Chosen

I’m not the only one wrestling with head-over-hormone issues. For some reason, I find it comforting. Having sex isn’t the best response to confusion.

Frey changes positions on the couch so we are facing each other. He is now holding me. His arms cradle my head against his chest. I close my eyes and drift away, soothed by the strong, steady beat of his heart.

CHAPTER 44

Frey’s body jerks beside me and I’m instantly awake.

David is standing over us. “Hey. It’s ten o’clock. Why don’t you two get a room?”

Frey pulls his arm out from under my head, and we stumble to our feet.

David has gotten dressed. He has a jacket over his arm and keys in his hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask. “You can’t drive in your condition.”

He frowns. “I feel fine. I’m going out for a drink. And I’m walking. Stop acting like my mother.”

I look at Frey. If David talks with Tracey or Miranda, our story is blown. After tonight it may not matter, but I can only deal with one crisis at a time. Frey studies me, reads my expression like he used to read my thoughts. He straightens his shirt, draws his fingers through his hair, turns to David. “Would you like some company?”

I expect it; still his words produce a flare of panic. I wanted Frey with me. But he’s not part of the vampire community. His presence would not be tolerated at best, met with violence at worst.

Once again, Frey is there to help me. He only needs to keep David occupied another few hours. After that, I’ll deal with the fallout. If I’m still around.

David doesn’t look thrilled with the idea. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Actually, I thought maybe you could tell me a little about Broncos’ number four and that last trip to the Super Bowl.”

David’s brows lift. “You were a fan?”

“Never missed a game. Started following you when you played for Notre Dame.”

Frey is not only resourceful, but smart. He couldn’t have played David better. Mentioning his alma mater melts David’s resistance like butter on a hot griddle.

“There’s a great little sports bar about a block from here. Even has an old jersey of mine on the wall. Owner played for the Broncos the same time I did. I’ll give him a call and have him come down to meet us.”

He pulls his cell phone from a pocket and moves a few feet away to make the call. Gives Frey a chance to bend his face close to my ear.

“You’ll be all right. Just remember what we talked about. You are the Chosen One. You are strong and fast. You have a good mind and a good heart. I’ll be waiting for you at the cottage.”

I don’t want him to leave. I don’t want either of us to leave the safe cocoon this place has become. I want to hold on to him with every ounce of strength. I want to stay in his arms until midnight is past. I want time to explore the possibilities.

My eyes must betray how desperately I want him to stay. His arms encircle me. He presses his body against mine. “Show them who you are. They’ll follow you once they know. We’ll have time.”

David’s voice breaks the spell. “What do you think Lance would say if he walked in right now?”

Frey and I step apart. If Lance walked in right now, he’d be dead before he could say anything. “It’s not what you think.”

David claps Frey on the back. “Frankly, I’m glad she’s seeing someone else. I never liked that scrawny model.” He turns to me. “Ready to go?”

“You two go. I’ve been here for three days. I think I’m ready to sleep in my own bed.”

David looks surprised but only for a moment. He’s already ushering his new best friend out, chatting like they’ve known each other forever.

He does remember to pause and throw a “Lock up when you leave, okay?” back over his shoulder.

If I didn’t have to preserve my energy for what’s coming, the brush-off might be insulting.

This time when i pull into Avery’s driveway, the gate is open. The guard who steps out to greet me is vampire. He doesn’t ask my name, bows his head slightly and says, “Ms. Strong. They are waiting for you in the library.”

Once again, the house is staged for a party. Every window blazes light. More limos than before line the turnaround. This time, a uniformed driver stands beside each car. When they see the Jag, they come to attention. Waiting for the guest of honor, no doubt. One of them separates from the pack, approaches the car, opens my door and extends a hand. He, too, is vampire.

I let him park the Jag and head for the house. Another vampire opens the door before I can ring or knock. Like the host who admitted Frey and me last night, he is in a tuxedo. Unlike the host, he is smiling and sycophantic in the way he bows and ushers me inside.

It’s an effort to keep fear out of my thoughts. When I open my mind, I hear the murmur of a dozen voices rustling like leaves in a gale. Some speak in English, others in languages I don’t recognize. I understand, though. It’s a part of a vampire’s genetic makeup, the ability to communicate across language barriers.

Like Frey and his book.

I wish he were here.

The conversation is banal. Talk of the trip over or musings about how pricey real estate is in Southern California. I could be eavesdropping on a group of CEOs called to headquarters for a board meeting.

The library is off to the left of the living room. There are people in the living room, too. Guests of those who await me now. They see me pass and grow quiet.

It is with some trepidation that I approach the closed doors. This was Avery’s sanctuary and the first place I fed as a vampire. The voices I hear come from this room.

The door opens before I put a hand to it. It is Judith Williams. She is dressed in a long robe of black silk. Her hair is pulled back from her face. She does not look as smug today or as confident. Perhaps she has been reprimanded for what happened after the party the other evening.

She motions with a sweeping hand. “They are ready.”

“They,” not “we.” I smile as she passes by.

I’m not sure what to expect. A few days ago, my thoughts had been on David and getting him safely away. I hardly noticed the vampires in attendance. What I do remember was a fleeting glance at vampires in costumes of varied colors and styles. A colorful blanketed figure that reminded me of an African tribal dancer, a vampire in an Arabian burnoose, a high-necked coat of white linen on a vampire of Chinese descent.

Here, the dress reflects the tenor of their conversation—the heads of the thirteen tribes have do

The thirteen stood when I came in. Now they take chairs around the big desk that was once Avery’s. We are alone. Judith Williams has not returned. It makes me a little less anxious to know that she has not been granted equal status with the others.

There is one empty chair. The one behind Avery’s desk. His chair. One of the tribal heads stands again and motions that I should take it.

When I am seated, the same vampire begins the introductions. He is Amardad from Persia, the ancient name for Iran. Then he presents each of the others in turn. They stand, bow slightly, touch their hands to their chest in greeting much as Culebra did a few days before. I listen and watch, opening my thoughts only in acknowledgment. These are the very oldest of the vampires from around the world. They have exotic names like Alexi and Cheng-Li and Dhakwan, Dato and Naruaki and Melisizwe and Bayani and Chael. Names that suggest power.