K. R. Treadway
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Blood and Lace: Chapter 22
🕑 Added 2024-05-12 15:00:08 +0000 UTC
“This isn't going to work, Nicholas."
Della sat in the passenger seat, trying to suppress her growing unease. Even the reassuring feel of the knife against her arm was a poor comfort since—as much as she hated to admit it—it wasn't her safety she was concerned about.
“It's going to work.” He spoke calmly, his eyes on the road. Hearing how forcefully his heart was beating, it was hard not to admire his self control. “I’m not going anywhere near the shop.”
“It still feels like a mistake. I shouldn't have agreed.”
He glanced at her, the glow of passing streetlights sliding across his skin. “Based on what you’ve told me, I'm not exactly thrilled either.”
“I am quite capable of defending myself,” Della replied coldly.
“I know,” he said, surprising her with the depth of his conviction. “As far as I'm concerned, you're a force of nature, Della. That’s why I keep biting the inside of my mouth every time I want to say something overprotective. But it’s impossible to eliminate all worry.” Another glance. “Not when you care about someone.”
He was right, of course—Nicholas was often right in areas of the heart. Were all humans as intuitive in that emotional space or was his insight unique? Della wondered. Humans did probably access their emotions more easily, but there was no doubt that Nicholas was exceptional. His feelings, so earnest and intense, sometimes felt like they were communing directly with her soul, awakening it from dormancy. It was terrifying and exhilarating to feel this…alive. And she already knew she wanted more of it. More of him.
Nicholas took a turn onto Salem Boulevard, heading towards uptown. They were halfway to the drop-off. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said.
“I am worried about you,” she admitted.
“Because you care about me, or because you think I can’t handle myself?”
Both. She remained silent.
He nodded as if she’d spoken. Without taking his eyes off the road, he said, “You’re taking a risk tonight.”
“Nicholas, I've already told you—”
“I'm taking a risk too.”
“You're not a vampire. It isn't the same.”
“I know that.” He paused to take another turn. “That’s why I'm not going anywhere near the shop. Give my skills and training a chance, Della.” He was unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.
Fury ignited inside her. For one sickening instant she considered using the Compulsion on him. Make him pull over so she could leave, maybe even force him to lie still so she could restrain him and keep him far away from tonight's encounter.
Better to violate his trust than watch him die.
Della wrapped her arms tightly around her middle as her thoughts took on a frenzied, uncontrollable edge. There was something…so familiar…
Savage joy as her fist pulverized the wood of the picnic table. Her anger finally had an outlet, and this abrasive sensation was superior to feeling helpless. Why did she even tolerate the lesser emotions? Let these weaknesses dwell inside her and fester? She could be so much grander than the pitiful human in front of her—a creature so slow that his face had only just registered the first stages of shock. She ripped the board loose from its moorings and part of her exulted watching his surprise turn to fear—
Memories of the park. Her sudden recall doused the emotional chain reaction in a flood of revulsion. The instant passed. Della was in control once more. Had Nicholas noticed? She glanced and saw him staring ahead in stony silence. The truck interior was still filled with the awkward, charged air of his last words.
Thank the gods.
Why had it happened? At first it had seemed that these…fits…were almost random, but she knew better now. Something about their plan had triggered her—was still triggering her—what was it?
Oh. How glaringly obvious. “Nicholas.”
Something in Della’s tone made him turn abruptly. His concern quickly became a look of alarm that wiped clear any vestiges of anger. “My God, are you okay? You look two shades paler than normal.”
“Pull over.”
Nicholas turned down the next side street and parked in front of a shuttered cafe. He shut off the engine and turned to her. “What’s wrong?”
“Just now I almost had another…episode.” She lapsed into silence.
His bemusement crystalized into understanding. “A panic attack? Like in the park?”
She nodded wearily. “I don't care for that term, but yes. Fortunately, I realized what was happening, which helped me to resist it.”
He was silent for a long moment, then reached out and laid his arm on the back of the passenger seat, not quite touching Della’s shoulder. “I know it might not seem like it, but that’s real progress. Me and my unharmed body are proof of it. No matter what you're telling yourself, this is the truth: you did great just now.”
They were only words, but his intuition had picked the correct ones. Her self-recrimination died on the vine, wilted by his certainty. A soothing sense of balance started to return.
“The last time,” Nicholas continued in low tones, “I pushed you too hard, assumed too much. Pure hubris. If I've done it again by insisting on coming—”
“I agreed to it.” She loosened her arms and rested a hand on the seat, not quite brushing his thigh. “The danger to my person will be much lower if someone is keeping watch. But I know what caused this…’attack.’ Certain similarities with the past.”
As if invoked, memories of Lord Layne’s estate suddenly surged against the barriers Della had erected. She forced them back like before, refusing to risk her precarious balance by recalling them in detail—now was not the time. But cracks were beginning to show. She couldn't keep avoiding the events that had ended with Drus throwing her into the back of a van. Not if she wanted to stay sane.
But not yet. Not tonight.
“Certain similarities?” Nicholas prompted.
Della took a shaky breath. “The last time I went into a dangerous situation with people who trusted me…” The words just stopped. Seconds dragged as she tried to find them.
“They all died,” he finished.
She nodded, staring out the windshield. She couldn't risk seeing sympathy in his gaze.
“And now you’re worried it's going to happen again.”
Another nod. “I assure you, Nicholas…the hubris you displayed in the park is a pale shade next to my own. My arrogance killed them all.”
He let the statement sit for a time, as if he had guessed—correctly—that there was nothing he could say. She had stated it as a blunt fact, and he didn't challenge it.
“I don't know what went down before you ended up in that building,” he finally admitted, “but tonight is different.”
Della hoped that was the truth, but she needed someone else, someone she trusted, to voice it. “How?” she asked.
“First of all, you did your best to talk me out of coming. Is that what happened before?”
No. She had been confident and assured the first time. Her friends had mirrored her attitude, treating her plan for confronting Lord Layne as something of a lark. She pursed her lips. They had all been as eager as Nicholas, however. Suong had been insulted, frostily informing her that Della should have just assumed she would fight beside her. Isabella and Lorenzo had been devising something on their own and joined without hesitation, and Lionel, reckless and impatient, had happily followed Della’s lead as he’d done for decades. The eagerness was a worrying aspect.
But how similar was it truly?
She turned and looked at the man next to her. Nicholas was watching her carefully. The concern she expected was there, but it was veiled behind tense self-control. He was also nervous.
In contrast to her allies—and her own prior attitude—Nicholas was showing a healthy perception of the dangers facing them. It was strange that his awareness of his own vulnerability should be so comforting.
“We were overconfident,” she murmured. “Celebrating our victory before it had been won.”
“You don’t seem overconfident now,” he said.
She shook her head.
He took a breath and leaned closer. “Look, cards on the table: I'm a fraction of your age and the physical equivalent of wet cardboard. We both know it.” He tightened his grip on the seat next to her shoulder. “And that’s the difference, Della. I know it. I've trained my entire life to be an effective hunter despite my limitations.”
She wanted to reach up and take his hand, but was smart enough not to. She had to prepare for the coming…distance. It was imperative to their survival, and she hadn’t fully informed him of that part. Instead, she said, “Tell me again what you won’t do.”
He gave her a crooked smile, but his eyes were solemn. “I won’t do anything ‘foolish.’ I won’t do anything that gives my presence away. No heroics, no…what was the term you used?”
“Chest-pounding theatrics.”
“Yes. None of those.”
“And no gallant rescues. I mean it, Nicholas. If something happens, there’s nothing you would be able to do.”
His expression darkened and he set his jaw, but eventually he nodded.
Wanting to soften the harshness of her words, she offered the ghost of a smile. “One gallant rescue was enough.”
He moved his thumb off the seat to brush her shoulder before putting his hand back on the steering wheel. It had a profound impact for such a small gesture of affection. She mourned the loss of his proximity along with the intoxicating scent it brought. Did he have any idea how good he smelled to her?
Tell him later…if you're both still alive.
“Since we’re already parked,” he said, his voice resuming a crisp—if somewhat forced—professionalism, “let’s go ahead and check the comms.”
“Very well.” Humans and their technology, she thought wryly. Show them some electric marvel and they become like children in a toy shop. But she couldn’t deny its ability to even the odds against her kind. Or the beguiling wonders of the internet. She resolved to keep her mind open.
Nicholas pulled up the slim black case she had seen earlier on his breakfast table. He opened it to reveal a few components slotted into foam, everything carefully reassembled from the pieces she’d seen before. He pulled out a tiny pink bead between his thumb and forefinger and dropped it onto her palm.
“Discrete transmitter-receiver,” he said. “It spoofs a SIM card to piggyback on local 5G. Latency limits it to about two miles.”
“I only speak English and French, Nicholas.”
He grinned. “It’s a tiny walkie-talkie. Put it in your ear.”
She gave the small earbud a dubious look. “We could just buy a prepaid cell phone,” she suggested. “You could text me if there’s trouble.”
“True,” he acknowledged, “but that would cost money we don't have. Plus, this way I can alert you without anyone around you knowing.”
“But…you’ll hear everything that is said?”
“Yes. Within about ten feet. Don’t worry about—” He abruptly fell silent. “Oh. I just realized what you meant.” He stared down at his lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. If you would prefer your conversations to be private we can go with the cell phone idea. I swear I was only thinking about safety.”
“It’s all right,” she said softly. Then: “Trust can be very…unnerving.”
“It can,” he agreed. “And I would rather you be focused than distracted. Say the word and we’ll use a burner phone.”
A moment of strained quiet followed, long enough for Della to once again weigh her misgivings against her feelings. Finally she placed the bead into one ear. “Will you even be able to get this device out?”
“Yes,” Nicholas said, clearly trying to suppress a mixture of relief and happiness, “it won’t be a problem.” He pulled on a compact headset and turned his focus to a plastic brick with switches and an antenna. He flipped a switch.
“DELLA CAN YOU HEAR THIS—”
The cacophony in her skull fell mercifully silent when she clamped her hand on Nicholas's forearm. He swallowed when he saw her face, then pointed at her hand with a pained expression. She released him and he clutched his forearm with a grimace.
He mouthed silently: “Too loud?" She nodded. He gave her an “OK” sign and adjusted a knob. “BETTER?”
“Barely,” she muttered between clenched teeth.
Nicholas held up a finger as if to say, “Ah ha!” He turned another knob. “Okay, how’s that?” he asked. The echo in her ear was still slightly loud, but far better than before.
“That is…tolerable.”
“I've got both the receiver and the microphone’s sensitivity on the floor.” He flipped a switch and the link went dead. Now it was only his natural voice she heard. “I knew you had incredible hearing, but wow.”
“Is your arm all right?”
“Lightly bruised.” He waved it off. “I also have a raw spot on my upper arm from my scratchy couch. Got that while we were ‘practicing.’ All things considered, I'm still way ahead.”
Della focused on his easy smile, and the mingled amusement and fondness in his eyes. She took a careful catalog of the slightly cocky tilt to his head and the way the warm street lights wrapped around his handsome features. Remember this when it's time to come back.
“Nicholas,” she said aloud, “there’s one final thing to discuss.”
He sensed the shift in her tone and immediately turned serious. “What is it?”
“Whatever happens in the next hour is crucial to planning our next step.” Already using ‘our’ instead of ‘my.’ Now who's presumptuous? She gave an infinitesimal shake of her head to clear it. “I cannot be burdened with overly strong emotions. I don't want to risk another outburst.”
His brow furrowed. “Okay…”
“In a very short time I'm going to become…distant.”
Nicholas’s eyes widened as understanding lit. “You’re talking about that vampire survival mechanism. The emotional suppression.”
“Yes. I will not seem as…familiar. I'll be more aggressive. Less caring.” Her mouth tightened. “Predatory.”
He considered this for a long moment, then nodded brusquely. “Putting on your game face. I completely get it.” A flicker of worry in his appealing brown eyes. “As long as it’s not permanent.”
Della shook her head. “I plan to use it as nature intended. A temporary measure for survival, not a way of life.”
His eyes held hers. There was such understated beauty in their velvet depths. “Just make sure you come back.” The quaver in his voice was barely detectable.
She risked a touch, sliding her palm against his cheek. “You can help me,” she promised.
Nicholas inhaled sharply, and his head shifted ever so slightly towards her departing fingers. He regarded her for a long moment, then summoned an impassive expression and faced forward. He started the truck.
“Let’s get this show on the road.” Beneath his cool facade his heart continued to race.
They drove the last several minutes in silence. As she drew nearer to her meeting with Roger Sharp, she could sense herself growing further from Nicholas. Like many of her abilities, the sharpening of her hunter aspect was an instinctive process, begun at some point shortly after she’d gotten into the truck.
Over the decades she’d begun to think of it like ascending a mountain. It was the perfect metaphor. The summit of a mountain provided one with clarity and perspective…but it was also inhospitable and lonely. It reminded her that her stay must be temporary. But for now she was climbing to great heights, where the air was cold and clear. The confusion and tumult of her emotions was below her and increasingly distant. All that remained was as harsh as the mountain. A tightly leashed fury. Primal self-preservation. The joy of the hunt.
Nicholas is important, she reminded herself sternly—another trick she had learned since clawing back her feelings decades ago. Nicholas is vital to me. Losing Nicholas would be like losing a limb. If she asserted such beliefs with authority, she could convince her inner predator that certain people were an extension of her being, to be included under “self-preservation.” And it worked. Even as her feelings towards Nicholas turned remote and inaccessible, the fierce desire to keep him safe remained.
The truck swerved into a fire lane. Nicholas tapped the brakes but left the engine idling. “Here’s your drop-off,” he said quietly.
“Take great care with your tasks,” Della commanded, and shoved open the door. She exited into the night and didn't look back.
