“The nunahi-duna-dlo-hilu-i,” Bruiser said softly, his voice holding no nuance at all.
Shock that he pronounced it perfectly went through me and my heart rate sped. “Yes.”
“The trail lasted from 1831 to 1838, and involved many tribes in the eastern part of the States. The Cherokees were the last tribe moved. Forcefully. Brutally. So you might have been born anytime from eighteen thirty to eighteen thirty-three.”
He didn’t look like he was about to freak out so I nodded once, a jerk of my head.
“You’re robbing the cradle, then,” he said. Humor filled his face. “You’re a cougar.”
Laughter burbled out of me, part of it relieved nerves, the other part surprise at the play on words. “I’m not that kind of cougar,” I said, my tone lofty. Unthinking, I added, “I haven’t slept with you yet.” A hot blush followed the shock through me like lightning when I heard that last word come out of my mouth.
“No. Not yet,” he agreed, but his words were no longer smooth, or amused. He sounded something else, something heated and waiting. Bruiser returned his eyes to the old book and started reading, his eyes going back and forth across the page.
I managed to keep my breath from whooshing out with relief, but my skin felt hot and prickly. Beast purred inside of me, oddly satisfied. Upstairs, Alex started a shower and thumped around in the bathroom.
Long minutes later Bruiser said, “The magical beings have existed for thousands of years. There are numerous kinds, and they appear to be divided along racial, ethnic, and familial lines, though that is thought to be due to travel restrictions and inbreeding in prehistoric tribal times, not an actual genetic or racial difference that denotes ability or power levels. The writer seems to be saying that all witches are equal. But not really.”
“Helpful. Not.”
“Mmmm. The persecution of the magical began after the fall of Atlantis”—his eyebrows went up together—“in the year 5,000 BC, following a great worldwide flood. That makes it seven thousand years ago. A flood that killed off The People of the Straight Ways.”
“Say that again.”
Bruiser looked up at me. “The People of the Straight Ways?”
“Yeah. That could tie back with the l’arcenciel—the light-dragon that bit Leo and Gee. Back with stuff I heard when I was working south of Chauvin, hunting that escaped prisoner.” Bruiser inclined his head. “I was told that they built lots of the ancient canals found in Louisiana, Mississippi, Florida, New England, and all over the world. Do you know about them?”
“L’arcenciel, or the arcenciel. The L is the article.” I gave a nod of understanding, and he went on. “I’ve come across the term once or twice, but not with any particular emphasis or related to any flood. Or related to the flood.” He closed the book and pulled off the white gloves. “You look tired. When did you last sleep?”
I thought about that for a while and sipped my cold tea. “I don’t remember when I last slept for a whole night. I’ve been on vamp hours. And then my house was targeted by a bomb maker. And then I got cut up by a master swordsman.”
“And broke his neck.”
“Yeah. That too. So I don’t know.” I added, by way of ambush, “What do Satan’s Three want with Leo? And me?”
With a faint smile, he said, “You’ll have to ask Leo that.” Bruiser held up the book and asked, “May I take this with me? I’ll read and summarize it for you as I go and send it to you via e-mail. The contents don’t sound as if they need immediate attention.”
So much for verbal surprise attacks. I flipped my hand in a modified shrug. “Sure. If you find anything out about the iron spike of Golgotha or any of the other magical items, let me know.”
Bruiser took my mug and carried both empties back to the kitchen. I watched as he washed the cup and mug. I had watched Eli and Alex doing that for months, but this felt different. Weirdly domestic. Bruiser placed the cleaned stoneware upside down on a dish towel to drain and placed the book and gloves by the side door before returning to me. He bent over my chair and placed his head near mine, the heat of his skin a furnace on my cheek. Breathing into my ear, he whispered the words, “I should not suggest this to you, but—” He placed a kiss on my ear, and shivers thundered through me. I pulled in a breath that smelled of him, Bruiser. My hands tightened on the edge of the couch cushion.