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To put it mildly, I know I’m what Lenore fears right now, but I don’t trust her with anyone but me, not even herself.
And all that talk about Jeremias rattles me to the bone.
He so easily showed up, easily came through the window, despite the fact that I have the house under a protection spell. How long has he been able to do that? Always? If so, why not come by before Lenore came into my life? I know he knows who I am, what I do. Vampires are taught that witches exist to kill them, and they’re especially taught that Jeremias would destroy us all given half the chance.
And yet, he didn’t destroy us. I should take that as a good sign, that perhaps he’s not as malicious as people say, but I don’t. I don’t trust him, and I don’t trust what he wants with Lenore. He has unlimited power it seems—to break through our wards, to fly, to whisk Lenore off to some other place, to heal wounds that would have been fatal. His interest in her isn’t because he’s a suddenly doting father, and therefore his interest, combined with his power, is a threat.
I sigh, breathing out the cigar. “I’ll leave,” I tell Jim. “But you have to understand why I’m here.”
“You don’t trust me,” he says, folding his arms and leaning against the door. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days either. Being human, it shows much more easily on him.
“I don’t trust anyone,” I tell him. “You know that.”
“You’re what’s a danger to her,” he says.
“And there are dangers other than me. You really think she’s safe here from Jeremias?”
“He saved her. We have no evidence he would mean her harm.”
“He saved her with black magic. You don’t call on the Lapp witches otherwise.”
“You have experience with them before?” Jim asks curiously.
“Yes,” I say, puffing back on the cigar. “Long time ago. My father would use them.”
“Interesting that both Jeremias and Skarde do.”
I shrug. “Only interesting in that they’re both connected to the Devil.”
Jim watches me for a moment, mulling something over. “You’re connected to that same Devil too.”
“As is Lenore,” I answer back. “Perhaps not by blood, but the same darkness that runs in her father’s veins, runs in hers.”
He glowers at me. “What’s your point, Stavig?”
“I don’t have one,” I answer with a sigh. “Other than the fact that this doesn’t bode well for anyone. If it’s not Jeremias I’m worried about, then it’s Skarde.”
He stands up straighter. “Have you heard anything?”
“That your daughter is still on his hit list? No. I haven’t. But that doesn’t mean we can relax either. He’s still out there.” I don’t bother adding what I know about Kaleid. He wouldn’t believe it any more than I do.
We both fall silent for a moment. The night fog is building in the street, the air cold, and it feels like summer will never arrive. Good.
“Can I ask you something?” Jim says.
“Always.”
“Do you love her?”
I sigh, staring back down at my cigar again. “Yes.”
The answer burns my heart. Because I’m desperately in love with her, the woman I’ve hurt, the woman who now has to keep her distance from me in order to save herself. I love her despite everything I did to not. I’m stuck like this now, for all time, always to love her, never to be with her.
Love is punishment.
And I have so many sins to atone for.
He watches me for a moment, then nods. “Go home. Get some rest. Do whatever you vampires do. I promise I won’t let a thing happen to her.”
It goes against every instinct I have to walk away, but I know I have to. I’ll just come back later, when they’re asleep.
I nod at her father, then I walk down the street, smoking my cigar, disappearing into the mist. I could go into the Black Sunshine as a faster way home, but I don’t want to rush at the moment. If I can’t be guarding her, then I don’t have anywhere I need to be. I want to enjoy my cigar, enjoy the night, enjoy this city that once made so much sense to me, provided so much comfort, but now feels like an empty husk without Lenore in my life. Even the cigar is bordering on tasteless.
I decide to walk toward downtown, going down Market Street with the electric streetcars trundling past, moving through the crowds like the fog, people piling out from a concert that just ended at the Warfield. No one looks twice at me, and no one will unless I want them to. But the smell of human blood is overwhelming at times, reminding me that I will need to feed soon, reminding me that I’ll have to use one of the donors, and not Lenore as usual.
