Dominion (Book 1 of The Dominion Series) (8 page)

I relent and focus on the dagger, its steel blade shining in the overhead light. I remember when Michel touched me the night we met and that strange connection that formed between us. I glance down at my hands on the blade and try to imagine forming that kind of connection with it.

The ivory hilt has strange symbols etched that resemble letters from the Russian Cyrillic alphabet. I turn it over in my hand and close my eyes, trying to blank my mind as Michel instructs. Then I feel as if the ground beneath my feet heaves and my stomach lurches with it. The world around me disappears and I'm in a room somewhere, the walls dirty, pockmarked, the furniture worn. On a table, plates and cups are stacked, half-empty bottles line up beside them, and in the center is an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. Everything is covered in flecks of crimson.

I turn in the vision and see a man leaning back in his chair, a bloody gash from one side of his neck to the other, the blood flowing down his chest, bubbles of blood frothing out of his mouth. The scent of blood is thick, turning my stomach and I glance down and see blood covering my hands and arms, and in my hand is the bloody dagger.

I'm trying to cut off the man's head.

I cry out, dropping the blade. As soon as I do, the vision dissipates and I'm back at the dojo. Michel reaches out to steady me as vertigo strikes, holding me up as my bearings return, taking one of my hands in his.

"Tell me what you saw."

I look in his eyes. "I saw," I say struggling to speak over my dizziness. "I saw a man with his throat slit. I was covered in blood. The dagger was in my hand…"

"Yes," he says. "It was used in a recent murder. I brought it along to show you what your gift is. This is why you're so valuable."

I close my eyes for a moment and try to calm myself. When I feel somewhat better, I try to pull my hand out of his but he resists me.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I say and finally, Michel lets go of my hand. "I feel a bit dizzy, that's all."

He nods. "It affects people differently." He bends down and picks up the dagger, returning it to the table.

"What happened? How did I do that?"

"You have touch telepathy, like I already said. But more than that, you can feel memory traces of violence in the objects you touch. When humans commit violent acts, their extreme emotions leave traces in the material they touch – weapons, everyday objects that have been touched soon afterwards. This exists at the quantum level and persists over time, depending on the material. In some materials, it persists longer, in others much shorter. After a while, the traces lose their power and vanish so it has to be relatively recent violence."

"How long does it last?"

"Depends on the person who left the trace, depends on the intensity of the event, depends on the material. Could be a few hours, a few days, or even weeks."

"I've never felt it before."

"You've led a very sheltered life. You've been kept from violence on purpose because your parents wanted to mute your gift, keep it from being used. If you had grown up in a violent environment, you would have felt it and it would have really bothered you. Since you weren't, you have to
learn
to use it, learn to focus it like any skill. The more you do this, the better you will get."

I try to understand what just happened and glance around, hoping to shut the awful image off in my mind's eye.

"Agent O'Neil will take you upstairs to sign some papers and let you know when the next test will take place. Go." He nods toward Agent O'Neil.

O'Neil leads me to the door to the stairwell and to the third floor. I glance back at Michel as I leave the dojo.

He's smiling to himself.

Agent O'Neil – Ed, he says I should call him – sends me home after I sign a few papers, including a contract to work with the SCU.

Ed introduces me to his partner Dr. Terri Starr and we shake hands. She says they knew my mother and that they're happy that I've resurfaced and am old enough to take on this role. They've been looking for almost a decade for me – since she died and I was taken into state custody and the file was lost – or stolen, they're not sure which.

Then I leave, going back down the elevator and out the empty entryway to the street. I'm surprised – and a little saddened – that Michel doesn't come up to the third floor and say anything to me before I leave.

I
beat
him – the memory of the very short battle and the moment after when I almost kissed him lingers on my mind. It all happened so fast. It was like something took over and I just knew how to defend myself and also how to attack. In the excitement of the moment, my emotions almost got away from me.

I take a taxi back to my neighborhood and get out a block away so I can stop by my coffee shop and get a cup of decaf chai tea latte before returning to my apartment. As I'm standing in line, I feel someone brush against me and I shrink away, trying to be polite. The person persists in standing too close to me. I turn and it's Julien, that smirk on his face.

"Oh,
Julien
," I say, covering my throat. "I didn't see you there."

"Don't worry," he says, gesturing to my hand on my neck. "I'm not going to bite you. At least, not unless you
want
me to."

He lets that statement stand for a moment, and I don't know what to say in response but I don't uncover my neck. His expression becomes serious now.

"One thing you have to learn about people like me and Michel," he says and steps closer to me. "We're stealthy. Even more than the usual security detail. We can sneak up on you when you're not paying attention and if that happens, you're toast if we have bad intent. Keep aware at all times, Eve. I know Michel has a detail on you, but they're just ordinary Adepts and no match for older vampires like me. You still have to be on guard now. I was able to slip past all three and into the café. If I had been here with the intention to harm you, I could just take your hand, take over your ability to respond and have you out of here, out the back door and into a van waiting to take you away. Your security detail would be out of luck. Remember that."

"Why am I so at risk
now
?"

"You did well at the SCU," he says, his voice dropping lower as if to stop others from hearing what he says. "You've just moved up from 'interesting but unproven' to 'invaluable and coveted'. Things will never be the same for you again."

"In what way?"

He shakes his head. "It's not for me to tell you this. You're not mine."

"What do you mean by that? I'm no one's."

He smiles briefly. "You better search through your mother's files and find something on what an Adept is. And read up a bit more on how it is between humans and vampires."

"Why don't
you
tell me?"

Then I have to place my order and I turn away from him. When I turn back, he's staring at me intently, his brow furrowed.

"Well?"

"Come and sit with me for a bit. We can talk."

I nod and move over to wait for my latte. He orders an espresso and comes to stand beside me. Once more, he stands too close to me.

Our drinks are ready and he takes his and walks over to a semicircular booth – the only place open. He gestures to it, all gentlemanly, and waits for me to take a seat. Then, he slides in beside me, once more far too close.

I try to sidle away a bit but he just moves a bit closer, as if he thinks I'm giving him more room.

I frown and turn to my latte, stirring some sugar into it.

"So, you were telling me about why I'm at risk now."

He takes a sip of his espresso and glances at me.

"You sure don't know much."

"No one's told me much. Why don't you tell me?"

He exhales, stretching out his arm on the back of the bench behind me. He turns to face me, his face conspiratorial. He nods to me as if he wants me to move closer.

"Every single one of us would
kill
to have someone like you. Will kill to get and keep you."

"Why? Am I strategic?"

"Every vampire wants someone like you because you can connect with us. Share emotions, sensations. Thoughts. Come on, Eve. Don't give me that. Haven't you thought about how touch telepathy would be very…
enhancing
to certain very intimate experiences?"

My cheeks heat at the innuendo. God, he's a cad.

"So you're saying it's purely sexual?"

"Oh, so you
have
thought about it." He grins, his eyes widen as if in delight.

"You're rude."

He actually laughs at that. "No, I'm not. I'm just honest."

"Well, if you're so honest, tell me why things will never be the same again for me."

"I'm honest. I won't lie to you, Eve. But I won't always tell you things. It's not my place."

"Whose place is it?"

"Michel's, of course, if he's going to claim you. Although by all rights, you should be mine…"

"
Claim
me?"

"Yes," he says and takes another sip, all the while staring at me, amusement clear in his bright blue eyes. "You know. Stake his claim. Take possession."

"I'm not a gold mine."

"Oh, yes you
are
. The mother lode."

"I'm not a possession."

He turns away and finishes his espresso. "Like I say, you better catch up on your reading. There's a lot you don't know about how things are done with us."

"With who?"

"Between vampires and humans."

"I've read about the Treaty of Clairveaux. I know you can't kill us anymore."

He nods. "Yes, but there's a lot more we
can
do than just kill you and the treaty says nothing about that. In fact, it gives us license to do everything
but
. Eve, I hate to be the one to tell you…" And then he hesitates, looking at me, frowning a bit.

"Yes?" I say, impatient to hear what he has to tell me.

"I shouldn’t. Michel should be the one."

"Can you at least tell me what an Adept is?"

He sighs. "An Adept is a human who shares a vampire's ability to enter into another's mind and body, sense their emotions, their sensations, their thoughts. It's very rare and so it's very coveted. Your mother was Adept. Usually, it doesn't pass from one generation to another but in your case, it was given a bit of help. There's a lot about you that is unique."

"If she was Adept, who claimed her?"

"Like I said, that's not for me to say. Ask Michel. Read the files at the SCU when you get a chance. For example," he says and eyes from under a frown. "You can't
be
compelled."

He takes my hand and turns to me abruptly, staring in my eyes, moving closer, so close that his mouth is just a few inches from mine. "
Kiss
me, Eve."

I frown and try to pull away. "Not on your
life.
" I try to jerk my hand out of his grasp, but he's too strong. "You can't compel me so don't even try."

"No, I can't, but I can do
this
." He must release a brain hormone that makes me unable to resist him and he leans in closer, his head tilting, his lips almost touching mine. A little jolt of something goes through me. Fear? Or attraction?

"
Don't
." I'm, barely able to speak above the pounding of blood in my ears.

He pauses there for a moment, and I can hear his breathing, feel it on my lips, and it's fast. Almost as fast as my own.

Then he pulls back and lets go of my hand. "Nope," he says, his voice all matter of fact. "Can't compel you. I thought that Michel was just fooling me." He shrugs. "There's more than one way to skin a cat."

"What do you mean?" I say, confused. "And by the way, that's a terrible metaphor."

He grins. "Sorry. I forgot you're one of those cat people."

"How do you know…"

Then I remember that he's touched me quite a bit. He's probably sensed I have two cats.

He rubs his fingers over my hand, which is resting on the tabletop. "I just have to touch you to know anything I want to about you, Eve. Keep that in mind."

I pull my hand away. "Do you like making me feel uncomfortable?"

He turns and moves a bit closer. "Do I make you uncomfortable?" he says, all faux innocent. "I apologize, Eve. My intent is not to make you feel …
uncomfortable
."

What does he mean by that loaded statement?

God, being with him is like being with a naughty trickster. I can imagine him as the evil man with the curling moustache who's trying to take advantage of the innocent young woman in those old silent films, tying the damsel in distress on the train tracks…

"Look," he says and now his face is serious. Contemplative. Almost regretful. "I just feel bad, that's all. You were off the radar. Safe. Blissfully unaware. Now, here you are, right smack in the middle of things that are so much more dangerous than you can possibly imagine." He stares at me, the grin gone, the blue eyes now serious. "I'm sorry, Eve."

The abrupt change from leering cad to thoughtful man makes my head spin.

"Sorry for what?"

"For everything. Everything that happened. Everything that's going to happen." He shakes his head. "But the cat's out of the bag, so to speak and in keeping with the cat theme. There's nothing to do now but hang on tight." He takes my hand and turns it over, then presses his lips on my outstretched palm. "If you need me for anything, if you ever feel in danger, you just have to call me. I knew your mother. We were friends. She trusted me to look after you. I feel a certain degree of responsibility for you even if you aren’t mine. I will come to you at any time if you need me."

Then he lets go of my palm and finishes the last drops of espresso in his cup. He doesn't look at me, just stands and buttons his coat. "Gotta go. Being so close to you makes me realize it's time for a bite to eat," he says, grinning. "I'd ask you to join me for a meal, but I don’t know if food would satisfy me now."

Now the cad is back and the brief glimpse of a decent man disappears.

I turn my face away from him. "Goodbye, Julien."