“Five,” I countered.
He studied me for a long time. “You don’t have a plan to save her?”
“I do. I hope for the best but prepare for the worst. I want safeguards in case the worst happens. What do you want in exchange for the five days?”
He winced at the subject change. It wouldn’t have been so jarring for him if he was aware of the rapid fire of thoughts and plans running through my mind.
“I didn’t agree to five days.”
Then in a flash he was out of sight and moving swiftly up the stairs.
His long legs ate the distance at unsettling speed. Aware of his destination, I rushed to the console, snatched up the Smith and Wesson, and hauled ass up the stairs to my guest room where I found him hovering over Amelia, examining her arm. He cast a look over his shoulder at the barrel pointed at him.
“Isn’t the first rule of gun ownership not to point your firearm unless you plan to kill or destroy?”
“Those are my plans if you don’t get away from her.” He made a show of taking slow steps away from her and spinning on his heels to face me. Walking slowly to me, he only stopped when the barrel was pressed against him. I wasn’t prepared for that level of unhinged behavior. Was anyone ever prepared for that level of psychotic behavior?
“You think a bullet is less painful than a knife?” I asked.
He eased my hand up until the gun was pointed at his forehead and relaxed his hands at his sides. Even life with the vampires hadn’t readied me for the likes of Cirrian.
After several moments of contemplation and me glaring at him, I lowered the gun.
“May I?” he asked, taking the gun from me before I could answer. Placing it to his head, he pulled the trigger. My mouth dropped open in a reactionary silent scream at the anticipation of brain matter splattered over the room. After several moments, I managed to clamp it closed, realizing that instead of a traumatizing scene that would be the source of nightmares, an unharmed Cirrian held the gun casually at his side, a small smirk curling the corners of his lips.
When I’d started working for the vampires, I had reviewed all the psychological diagnoses and behaviors to better understand and deal with them. As an armchair psychologist, I had concluded that most of their behavior would probably place them on the spectrum of narcissism and sociopathy, but with Cirrian, I was at a loss. I didn’t know how to classify or to deal with him.
“The gun didn’t fire,” I managed once I checked the clip when he returned the firearm to me. “You can’t be shot?”
He nodded.
“But you can be stabbed?”
His smile widened. “Are you getting ideas, Kara? Yes, and it hurts. Immortality has some flaws. But knives and swords have been used against me often.” He shrugged. “I appreciate the tools of my weaknesses.”
Only a masochist could have that level of appreciation for pain and hold their weaknesses in such regard.
He returned to Amelia’s side, examining the markings from the curse and the Heartsoil charm. “This won’t stop the curse. Not even for the forty-eight hours you were expecting.”
Jamillah had been wrong. The sigils were now covering the entire length of her left arm and neck.
“Do you want the three days to save your friend?” he asked, continuing to examine the markings.
“Five,” I pushed.
His stony expression left no room for bargaining.
“What do you want in return?”
He turned to face me. “A favor. I want a favor from you, Kara.”
“What’s the favor?”
“Does it matter? Your desperation didn’t need to be revealed, it’s palpable. You need time to save your friend and I can provide it. I’ll give you three days.”
He waited while I took inventory of my options and the ways I’d retaliate if he turned out to be full of it.
The gun in my hand would be no use; he watched me carefully as I put on the safety and placed it on the dresser. There were other ways to make my dissatisfaction known if he screwed me over. Golf club to the groin. No matter how much he appreciated pain, a crotch hit couldn’t be appreciated. He’d get that. An axe in the closet. He was losing something he’d miss greatly. I’d make my dissatisfaction known. Unless he grew back limbs like a lizard. I frowned at the possibility.
