Keeper of the Moon

chapter 5



It wasn’t the first time someone had passed out in the Snake Pit. People had even died there. So there was a protocol for it, and when Declan saw Benjamin, his bartender, heading for the register, he knew it was to press a button on the security panel and alert his bouncer, a muscular hulk capable of hauling away passed-out sumo wrestlers. But his bouncer was Elven. Too susceptible to the Scarlet Pathogen to risk touching Sailor.

And to his surprise, Declan realized he didn’t want anyone else’s hands on Sailor Gryffald.

“It’s okay,” he called to Benjamin. “I’ve got this.”

He’d held on to her as she went limp and grasped her by the rib cage. Then he readjusted his grip and picked her up. She was long-limbed and tall, not easy to haul around, but he was happy to do it. Holding her in his arms felt natural. One thigh beneath its black silk stocking showed red scratches from having been dragged down the hillside that afternoon. Her arm, too, had scrapes. And there was the bandage on her chest that he himself had put there hours ago. He felt a rush of some emotion he couldn’t put a name to.

And one he could: regret. He hadn’t planned to render her unconscious. But the opportunity had arisen, and he’d taken it, his need to get her to a doctor overriding civility.

His bouncer was at his post at the door. When he saw his boss, he made a move to help, but Declan told him sharply to step back. “She’s not feeling well,” he said. It wouldn’t take the large Elven long to figure out what was going on. Everyone was talking about the Scarlet Pathogen, and he knew Sailor Gryffald was a Keeper. He would start to connect the dots. There would be no keeping any of this secret for long.

One of his busboys—a leprechaun—was in the alley, emptying bottles into the Dumpster. Declan had him help get Sailor into his Lamborghini Aventador. She was stirring now, making moaning sounds, and he only hoped she wasn’t going to throw up when she regained consciousness. His feelings for her were complicated, but the way he felt about the car’s upholstery was not.

Kimberly Krabill’s office on Beverly was only minutes away, and by the time they arrived, Sailor’s eyes were open. “Where are we?” she mumbled, letting him help her out of the car.

“Someplace nice,” he assured her.

Krabill buzzed them into the building and met them as they got off the elevator. She was blonde, cheerful and, like most shifters, of indeterminate age. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt, which made her look nothing like a physician, and she told Sailor to call her Kimberly and then worked a little glamour, altering her own voice and her facial features until they both resembled Sailor’s. She was not quite shifting, merely inspiring trust by suggesting a woman who Declan assumed to be Sailor’s mother. It worked. Sailor went willingly into the inner room and onto the exam table, her focus on Kimberly. He was noticing how strongly Elven Sailor was, how many of the species’ characteristics she had. Most Elven had little use for hospitals or doctors, being such gifted healers themselves. But Kimberly was no ordinary doctor, as Sailor would soon figure out, if she hadn’t already.

“All right, sweetie,” Kimberly said, peering at her eyes. “Let’s see what’s going on here. Sailor’s a pretty name. I’ve always wanted to meet you. I know your uncle Owen. Good man.”

“Yes,” Sailor agreed. “But it’s been suggested that I not try to cash in on the relationship.”

Declan smiled. She was recovering her wits quickly enough.

Kimberly took Sailor’s vital signs, pronounced her temperature normal and her blood pressure good, then put a stethoscope to her chest. She listened for a bit, and then took out a pocket flashlight and shone it into her eyes. “So interesting,” she said.

“Yes,” Sailor said. “Interesting.”

Kimberly guided her gently onto her back and turned to Declan. “Step outside, would you? I’m going to examine her wounds.”

He took a seat in the small waiting room, listening to their conversation and the click of a camera as Kimberly photographed the talon marks on Sailor’s chest.

A minute later Kimberly came out of the exam room. “I’ve changed the dressing. Just need to make a quick phone call,” she said, and headed down the hallway and into her office.

Sailor appeared in the doorway and fixed him with a look. “Do you always get your way by knocking people unconscious?”

He looked up at her from the room’s one comfortable chair. “I’ve been downgraded to Wainwright?”

“You’ve been downgraded to worse than that,” she snapped, pacing the tiny room. “I’m censoring myself. That was a despicable thing to do.”

“You’re right. And I’m sorry. Look at me,” he said, and when she ignored him, he stood and put a hand on her bare shoulder. She turned quickly and for a moment he thought she would slap him, but instead she shot him a fierce look. Once again something surged through him. Sexual heat. He ignored it. Her eyes were far less scarlet than they’d been earlier. He could see specks of green—her own eye color, if he remembered correctly. “You don’t seem any the worse for it.”

“I vacillate between enraged and asleep,” she said. “Okay, what did you use to knock me out? Magic?”

“Jujitsu.”

Her expression changed. “Can you teach it to me? That particular move?”

“Yes.”

“Can you teach me the defense against it?”

“The best defense,” he replied, “is to not let your opponent get close enough to use it on you.”

“Great. Back up, would you?”

Declan laughed. He thought he saw the corner of her mouth twitch in response, but at that moment Kimberly came back into the room.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ve just talked to Antony Brandt, whom I woke out of a sound sleep. I can’t believe people are actually in bed at—” she looked at her watch “—one-eighteen in the morning.” She glanced at Sailor. “Tony Brandt is a senior pathologist at the coroner’s—”

“I know Tony,” Sailor said.

“Brandt?” Declan asked. “You’re bringing in Brandt? How many are we going to involve before it makes the morning paper?”

“Don’t get snippy,” Kimberly said. “I couldn’t do this work without interspecies cooperation. Tony Brandt and I routinely consult with one another. There are too many physiological differences among the species for any one doctor to have that kind of expertise. It’s more like being a vet than a physician, and if you can find someone better at it than me, feel free.”

Declan said, “We need you. We love you. Go on. What did Brandt say?”

“Tony did the autopsies on Santoro and Messenger, and has another scheduled for tomorrow morning. Female, age twenty.”

“The acting student from Cal Arts,” Sailor said. “I don’t know her name.”

“Yes.” Kimberly opened a cupboard and took out surgical supplies. “Tony said to get him a blood sample and he’ll get it to his lab guy. And we’re to keep her here under observation.”

“Her meaning me,” Sailor said.

“Yes.”

“Well, pardon me, but I’m not being kept anywhere. I’m going home. You’re welcome to a blood sample, though.”

Kimberly stared at her. “Your eyes. The color isn’t constant. The scarlet pigmentation has receded.”

“Yes,” Sailor replied. “It comes and goes.”

“Can you feel it happening?” Kimberly brought out her tiny flashlight again.

“My eyes don’t feel at all different,” Sailor said, “but at times my vision gets hyperclear. And I get a really excited feeling. Kind of trippy. And I get very talkative. And surges of energy.”

“That,” Declan said, “could be the síúlacht.”

Kimberly frowned at Sailor. “You took síúlacht?”

“You say it like I’m an addict,” Sailor said. “I was given it this afternoon and didn’t like it at all. Nasty stuff. Twigs and leaves and God knows what. Cricket testicles.”

“She was found by Alessande Salisbrooke,” Declan told Kimberly, “who gave her a dose of it.”

“I drank only half a cup,” Sailor said, “but I’ll say this, the effect was fantastic. Invigorating. I felt like I could run a marathon.”

“Síúlacht’s been around forever,” Kimberly said, going to a cupboard and pulling out a tray of surgical supplies. “The Elven have traditionally used it to help them recover after teleporting. But only in emergency situations, because when it wears off, you’re really wiped out. It’s also extremely difficult to make. What time was that?”

“Early evening,” Sailor said.

“Its effects would be long gone by now. Enters and leaves the body quickly. Did you take anything besides síúlacht?”

Sailor said, “No, that’s it.”

“That’s not quite it,” Declan said. “What about the pill you took two hours ago?”

“That was síúlacht, too. Here, I have another.” She pulled it out of her pocket and handed it to Kimberly.

“My God,” Kimberly said. “I’ve never seen it in pill form, or even heard of it.” She sniffed it. “Certainly smells like síúlacht, though.”

“Can I have it back?” Sailor asked.

“No, you can’t,” Declan said.

“I’m asking her, not you,” Sailor said, sitting up. “What are you, the síúlacht police?”

Kimberly put a restraining hand on Declan’s arm. “Would you please behave yourself?” She turned to Sailor. “Nobody’s judging you.”

“He is,” Sailor said. “Your Keeper there.”

“I am,” he said.

“Declan, shut up,” Kimberly said. “Síúlacht is neither illegal nor addictive, and it’s about as immoral as green tea. But, Sailor, right now I need to understand the symptomology, sort out what the pathogen’s doing to you as opposed to what the síúlacht’s doing.”

“I can tell you right now what the síúlacht did,” Sailor said. “Saved me from falling face-first into the salad bar. And I’ll tell you what the Scarlet Pathogen does. It makes colors brighter and faces clearer, and people and landscapes and wallpaper and billboards beautiful and intense. Like putting on your 3-D glasses in a 3-D movie. But with an emotional component, too. And then it fades, and everything goes back to normal and I get sleepy.”

“Interesting,” Kimberly said.

“Yes, except all the symptoms stopped when the síúlacht kicked in. But I’m getting sleepy now, so I’m guessing the síúlacht is fading and the trippy 3-D episodes will be returning.”

“Let’s see how much they increase as the síúlacht leaves your system.”

“I’ll take notes and report back to you,” Sailor promised. “But I’m not staying here ‘under observation,’ because I have a lot to do tomorrow and I’ll be getting an early start.”

Declan started to protest, but Kimberly patted him on the arm, saying, “Save it. I don’t keep people against their will.” She set about preparing a syringe and a set of test tubes. “But I’ll tell you this, Sailor, you’ve been infected with a potentially life-threatening disease. You’re a Keeper, so you share some genetic coding with the Elven, for whom this is apparently a death sentence. You’re the first non-Elven case of the disease we know of. That makes you important.” She tied piece of rubber tubing around Sailor’s bicep. “Until we understand the symptoms, avoid driving. Also, avoid being alone, and not only because of the disease. Because you were attacked, we’ll assume you have enemies.” She pushed the needle into Sailor’s vein. “I want to see you tomorrow. As the síúlacht leaves your system, I want to know what’s going on with your blood.”

Sailor didn’t seem to have a problem with needles, Declan noticed. She smiled at the doctor. “Kimberly, you are a very beautiful woman, do you realize that?”

Kimberly blinked. “Uh, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Are you romantically involved with Declan?”

Both Declan and Kimberly said, “No.”

“Okay, just wondering. Because the two of you are individually really quite attractive, so I have to figure it’s at least occurred to you to hook up. And you, Kimberly, have particularly lovely ears. Do you like my ears, by the way? My mom had them altered when I was three, because they were extremely Elven. Can you even tell? Can I open a window?”

Kimberly raised an eyebrow. “Let’s finish up here first.” She removed the first test tube and started on a second. “You’re sweating. That was sudden. I think you’re running a fever.”

“Look at her eyes,” Declan said. “Twice as red as they were five minutes ago.” The scarlet of her irises had intensified, coinciding with her rise in temperature and change in mood.

Kimberly finished taking blood, pulled off her latex gloves and stuck a thermometer in Sailor’s mouth. “Is that another symptom of these episodes, the sudden rise in temperature?”

Sailor said, “Mmm-hmm,” and Declan thought back to Alessande’s house and Sailor’s very friendly, very chatty reaction to Vernon Winter.

The thermometer beeped, and Kimberly removed it. “One hundred one point two. Fastest onset of fever I ever saw. Just sit tight till it drops. Also, keep in mind that pathogens work in mysterious ways. There may be symptoms that haven’t begun to manifest. Impossible to predict what’s incubating and may show up in the next few days or even weeks. So pay attention to—”

“Okay, it’s over,” Sailor said.

“What is?”

“My temperature. It’s dropped. The vision thing is gone, too.”

Kimberly popped the thermometer back into Sailor’s mouth and pulled out her flashlight, but Declan could see that it was just as Sailor had reported. The scarlet had faded to an unearthly pink.

“Kimberly,” Declan said, “who will you be consulting with on her condition?”

“I’ll talk to anyone who can help me treat her. Strictly Others, of course.” She removed the thermometer.

“You saw the talon marks on her chest,” Declan said. “And you know what that implies about who or what attacked her. It’s not just a medical condition we’ve got here, it’s a political one, as well. Just keep that in mind.”

“Politics isn’t my concern,” Kimberly said.

“Well, it’s mine,” Sailor said, buttoning her dress up to the neck once again. “Like him, I’m a Keeper. I may be the only known carrier of a pathogen and the target of some criminal-minded Other, but I’m also responsible for a large number of Elven in this city. That’s my priority. So thank you for your help, and I’ll be back when I can.”

“She’ll be back within twenty-four hours,” Declan said.

“Hold on,” Kimberly said. “I want another blood sample before you go, to see if the change you just experienced shows up chemically.”

Sailor sat through the process again, but hopped off the table the moment the needle was out of her arm. “Last thing,” she said to Kimberly. “I assume you honor the usual doctor-patient confidentiality stuff and will communicate with no one but me about your findings?”

“You and my fellow scientists. Unless you want family or friends to be given information,” Kimberly said. “Would you like to designate someone?”

Sailor glanced at Declan. “I’ll let you know,” she said, and walked out of the office.

* * *

It was a sensual experience, sitting in the passenger seat of Declan’s Lamborghini, all black leather except for the steering wheel, which was suede. He called it the “Aventador.” The outside resembled a spaceship and the dashboard was lit up like a cockpit, and with the engine rumbling under her she half expected to become airborne. He was careless of speed limits, and that suited her. It was impossible to tear through the streets of Hollywood in a car this powerful without feeling joy. She was aware of his body inches to the left of her, the tensile strength of his hands and forearms, the black T-shirt, the silky black hair. Despite everything that had happened to her that day, nothing could top this, riding in the car with Declan Wainwright, a man she’d been mad for since she’d been an underage teen sneaking into the Snake Pit, completely beneath his notice.

He was noticing her now. She could feel it.

“Nice car,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“Lousy gas mileage?”

“Bloody awful.”

She looked at him, and he glanced at her. She looked away. Then she glanced at him again, because of course she couldn’t let him see she was too shy to maintain eye contact. And then he glanced at her again, and this time he smiled. She smiled, too, and then glanced away yet again. Okay, this was torture. She was too shy to maintain eye contact. She had the craziest feelings going on. She wanted to climb onto his lap, face-to-face, heedless of traffic safety and romantic discretion.

Toughen up, she told herself. “So, Wainwright,” she said, adopting a breezy tone, “by my calculations you owe me. I’ve given you my story, and I’ve seen your doctor—not that I had a choice—so everything I know, you now know.”

“And?”

“And in return I want access to all your sources, networks of information, friends on the Councils.”

He laughed. “Greedy little beggar.”

“Too much?”

He looked at her in the dark, and she couldn’t read his expression.

“It’s not for me,” she said. “It’s not like I’m asking for an acting job. I want to know who’s killing the Elven.”

“We want the same thing,” he said, braking as they came to a red light at Crescent Heights. He turned and faced her. “So you’re proposing a partnership.”

“Am I?”

“Aren’t you?”

The thought of being partners with Declan, spending time with him, was so heady that Sailor could hardly imagine it. She took a deep breath. “Okay, I am.”

“Why me? I’d think you’d go to your cousin Barrie with all this. She’s a shifter Keeper, too.”

Wow. He had no idea how she felt about him. It was both a relief and a disappointment. “You’re higher up the food chain,” she said. “Barrie would understand that. I need friends in high places on other Councils, because I don’t have any of my own. That I know of. I haven’t been to any meetings yet. Closed ones, I mean. The open meetings don’t really count, they’re just social events.”

“Then how were you sworn in?” His right arm stretched across the back of her seat, behind her headrest.

“We have a labyrinth in our backyard. We use it for rituals. Darius Simonides did the honors, standing in for my dad.” She was aware of his arm, so close. She imagined she could feel the body heat emanating from it. Of course, he was just stretching, she told herself. Working out the kinks in his muscles. The biceps and triceps. It didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t coming on to her. Sometimes an arm is just an arm. In need of a stretch.

“Bit irregular, isn’t it? Vampire swearing in an Elven Keeper?”

“Darius is my godfather,” she said. “And yes, he’s a bit irregular.” She sat perfectly still, not wanting to touch his arm and then have him politely pull it away, confirming that it was just a stretch, nothing more. “Back to you,” she said. “You really haven’t shared any real information with me yet, besides some measly DNA details. And I’d like some.” She closed her eyes, pretending this was a normal thing, riding in this car, with this man, his arm around her. Almost around her. Okay, around her seat.

“Ah, but you’ve nothing left to negotiate with, love,” he said. “You’ve given it all away.”

“Oh no, I haven’t, ‘love.’ Not by a long shot. But I’d sure like to.”

“Seriously?” he asked.

Her eyes popped open. She felt a slow burn crawling up her neck, suffusing her face. “Did I just say that out loud?” she asked. “Oh, my God, no. Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.”

“Afraid so.” Declan turned back to the road, a smile on his face. With his left hand he turned the wheel hard and pulled over to the right, onto the residential road that ran alongside Laurel Canyon. He came to a stop.

“This is a nightmare,” Sailor said, heart racing. “It happens when I get really sleepy. It’s not even the Scarlet Pathogen, it’s me, I’ve done it since I was a kid. I think I’m having a thought, and the next thing I know, it’s a conversation, I’ve said it out loud, and—”

He put the car in Park with his left hand, which couldn’t have been that easy to do, she thought, and then his right hand, the one next to her face, snaked around her neck. She didn’t resist; she just went along with it as the warm palm on the nape of her neck, on her hair, pulled her toward him.

He stared into her eyes, and then his gaze dropped to her mouth and he pulled her in closer. And then his lips found hers.

She responded without hesitation. His mouth was warm. His face was scratchy. Everything about him felt familiar, his scent, the sound of his breath. She felt she could kiss him forever, never move from this spot. It was a kiss filled with curiosity and wonder, slow and sweet, unexpected and...something she had dreamed about since the first time she’d laid eyes on him.

But this was better than a dream.

A motorcycle zoomed by them, speeding up Laurel Canyon. The spell was broken.

Declan pulled back and looked at her. It wasn’t easy to return his look, because she had trouble masking her thoughts at this range. Of course, at this range so would he. Her curiosity overcame her reticence, and she raised her eyes to his.

All she saw was desire. And pleasure. “You’re quite something,” he said softly. Then he turned away, shifted gears and pulled back onto the road. “Okay, I was wrong,” he said.

“About what?” She cleared her throat. “I...can’t even remember what we were discussing.”

“Our business deal,” he said.

“Oh. Of course.”

“I probably shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “Kissed you.”

“Why not?”

“Because we were in the middle of negotiations. At least I was.” He looked at her and grinned. “That’s an intriguing habit you have, talking in your sleep while still awake.”

“I’m not sleepy now. That woke me right up.”

“Don’t get too lucid. I’ll have you home in minutes. And you need rest.”

“I think we better close the deal first.”

Declan smiled. “What’s your offer?”

“Okay.” Sailor switched gears—reluctantly. “What you need, you and Kimberly Krabill, is me. You want access to my symptoms, my blood samples—how, by the way, does that find us the killer?”

“It’s just one angle, but it’s a good one. He has a signature, and it’s distinctive. It’s the Scarlet Pathogen. Figuring out his motive could also lead me to him. Figuring out how he got access to his victims, that’s another angle to work. And I plan to. But the strange way he’s killing women, that to me is the obvious place to start. Also, it fell into my lap, and I pay attention to synchronicity. Understanding the pathogen could tell us how he got hold of it.”

Okay, Sailor thought. Declan’s interest in me is primarily scientific. Good thing to know. “But if I’m lounging around on some exam table being studied, I don’t get to be out there doing my job.”

“Yes,” he said, looking at her, “but being studied may lead to the development of the antidote. Don’t you care about being cured?”

“Yes. Although so far I’m not finding the symptoms all that—” she yawned “—debilitating. I just don’t feel sick. A sudden rise in temperature, the world going Technicolor for a minute or two, people looking attractive—I can live with it. My eyes are probably scary, but as long as I don’t have any auditions...”

“Sailor,” he said, “have you asked yourself the obvious? Do you have any enemies?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. And no. I mean, Kristoff, my manager at work, he doesn’t like me much, but he’s hardly going to assault me for putting too much foam on the cappuccinos.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Let me ask you the obvious,” she said. “Why are you so intent on finding this killer? The Elven are mine to worry about, not yours. And it’s not as if you’re a cop.”

He didn’t answer for a long time, so long that she thought he hadn’t heard the question. “I made a vow to someone,” he said finally. “It was a long time ago, but I’m still bound by it. I don’t break promises.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t okay, really. She wanted to know much more but didn’t want to risk a rebuff. The energy between them had changed. Declan had turned serious, and she had no idea how to connect with him again. “So, then,” she said. “Partners?”

He glanced at her. “I’ve got a few conditions.”

“Go ahead.”

“You have to tell me the truth. I’ve got nothing against lying, it’s a good tactical device. Just don’t do it with me.”

“Have I lied to you?”

“You said you’ve told no one but Highsmith about your attack. That was a lie. You told your cousins.”

“Well, of course. Family. That hardly counts. Any other conditions?” she asked.

“No drugs. If you’re an addict—”

“One síúlacht pill hardly constitutes—”

“—don’t be high around me.”

“Declan, I’m not an addict. Life is trippy enough. I don’t even smoke pot.” Not since college, anyhow.

“All right.”

What was his issue with drugs? Sailor wondered. And where was the guy who’d been kissing her five minutes earlier? She wanted him back again. “And these conditions, I assume they’re reciprocal,” she said.

“Reciprocal?”

“Because I don’t care about your recreational habits. But, Declan, don’t lie to me, either.”

He looked at her for so long that she was afraid they would crash into the mountainside, and just as she was reaching the point of panic, he looked back at the road and shifted gears, roaring up the canyon.

“Done,” he said.

* * *

Sailor was practically dozing when Declan reached the House of the Rising Sun, even though it was mere minutes later. But by the time he parked and reached her side of the car, she was popping open the distinctive scissor door as if she’d been born in a Lamborghini.

“Partners,” she said, refusing his offer of a hand out, “open their own car doors.”

He smiled. “Okay, tough girl.” But he caught up to her just as she tripped on the flagstone path leading to the heavy door of the castle she called home. And he held on to her arm in spite of her “I’m okay.” Her bare skin was cool to the touch, not inflamed with the feverish heat of a pathogen episode.

He’d loved kissing her. He hadn’t meant to do it, he shouldn’t have done it—and he wanted to do it again. Things were getting more complicated than he’d bargained for.

Sailor fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her phone, then frowned. “Where’s my purse?”

“My bad. Back at the Snake Pit most likely.”

“My house keys are in it, along with my driver’s license, maxed-out credit cards and tonight’s tips.”

She must be really distracted, Declan decided, not to have noticed this earlier. He took out his cell and made a call to Carolyn, his nighttime assistant. “Your purse will be waiting for you behind the bar, main floor,” he told Sailor, hanging up. “So how do we get into your house?”

She led him around to the back, crawled through the doggie door, then unlocked the dead bolt and let him in.

“Burglar’s paradise, this is,” he said.

“Only skinny burglars,” she pointed out.

“And no alarm system?”

“We haven’t paid the bill,” she replied. “And it’s a drag to keep turning it off and on anyway, so we stopped bothering with it.”

“Brilliant strategy,” he said. “So you’re completely unprotected?”

“No, I have a vicious watchdog.” She looked around. “Jonquil! Jonquil? Where are you? Here, Jonquil!” She moved through the ancient house, turning on lights as she went, leading Declan to the kitchen. Jonquil was lying beside the kitchen stove, in his doggie bed. He looked up, made thumping noises with his tail on the floor, shuddered, yawned and then fell back to sleep.

“Airtight security,” Declan said. “And what about magic?”

She yawned. “My dad and uncles used to do lots of spells and enchantments. Me, not so much. Anyhow, I think I can take it from here. Unless you intend to follow me to my bedroom, see that I make it into bed?”

There was nothing suggestive in the suggestion; she was so tired she was in danger of falling asleep in front of him. “I do,” Declan said. “I don’t like you staying here alone.”

“I’m not alone. My cousins are in their respective houses fifty yards away, connected by tunnels to this one. And Alessande Salisbrooke gave me a dagger. I’ll sleep with it under my pillow. There’s nothing to worry about.”

He steered her toward the staircase. “Still, I’m going to walk you up.”

She yawned again. “Okay.”

Her bedroom was a huge wallpapered affair complete with fireplace and large bay windows whose locks wouldn’t deter a ten-year-old. He checked the closets and adjoining bath, and then, finding nothing, made her show him the dagger she intended to sleep with. He said good-night and told her to lock the bedroom door after him. She gave him a wave and had her French maid outfit unzipped and was pulling it over her head as he walked out. Was she too tired to be self-conscious, or was she unaware of how seductive she was?

Declan walked around the old house, this time memorizing the floor plan on all three stories, doing what protective magic he knew, got reacquainted with the half-comatose dog and then went back to check the door of Sailor’s room. It was unlocked.

Careless girl.

He opened it and went inside.

She was fast asleep in the old four-poster bed, one bare arm stretched out along the white duvet, her long hair scattered about the pillow. Her breathing was slow and steady, her face untroubled.

Something stirred in him. I shouldn’t be here, he thought. She’s not my concern.

But he settled into an armchair in a corner of the room and watched her sleep until the moonlight turned into daylight and the world felt safe from dark magic.

Then he walked downstairs and outside, and drove down the mountainside.