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"Not when 'dear old foster dad Robert' is still screwing you over ten years later all the way from Boston."
"He's not in Boston. He's in Providence…" I stop and glance at him, but his eyes are hooded. I realize what he just did – what he got me to do. He said he did interrogations. I've told him who my enemy is and where he is without even knowing it. He's so skilled.
"What youshouldhave done," he says and leans forward even closer. "What someone should do, is slip a knife between his ribs and cut the bastard's heart out. Instead, you're cutting yourself."
I look into his eyes and know he's right about me.
"You really don't live in the same world as me, do you?" I say. Now it's time for me to shake my head. "You think I can just have sex with you because you look like Michel. I can't."
"You see, Eve, you're still not telling yourself the truth." He takes my hand and holds it in his, softly this time. "Be honest with yourself at least, even if you're not honest with everyone else. You wanted me right from the start. I could tell when I touched you. I wanted you. By all rights, there was nothing keeping us from screwing our brains out – except convention and society and ethics."
"Those things matter."
"Whatmatters, Eve, is what's right here right now." He turns my hand over in his, running his fingers over it. "That's all we've got. You're mortal. You die. Before I know it, you'll be dead and I'll be alone – again. I want to enjoy you.Now. I'm not my brother. I don't feel a need to wait until everything's perfect."
He lets go of my hand and leans back again. His gaze travels over my face.
"How can I," I say, swallowing. "Have sex with you when Michel will know?"
"Listen, you've got to stop holding out hope that he'll come back. He's not. I'm here. I look just like him, Eve. I'll grow my hair, act all pious, if you want." He gives that lopsided grin, but it just makes me more upset.
I shake my head, unable to express what I feel. I know he can't understand.
"It's true, Eve. If you want Michel, I'm a pretty good substitute. Just pretend I'm allsoulfuland regretful about having sex with you. Like Michel. I won't be regretful but by all means, pretend that I am."
"You could never replace Michel,'" I say, his tone getting my back up.
He shakes his head. "Don't worry," he says quickly. "Everything in its own time. Like I say, one day you'll come and offer it. And I'll take it. Ohhh," he says and mimes a shiver. "I'll take it."
He sits up and clasps his hands on the table, his face all serious.
"So, what do you know about this research Ed's got you doing?"
My head almost spins at the shift in topic and tone. I struggle for a moment, trying to focus.
"Um, he wants me to check into research on vampire immunity. Something about why the sun affects you. How are you able to daywalk? When did that happen?"
"Let me tell you a little story," he says, staring at me from under those dark brows. "Once upon a time, there was a private organization in South Carolina," he says, his voice quiet. "A very private organization. Funded by a number of very powerful political, business and military interests. Oversaw a corporation that was a combination security operation with big no-bid off-the-books defense and civilian contracts. Had a large population of vampires on which to experiment – all those incarcerated by the SCU and in tanks, waiting for their sentences to be up. One of the really cutting edge research projects was trying to turn us into daywalkers. You know, to use us all the time instead of just at night." He leans forward. "At least, that was the justification for the experiments. They took vampires – guys used to using killing to stay alive – and tried to turn them into high functioning operatives with no fear, no qualms about using violence, and no remorse. Hard as fuck to kill."
"You were one of them."
He nods.
"The organization wanted me. I was already working for the Council. I was a star candidate with hundreds of years as a knight and soldier. I scored high on IQ tests, had superior hand-eye coordination, spatial orientation, verbal skills. I was healthy. I could see fifteen steps ahead instead of just what was directly in front of me the way most grunts are. We were going to be super warriors. A group of us went to Ranger training camp. Even got some good clandestine training courtesy of the CIA."
"How did they use you? The wars?"
"Iraq. Iran. Saudi. Russia. Oilandgasistan. Wherever there was a need to take people out to ensure the direction of the flow of petroleum was favorable to us, keeping the machinery of power working."
"What happened?"
"We got into a situation – an op in Iraq with too many civilian casualties. Real messy. Some of my soldiers left bodies behind. Then, the organization took care of us. Cleaned house. They terminated everyone with, shall I say, extreme prejudice so they could start it back up in another guise. I was betrayed, turned over to the enemy. I survived. Luckily, although sometimes I wonder, I really wonder. Luckily, I was picked up by another survivor, and we hid out. That's why I went to live at the monastery. Hiding out."
He shakes his head disgustedly.
I sat in silence for a moment, trying to take it all in.
"So you’re fighting those in the organization who betrayed you?"
