Edge of Twilight (23 page)

“Not that you need to know.”

“Are you going to tell me what you're doing with us? Why you're holding us?”

She shook her head. “We're holding you because we don't yet know what sort of a threat you pose to us. What we'll do with you—well, we'll let you know as soon as we've made a decision on that.”

She remained out of the light. It drove him mad that he couldn't see her face, the better to remember it and exact vengeance later.

“You won't be harmed. Just so long as you don't try to get out, you'll be fine.”

“I'm afraid I have urgent business to attend to, headmistress.”

“Yes, and I'd like to know what that urgent business might be,” she countered. “Why did you come here? What are you looking for?”

He frowned, searching her mind. He found she'd made an effort to guard it, but she was no professional. He saw no hint of Amber or other vampiresses in her thoughts. She knew nothing about them. He wasn't about to tell her.

And then, just then, he became aware of that tingling sensation that heated his blood and tightened his loins. Alby was here. She was close. She hadn't been, but she was now.

“I came here out of curiosity,” he told her. “I heard a group of beautiful women lived here, and I, being a red-blooded male, wanted to check it out.”

“Or perhaps you thought to feast on us tonight,” she said. “Or perhaps you heard other things about this place.”

“That implies there are other things to hear. You're piquing my curiosity, headmistress.”

“Melina, someone's at the gate,” another woman said.

“Melina, hmm? That's a very pretty name.”

“You're wasting your time,” she said. “Everyone, back to your duties, with the exception of those on guard duty. Guards, don't talk to them, don't engage them in any way. Keep your minds shielded. And if they give you any trouble, page me.”

“Yes, ma'am,” several voices said in unison.

“Good God,” Jameson moaned, opening his eyes. “What the hell is going on? Where are we?”

The women were filing out of the room. Edge couldn't see them, but he could hear their steps, feel their retreat.

“I think we've landed in some sort of dominatrix boot camp,” Edge said. “Could be fun, don't you think?”

 

“Stop fidgeting. They'll see you,” Rhiannon whispered, as the three of them crouched in the bushes across from the lush, rolling lawns of the mansion.

“I can't see her!” Amber tried again to crane her neck so she could see beyond their shrubbery shelter, across the street, past the gate that had swung slowly open to admit Alicia after she'd spoken to someone through an intercom. Alicia stood now in front of the open door, pouring out the story she'd rehearsed to the woman who stood on the other side. The gate behind her closed with a finality that made Amber's heart trip over itself.

“She'll let us know if she needs help,” Angelica said. “She's nearly as capable telepathically as you are.”

It was an exaggeration, Amber thought. But her mother had a point, Alicia could send a mental shout for help if she needed to. Amber strained her ears to hear the conversation, but even her honed senses couldn't pick it up from this distance. She knew what Alicia was saying, though. That her car had broken down a mile away. That
she'd been fleeing an abusive lover and feared he wasn't far behind her. They would let her use the phone to call her auto club. And it would take a few hours for the tow truck to be dispatched, so they would let her stay there, safe behind the stone walls, until it arrived.

Maybe.

From her crouched position, Amber could see the woman as she stepped out onto the stoop, looked around beyond Alicia and, finally, nodded and put a hand on Alicia's arm, guiding her inside. The door closed.

Amber sank to the ground. “Well, that's it,” she said. “She's in.”

Angelica nodded. “She'll be fine, Amber. She's smart.”

“Smartest mortal I know,” Rhiannon put in.

Amber nodded. The worry for her friend's safety, and the constant questioning in her mind as to whether she'd done the right thing by letting Alicia take this risk, were things she would rather not have clouding her mind, but she welcomed the distraction, all the same. Ever since they'd come back here from the diner, Amber had been getting niggling feelings, like tiny sparks being set off in her nerve centers. The sense of Edge, that instant feeling that came over her whenever she was near him—that feeling of being drawn inexorably closer to him, that irresistible tug of his invisible tractor beam, pulling her. But the prickles of awareness were brief and only lasted an instant. They did bring him to mind, though, and so much else with him.

She shook herself, reminded herself that Edge was far away from here, escorting Stiles to Eric's lab, along with Donovan and Dante and…

“Dad,” she whispered. Her frown deepened.

Her mother clasped her shoulder. “You felt it, too, then?” she asked.

Rhiannon frowned at her. “Felt what?”

Amber gave her head a shake. “I just got the oddest feeling Dad was nearby. And Edge…”

“It's faded now,” Angelica said. “But for a moment, I felt your father, as well. As if he were standing behind us.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then shook her head when she opened them. “It's gone now, whatever it was.”

“They probably called Salem to check on us,” Amber said. “They probably found out we'd taken a detour and got worried. Maybe it was just their worry we sensed.”

“Their attention and focus, rather than their actual presence?” Rhiannon asked. Then she shrugged. “It's possible, though I think you would know the difference.”

“It was so fleeting.” Angelica frowned. “And almost…muffled.”

“Diluted was the word that came to me,” Amber said.

Rhiannon sighed. “Don't let it distract you. We need to focus on the job at hand. We have no idea when Alicia will manage to slip away from them long enough to…” She stopped then, arching one brow and looking toward the house.

Amber and her mother followed her gaze to see the outdoor light flash off, then on again, off, then on again.

“That's three,” Rhiannon said. She nodded hard. “She works fast, that one.”

“The faster the better, as far as I'm concerned,” Amber said. “I hate her being in there alone. Come on.”

They skirted the stone fence, finding the spot that seemed least likely to be visible from within. Amber crouched low and sprang, pushing off with her feet, catching the top of the wall with her hands and using them to propel her the rest of the way over, swinging her legs to
the side like a gymnast on a pummel horse. She let her knees bend low to absorb the impact of the landing, then remained crouched there, palms pressed to the cool grass as she looked up, her senses open wide.

Her mother and aunt hit the ground on either side of her.

“This place has a half dozen doors,” Rhiannon whispered. “Which one?”

Amber peered through the darkness, looking for a signal. Then… “There,” she said, pointing to a glass enclosed annex. “That sunroom or greenhouse or whatever it is, attached to the back of the house. See the door there?” She waited for the others to spot it, to notice Alicia's trademark pink sunglasses dangling by their beaded chain from the doorknob.

“Come on,” Amber said.

Staying low, the three of them raced forward, moving fast and silently. The glass structure sloped downward, its ceiling and walls entirely made of glass panels supported by a green metal frame. The door was glass, as well. Amber felt utterly exposed as she opened the door, sensing beyond it and snatching Alicia's sunglasses from the knob before stepping through.

The first thing that hit her was the humidity. It was steamy and moist, incredibly warm. And yet the glass was barely steamed up. Everywhere she looked, there were exotic plants, vines dangling from above, trees and ferns all around. Here and there, she spotted wicker tables, chairs, benches. A fountain bubbled and splashed in the center, and in one corner, a hot tub was the source of the steam. It looked as if it were made of stone, though the inside was clearly smooth and man-made.

Alicia lounged within it in a borrowed bathing suit. A dewy glass sat close to her hand.

“Workin' hard, ‘Leesh?”

Her head came up fast, eyes popping open. She looked around, spotting them, then shooting a quick glance toward the double doors on the opposite side—doors that must lead into the main part of the house. “Shh. Lock the door behind you.”

“Already did,” Amber said. She tossed the sunglasses to her friend. “Good thinking.”

“What did you expect?” She caught the glasses and draped the beads around her neck. The women moved closer, keeping an eye on the doors. “I haven't figured out what sort of sorority this is yet, but they seem genuinely nice.”

“Sure are hospitable.” Rhiannon splashed a hand in the water. “Putting you right in the hot tub out here.”

“I got the feeling they'd be going through my clothes and purse while I was distracted. Little do they know I'm the one trying to distract them.”

“Is there anything in there that will give you away?” Amber asked, alarmed.

“What difference does it make? You're in.” She rose from the water, reaching for a terry robe that was slung nearby, pulling it on. “Through that door is a hallway. Kitchens are off to the right, pantry to the left. After that, there are libraries—I counted three—and offices on the east side of the house. The west side has a formal dining room, a sitting room, and a living room. The entire front is foyer. That's where the stairs to the second floor are, but I'm sure I spotted a second set off the pantry, right next to another set that goes down below.”

“You
are
good,” Rhiannon said.

“What did you think I'd been doing, soaking in a hot tub sipping fruit punch the whole time?”

Amber said, “I'll go below. Mom, you take the ground
floor and offices, and Rhiannon can go upstairs and check the bedrooms. See if you can find out what kind of place this is, what these women are up to. But remember, the main objective is the serum. It's probably in some kind of vials or syringes, and most likely refrigerated. If it's labeled at all, it will say something like ‘Ambrosia-Six.'” Rhiannon's brows went up in question. “That's what Stiles calls it.”

“Clever.”

“What about me?” Alicia asked. “What should I do?”

“You need to keep playing the role you've been playing, ‘Leesh. Keep them from getting suspicious while we creep through this place.”

She sighed but nodded. “Fine, then. If you insist.” She shucked the robe and stepped back into the water. “Just don't forget me when you take off, or I might decide to stay.” She sent Amber a wink, which for some reason brought a shiver of something else along with it.

Footsteps approached, and Amber, Angelica and Rhiannon ducked behind a nearby bush, melding into the greenery as the door opened and a woman came through. Green silk lounge suit, flat shoes, short blond hair that was ultraneat. She exuded class and a sort of easy grace as she crossed to the hot tub and sank into a wicker chair nearby.

“How are you feeling? Calmer now?”

Alicia nodded. “This place just oozes calm, Melina. I don't know how to thank you,” she said. “Has the auto club called back?”

“No, not yet. But you're more than welcome to stay
until they do. They said no more than two hours, didn't they?”

Alicia nodded. “But I'm taking advantage of your hospitality.” She got up, again reaching for the robe and pulling it on.

“You're no trouble at all.”

“So what is this place, exactly?” Alicia asked. “I'm guessing it's not a spa, since there's just the one hot tub.”

The woman called Melina smiled. “It's just…where we live.”

“How many?” Alicia had slid her feet into slippers now. They were pink terry cloth and matched the robe.

“Twelve, at the moment.”

“All women?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She slid an arm through Alicia's and walked her toward the double doors.

“And you just threw in together, bought this place? I don't get it. Are you like a commune?”

“More like a sisterhood. We…share the same interests.”

“What kind of interests?”

The woman smiled gently, leading Alicia through the double doors. “Mary made some of her famous turtle cheesecake for our nightly snack-and-coffee break in the sitting room. You have to try some.”

“Cheesecake? Oh, honey, you don't have to try too hard to talk me into that.”

They both laughed softly as they walked together back into the house.

Amber crept out of her foliate cover. “I don't like this.”

“She obviously doesn't intend to tell Alicia what this place is really about,” Angelica said.

“I couldn't read her,” Amber put in. “She knows how to shield. Ordinary mortals don't.”

Rhiannon lifted her brows. “There's something a little more ominous than that going on,” she said softly. “I have the distinct feeling there are other vampires in this house.”

A
mber squeezed her mother's hand before she let go and veered to the right, Rhiannon at her side, while Angelica moved straight ahead, toward the offices and living areas on the ground floor. Amber and Rhiannon entered a large room lined in shelves and cupboards, every visible space filled. On one wall, two doors stood side by side, like sentries. Amber gave the doors a slow motion wave, and they opened slowly, silently, to reveal two sets of steep, narrow stairs. One led up, the other down.

Amber nodded once to Rhiannon and started down the stairs into the basement, while Rhiannon headed up the other flight to the second floor. The basement stairs were less than sturdy, old and unkempt looking. It didn't fit, Amber thought, as she moved lower, step by creaking step. The rest of the house, though obviously old, was in perfect repair. The place might be old, but the owners kept it looking like new. This, though…this was different.

Almost…deliberately so.

She reached the bottom, a dirt floor cellar with stacked stone walls.

“This is just odd,” she muttered, stepping into the cellar, slowly crossing the floor, examining everything
from the breaker box to the furnace, both of which looked brand-new. And then she felt it—something that stopped her in her tracks.

She frowned, searching the atmosphere. “Edge?”

Alby!

God, he was here. Down here somewhere. Dull and muffled, but not by distance.
Edge, what are you doing here?
She asked the question with her mind, hoping to keep the fragile connection open. As he answered, she moved around the basement, searching for the place where the signal was strongest, like moving a radio antenna around in search of the strongest signal.

Came looking for you, what else?

Without Stiles? I thought he was your top priority.

Jealous, are you?

She stuck her middle finger up at him and hoped he knew it. When she felt laughter coming back at her, she was certain he did.

You're still mad at me, then. Even though I rescued you from Stiles? My hero.
She loaded the thought with as much sarcasm as she could manage.

Truth is, kitten, I couldn't stand to think of you off playing warrior princess games in your condition.

Amber went still. He knew?

What, no reply to that?

His signal was stronger, near the back wall. She went to the spot and ran her hands along the stones.

I…was going to tell you.

She detected a fissure—not a natural crack in the stone, but a barely discernible linear break that, though uneven, formed a rough-edged boundary in the shape of a door. Its edges zigged and zagged with the shape of the
stone, an extremely effective concealment. Except to eyes as powerful as hers.

Don't apologize. It's not my business, after all.

She blinked.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Well, I'll admit, I was wildly jealous at first. Petty of me, I realize that now. I thought I was your first, you know. I believed you about that….

“You son of a…” Amber drew her knee up to chin height, then fired off a kick at the door. It crashed inward, from the top down, and she stomped over it into the huge room. Then she spotted Edge, sitting in the middle of the floor, her father sitting beside him, close by, oblivious to the mental conversation she and Edge had been having. Both men sprang to their feet when she entered.

“Amber, watch out!” her father shouted.

Too late, though. Two women had been standing at either side of the door, and they were on her instantly, gripping her arms and trying to force her to the floor.

Amber rolled her eyes, ripped herself free of their hands and jerked both fists up and back, smashing the faces on either side of her. The women crumpled to the floor, and Amber strode forward to the odd little white line painted on the floor around the men.

Edge flung his arms out in front of him, hands making stop signs. “Don't!”

“Don't come any closer, Amber!” her father said at the same moment.

She frowned at them, glancing at the floor. The toes of her shoes were at the edge of the white painted boundary. She rolled her eyes, shook her head. “But there's nothing there.” She reached out a hand, half expecting to touch an invisible force field.

Edge hit her, hard, flat of his hand to her chest, sending
her reeling backward. She hit the wall, then the floor, even as she saw the flames, closing on his arm from above and below like the jaws of a trap. Edge howled, jerking his arm back. His shirtsleeve was blazing. Jameson tore off his jacket and wrapped Edge in it, arm and all, smothering the flames.

“Oh my God, Edge, what the hell…?” Amber asked.

He sank to the floor, letting her father's jacket fall away, hugging his arm to his chest. The shirt sleeve was gone, nothing but bits of blackened fabric left. His skin was just as black, just as tattered. “Didn't want you gettin' burned.” He ground the words out. His jaw was tight, his entire body shaking now with the pain, which had to be excruciating. “Wouldn't be good for the little one.”

Jameson was kneeling over him, telling him to stop trying to talk, but he stopped in midsentence. “Little one?”

Her father looked at Edge, then slowly turned his head to stare at his daughter. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“This is hardly the time,” she said quickly. “We've got to find a way to turn off the damn flame throwers so we can get you out of here.” She picked herself up from where Edge had flung her and moved close to the boundary again, knelt beside it, saw the harmless looking jets lining the floor. Lifting her gaze, she saw them in the ceiling as well, all neatly lined up and camouflaged within the white stripe. They were spaced every six inches or so.

Licking her lips, she said, “I have an idea.”

“Amber Lily…” Jameson whispered. “Are you…are you…”

Edge winced in pain, bit his lip. “Sorry, love. I lost my
head for a second.” He let his head drop to the floor with an involuntary moan.

Amber ignored them both, even though Edge's pain was like a hot poker in her chest, and she dug into her pockets, praying she would find what she needed. And she did—a stick of chewing gum.

“Amber?”

“Yes, Dad. It's true. Apparently I'm pregnant. I'm also twenty-three years old. This is not a catastrophe.” She crammed the gum into her mouth and chewed. “B-but how…who…?”

Amber looked past him at Edge, who was perhaps unconscious by now. She hoped he wasn't dead. Enough pain could kill his kind, or that was what the lore said. Lore, however, was proving to be a rather unreliable resource.

Her father followed her gaze, and his eyes widened. “But—”

“I know. It's not supposed to be possible.” She plucked the chewed gum from her mouth and broke the pink wad in half. “But it is possible, because that's what happened. I can't explain it. I can only hope you know me well enough to know I wouldn't lie about something like this.”

“God, Amber, you can't think I would doubt your word.”

“Then it looks as if you're one up on our friend there.”

Her father seemed as stunned as if she'd hit him between the eyes with a sledgehammer. Until he looked again at Edge, and then he just looked murderous. “I should have let the bastard burn.”

“Now you sound like Aunt Rhiannon.” She shrugged. “Actually, I haven't exactly told him it's his yet. I think
he's making the logical assumption. Even though I thought he knew me better.”

“Amber,” her father began, his voice tender.

She held up a hand to silence him and eyed the floor, choosing a spot halfway between two of the jets. “I'm betting the sensors are within the jets themselves, since I don't see anything else that could hold them. I'm going to toss this piece of gum in to you, between the jets, so the flames shouldn't react. Don't reach out for it, Dad. Just wait for it.”

He nodded. She tossed the gum, and it moved cleanly between two of the jets, hitting the floor inside. Jameson picked it up. “As my little girl once said about her parents' liquid diet, ‘Ew. Gross.'”

She smiled at him. “I'll always be your little girl.”

“Are you all right, honey?”

He was getting emotional. This was not a good sign. Sympathy and tenderness from her father right now would turn her into a blubbering basket case. Already her throat felt tight, just from the look in his eyes and the catch in his voice. So instead of answering, she just nodded, and managed to swallow and clear her throat.

“Here's the plan. I'm going to stick my gum over the nozzle on the bottom. You're going to jump up and stick yours to the nozzle on the top. We have to do it at the same time, or one of us is going to get burned. Fortunately, we can both move with pretty impressive speed. I'll give you a beat to get up there.”

“Half a beat,” he said.

She nodded. “On three. Ready?”

Her father bent at the knees.

“One, two, three!”

He jumped, and as soon as he left the floor Amber slammed her wad of gum over the gas jet's nozzle and
jerked her hand out of the line of fire. By then, Jameson was back on the floor inside the square.

No flames shot out. “It worked,” Jameson said. Amber shot forward, but he held up a hand. “Let me test it first.” He picked up his jacket, the one that had put out Edge's blazing arm, and held it out over the gas jets. Nothing happened. He nodded. “Stay there, Amber. I'll bring him out.”

It nearly killed her to do what her father told her, but she forced herself. She stood still while he bent to pick Edge up off the floor and turned toward the boundary line.

Amber shook her head, moving a few involuntary steps closer. “Dad, no. The two of you together are too wide. There's only a twelve-inch space here.” Dropping to her knees, she held her hands to either side of the opening, to show him how much room he had to pass through.

Sighing, Jameson put Edge down. “Take his hands,” he said. “You pull him slowly out, and I'll keep him steady.” As he said it he lifted Edge's arms over his head, laying them gently on the floor.

She reached in, gripped his right wrist, then winced as she nearly grasped the burned left one. “I have to pull him by one arm, Dad. The other one's too damaged.”

He nodded. “If he wakes up, we'll be in trouble.”

“He won't wake up.” She willed it to be true and slowly began to pull, dragging Edge through the opening. He twitched once, and Amber spoke directly to his mind and as powerfully as she could, said,
Don't move, Edge. Lie still. Trust me.

Her face beaded with sweat as she pulled him out of the trap. Not from exertion, but from fear. Fear for Edge.

Finally his feet cleared the white boundary line. Jameson walked out behind him, as tense as she was, only
sighing his relief when he stood in the clear. Then he closed the space between himself and his daughter, and hugged her gently.

She hugged him back. “Mom and Rhiannon are upstairs. ‘Leesha, too.”

He nodded. “You see to Edge,” he said. “I'll go clear us a path, gather the troops and give you a call when we're ready.”

“Make it a loud one, Dad. There's something about this room that seems to…insulate telepathy.”

He nodded. “No wonder we couldn't sense you clearly.”

She was staring down at Edge even as her father held her, thinking how she'd felt him, wondering if he'd felt her, too, in spite of whatever force was at work here. “Honey…”

She swallowed hard. “I can't talk about it. Not now, Dad.” She pulled free of him and bent down beside Edge, one hand smoothing over his face. “How long till daylight?”

“Eight hours,” her father said. “But he's tough. He'll pull through.”

She nodded. “He will.”

Jameson sighed and left the room, gripping the two fallen guards by one arm each and dragging them along with him—to put them out of reach of his daughter, Amber guessed.

Amber leaned over Edge, drinking in the sight of him so eagerly it stunned her. “Hey,” she whispered. “Come on, wake up for me.”

His eyelids tightened but quickly relaxed again.

“Edge, come on. I know it hurts. Just try.”

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Pursing her lips, Amber said, “Fine. I'll do it myself
then.” She patted him down, found his ever-present pocketknife and flipped it open. Then she made a little slice on her forearm, sucking air through her teeth as she did. The knife clattered from her hand, and she watched the blood well up in the cut. Nodding firmly, she cradled Edge's head in her other hand, lifting him up a little, and held the wound to his lips.

At the first contact, his body jerked in reaction, awareness. His tongue darted out, snaked over her flesh, and made her skin come alive. But then, just as suddenly, his eyes flew open, and he lifted a hand to push her arm away. “Amber, no,” he whispered. “You can't, the baby—”

“You have to, Edge. You need it. Let me do this.” She tried to press her arm to his mouth again, and again he flung up a hand to push her away.

This time, when he did, she saw a tiny puff of white smoke rising from his arm. “Edge!” God, he couldn't be burning, not again. The fire was out, how could he…?

Amber went still then, as a drop of blood from her cut forearm landed on Edge's blackened flesh, and another puff of white smoke rose up. “What the hell?”

“What?” Edge lifted his head to look, but it moved as if his neck were made of rubber and fell back to the floor again with a little thud.

Amber leaned closer, squinting at his poor burned arm. But the spot where her blood had landed…was fading. The black was paling, and a tiny, droplet shaped patch of pink, healthy skin appeared in its place.