Jeanne Stein - Chosen

Another tip of the glass to Lance. “He provided transportation. Sent a helicopter.”

I grin at Lance. Of course you did.

Lance grins back.

Frey leans toward me, his expression turns serious. “Lance filled me in on what happened. Anna, do you realize the implication of this? You went into a burning garage and came out unscathed.”

“Unscathed? Hardly. You saw what I looked like.”

He shakes his head. “Okay, not exactly unscathed . But you survived when you should have gone up like a Roman candle. Vampires don’t walk through flame and live. You know that. You saw what happened to—”

He stops, maybe because he sees my shoulders tense, maybe because he realizes that by saying it, I’ll have to face the truth.

“Ortiz,” I say it for him. “I saw what happened to Ortiz.” I rub my eyes with the heel of my palms, trying to shut out the image and push away the guilt. “So Williams was right when he said I could have saved Ortiz. But how could I have known? Williams certainly didn’t tell me, and the bastard had a thousand opportunities.”

Frey glances at Lance. “There’s something else we think you should know.”

The muscles across my shoulders grow even tighter. “What?”

“The garage fire.”

“What about it?”

Lance picks up the story. “My first thought was that it was an accident.” He reaches out a hand and places it on my arm. “But now, I’m not so sure.”

And I’m not sure I understand. I frown. “Then what?”

“I think it was deliberately set. A device rigged to go off ten seconds after the back door closed.”

“Wait a minute.” I’m remembering Saturday morning. How mad I was at Lance. How all I wanted to do was get away from him. “I went out that door. Why didn’t I trip it?”

“You didn’t close the door,” Lance replies. “You left it open. Probably didn’t even realize it. I came out after you were already gone, and I did close the door. Ten seconds later, the garage blew. The fire investigators say it was a gas leak from a water heater. Fueled by a spark when the garage door was raised. They’re writing it off as an accident. And I’m going to let them.”

He looks over at Frey, then back to me. “But that was a new water heater, and you had raised the garage door minutes, not seconds, before. Someone poured propane on the floor of the garage to make sure there would be fire. Lots of it. And set a device to go off when the back door closed.”

“So we were both targets?”

Frey and Lance exchange looks.

“What?” Irritation is bunching my shoulders even tighter. “Stop fucking around. Tell me.”

Lance says, “We think it was a test.”

“A test of what?”

As soon as I ask it, the answer pops into my head. I stare at Lance. “Someone wanted to see if I could survive fire.” Doesn’t take a genius to figure out who that someone is. Especially knowing that he and Williams were working together. “Julian Underwood.”

I’m right. I see confirmation in the eyes looking back at me. That Julian Underwood would risk Lance’s life, the life of someone he has known for decades, sparks such rage that I find only one way to express it. I hurl the glass in my hand across the patio with such force it shatters against the far wall, pulverizes, rains bits of glass on the flagstone.

My hands are shaking. I interlock my fingers. When I can at least control the anger in my voice, I raise my eyes to Lance. “He thought you and I would walk out that back door together. The fire would ignite. Either we’d both be dead, or only you’d be. Either way, he didn’t care. He didn’t care if he killed you. He only wanted to see if he could kill me.”

Frey leans forward. “And now he knows,” he says. “He knows what Williams has been saying is true. You are indestructible. The Chosen One.”

That stupid expression brings simmering anger boiling again to the surface. “Why does everyone always throw that at me? The Chosen One. Sounds like bad Buffy. There’s nothing special about me. I’d know if there were.”

“Then think .” Frey’s voice is hard, insistent. “How do you explain what you did? How do you explain pulling Lance out of those flames? Vampires can’t do that. Williams couldn’t do that. From the beginning, he recognized it.”

“Recognized what?” The volume of my voice escalates with frustration. “He’s done nothing but fuck with me. If he’s trying to win me over to some great cause, he sure as hell has a strange way of doing it.”

Lance looks at Frey. His expression makes me think they’ve spent the last two days discussing me. It’s pissing me off. “Okay. Will you stop acting like conspirators in a spy movie? What is it you’re not telling me?”

This time, Lance takes point. “I told Daniel about what happened in San Diego. How you were attacked. We think there’s a connection between that attack and the fire.”

“What connection? Williams wouldn’t be dumb enough to send a vamp to attack me unless he was damned sure that vamp was strong enough to kill me. He didn’t. And after I killed it, how could Williams know I’d bury it in the desert and come here with Lance? He couldn’t. No one knew. We made the decision on the spot.”

Lance’s gaze slides away. A wave of guilt emanates from him making me realize the reason for his remorse and regret. “I can’t be sure that Julian didn’t know. We have a powerful connection. Remember, Adele said he called the afternoon we arrived. That he was in town, too. It’s a pretty big coincidence.”

“No.” A vehement shake of my head. “I don’t believe it.”

“Well, there could be a simpler explanation.” Frey lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “You could have been followed.”

Lance and I exchange glances. Now that’s an explanation I can accept. An explanation so obvious I can’t believe we didn’t think of it ourselves. “I didn’t pay much attention on the drive,” I admit. “There wasn’t a lot of traffic, but I wasn’t looking for a tail.”

“Neither was I.” Lance is visibly and emotionally relieved at the possibility that he hadn’t led Julian to us.

So am I. Until I realize the implication. Williams is here? Lance picks up the thread of my thought.

Williams and Underwood working together.

Again.

His face flushes. “It is my fault.”

“Christ, Lance.” I grab his arm and give it a shake. “It is not your fault.”

Frey looks from Lance to me. “I don’t understand.”

Lance is reluctant to admit to Frey how we came to be together, so I do. Briefly, unemotionally. Frey’s eyes never leave Lance’s face as I tell the story of how Lance and I met. Of the lie that it was Culebra who brought us together when in reality, it had been Underwood and Williams.

I wish I could read what Frey is thinking. I can’t. I see only a subtle shift in his attitude toward Lance. Not so trusting. A shadow of suspicion in his eyes, a tensed jaw muscle.

“Frey.”

He turns to me, eyebrow raised.

“I trust Lance with my life.”

Simple words I’ve never meant more seriously.

Frey is still and quiet. He looks at me for a long moment. Then he nods. “All right. Your instincts have always been good. I respect them.” He turns to Lance. “Maybe we should pay this guy a visit. Get some answers.”

Lance tries to hide his alarm at the suggestion. He manages to shield his actual thoughts from him, but Frey isn’t stupid. He senses Lance’s anxiety. Suspicion once again tightens the lines around his mouth. “Unless there’s a reason you’d rather not have us meet with him.”

Lance’s face mirrors his distress. But it’s not fear for himself I’m picking up. Frey has no idea how powerful and cruel Lance’s sire can be. Lance is afraid for Frey and me.