Secrets of the Night Special Edition (6 page)

"I suppose she'll tell me I'll inherit a gold mine and marry the most beautiful woman in the kingdom." He smirked.

Egan smiled. "From what I've heard, she may be the most beautiful woman in Avador."

Gaderian eased back and drained his mug, then set it on the table with a clunk. "I've got better ways to spend money. I should leave soon, need to feed." Hunger taunted him, a craving deep in his gut. Too many nights had passed since–

"You're afraid." Egan scrutinized him.

He jerked his head up. "What?"

"Afraid to have your fortune told." 

"Not I." Gaderian thought for a moment. Maybe he should visit the fortune teller, not that he believed in scrying, but he welcomed any diversion from his problems. Besides, a pretty woman was an added lure, even if she was mortal. Aware that fortune telling was a cunning deception if there ever was one, she would never guess his true essence, never perceive he was one of the undead.

A satisfied look framed Egan's face. "Ah, I can see you're considering." He nodded toward the hallway. "The scryer."

Gaderian scraped his chair back. "I never could resist a challenge. Besides, what do I have to lose, besides a little money?"

* * *

Fianna watched her customer leave, a contented smile on his face. As she'd requested, he left the door open to indicate she remained free to accept other customers. She counted the copper coins in the wooden box on the desk, their clinking sound a potent reminder of how much money she'd earned this night, even considering that she must share the coins with Cedric. And the arrangement was only fair, since he granted her free room and meals. She yawned and glanced at the hourglass on the table, noting the late hour as fatigue enervated her. Shortly after she'd started work her, Cedric had removed his papers to another room, and the table remained clear, with only her mirror on it. On this third evening in her new position, she was heartened by the response she'd garnered and the money she had earned, convinced she could perform this skill well, telling only the truth, and for the most part, satisfying her patrons. Just this morning, she'd gone to the shoemaker to be fitted for a pair of shoes, which the man had told her would be ready in a couple of days. She was tired of going barefoot, tired of looking like a vagrant. She hoped to buy a new dress within the next couple ninedays, even if it was plain and serviceable. Tonight she wore a dress from home, a wine-colored linen with a black-trimmed collar and black tassels around her waist. Gold hoop earrings she'd brought from home dangled from her ears, swinging with her every movement.

Unbidden and unwanted, her thoughts wrenched to Angus Kendall. What if he caught up with her? That fear continually loomed in her head, and she agonized that she might have to move to another town. Would she be safe anywhere else? But surely Angus or her stepfather–if either pursued her at all—would send a servant after her. Here in Moytura, she could lose herself among its thousands of people. No one would find her, she assured herself. And now that she had independence–she hoped–she yearned for stability, a place to set down her roots, eventually marry and have children. Or remain unwed, if she met no one she cared enough for to share her life.

Through the open door, she heard the talk and laughter from the dining room, knowing the noise would continue for much of the night, thankful she was a sound sleeper. And speaking of sleeping, Cedric had told her what hours she was to work, during the late afternoon and most of the evening.  He didn't expect her to work too late at night, so if no more people came, she'd leave here and seek her pallet–

"Good evening." A tall, dark-haired man entered the room, wearing a black tunic of fine linen with gold braid at the shoulders, a gold chain belt encircling his waist and ankle-high black boots. The man from the cave!  She blinked; her heart raced. They exchanged startled glances and quickly, she searched her mind for his name. Gaderian Wade! And his voice! deep and rich as raisin-filled honey cakes, his gaze as compelling as a hawk diving for its prey. He had a commanding mien about him, as if he could take charge of any situation, and no one would get the best of him.

"Ah, it's you!" He smiled as he closed the door behind him. "The lady who shared my cave. This is indeed a pleasant surprise."

"I thought I'd never see you–" she stopped, her face warming. She looked down and fiddled with the tasseled belt of her dress.

He grinned. "You thought you'd never see me again? Ah, so you've been thinking about me."

She shook her head, too vigorously, she feared. "No, it's not that. But what are the chances we would see each other again?" She bit her bottom lip, clenching her hands in her lap.

He pulled out the chair and sat across from her. "Fate, perhaps?" He gestured toward her mirror. "Speaking of which?" He dropped two copper coins in the wooden box and crossed his long legs. "I wish I could stay longer, but there are things I must tend to."

"Of course." Seeking a trancelike state, she stared into the mirror for a long time, her every thought on him, his proximity hindering concentration. She caught his scent, a faint trace of cloves, conscious of his dark eyes on her, his every movement. Why did he affect her this way, as if she were a schoolgirl who'd never been alone with a man? Why did his mere presence make her heart pound, and all her senses become wondrously alive?

Images in the mirror swirled in front of her, visions at first vague, gradually crystallizing into a pattern, one she had trouble interpreting. She saw crimson rivers of blood, flowing on and on, as if from a wound. She shook her head to clear it, too well aware of his gaze on her. Surely, something was wrong here, a false picture. She waved her hand across the mirror and stared at the black surface again.

Gaderian sat forward, a trace of a smile on his face. "What do you see? Am I going to find a million gold pieces hidden somewhere in Avador?"

"I … I …" Fianna swallowed, seeking the right words. Her heart raced, faster, faster. "I see blood … blood flowing, rivers of blood." She glanced up at him, saw a guilty look cross his face. "I've never had such a reading before." She shook her head. "What does it mean? Have you had a deep wound in the recent past?"

"No," he snapped. He changed his position, both feet on the floor.

Puzzlement ate at her confidence and she frowned. "I surely don't understand what I'm seeing."

"Well, I don't, either." His jaw tightened, his eyes flashing, but she sensed he was lying, intuited he was holding something back. He shoved his chair back and stood. "I knew you were a charlatan," he said with a look of disgust.

"Sir, no!" What if he complained to Cedric? She'd lose her job. "I assure you I am quite skilled in scrying. This … this image is something I can't explain."

"Nor can I. Good evening, madam." He spun around and strode from the room, leaving her hurt and bewildered. A vague suspicion teased her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. No, he could not be a vampire. She recalled the notice on the community tack board, the sign that offered a reward for information leading to the capture of a vampire. Gaderian Wade. Was he one of the undead? No, not a handsome man such as he. The very thought brought a smile to her face.

Increasingly puzzled, she sat in brooding silence, then glanced at the hourglass again to see that her day was over. Tired and discouraged for the first time since she'd begun work here, she gathered up the coin box and scrying mirror, then left the room. She crossed the hallway and trudged down a couple doors to her own room. The box in her hands, she sank onto her pallet, her mind reviewing all she'd seen in her mirror and Gaderian's every word and expression. After a long time, she rose and shoved the mirror and box under her pallet, intending to give Cedric his share tomorrow.

Too agitated to sleep, she decided to go for a walk to clear her mind, to seek serenity elsewhere. First changing into a clean dress of dark blue cotton, she left the room, locking the door behind her and pocketing the key. She would head for the meadow that bordered the
Nantosuelta
River
, there to sit and meditate for a while, to renew her confidence. She could not let the recent experience with Gaderian Wade discourage her, for it would only impede her scrying ability in the future.

Out in the main smoky dining room, her eyes watered as she wove her way among the many tables, returning the greetings from all the men and a few women. The men's flirtations lifted her spirits and helped her forget, if only in a small way, tonight's upsetting experience. Many of them made suggestive comments, words she'd learned to ignore in the short time she'd begun to work here. But for the most part, the men were polite and respectful, this being a decent establishment. At the entrance, she pushed the heavy door open, then stepped out into the fresh night air, taking deep, calming breaths. She looked upwards, never tired of seeing the glittering stars and half moon that decorated the night sky. The planets Partholon and Nemed shone as bright as stars. Here and there, vagrants and tavern customers wandered the streets, and she questioned her decision to walk the streets alone. This was a big city, full of strangers, not her hometown of Ros Creda. She stood in silent quandary for a few moments as she looked up and down the street.

"Madam."

She jerked and glanced around. He emerged from the canopy of a spreading oak tree and approached her, his steps fast but deliberate. Gaderian Wade, again! Every sense reacted, an inexplicable joy, mingling with fear of the unknown. He stood before her, a slight smile on his face, as tall and imposing as ever. As handsome as ever.

"It's not safe for a woman to walk these streets at night by herself."

She still smarted from his earlier insults. "So I suppose I'm safe with you?" And was she? Her knees shook, whether from fear or an emotion she dared not identify, she wasn't sure.  She let her hands hang loosely at her side, determined to present a facade of calmness, to never let him see the tantalizing effect he had on her, one that tempted her to go wherever he might lead her, to do whatever he wanted, no matter how outrageous. She breathed in his scent, that enchanting trace of cloves, and couldn't keep her eyes from staring into his. As if breaking free of a spell, she pulled her gaze from him but still felt his mesmerizing effect on her. She mentally scolded herself for her juvenile foolishness.

After what seemed an eternity, he made a slight bow. "Madam, I assure you that you are safe with me." He paused. "It occurred to me that I was a little too brusque with you a while ago. I should not have questioned your fortune telling skill. But we will not deal with that

now … perhaps some other time."

Her intuition told her he was hiding something, but what? She feared to even consider the suspicion that lurked at the back of her mind, the possibility that he might be one of the undead. Everyone knew vampires were old and decrepit, with sharp fangs and bony hands. They reeked of rotting animals and death.

His voice jolted her from her thoughts. "When I asked the tavern keeper about your hours, he told me you would soon be finished with your readings." He smiled, a slow smile that spread across his face and reached his eyes. "And so I've been waiting here for you, hoping you might want to escape the confines of the tavern." He gestured toward the street. "Shall we walk together for a while? That was your intention, wasn't it–to go for a walk?" he asked with a questioning look.

"I thought I'd head for the meadow by the river." Still unsure if she could trust him, she decided to take a chance. If he'd wanted to hurt her, he could have ravished her when they shared the cave. 

"Never by yourself, but with me, you're safe." He placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, and she felt the strength in his arm, the pull and play of his muscles. A rush of warmth enveloped her body, a feeling she'd never experienced before.

They walked in silence for a while, her bare feet padding on the cobblestones, the stones cooler now. A light breeze caressed her body and lifted her hair from her shoulders. After leaving
Tavern Street
, they turned west and headed for
Aventina Way
, one of the main avenues where the library, Talmora's
Temple
, and hospital dominated the area, a street that led to the meadow and the river.

He glanced down at her feet. "Madam, I–"

"Fianna, remember?"

"Yes, of course." He glanced down at her feet. "Are you sure you want to walk without shoes? I wouldn't want you to hurt your feet. These streets may have broken glass on them."

"I'll be careful. I'm used to going barefoot. Did it all the time at home. Anyway, I should have a pair of shoes within a couple days. When I left home, I wore a pair of shoes but they …" She wondered how much she should tell him about her misadventure along the way.

He slid her a glance. "Yes?"

Her earlier trouble came back to torment her, as if it had happened only yesterday. "Some tramp stole my shoes and my dress! My jewels were sewn in the hem!" Aware of her rising voice, she lowered it. "And gold coins! After that, I had no money, nothing." On the verge of tears, she stopped talking and stared in the window of a sword shop.

"But you don't want to tell me why you left home." He said it as a statement, not a question, but something deep inside her made her want to confide in him, to believe in him. "And where is your home?"