“You actually felt it?” she asked, almost giddy. Someone else had felt it!
Vander put his spectacles back on and looked at his hands. “I didn’t know it was that. I mean, I thought it was—”
“Enough,” Luc growled. “Whatever happened is over. You won’t touch Ingrid again.”
Ingrid’s smile collapsed. “Luc, stop.”
He approached fast, stopping a hairsbreadth away from her. “If he touches you, he takes away your ability to protect yourself.”
I can’t protect myself anyway! she wanted to blurt, but was too ashamed. Besides, though she abhorred being told what to do and what not to do, she knew Luc was right.
Vander did as well. “I won’t risk that, Ingrid, not with a mimic demon stalking you.”
What was she going to do, argue? Beg Vander to reconsider? Stomp her foot and shout that it wasn’t fair? Because it wasn’t. First Luc couldn’t kiss or touch her without shifting into gargoyle form, and now Vander couldn’t touch her, either, not without rendering her a weak, ordinary human.
Luc turned away from the table and moved toward the bamboo, keeping his back to them. The blistering sensation beneath Ingrid’s skin ebbed.
“Would a demonstration be too much to ask, Mr. Burke?” Constantine said after a moment, reminding them that he was still present. “We’re all in agreement that Lady Ingrid’s dust must not be disturbed, but perhaps … Luc?”
Luc paused at the entrance to the bamboo path.
“You are neither demon nor Duster, but you do have dust,” Constantine went on. “If Mr. Burke could—”
“You don’t honestly believe he could weaken me?” Luc asked. He looked over his shoulder and fixed Vander in his sights. “You share the blood of a pestilent demon. Mine comes from the Angelic Order.”
“And yet you’re still a slave,” Vander rejoined.
Luc had no retort for that. He was a slave, Ingrid knew. Luc knew it as well, and for the first time, Ingrid saw something new flash over his expression: shame. It was there and gone again, and then Luc had recovered, pulling on his cloak of arrogance once more.
He spread his arms wide. “Try it,” he said, sauntering up to Vander.
“Just for a few moments, Mr. Burke,” Constantine interjected, and with a gentle hand on Ingrid’s arm drew her away from Luc and Vander.
Vander hesitated. Ingrid understood why. She still doubted her own power every time, and usually with good reason. But if Vander’s touch had been weakening her … maybe that was the problem.
With a steadying breath, Vander reached toward Luc. He didn’t make contact but hovered an inch or two above Luc’s outstretched arms, then ran his spread fingers down their length and along his ribs and torso.
Luc gave a skeptical roll of his eyes when Vander sank into a crouch and swept his hands down Luc’s legs, past his knees, and then up again, never once making contact.
“His dust is moving,” Constantine whispered to Ingrid. She wished she could see it too.
Vander let his hands fall back to his sides. “I don’t think it’s working.”
“Give it another moment,” Constantine urged.
Luc groaned, arms still wide. “I’m getting bored.”
“This isn’t exactly a carnival ride for—” Vander’s jaw hinged shut. He lifted his head and tensed his back. “What is that smell?”
Luc’s arms dropped. “What did you say?”
Vander sniffed the air, his eyes searching for the source of the smell that was distracting him. He moved toward Ingrid, breathing in deeply.
“That smell,” Vander repeated. “Can’t you smell it? It’s … grass. It’s like I’m in a field and it’s just been hayed.” A huge grin crossed his face and he laughed. “This is amazing.” He looked to Luc. “What is this?”
Ingrid stared in wonderment at Vander’s infectious smile. Constantine looked especially pleased. The only one who didn’t was Luc.
“It’s Ingrid,” he answered darkly. “It’s her scent.”
Vander turned back to her, his honey-wheat eyes bright. “It worked.”
He could scent her the same way Luc always did. Could he feel her heartbeat, too? It was unsettling to think so. It was odd enough knowing Luc could.
She met Luc’s glare. “Can you still …?”
He kept his lips pressed into a grim line and avoided her eyes. He didn’t answer her, and he didn’t have to.
He couldn’t scent her. Vander had taken it from him.
“Exceptional! I hardly see a reduction in Luc’s dust at all,” Constantine remarked, unmindful of the panic creeping over Luc’s expression. “I wonder, if Mr. Burke were to absorb more of Luc’s dust—”
“I’m done. My dust stays where it is,” Luc said, severing Constantine’s theory at the knees.
For Ingrid, the question of what might happen continued to snowball. If Vander had adopted Luc’s ability to scent her so quickly, what else could he adopt if given more time? Scales? Wings? What if he could take Luc’s ability to coalesce?
Vander, a gargoyle? And Luc …
A human.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN