Morrigan's Cross (Circle Trilogy 1)

“What did you do?”

“Nothing much, guess I was in shock. He sits down, studies me like I’m a frigging book. ‘You’re lucky,’ he said, ‘and stupid.’ He’s got that accent. I’m figuring he must be some rock star or something. The way he looks, the fancy voice, the fancy room. Truth is, I thought he was a perv, and he was going to want me to…Let’s just say I was scared shitless. I was eight.”

“You were a child?” Her eyes widened. “You were just a child?”

“I was eight,” he repeated. “Grow up like I did, you aren’t a kid long. He asks me what the hell I was doing out there, and I give him some sass. Trying to get some of my own back. He asks if I’m hungry, and I shoot back something like I ain’t going to…perform any sexual favors for a goddamn meal. Orders a steak dinner, a bottle of wine, some soda pop. And he tells me he isn’t interested in buggering young boys. If I’ve got someplace I’d rather be, I should go there. Otherwise I can wait for the steak.”

“You waited for the steak.”

“Fucking A.” He gave her a wink. “That was the start of it. He gave me food, and a choice. I could go back to where I’d been—no skin off his—or I could work for him. I took the job. Didn’t know the job meant school. He gave me clothes, an education, self-respect.”

“Did he tell you what he was?”

“Not then. Not long after though. I figured he was whacked, but I didn’t much care. By the time I realized he was telling the truth, literal truth, I would’ve done anything for him. The man I was setting to be died on the street that night. He didn’t turn me,” King said quietly. “But he changed me.”

“Why? Did you ever ask him why?”

“Yeah. That’d be for him to tell.”

She nodded. The story itself was enough to think about.

“Break’s about over,” he announced. “We can get an hour’s workout in. Toughen up that skinny ass of yours.”

She grinned. “Or we could work with the bow. Improve that poor aim of yours.”

“Come on, smart-ass.” He frowned, glanced toward the doorway. “You hear something?”

“Like a knocking?” She shrugged, and because she tarried to straighten the books, was several paces behind him out of the room.

Glenna trotted down the steps. What little progress they were making she could leave to Hoyt for the time being. Someone had to see about the evening meal—and since she’d put her name on the list, she was elected. She could toss together a marinade for some chicken, then go back up for another hour.

A good meal would set the tone for a team meeting.

She’d just drop by the library, yank Moira away from the books for a cooking lesson while she was at it. Maybe it was sexist to put the only other woman next on the KP list, but she had to start somewhere.

The knock on the door made her jolt, then pass a nervous hand through her hair.

She nearly called up the stairs for Larkin or King, then shook her head. Talk about sexist. How was she going to fare in serious battle if she couldn’t even open the door herself on a rainy afternoon?

It could be a neighbor, dropping by to pay a courtesy call. Or Cian’s caretaker, stopping by to make sure they had everything they needed.

And a vampire couldn’t enter the house, couldn’t step over the threshold, unless she asked it in.

A highly unlikely event.

Still, she looked out the window first. She saw a young woman of about twenty—a pretty blonde in jeans and a bright red sweater. Her hair was pulled back into a tail that swung out of the back of a red cap. She was holding a map—seemed to be puzzling over it as she chewed on a thumbnail.

Someone’s lost, Glenna thought, and the sooner she got her on her way and away from the house, the better for everyone.

The knock sounded again as she turned from the window.

She opened the door, careful to keep to her side of the threshold.

“Hello? Need some help?”

“Hello. Thank you, yes.” There was relief, and a heavy dose of French in the woman’s voice. “I am, ah, lost. Excusezmoi, my English, is not so good.”

“That’s okay. My French is fairly nonexistent. What can I do for you?”