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CHAPTER TWO
Thank fuck Los Angeles gets a few gloomy days each year.
Thank fuck this is one of them.
As I leave the big building in which the Eppacenter Agency is located, I’m glad I appear like any other thin-blooded Angeleno along Wilshire Boulevard, hunched into his coat and nearly run-walking to get to his destination. Nobody sees that my stature’s because I’m fighting not to hyperventilate. That I’m covering the sidewalk in wide, frantic steps due to processing what I’ve just experienced.
An impossibility turned to reality.
The person I never thought I’d find.
And who, after nearly two hundred years, is more dangerous than I ever imagined.
Because this is a desire I never expected. Never wanted.
A temptation I can’t and won’t court…
Which is why I stalk on, hoping to pound some sense into myself. Some sense and some goddamned backbone.
Tonight, it shall be done.
Sheshall be done.
There is no other path. No other way.
My inner exhortations aren’t enough. I have to hear it from my partner in this cosmic crime.
So why do I leave my quaking phone alone?
I don’t examine the answer. I’m here, at my place of quiet refuge. Except Kazian Sirocco hasn’t been just my partner and cousin for over a hundred and fifty years. He’s also my best friend—meaning before I can get to the Museum of Art’s entrance, he’s waiting right there next to the Urban Light display. Oh yes, surrounded by two hoards of avid selfie takers. And ohhh yes, oblivious to the two additional females who are trying to get him in the background of their shot.
I don’t dare walk over and inform the pair that he’s not the blond film hunk they’re assuming, but if Kaz suspected he was in a sliver of their shots, he’d be crushing their devices before they could say selfie stick five times fast. Instead I stop and jog my head, hoping he’ll simply move to me.
The crisis is averted but he’s now that much closer and heading toward gargoyle mode with his scowl. But maybe that’s exactly what I need. To be reminded of the goal. The endgame we’ve been chasing for so long. Too damn long…
“Well. Aren’t you the friend who knows me only too well?”
My blithe tone doesn’t resculpt a millimeter of his expression. “And aren’t you the friend who won’t pick up his phone?”
I look around the plaza, stopping with a smile on what looks like a multi-family excursion. A few kids chase each other around, while their mothers keep juice boxes and snack bags safe. One dad is telling the others about the famous art installation next to us, made out of antique street lamps from many cities across the area. He points out the different designs in the finials, and his friends nod in fascination. A breeze lifts through the air, temporarily parting the clouds so that some sun shines through. One of the moms whips out her camera, not wasting time about capturing some shots of her kids in the special light.
Time.
The one commodity they all know not to waste.
A feeling I forgot so damn long ago.
But today, just half an hour ago, I glimpsed it. And there, standing inches from Quinn Lamarr, I almost grasped it. If I’d pressed in just a little more, could I have at least tasted it? Just a drop of her life. A small sample of her mortality.
The miracle I keep seeking…
And am so close to claiming…
As every inch of Kaz’s scowl is set on reminding me.
“Well?” he mutters with the same stormy intent. “Did you see her?”
I look away from the kids and their sun-kissed smiles. But not back to him. Not yet. “Yes.”
