Vigil (8 page)

and go back to the hotel and leave all the magical machinations

to Boaz and his gang of merry monsters, but he couldn’t bring

himself to leave without saying good-bye to Bran. Then, if Boaz

could get his money back as Santos promised, Adin could turn

his back and walk away.

Vigil
49

Maybe.

He dressed quickly and entered Bran’s room and found him

face down on the bed. Oddly enough, it reminded him of the

many times after his parents died, when he and Deana had been

forced to deal with the grief of a sudden shocking loss and he’d

found Deana exactly like this. It felt like a familiar thing, sitting

on the side of the bed and placing a comforting hand on Bran’s

shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.” Adin smoothed the fabric of Bran’s T-shirt

over his shoulder blade. “I wasn’t really thinking. I’m sorry if

what I said—”

“It’s all right,” Bran sniffed.

“Tell me about what you do know. Maybe I’ll be able to

understand.”

“Everyone’s memories are available to me except mine.”

“You don’t remember?”

“I can remember my name, what I did yesterday, last week.

Where I’ve lived recently and what I spend my time doing, most

of the time. Some things from my childhood. A few.”

“But the distant past?”

Bran looked as though he were concentrating. “Nothing.”

“You remember back how far?”

“It’s not like that. It’s not like a line I can’t pass. It’s as if
I’ve

been nowhere, done nothing. Like one minute I wasn’t here and

then I was.”

“That must be odd.” Adin considered it. “It must be horrible.”

Bran shrugged with a clink of his chains. “When I figured out

that I could share other people’s memories and dreams, it seemed

strange to me that I didn’t have my own.”

“Try to think, Bran. What can you do, what have you done

recently, that someone might want you to do for them? It has

to be something virtually impossible… What is it that sets you

apart?”

50 Z.A. Maxfield

Bran stayed mutinously silent for several minutes. Adin waited

him out. Finally Bran’s stomach growled.

“I’m hungry.”

Adin sighed, giving up for the moment. “Well, if that’s actual

hunger and not—you know—the reason people are trying to buy

and sell you, go to Boaz and get something to eat, and I’ll be

down in a minute, all right?”

Bran nodded and got up, heading for the bedroom door.

Adin watched him as he took off; heard his chains rattle and

his feet thunder on the hard wood floors. Whatever Bran was, he

should never have been made a pawn by Harwiche, nor should he

be used in some game between Santos and Donte. He should be

free to go to school, to run around with his friends on the soccer

pitch, not chained up in dank basements urinating in bins and

eating off the floor like a dog. Adin burned with fury at himself

that he’d allowed it to continue after their so-called rescue, even

though he and Boaz had done better by Bran than his previous

captors. Making up his mind, he followed Bran toward the smell

of food.

Listening to Boaz and Bran chatter at the breakfast table,

Adin thought they seemed like any normal, dysfunctional family.

Bran helped himself to food liberally, as though he really were

the teenaged boy he appeared to be, and Boaz kept it coming,

perfectly shirred eggs, the kind of thick ham called bacon in

England, along with sausages and the ubiquitous piping hot

bread, with fresh butter and jam. In all it was a very English

breakfast—thankfully missing a black pudding—for a French

household, and Adin wondered if Boaz made it especially for

him. For some reason that warmed his heart a little.

“Boaz, Santos said you have a way to get my money back.

I don’t suppose it’s legal, but then neither is selling adolescent

boys, so you won’t be hearing a word about it from me.”

“He mentioned that. I’ll see to it.”

“And that only leaves you.” Adin turned to Bran.

Vigil
51

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Boaz. If you don’t know what

Bran
is,
how can you know he has to be kept chained?”

“Santos told me that it would be unwise to remove his chains

until we know why Harwiche wants him. He said specifically—”

Adin waved his explanation off. “I would prefer it if you didn’t

treat me like an idiot. Santos wants to embroil me in another

game of triangles with Donte.”

Boaz had the grace to look guilty. “You have to admit it has

worked in the past.”

Adin finished his coffee and rose to his feet. He pulled all

the cash from his wallet and dropped it on the table by Bran’s

plate. “Only because I didn’t see it coming.” He pulled the keys

to Bran’s chains from his pocket and handed them to the boy.

“Quick as you can, unchain yourself and go home, wherever

that is. Hide from everyone. Make sure you appear to be nothing

more than a boy on a school trip or something. I’m leaving.”

Boaz leaped to his feet so fast his chair fell over. “Adin, you’re

making a serious mistake. Donte will
kill
you for this if he realizes

that Harwiche has Auselmo’s papers and you let his leverage go

free. And if he doesn’t, Santos surely will.”

“It’s done. And Bran is a…boy. Whatever he is, he’s not

leverage
.” Boaz rushed toward Bran but Adin caught him easily

and held him fast while Bran worked the chains. “I’m sure you

and Santos can figure out a way to turn this to your advantage.

I’m done with your games.”

The last of the chains dropped from Bran’s slight body

and Adin half expected a tornado or a mushroom cloud. He

anticipated being torn limb from bloody limb despite the apparent

unconcern he’d put on for Boaz’s benefit. At the very least he

expected the kid to get the hell out and not look back. Absurdly,

Adin wanted to tell Bran if he was going to do something awful

he should get it over quickly. Instead Bran rushed to him and gave

him a kiss on the cheek that carried more than a little adoration

with it.

52 Z.A. Maxfield

“Thank you, Adin.” Bran’s eyes shone as he poised for flight.

“I won’t forget this.”

Boaz struggled against what Adin realized was a chokehold

he’d been trained to use by Donte’s minions as they’d patiently

tried to teach him to defend himself. “
Run
,” Adin insisted. “Hide.”

Bran fled.

When Adin finally let Boaz go, the smaller man fell to the

floor panting.

“Donte and Santos will have the first common goal in their

long lives when they realize what you’ve done. Both of them will

want to see you flogged.”

“Excellent,” Adin told him. “Time honored. Peace at any

price.”

On his way out of Santos’s house he pulled his cell phone out

and made a call. His heart clenched when Donte answered on

the first ring.

“I’m a shit.” Donte spoke before Adin had a chance to say

anything. “Tell me you forgive me or I will be forced to brood in

the most beautiful city on Earth.”

“I need you,” Adin told him. “I just threw away any chance

for us, and pissed off about half the underworld in the bargain.”

“Did you?” Donte sighed. “Again? You make me laugh to

think I used to worry about things like plague…”

Adin walked in the general direction of the Seine. He was

unsurprised when a sedan with dark-tinted windows pulled up to

the curb beside him fifteen minutes later.

The driver’s window rolled down and Boaz leaned over and

spoke. “Get in.”

“No,” Adin said flatly.

“Donte phoned me and told me to help you get home.
To him
.

I take it you didn’t tell him what you’ve cost him.”

“That will have to come later.”

“I see.”

“Why are you here?” Adin asked, still walking along while

Boaz crept by the curb—not an easy feat in Parisian traffic, even

that early in the day.

“I just gave Santos my notice, and I have not a single doubt

that he will peel me like a grape when next we meet.
Get in
.”

Adin glanced around the chic neighborhood then shrugged.

He climbed into the back seat and folded his arms. “Whose car

is this?”

“Let’s hope this escapes Santos’s notice until I can return it.

He has no need of it in Asia, anyway.”

“That home was remarkably free of Santos’s usual minions.

I can’t help but feel I must have reacted exactly as he planned.

I hope you brought my luggage, I have an Eiffel Tower pencil

sharpener in there for Deana.”

“I have no idea what Santos planned. He doesn’t share his

thoughts with me.”

Adin scooted forward and gripped the back of Boaz’s seat.

“Well, let me share mine. If anything Santos has planned, if

anything he has used me for this time harms one hair on Donte’s

head you had better kill me because I
will
tear you apart, and while

54 Z.A. Maxfield

I may not be a vampire, I will
drink your blood
. Do you understand

me?”

Adin met Boaz’s eyes in the rearview mirror and for the first

time in their acquaintance, the insouciant, polite mask dropped

from Boaz’s face, leaving an undisguised anger. “I understand

you. Fedeltà knows where my loyalties lie. I’ve told you that.

Anyway, as I’ve also told you, you’ll be answering to him this

time.”

“You’ve told me a lot of things.” Adin watched the mask fall

back into place on Boaz’s dark, sharp features until his eyes held

their usual merry light.

Boaz snorted. “Sit back and be silent.
I will drink your blood
.

Aren’t you simply precious?”

Adin gazed out the window. The sky was overcast; if he

looked farther west it was clear they’d be getting some rain.

Already he could see a certain yellow cast to the light, which

probably heralded a sudden downpour. As they navigated the

crowded streets, Adin sighed in contentment. “Where are we

headed?”

“Back to your hotel. Donte is waiting for you there.”

“I hope you have your own room.”

“I’m certain Donte was able to make arrangements.”

“I imagine after your little performance yesterday Villiers will

find you a place,” Adin remarked drily. “If you’re a carnivore.”

“I’m an
omni
vore,” Boaz informed him. “But when I’m

working I try not to divide my attention.”

“Do you think we’ll ever see Bran again?”

“I couldn’t say, Dr. Tredeger.”

“For his sake, I hope not.” Adin decided that if he was going

to require being driven through the streets of Paris in April just

before a good spring rain, he ought to shut up and enjoy it while

it lasted.

Vigil
55

When Adin entered their new hotel room he discovered

Donte hunched over the tiny writing desk, frowning in the light

of a laptop. In a parody of the man himself all the window

coverings were drawn and the lights were turned off. Given

Adin’s curiosity and Donte’s fierce concentration, Adin couldn’t

help but reach into the case he’d brought up from the car to draw

out his reading glasses. He slipped them on as he leaned over

Donte’s shoulder to glance at the screen.

“You smell like sun and rain.” Donte’s breath warmed Adin’s

ear.

Adin leaned in and kissed Donte just below the jaw, resting

his chin on one broad shoulder. “You smell like home. What has

you frowning this fine rainy morning?”

Donte lifted one of Adin’s hands and placed a kiss in the

palm. “Your hand tastes like iron. Have you ever heard of an

Emere
?”

“No.” There was no second chair, and Donte gallantly

relinquished his to Adin as he read the wiki article and scrolled

down. “Yoruban folklore?”

“West African peoples. They have interesting cosmology and

a fascinating language, although I never learned it. An Emere is

another type of changeling child.”

“Changeling? Boaz talked about changelings. You think Bran

is an Emere?”

“I’m just trying to get a read on all the changeling folktales. It’s

my understanding that changelings are actually fairly common.

Sometimes a broader picture, synthesizing an image from a

number of different cultures—as many as one can get—will give

a better idea of what one is dealing with.”

“Look at you getting all research-y. Sexy.” Donte turned and

Adin tilted his head to taste him, slanting his mouth over Donte’s,

teasing it open. Donte yielded and they stroked each other with

lips and tongue, until between them they could taste the pleasure

of homecoming and imminent sex. Donte broke away first.

“So, Emere,” Donte hinted, clearing his throat, but Adin

56 Z.A. Maxfield

could tell he was pleased to be back to teasing and kisses. “This is

a child who can move between heaven and earth at will. They’re