Chapter 8
"I don't know how I ended up in the building next door but Tony says there was a hole in the wall and that I was covered up by bricks and debris so that kept the sun from frying me. Again." I was rubbing Greg's shoulders as I told him and Franklin what happened in Los Angeles. We'd cooked and they'd eaten after I woke for the evening. It was Thursday, April fifteenth, and Tony would be in New York to pick me up on Sunday unless there was an emergency.
I'd also caught the news—four more children were missing in Great Britain. I wanted to curse and throw a few things through a wall or two, but Greg and Franklin needed somebody calm around them so I pushed my anger to the background and concentrated on being relaxed and upbeat. After I finished Greg's massage, I leaned against his back and hugged him. "Have I told you I love you?" I kissed his cheek and moved away.
"Not in the last five minutes," Greg smiled.
"Well, I just wanted to make sure," I said.
"Do you play scrabble?" Franklin asked.
"I've been known to play—badly," I said.
"Oh, good. The old guys get the drop on the vamp," Greg laughed.
"All right, just slap the glove across my chops why don't you?" I huffed in mock indignation. Franklin pulled the game out and we played until nearly one in the morning, when Franklin chased Greg off to bed. The part time nurse that Merrill hired came in during the day but didn't have much to do and was long gone before I woke. She'd been warned to stay away from my bedroom. Franklin told her I was a day sleeper so she tiptoed around my bedroom, causing Greg to laugh. I wouldn't wake up if a bomb went off next to me during the day.
I slipped out of the apartment after Franklin and Greg were asleep. I'd never been to New York City when I had time to look around, so I misted where I wanted to go, including down to the subway. That mugger never knew what hit him, I swear. The top of the Empire State Building is windy, especially if you hang around the tip of the antenna. Times Square was impressive, too. I turned back to myself and walked around a little. There are people out and about in New York City no matter what time it is. Someday I wanted to go to Las Vegas, because I've heard the same thing about it. Someday. Maybe.
Misting back to the apartment, I slipped in the same way I'd slipped out but nearly shrieked when I found Griffin sitting at the kitchen island, helping himself to leftovers. My mouth was covered by my hand to keep the scream from escaping as the man sat there, calmly eating reheated lasagna.
"I didn't mean to frighten you," he apologized, a smile lighting his eyes. "I was in the area and I have a key and Merrill's permission to come in any time," he explained. "How are you?"
"I'm just spiffy," I said, still trying to calm myself down and wondering if I should introduce myself. I knew who he was; I'd sent him a Christmas gift basket, after all.
He studied me with eyes that were a greenish-brown—hazel eyes with gold flecks. His hair was also brown, slightly darker than his eyes. He was tall, around six-five or so and looked well built. The thing that bothered me, however, was that he was shielded somehow, just as he'd been the first time I'd seen him. I couldn't really get a scent off him, which prevented me from knowing his age or anything else about him.
"I do it intentionally," he smiled, regarding me from across the island. He'd just read my mind and I had no idea how he'd done that.
"So I should keep all my evil thoughts to myself?" I asked.
"Only if you want to."
"It might be a little uncomfortable, otherwise," I said tartly. "Thank you for helping me out when I was sick that time. I don't think I want to feel like that again."
"I'm surprised you remember it," he was finishing off his lasagna with a glass of wine.
"I only remember the first part of it," I admitted, watching his hands as he wiped them on a napkin. His hands were fine and well-shaped, his fingers long and capable. The question of what he was trembled on my lips but I was afraid to ask. It was one of those moments where you might find out he was an angel or the devil, and either answer might be too much of a shock. He smiled wider and sipped his wine, ducking his head a little. I was definitely going to have to police my thoughts.
"What would you do right now, if you could?" His voice turned serious suddenly and his eyes probed my face. I have no idea why I told him the truth. He was Merrill's friend, not mine, and whatever he knew, Merrill would probably know too.
"I'd be in England right now, tracking down the ass**le that's killing those babies," I grumbled. "I think it's a vampire but nobody seems to want to listen to me or thinks I have a sensible thought in my head. Is there anything I can get you? Maybe fix dessert for you or something?" I asked. He set his wineglass down on the island with a sigh.
"No, little girl. But thank you for asking."
"Well, if there's nothing I can do, I think I'll go read for a while," I said. He nodded and sipped the last of his wine as I made my way out of the kitchen. I couldn't get a scent off him but there was one thing I did know—and had known since the first time I'd seen him—he wasn't vampire. He didn't have a scent but his clothing always smelled like sunlight. Go figure.
* * *
"She came back; she went out sightseeing," Griffin informed Merrill after Lissa went to her bedroom.
"I should be there but there are too many things going on here," Merrill sighed. "Did she seem all right emotionally?"
"As well as anyone could be, I suppose."
"She nearly died in that bomb blast—who knows how she managed to escape. And the sad thing is I don't think she would have minded all that much."
"Merrill, I'm not allowed to interfere, you know that."
"I know. But can't you at least tell me not to f**k this up?"
Griffin had known Merrill for fifteen hundred of Merrill's two thousand plus years of existence and wanted to tell him it might already be too late—at least on some things. "You know I can't," he replied instead.
"Thank you for checking on her," Merrill said.
"Any time." Griffin snapped Franklin's cell phone closed, set it down on the kitchen counter and walked out of the apartment.
* * *
Tony came to pick me up himself Sunday evening. His driver delivered both of us to the airport. What shocked me, however, was where we were going next. "I got an invitation to Winkler's wedding," Tony admitted. "I know you didn't and I also know why. Don't be upset, Lissy. The bitch he's marrying pitched a fit so we're getting you in the only way we know how—as my bodyguard."