Sabrina's Clan (11 page)

He was wearing sunglasses.

Nyanther shut the door, went around to the trunk and opened it. Now he was here, he understood why Jake had not been concerned about them bringing his duffel bag of equipment here. There was no one anywhere around to take any notice of a heavy bag being toted into the house. “This isn’t what I was expecting,” he told Jake, hauling out the bag and closing the trunk.

“They let you drive?” Jake said. “Do you find it hard?”

“I have to concentrate when I’m turning left, especially at busy intersections,” Nyanther admitted. He hauled the bag through the bushes to the steps and climbed up.

Jake moved around the verandah to meet him at the top and take the bag. “Thanks for this,” he said, hefting it. “If I had more time to spare, I’d drive everywhere, too.”

“We all have to keep up a human appearance,” Nyanther said. “You’ll get used to it.”

Jake shook his head. “Once the gargoyles are dead, I’m done. I can’t go for too much longer, living this way. I’m spread too thin as it is.”

Startled, Nyanther considered him. The sunglasses hid his eyes and it was difficult to tell what he was thinking without seeing them. He really thought this was a one-time thing? It seemed like a naïve idea.

Nyanther kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t here to piss Jake off.

“Come in. I just made tea.”

“That I can’t drink,” Nyanther reminded him.

“That’s fine, I’ll drink yours,” Jake said. “This way.”

Along the entire length of the verandah were narrow, old-style French doors, with shutters on the lower half and glass with white leading on the top. All the doors stood open, inviting in the breeze. The paintwork was faded and worn away in spots.

The wooden verandah flooring continued uninterrupted into the inside of the house. It did look like it wrapped around all four sides, too. Nyanther stepped gratefully into the interior, away from the bright sunlight, which had begun to be uncomfortable.

“If it’s too cold for you, I’ll shut the doors,” Jake said, dumping the bag on the floor in the corner of the room and taking off the sunglasses.

Nyanther just looked at him. Now he could see his eyes. Again, he was startled by their coloring.

“You don’t feel the cold?” Jake guessed.

“Or heat. Direct, hot sunlight bothers me, though.”

Jake nodded. “Right. You have to remember I’m new at this.”

“It shows,” Nyanther assured him. “I don’t have to remember.”

Jake grinned. “Ouch. Okay, if I’m making an asshole of myself because I’m breaking some rule or protocol or something, tell me, huh? I get the impression there are a lot of rules.”

“There are no rules,” Nyanther assured him. “There
are
a lot of things you do if you don’t want to end up dead. Not pissing off vampires is just one.”

Jake picked up a big mug from a rickety side table and sipped, while Nyanther looked around.

Most of this level of the house was taken up by one big room and the French doors made up two and a half of the four walls. In high summer, it would be very pleasant. Even now, with the wind shifting the air through the room and the sound of the waves barely fifty yards away, it was very nice.

It just wasn’t what Nyanther had expected to see. This wasn’t the sort of house a Summerfield would live in, even as a weekend getaway. The worn paint, which didn’t look like it had been artistically weathered for effect, the rough wood and the poor furnishings told a different story.

The sofa was low to the ground and covered in a rough-spread, brightly colored blanket. Loose cushions made up the back of it and Nyanther wondered if it was a sofa at all. It was possibly a mattress, covered up. Did Jake sleep there?

The side table looked like a garage sale or junk yard find, with chipped paint and worn edges, although the lines of the legs were graceful.

There was very little other furniture. An ottoman in front of the sofa seemed to be the only other extra seating in the room. Right now it was being used as a coffee table, for a big tray sat on it and what looked like the remains of breakfast in a bowl, with a spoon in it.

There was a simple kitchen up against the fourth solid wall, with a sink, a tiny amount of counter space, a small fridge and a range. It was the barest of necessities.

There was no television, no dining table and no other chairs.

“No books,” Nyanther added, aloud.

Jake picked up an iPad from the side table and waved it. “Yes, there is.”

Nyanther looked at the spiral staircase in the corner by the kitchenette. It was made of wood and looked as old as the rest of the house and just as worn. The tight, sinuous curve snaking upward made him think of the big iron staircase in Sabrina’s apartment. He closed down the thought and shoved it away.

“There are no chairs for company,” he pointed out.

“This is
my
place,” Jake said. “No one else gets to come here.”

“Ah.” Nyanther looked around once more, taking in the surfboards leaning up against the verandah railing and the wind chime tinkling musically, in the corner next to them. “This is the real you, then.”

“I suppose.” He said it cautiously.

“The business suit is a lie,” Nyanther pointed out. “The knife and the combat boots are temporary, according to you. Here, where no one comes, you can be yourself and this is what I find.” He waved his hand, taking in the room, the verandah and the beach beyond. “If this was the sixties, I’d call you a hippie.”

Jake grinned. “That’s a new one. My family uses different names.”

“‘Lay about’?” Nyanther guessed.

“‘Useless’, mostly,” Jake replied. “I’ve heard ‘a waste of oxygen’, too.”

“Are you?”

Jake’s expression grew darker and his eyes stormy. “I found out what really happened to my parents. It took twenty years, but I did it. I’ve killed two of the bastards and I fully intend to kill the rest. No, I don’t think I’m useless.” He let out a breath. “They’re never going to know, though.”

“Then you’ve figured that much out for yourself. Good,” Nyanther said. “If there’s a rule at all in our world, that’s it.”

“No one must know?” Jake shrugged. “There will be no need for anyone to know, once I’ve killed them all.”

“Once
we
have killed them,” Nyanther emphasized. “You’re not alone in this anymore. Although, in the interests of keeping up appearances, why aren’t you in your high rise office right now?”

Jake scowled. “I went to the board meeting. I couldn’t stand it after that. I came out here as soon as I could get away from the damn place. I needed to sleep, at least for an hour or so.”

“You have an apartment in New York, don’t you?”

“That’s for work,” Jake said shortly.

“And for women, I suppose.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Of course,” he said flatly. He had suddenly grown cautious. Nyanther could see it in the stiffness in his shoulders and the stillness of his body.

“You’re never tempted to tell the women about your secret life?” Nyanther pressed. “Whisper of your deeds and see the admiration in their eyes?”

“That’s not why I’m hunting gargoyles,” Jake said, his voice flat. He was growing angry.

“It would be a nice side benefit,” Nyanther pointed out.

“Shit, you don’t know me at all.” Jake pushed his hand through his hair, making the blond locks fall forward over his eyes. “I let them see the limousine and they just about fall into my lap. Most of the time, I don’t even need to do that. My family name is enough. Why would I share the one real thing in my life with them?”

Nyanther held up his hand. “I had to make sure,” he explained.

“That was a
lesson
?” Now he was truly angry. “How
dare
you?”

His fury triggered Nyanther into moving. Fast. He plucked the cup out of Jake’s barely moving hand, dumped it back on the table, then gripped his shirt in his fist and made himself slow down to human speed.

Jake’s eyes widened. “Fuck…!” he whispered. “I didn’t even
see
you do that.”

“Just one of a vampire’s many advantages over a human,” Nyanther growled. He shook him. Just a little. “There are no rules in this world you’re in, Jacob Summerfield. There’s no school, no college, no textbooks. No membership card or monthly dues. You’re in it now, whether you like it or not. Lessons are how we help each other survive, so if one of us who has survived for hundreds of your lifetime chooses to share their experience with you, you should be grateful and accept the wisdom, because it will help you avoid an early death. A senseless death really
would
make you useless.”

Jake swallowed. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Jake’s body heat was radiating against Nyanther, the warm glow of a furnace in comparison to his coolness. Over his shoulder, Nyanther could just glimpse the curve of the stairs, for Jake really was the same height as him. Again, Nyanther tried to shut down the reminders and shunt the seductive thoughts away.

Was that why he kissed him? Possibly. He pressed his lips against Jake’s, his fist caught between their chests, his grip on Jake’s shirt holding him steady for Nyanther’s kiss.

As soon as their mouths met, Nyanther understood this wasn’t just a distraction from moody thoughts. How long as he had been subconsciously sizing Jake up? Measuring him? Had it started when Jake had slid onto the bench next to him in the diner, all fresh and slick from his shower? Or had it been earlier? In the forest, when Jake was standing over his kill, breathing hard?

Thought faded and the kiss intensified. Jake wasn’t fighting him and that made it better. Tentatively, Nyanther touched Jake’s lips with his tongue. He heard someone groan and realized it was him. His control was slipping, which was almost unheard of.

Jake shoved him away with surprising strength and staggered back, bringing the back of his hand up to his mouth and wiping. “I don’t…I’m not….” He swallowed.

Nyanther leaned forward and stroked his fingers along the hard ridge of flesh beneath Jake’s jeans. “Yes, you are,” he said flatly and let his hand drop. “Lesson number two. Self-denial is a luxury only humans can afford.” He moved over to the little side table, picked up the iPad and tapped through the screens quickly to find what he was looking for.

“I
am
human,” Jake pointed out. His voice was hoarse.

“You’re more than human, now,” Nyanther replied. “When you’ve accepted that, you can find me here.” He hefted the iPad, then put it back on the table. “Or you can come hunting with us on the weekend. We’re heading back north. It’s your call.”

Then he made himself leave before his disintegrating control disappeared altogether. He climbed back into the rental, his temper building. What was wrong with him? He had left the door open, when he should have shut Jake down, apologized and moved on. Playing with Jake this way was just as unfair as the long, sweaty nights he had thought of giving Sabrina. Neither of them deserved to get entangled in his life when his time was so short.

Jake didn’t step out onto the verandah to watch Nyanther leave. He wasn’t sure his legs would hold him up. So he put the tray on the floor and sat on the Ottoman, his hands between his knees and his head hanging, as he tried to get his breath back under control.

Was Nyanther right? Was he in denial? He could still feel his hand sliding over his cock through the denim. Just the memory of it was making his heart work hard once more.

Hadn’t he grown up thinking he was different from everyone around him? He had spent his life wondering why the things that seemed to matter to his cousins and second cousins he couldn’t give a shit about. The money was just the start of it. He hated what the money did to his life, the boundaries and expectations it put on him.

Wasn’t the search for his parents’ true killer just one of the ways he had secretly revolted against the family way?

And if this really was his private sanctuary, why had he invited Nyanther here? He was a trained hunter. Of course he was going to spot all the telling details and figure Jake out.

None of it had anything to do with sex…and yet it all did.

When his phone warbled, the sound muffled, he cursed. It was his uncle’s ringtone.

…in the interests of keeping up appearances, why aren’t you in your high rise office right now?
He could hear Nyanther’s deep voice in his memory, as clearly as if he had spoken right next to him.

Yes, why wasn’t he? That was all part of it. Pretending to be human.

You’re more than human, now
.

He got to his feet. The phone continued to ring. Graham would hang on until it went to voicemail, then he would call again. Jake was used to the persistence, so he didn’t hurry.

Lessons are how we help each other survive.

He pulled open the junk drawer. The utensils and tools slid around with a heavy sound. He plucked the phone out from the mess and answered it. “If you’re calling because I’m not there, you’re right. I blew off meetings today. I’ll be in tomorrow.”

Silence.

“Jake?”

“Yeah,” he said heavily.

“I’m just calling to make sure you’re okay. No one knew where you had gone. You didn’t even tell Barbara.”

Barbara was the admin support they had assigned to him. Mostly, she had nothing to do. He didn’t know how to deal with people who were there to ‘support’ him. He was used to doing things for himself.

“I didn’t get any sleep last night,” Jake said. “I was barely functioning in the board meeting as it was. I had to get a few hours’ rest, sorry.”

Silence again. Jake wondered if he was imagining the surprise in it.

“Heavy party last night?” Graham said, at last.

Jake rolled his eyes.
No, I was out killing a creature that humans think are cute stone myths hanging off the corners of their buildings. I drank coffee with two vampires and a woman, a hunter, who killed the demon who resurrected them.

Only, he couldn’t say it. He didn’t want to. He had told Nyanther the truth. He wasn’t doing this for the glory. The only emotion he had felt last night, standing over the remains of the gargoyle that Riley had called Bero was a fiercely hot satisfaction.