Кейти Макалистер: Crouching Vampire, Hidden Fang

“It has garlic on it,” I said, pulling open the loaf to show him the tiny bits of garlic smooshed into the butter. “So just stay back!”

He reached out and touched the garlic butter, licking the tip of his finger. “Very tasty.”

“You’re not . . . Garlic isn’t poisonous to you?” I asked, taken aback.

He closed his eyes for a moment, a martyred expression on his face. “No, that’s a fallacy created by mortals. I assume you are Pia Thomason? I am-”

“No, you don’t,” I said, desperately looking around as he started to enter my house. I snatched up the religious newsletter and shoved it at him.

He didn’t flinch, or shriek, or run madly away at the image of something religious. He just took it and gave me a long-suffering look. “ ‘The Watchtower’?”

I slumped against the door. “I should have known it wouldn’t work-Kristoff dragged me to a church to marry me, after all-but it was the only thing I had.”

He took the garlic bread from me, and set it and the newsletter down on the table next to the door. “Pia Thomason, I am here by a directive from the Moravian Council. As you are no doubt aware, you have been ordered to appear before the council to answer questions that have arisen since the events of June this year. For matters of your safety and comfort, I will escort you to Vienna, and am authorized to meet any reasonable financial needs the journey will impose upon you. The plane leaves in four hours. Am I correct in assuming that you are not yet packed for the journey?”

I picked up the cell phone, saying into it, “It’s the messenger, all right, and he’s immune to both garlic and religious things. He wants me to go to Vienna.”

“I heard. We can watch your house for you if you like-”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll call you later.” I hung up the phone and faced the vampire. Like the other males of his species, he would have been at home on a fashion show runway. I wondered if it was some rule that all vampires had to be drop-dead sexy. “I told the council when they sent me the e-mail saying you were coming that I had no intention of letting them do any sort of third degree on me. Christian Dante is the head of the council, isn’t he?”

The vampire inclined his head in agreement. “He is executive director, yes.”

“He was there in Iceland when all the stuff happened. Well, he was there for most of it. I told him then everything I knew, so I have nothing further to say to any of the council.”

“You are a Midnight Zorya in the Brotherhood-”

“I am not,” I interrupted, holding up my hand to stop him.

He looked pointedly at the moonstone charm hanging from my wrist.

“Not anymore,” I said, lowering my hand. “I gave up Zoryaing. If there were someone else I could give the stone to, I would, but there is no Brotherhood group here, for which I am profoundly grateful, if you want to know the truth. So you can just go back to your precious council and tell them that I said no.”

He was silent for a moment, his dark eyes assessing me in a manner that made me very uncomfortable. Mentally, I ran over any stake-shaped objects I might have in the house. “I should tell you that my orders to bring you before the council did not take into account your wishes.”

I lifted my chin, matching his intense gaze with one that I hoped did not show the fear that suddenly rolled around in my stomach. “Is that a threat?”

“No. It is merely a statement of fact. I am charged with bringing you before the council, and I will do so.”

His arrogant statement was fortunately just what I needed. The fear inside me changed to anger: anger that the vampires were so high-handed, anger that the man in front of me thought I was such a pushover, and anger that I was in this position to begin with. Where was Kristoff when I needed him to protect me from the ire of his brother vampires? Why wasn’t he here like he was supposed to be, suitably grateful that I got back his soul?

The anger grew hot, building and intensifying until it threatened to burst out of me.

“No!” I suddenly shouted, flinging my arms open wide. A brilliant, blinding blue-silver-white light burst forth from my hands, arcing above and below me, surrounding me in a sphere of brilliance.

The vampire yelped as the rays of the light touched him, flinging himself backward through the open door.

“I will not be used,” I shouted at him, the light growing in intensity. “Not by you, your council, or anyone! Do you understand? No one!”

The vampire started to say something, but I slammed shut the door, locking it before I crumpled to the floor, face resting against the cool wood as the light surrounding me slowly faded to nothing.

“Last One Standing Shelter, this is Pia. No, I’m sorry, our shelter is closed until the end of the month. We’re having some remodeling work done to the buildings, and the animals have been moved to a temporary shelter so as not to be disturbed by the construction and such.” I tapped on the keyboard and pulled up the information on the caller. She was cleared for adoption, but hadn’t made up her mind yet on which dog she wanted. A couple entered the office and, after looking around for a moment, headed for my desk. I covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “I’ll be with you in just a sec.”

The woman smiled and nodded, and wandered over to look at the board with pictures of all the available senior pets for which the temporary shelter was currently serving as home. I gave the caller only half of my attention, watching the woman and wondering why she looked familiar.

“Yes, you can come by the dogs’ temporary housing, although we won’t be conducting any adoptions until the remodeling is finished. You’re welcome.” I hung up the phone and gave the man standing at the reception counter a bright, professional smile. “Can I help you?”

“Do you run this shelter?” he asked, looking around the office.

“No, I’m just the Internet guru and fund-raising administrator. I’m afraid our office is closed. I’m just about to leave myself, actually. We’re having some remodeling done, and-”

“You’re Pia,” the man interrupted.

“Yes,” I said slowly, looking at him a little closer. Something about him was ringing a bell in my head, too. “I’m sorry. I have a horrible memory for faces. Have we met?”

“Not formally, no.” He smiled. The woman came over and smiled at me, as well. I stood up slowly, suddenly wary. “We met, if you can call it that, a week ago. Outside the Safeway. Your cart bumped into my wife’s, and later seemed to be attracted to my shoe-”

“Oh, yes,” I said, goose bumps marching up my arm. I glanced at the stone swinging gently from the bracelet on my right wrist. It wasn’t giving me any sign that the couple was anything but what they seemed, and yet the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. “How is it that you know my name?”

The man’s smile grew larger. “A new Zorya is always celebrated, no matter where she is located.”

“Oh, no,” I said, backing away slowly. “You’re reapers.”

He bowed. “We have the honor of belonging to the Brotherhood of the Blessed Light.”

“Then I did hear you right the other day at the store. And you . . .” I turned to the woman. “You said something lightish, too.”

She came forward, stopping in front of me to dip an awkward curtsy. “I’m Janice Mycowski. This is Rick, my husband, and I can’t tell you how thrilled we are to meet you.”

“So . . . what, you’re stalking me?” I asked in stark disbelief.

“Oh, no! We wouldn’t do that,” she said, distress visible in her muddy hazel eyes. She cast a worried glance at her husband. “We were just so excited that you were here, in our area-when word reached us that a new Zorya had been made, and that she was from Seattle, we were naturally excited. But then the governors said that you were a bit confused, and asked us to help clear some things up for you. You can imagine what a thrill and an honor it is for us to be asked to aid a Zorya.”