A two-story outbuilding stood at the back, the as-promised guest house that Jack wanted to have fixed up so his grandson could move in next month. At first blush it looked as charming as the house and the garden, but Rooster spotted the loose shingles, the failing windows, and the termite damage after a moment of study.
Jack came to stand beside Rooster, hands braced at his lower back and elbows stuck out in a pose that spoke, unmistakably, of pain. “It was real cute, once,” he lamented. “About ten years ago. It used to be Vicki’s potting shed, after the kids outgrew it as a playhouse. But now it’s just…” He sighed. “Well, you see.”
“It can be fixed,” Rooster said.
“Most things can.”
Rooster slid a sideways glance toward him, but he was studying the carriage house, expression untroubled.
“I’d do the work myself, but my back’s been giving me hell the last two years.” He winced as he pressed his fingertips to either side of his spine. “Jumped outta too many helicopters once upon a time.”
Rooster felt his brows twitch. “You served?”
“Two tours in ‘Nam.” He turned a smile Rooster’s way. “Semper fi.”
“Semper fi,” Rooster echoed, voice blank with surprise. “How’d you know?”
Jack chuckled and glanced back at the house. “You’ve just got the look. And your arm.”
Rooster glanced down and could have kicked himself. He’d pushed his sleeves up on the walk over, and the silvery scars on his left forearm gleamed faintly in the sun.
“Here’s the thing, son,” Jack said, sobering. “I don’t make a point of doing nice things for assholes – I had too much of that working retail for twenty years. But if anyone’s allowed to be an asshole, I figure it’s a Marine who went over there and got himself blown up. So I’ll make you a deal. You fix up my old carriage house, and your girlfriend here can help my Vicki with some things around the house. I’ll pay you cash under the table, and by the time your truck’s fixed, you’ll have some running money to hit the road with.”
Rooster glanced at him sharply, but Jack turned his head slow, expression mild, expectant.
“Well?”
Rooster looked over at Red, kneeling by the fish pond, watching the big orange shapes glide beneath the water. It was the happiest and most peaceful he’d seen her look in months.
He took Jack’s offered hand into his own. “Deal.”
22
Buffalo, New York
“Is your grandmother a mage?” Nikita asked as they hiked up the hill after breakfast to the pretty stone house where Kolya and Dorothy Baskin lived.
“No,” she said, quickly, remembering the way he felt about mages.
He gave her a sideways, doubtful look.
“She’s not,” she insisted. “She can’t actually do any magic. She’s just always been really interested in the occult. Kind of like Militsa and Stana.”
“That’s not a helpful comparison,” he said, dryly.
“You know what I mean,” she said with a frustrated groan. “Stop being difficult. She’s not like them at all as a person. I just meant that she isn’t a mage. She plays around with tarot, and séance, and reads lots of books. But she can’t set anyone on fire with her mind, if that’s what you’re wondering.” The last she said with a huff that told him to drop it.
“Why would she be interested in that?”
“I don’t know, but I’m guessing if your mother-in-law tells you that her boyfriend was turned into a vampire by his werewolf BFF that might drive you to pick up a book about magic, huh?”
He didn’t answer, frowning down at the wooden steps that had been set in the hillside.
She lowered her voice a fraction in the hopes the others, trailing behind them, couldn’t hear. “I know you’re nervous. You can wait outside if–”
“No.”
“Alright then.”
Trina felt a flutter of sympathetic nerves herself as they reached the top step and the front door of the house opened.
Nikita froze beside her; she heard his quick, quiet indrawn breath.
But it was only Dottie, Trina’s grandmother. For now.
She stood with her hands braced in the threshold, sunlight turning her white hair translucent where it fell in soft waves to her shoulders. She had always been a slender woman; was painfully slow in her own age, downright bony, but regal as a queen in a short-sleeved blue dress cinched tight at her waist.
Her smile was just as radiant as the black and white photos on the walls and bookshelves around the compound. “Hi, sweetie,” she greeted as Trina stepped forward and enfolded her into a gentle hug. Trina felt her grandmother shiver, but her voice was steady. “You’ve brought friends.” In a whisper: “And one of them looks like he stepped right out of my wedding photos.”
Trina pulled back and nodded. Yes, it’s him, she tried to convey with her expression, and Dottie nodded. Mom had called ahead for them, but no doubt seeing Nikita in the flesh removed some lingering vestiges of doubt.
“Grams,” she said, turning to face the others, arm around Dottie’s shoulders. “This is Lanny, Jamie, Alexei, and Nikita.”
Alexei gave a deep, courtly bow. “Lovely to meet you, ma’am.”
Lanny gave a little two-fingered wave.
Jamie smiled, more than a little melancholy.
And Nikita stared at her.
Dottie shivered again – nerves – but her smile never dimmed, and her voice never wavered. “He’s the spitting image of you,” she told Nikita. “Or, he was, when he was young. Those eyes. I knew they came from somewhere.”
Nikita didn’t respond, eerily still. Trina thought that if he moved he might finally crack apart. How long could a person hold themselves firmly in check? He’d done it for a century, but maybe he couldn’t hold on anymore. Not without Sasha; not in the face of the family he’d never had the chance to know.
“I guess you’d better come inside, then,” Dottie said, and led the way.
Trina wanted to stay near Nikita, felt responsible for him at the moment, but Lanny touched her arm and held her back in the foyer with a look.
“What?” she asked, distracted at first, following the others with her eyes. But then she looked up into his face and gave him her full attention; he stared at her in a way he never used to, and it took her a moment to realize it was because he wasn’t giving her a front of any kind. In this moment, he wasn’t her partner, wasn’t the obnoxious gym rat tool who had sex in public bathrooms, wasn’t the cocky, smirking sort of lover she’d always imagined he would be. Unguarded, open in a way he hadn’t shown her. Vulnerable and caring.
“What?” she asked.
“What if this doesn’t work?” he asked, and sounded like he wanted, badly, for her to have a backup plan in effect.
She’d wondered how things had gone in the Expedition on the drive up. She and Nikita had been largely silent, the radio set to a scratchy alt-rock station, exhaustion tugging at her eyelids the entire time. She’d glanced in the rearview mirror over and over, unable to tell much from the glimpses of Lanny behind the wheel, Jamie seated beside him in the passenger seat. It had probably been a terrible idea to allow two young vamps and Alexei to all ride together, but they’d been grinning and laughing with each other when they all climbed out at the diner.
Maybe, Trina thought with something like hope, Lanny was starting to care about the others. A good thing, given he was now set to live forever and everyone else in his life was very much mortal.
She slammed the door on that quick.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I think it will, though.”
“Trina.” His frown deepened.
She reached up to pat his chest; he still felt the same beneath her hand, hard and solid as ever. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
He snorted. “Well that makes me feel better.”
She winked at him. “Good.” Started to move away.
He caught her around the waist. His movement was so quick she didn’t see it. His arm was just there, his hand splayed across her ribs, holding her fast. Held against him like this, she could feel the hard press of his hipbone, the tension in his thighs and abs. Her hands had come up automatically, both braced on his chest, and she felt his ribs expand as he took a deep breath.