He mulled the experience over as they swam the passage. It was utterly familiar. Underwater or on land, he had crossed over passageways like this countless times before. And it was almost exactly like the crossover experience he had had during Carling’s episodes, except for that bent feeling, that sense of turning a corner.
Or maybe it was more like folding a piece of paper. For such a dramatic event, the image was rather boring and prosaic. But still there was something to it, an intuitive fit that appealed to him. The two portions of the folded paper existed side by side so close they touched. One portion of the paper was the present. When he crossed to Carling’s past, he was traveling around that tiny, tight fold to stand on the other side.
Only the analogy broke down almost immediately, because there would have to be a countless number of potential folds in the paper to account for every moment in time. But still there was something to the concept of traveling around a bend that was so impossibly small and tight it took up absolutely no space at all. It made sense to him in a way, because . . .
. . . because the concept felt like it might be a direction he could actually follow.
If he hadn’t already been doing so, he would have held his breath.
That feeling could very well be an illusion. He had nothing at all to base it on. He could just as well take a flying leap off a strange cliff into absolute darkness; it felt that dangerous. But he would be very interested to take that feeling into Carling’s next episode.
He realized he was starting to believe that he really was interacting with the past, the actual past, not just what had happened to Carling in her own mind. He was looking forward to finding out what that damn Djinn discovered when Carling set him on the task of finding Rune’s knife.
Either Carling sensed he was deep in thought, or she was preoccupied with thoughts of her own, for they made the trip in almost complete silence. After following the underwater fissure and completing the passage, they kicked upward. On the other side, daylight rippled along the water’s surface. Rune’s lungs had begun to burn by the time they broke the surface on a pale, chill fog-enshrouded day.
They treaded water as they gathered their bearings. Rune asked, “How do other Vampyres make that crossing safely when you never know what time it is going to be on the other side? Rhoswen’s face, hands and part of her feet were exposed.”
Carling shoved her soaking hair out of her eyes. She started to swim, and Rune kicked along beside her. “They can take precautions and dress so they are completely covered before they make the swim,” Carling said. “There is also an underwater tunnel here, and a cave on the other side. When they are coming up from the passageway, they have plenty of time to see whether or not it’s daylight. Then they can stay underwater and swim to either the tunnel or the cave. On this side, the tunnel is part of an old city sewage system.”
“I’ve heard stories about old secret tunnels under San Francisco,” Rune said. “There’re supposed to be Vampyre and opium hangouts.”
“Most people think the stories are an urban legend, but they’re real. They’re not safe and it’s not just because of Vampyres and drug addicts—dangerous creatures live in those tunnels.”
“Coolio,” said Rune. “Sounds like a fun vacation spot.”
Carling shook her head. He was irrepressible. She said, “The particular tunnel I’m talking about is straightforward enough. It leads up to a street-level building with the windows blocked out. Most of the Vampyres don’t take the chance that something might happen in the water and leave them floating exposed to the surface, so they take extra precautions and wrap up from head to toe anyway.”
“I would too.” Rune rolled in the water. “You know, it’s a nice day for a swim and all, but if you’re game, I can get us to shore a lot quicker.”
She looked at him questioningly. “I’m game.”
He kicked around so that his back was to her. “Put your arms around my neck.”
He almost groaned aloud from pleasure as she slipped her cool arms around his neck and her curved body brushed against him. He handed her the container’s strap. She said, “Taking off from the water must be strenuous.”
“It’s not the smoothest way to get in the air,” he said. “So hold on tight.”
Her arms tightened, which pressed her breasts against his back, and his cock stiffened again despite the cold swim. He shook his head hard so that drops flew. Then he kicked into a swim, moving faster and harder as he changed into his Wyr form. He waited until he felt her find her place on his back, her arms still tight around his eagle’s neck as she gripped him with her knees. Then with a massive heave, he lunged up out of the water as his giant wings unfurled and hammered down several times hard and fast.
He had not exaggerated. It was not the smoothest way for a gryphon to take to the air. He basically had to claw his massive body out of the water through sheer strength and speed, but within moments he had them airborne. Carling laughed as he worked into a steep ascent and the tall ghostly lines of the Golden Gate Bridge appeared in the fog ahead of them. He smiled to hear her laughter. She sounded so carefree and full of glee, so unlike the intense, dark-spirited woman who had met him in her great hall just a few days ago.
Then he banked and wheeled into a turn, and they flew toward the city.
TWELVE
Carling could not remember the last time she had felt such intense joy. In his gryphon form, Rune’s muscular feline back was so broad she couldn’t get a stable enough grip with her legs. She pulled the strap of the container higher on her shoulder, kept a tight hold on his neck as she hitched forward until she was perched more securely on his front shoulders and could grip the base of his neck between her knees. Only then did she open the container to take Rasputin out and cuddle him in the crook of her arm, though she wouldn’t remove the stasis collar until they were safely on land. She looked back at the powerful flex of Rune’s gigantic bronze wings beating steadily on either side.
“You all right back there?” Rune asked.
His deep voice was a clarion bell that thrummed between her legs. “I’m perfect,” said Carling. “I was just getting into a more secure position.”
“Don’t worry, darling Carling,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”
Darling Carling. She found herself grinning. What a truly awful endearment. Only he could pull off something so ridiculous, with that gentle, caressing, teasing note in his deep voice that invited her to laugh along with him at the silliness of it. With his voice alone he made extravagant, intimate promises. Promises that said he spoke only to her this way, her and no other. She didn’t believe it for a moment, although she confessed to herself, in her secret heart of hearts, it was rather nice to pretend.
When would he come after her again? When would she turn around and see that look of intent in his eyes that he masked so cleverly behind a sleepy expression? Her smile disappeared as arousal flared all over again, and her own predatory impulses stirred, like the lazy stretch of an animal that had long been asleep.
What would he do if she came after him? She liked that thought, them stalking each other, one moving forward, the other pulling back until that last pounce. One way or another they would become lovers. It was another promise from him, of a pleasure that already was so surprising it caught at her soul. She had thought that the days of her taking a lover were long over. How gorgeous, that she could be surprised.
They were soaking wet, and the chill wind was slicing. Although she craved warmth, the bitter cold did not hurt her. Even though Rune’s body roared with heat and effort, the cold might be uncomfortable for him.
She stroked the back of his sleek powerful neck and whispered a spell. A ripple of Power washed over them both, and then suddenly they were both dry.
“Mmm.” Rune started to purr. “That felt good.”
“I thought you might be getting cold,” she told him.
“I wasn’t, but I like it when you practice magic on me,” he said throatily.<
br />
She snorted. He was clearly in a playful mood. Her amusement died as she remembered the dark, calculating way she had planned to research ways to attack him. It seemed to make sense at the time, but now the thought of throwing an offensive spell to hurt him made her feel queasy. Even if, for some reason, Rune became her enemy, she didn’t think she could do that to him, not anymore.
Once she would have done anything to survive. Whatever it took. Living was the supreme priority. Now even though time had become more precious than ever before as it ran out, she finally discovered there were other things that were more important than survival.
They were damp again quickly from flying through the thick fog. The city was shrouded and indistinct, until suddenly they were upon it.
Then Carling felt something shimmer into place around them. She stiffened but almost immediately realized that the sensation, whatever it was, came from Rune. It felt strange, warm and intimate, as if he had somehow expanded his aura to wrap it around her.
“What is that?” she asked. “What are you doing?”
“I’m cloaking us,” Rune replied. “I should have done it as soon as I took to the air, but I was distracted. SFO’s air traffic control is probably having a conniption right now.”
She raised a hand and looked at it. She could still see herself but she was blurred as if she were looking through an antique window. She studied Rune. He was blurred as well, but perfectly visible. “Are you sure it’s working properly?”
He chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“I can still see us,” she said. “That’s because we’re both inside the cloak. Other people can’t see us, which is the main point.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, squinting skeptically at her hand again. “It’s a nifty trick, if you’re not pulling my leg.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” murmured the gryphon. “Where is your town house?”
Carling looked down at the ground as she gave him directions. They were just flying over the Presidio at the northern tip of San Francisco. Originally a Spanish fort, it had been a military installation for almost two hundred years. Now it was a public park. Wreathed in the mist that had rolled off the ocean, the aged, well-tended trees looked vaporous, the ground indistinct underneath.
She sighed. “I would say we should just stay at my town house, except I’m almost certain someone on the staff is a spy and I would rather Julian not be apprised of our every move. He’s not going to be happy as it is when I call to tell him I’ve come back to the city. We had decided my condition was too dangerous for me to be around very many people right now.”
“Fuck Julian,” said Rune. “I don’t care if he’s happy or not.”
Carling sighed heavily again. “I’ve handled him many times before when he’s chosen to be unpleasant, and I will handle him again if I have to, but we have more important things to focus on than clashing with Julian right now.”
Rune paused for a moment. He continued in a softer, more serious voice. “You’re right, of course. We don’t have to rub your presence in Julian’s face. Since I didn’t know what to expect when I got here, I arranged to have a suite available at the Fairmont Hotel for whenever I might need it. After we drop Rasputin off, we can go there. No doubt there’ll be spies there too but it won’t be the same as it happening in the intimacy of your own home.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” she muttered. “I don’t care where we go.”
“Then the hotel it is,” said Rune. He climbed steeply in the air, soaring over the tops of buildings, and plummeted to the street corner near her house. The town houses were luxurious, and Carling’s home was mere blocks from Market Street. He realized her house would be an easy walk to the Turner and Braeburn offices, and the Bureau of Nightkind Immigration. That seemed too convenient to be a coincidence.
He landed lightly on his feet and after Carling had slid to the pavement, he shimmered into a shapeshift. Only then did he relax the cloaking around them. “See?” he said. “No one saw us.”
She looked around and laughed. Traffic was all around but by some trick of chance, there weren’t any vehicles passing by them at the moment, and the nearest pedestrians were a half a block away and walking in the other direction from them. The fog was not terribly heavy, but it did give everything a sense of space and privacy that might not otherwise have been present in the full light of sunshine. “No one saw us, my dear genius gryphon, because there’s no one around to pay attention.”
He looked around, his eyes narrowed. “All right, I can see that you’ll take some convincing. Here, give me that.” He took the container from her.
She strode down the street with Rasputin in her arms, and Rune fell back a few steps so he could watch her. She moved with her characteristic imperiousness. She was barefoot and bedraggled, her hair a tangled mess down her back, her awful caftan a ragtag, crumpled mess. And there was no doubt in his mind—there could be no doubt in the mind of anyone who saw her—that she was royalty. Goddamn, that was smoking hot.
She led him up the steps of an elegant four-story Mediterranean Revival home. Loosely based on Italian palazzo architecture, the facade was simple, an elegant pale ochre, with arched black wrought-iron windows. She took hold of the doorknob, spoke a Power-filled word, and Rune heard the small click as the lock turned. Hell of a handy trick, that. She never had to worry about losing a key and locking herself out.
Rune followed her into a spacious front hall, with gleaming oak floors and a simple antique hall table that was so beautifully constructed, Sotheby’s would have drooled over it. A vase filled with fresh lilies provided the only adornment. Carling gestured to a doorway on the right. “Make yourself at home,” she told Rune as she strode down the hall. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okey-dokey,” he said. He strolled into a room that was as elegant as everything else he had seen of her home. She had continued with the Mediterranean theme in the interior decor. The room had textured walls, thirteenth-century Florentine tapestries and artwork, and leather burgundy furniture. Way to be all-over classy, Carling.
As he opened up the container to pull out his duffle and Carling’s leather bag, he heard the sound of rapid footsteps approaching. They were much heavier than Carling’s soft, almost imperceptible tread, no doubt belonging to a male. “Councillor!” Yep, it was a male. “What a surprise! What may I do for you? Would you like for me to wake the others?”
“There’s no need to bother them, Rufio,” Carling said. “I’m not staying.”
“The others” must be Vampyres, as it was fairly standard practice in Vampyre households to have a human or two on staff to attend to daytime affairs.
Carling was continuing. “I have dismissed Rhoswen. She is no longer acting on my behalf, nor is she to be trusted. She may come by for her things, so you are to have everything packed and waiting for her, but do not allow her access to any part of the house unsupervised, is that understood? I want to know if she becomes a problem for you. If she does, or you feel threatened in any way, let me know and I will take care of her.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Startlement-R-Us. Was there something else in the male’s voice, something like relief, or was that Rune’s imagination? He wished he could see the human so he could get a take on the other male’s expression, although anyone Carling had on staff would have the ability to be discreet.
“Two more things before I go. First, the staff needs to look after Rasputin for the time being while I attend to some unexpected business. Rhoswen was to have hired someone to look after him, but I had to let her go before that happened. Have Abelard look for someone. He should have a list of prospects prepared for me by the end of the week. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am. And what is the second thing?”
“Pack some clothes and things for me, and send it to the Fairmont Hotel.”
“Yes, ma’am. Right away. Has the little man eaten recently?”
Little man. Rune grinned. He might grow to like th
is Rufio guy.
“He’s due for his evening meal. What is the date and time here?”
Given that the Other land was not in sync with the time in San Francisco, it was not as odd a question as it might otherwise have sounded. Rufio informed her that it was late Monday morning. Rune had left on Friday evening, so the time slippage hadn’t been all that bad.
“Excellent. Give him a late breakfast, and he’ll be on track for the next evening meal. Don’t take the stasis collar off of him until we are gone. There’s no need to go through all his drama while I leave the house.”
“We? My apologies, Councillor. I did not realize we had a guest to attend to.”
“We don’t. Wyr sentinel Rune Ainissesthai is with me, and he and I are just leaving.”
“Very good, ma’am. I’ll have some of your things sent to the Fairmont within the hour.”
Rune rolled his eyes. He knew just what those things would be too. The forecast called for more wretched caftans with a ten percent chance of classic black Chanel scattered throughout. Shoes, optional. Makeup, nonexistent.
“Feed Rasputin first, Rufio,” Carling said.
“Yes, ma’am. Of course. Will there be anything else?”
“No, that will be all, thank you.”
Rune walked out of the room, their two bags in his hand, and he met Carling as she returned. He looked over Carling’s shoulder at the tall, wide-shouldered man who cuddled Rasputin at the opposite end of the hall and stared back, his face alive with curiosity. Rufio was perhaps a fit forty years old and well groomed.
Of course he had to be a good-looking male, didn’t he? Rune wasn’t so sure he would like the other man after all. He found his lip curling and instead of suggesting Carling take her time and at least have a hot shower before they left, he growled, “Ready to go?”