“Oh shut up,” she said.
“My case in point.” He raised his eyebrows and looked bland when she glowered at him. “I’m just sayin’.”
The evening still showed hints of the day’s golden sunlight, but shadows were deepening across the clearing and glowing lanterns had begun to appear in strategic places as she and Rune approached the Nightkind encampment. Rhoswen, Duncan, the other male Vampyre and their human companions (attendants? servants? food supply?) were gathered around a communal campfire. The group looked relaxed. The humans had made short work of their portion of the supper supplied by the Chicago kitchen staff. Perhaps their air of relaxation was an illusion, but Niniane envied them their ease in each other’s company.
She was amused to see that the humans were not prompt in rising to their feet at her appearance. They only did so after Rhoswen gave them a glare. She would miss modern Americans’ casual ease of manner.
She said to Rhoswen, “I was hoping to have a word with Carling.”
After a brief pause, the blond Vampyre said, “Certainly. The Councillor is down at the river. She invites you to join her.”
“Thank you.”
Niniane went in the direction Rhoswen indicated. She followed a short trail through bushes to arrive at the river’s edge, while Rune kept pace at her back. As the evening sky darkened, the brightest stars began to shine. The river rippled silver in the fading light, and the fiery foliage colors on both banks turned muted. At first she looked along the near bank for Carling. It was only when Niniane saw pale material draped on a nearby bush that she thought to look out over the river. She found Carling’s sleek dark head cutting through the water.
“Oh my God,” she said. She shuddered. The water had to be so frigid it was bone numbing. Anybody who fell into it would run the risk of hypothermia in minutes if they were, well, alive. “You don’t feel the cold?”
Rune looked amused as he parked himself by leaning against a nearby birch tree with his arms crossed. Carling’s husky chuckle sounded over the water. The Vampyre swam against the current. Her lazy-looking breaststroke made it look effortless.
“I feel it,” said Carling. She ducked her head under the water and came up to the surface again. “It just doesn’t affect me like it does you.”
“Is it the same as sunlight?”
“That is a different matter,” said the Vampyre.
“How so?” Niniane had been dying to ask ever since she had seen Carling step into the sunshine at the hotel.
“I cloak myself with Power so that I can walk in sunlight. Otherwise I would have to cloak myself with clothing and sunscreen, like the other Vampyres do, or the sun would burn me to ash just as it would them. I can step through sunlight and can look upon it, but I can no longer feel it on my skin and survive.”
“That must be exhausting.”
“I would not want to travel for weeks in the daylight without respite, but this short trip is fine.”
Carling swam toward the shore and walked out of the water. Niniane lost her breath. The Vampyre’s sleek, wet, nude body glinted with the silver edge of the fading light. Her full breasts, slim waist and strong shapely legs were perfectly formed and sinuously graceful, but there any pretence to perfection ended, for she was tiger-striped from shoulder to thigh, her body covered with dozens of long white lash scars. Someone had beaten her badly when she had been human, beaten her so badly she must have been near death.
Niniane clenched her teeth and grew teary. Carling gave her a brief disinterested glance as she stepped to shore. Then the Vampyre’s attention moved to Rune and paused for what could have passed for a heartbeat.
Niniane turned to Rune too.
He stared at Carling. His handsome face was carved into stark lines, the bones standing out. The lines of his body thrummed with tension, the muscles cut with rigidity. His golden lion’s eyes blazed.
Carling turned from the sentinel. She plucked her clean caftan from the bush and shrugged it on, her movements languid and unhurried. Her expression remained bored, and her face and body gleamed with radiance.
“Perhaps we should talk in my tent,” Carling said.
Niniane followed Carling back to the campsite. The Vampyre stepped inside her tent, which was a large, modern nylon affair with zipped-up windows. Niniane paused at the entrance. She said to Rune, “Please wait here. I know Tiago wanted me to stay with one of you at all times, but I’m only going to be on the other side of this canvas.”
Rune nodded without speaking.
She hesitated. She didn’t know what she was tempted to ask him, maybe just if he was all right, but his expression was tight, closed-in, and his body language warned her away. She sighed. Sometimes Wyr were inexplicable.
She stepped in the tent. Inside it was decorated with the damask silk hangings and the mahogany inlaid trunk from the hotel. There were no chairs, just a scattering of pillows on a rug. Carling poured two glasses of red wine. Her dark wet hair lay sleek against her head. She turned and offered a glass to Niniane, who took it. Then Carling sank down to sit cross-legged on a floor pillow. Niniane tried not to show her struggle as she eased her aching body down onto another pillow.
Carling sipped wine. “What do you need?”
“Some advice, if you can give it.” Niniane rubbed her eyes. There was no point in beating around the bush. She asked the Vampyre, “Do you know if any of the Dark Fae in this group tried to kill me?”
“No,” said Carling. “I do not.”
Niniane struggled to verbalize her next question. It was surprisingly hard to ask. “How do they—feel to you?”
Carling shrugged. “They feel like people.”
“I mean emotionally. Could you tell if one of them was feeling violent?”
Carling’s eyebrows raised. “Certainly. I can also tell when they are feeling sad or angry, and when they feel dislike or joy. None of these emotions have anything to do with whether or not they have committed, or have conspired to commit murder.”
Niniane ground her teeth and growled. “This is so frustrating. I just spent time with each one—well, except for Arethusa, who’s been busy this evening. I enjoyed each one’s company. They all acted like they liked me.”
“No doubt they do like you, and why wouldn’t they? You are an engaging person.” Carling smiled. “But I have killed someone I liked before. I have killed someone and felt regret. I have also sensed violent emotions from you, but you have not erupted into violent action. Emotions are like colors, Niniane. Thoughts and actions provide structure and purpose to a person. It is only when you put them all together that they begin to form a real picture. The Dark Fae are a complex people, with many years of memory and motivation to influence their actions and ambitions.”
“Okay,” Niniane said. She swallowed wine. “I guess I was looking for a shortcut, and there isn’t one.”
“I’m sorry, no there isn’t.” Carling paused then said, “But now that we have a chance to talk, I would offer you a word of advice about something else.”
“By all means.” Niniane drank more wine. “Please do.”
“I suggest you go carefully with Tiago. All of the Dark Fae are feeling threatened and aggressive about him, except perhaps for Aubrey, whose reaction has been surprisingly low-key.”
Niniane asked, “How has Aubrey reacted?”
“I would say he’s concerned, maybe even troubled, but I have not picked up feelings of aggression from him.”
Did that mean Aubrey was taking Tiago’s presence well, or did that mean he wasn’t too threatened by Tiago’s presence since he planned on killing her anyway? Argh. This kind of thing was going to drive her around the bend. She tossed back the last of her wine.