin wanted to ask him if he’d heard

from Donte, but discovered he didn’t want to know the answer

if it was
yes
.

Boaz appeared to read his mind. “He hasn’t called me either.

I’m sure he’s taking his time to make certain he’s well. It’s far

more dangerous than you can imagine for someone like Donte

when he’s in a weakened state. Not just for himself, but because

no one is safe around a weakened vampire. There are those who

would take advantage of it.”

“Santos is in Taiwan, isn’t he?”

“Santos isn’t the only vampire who would like to see Donte

Fedeltà taken down. Men with the kind of power Donte wields

will always have enemies.”

“
Perfect
.” Adin picked up his plate, no longer even pretending

to be hungry. He walked to the kitchen and placed his food in the

trash. Bran followed him quietly, having finished his dinner, but

no less unhappy. “Let’s head out. The sooner Bran has papers the

sooner we can go home.”

Adin’s fears with regard to getting Bran’s papers turned out to

be fairly unfounded. All it took was the right word in the ear of

a clerk at a specific camera store. They were led behind a set of

dirty curtains and down a flight of stairs into a basement filled

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