"How good a friend?"
He glanced at me. "Not sexual, if that's what you're implying. He was born Hieremias, son of Glaucus, though he changed it to Henri Glaucus for ease of use in later years. We'd been friends for over a thousand years."
It was hard to imagine knowing anyone for that length of time. "How did he die?"
His swift look was cold, hard, and sent shivers down my spine. And yet there was something else in his dark eyes. Something akin to pain
"Broken heart. He walked into the sunshine and stayed there." He hesitated. "Or so I thought."
What was the betting that it was another bloody werewolf behind the hurt? Geez, I wanted to explore possibilities with him, but did I really have the energy to fight the pain inflicted by the ex as well as what had happened to his friend? Then I remembered the magic we'd created while making love, and thought, Hell, yeah
"Obviously he was captured before he cindered if there are clones of him walking around."
"Yes." He paused again. "When I first saw the clone in Sydney, I was overjoyed, thinking I'd been wrong, that Henri hadn't committed suicide. But a mind search quickly revealed the truth. The clone's memory of life had only started seven and a half years ago."
"So is that why you were attacked here in Melbourne? Because you killed the clone?"
"Possibly - especially if they were aware of my history with Henri. They would have had to realize I'd start searching for him."
"Because of your friendship?"
"Because I owe Henri my life more times than I care to remember."
A loyal vampire. Interesting. "So why would they be cloning Henri? What has he got that a million or so other vamps haven't?"
He gave me a thoughtful look. "You don't read newspapers much, do you?"
I frowned. "What's that got to do with it?"
"Henri was a supreme athlete, and ten years ago was the only man alive who could say he raced in the original Olympics for real, not just in hologram."
"Whoa... that makes him - "
"Ancient," Quinn cut in. "When the modern Olympics began, he was a semiregular competitor. When they restarted after World War II, he competed again."
"How? He's vamp, and most events are run in the day."
"He's a very old vampire. Only the midday sun will kill him."
"So how did he race? Nonhumans weren't allowed to compete back then."
His smile was wry. "Back then, they didn't have the technology to separate human from nonhuman. He won quite a number of medals over the years."
"And when the alternative Olympics started?"
"He was a star. He won nearly all track events in the three alternative Olympics before his death. This year, the Australian Olympic Council commemorated his achievements by nominating him for the Sporting Hall of Fame. He was the first vampire ever to be selected, and his story was splashed all over the media."
I was going to have to start taking more interest in the local news. "Whoever is behind this cloning couldn't have known Henri's love affair was going to go wrong and that he'd kill himself."
"Couldn't they?"
The Irish lilt was gone, replaced by harshness. For several seconds I just stared at him. "No way. Why go to that sort of trouble when it would have been simpler to kidnap him?"
"Because this way no one went looking for him."
And in that moment, I understood the pain I'd glimpsed in his dark eyes. He hadn't gone looking for his friend. I reached across, placing my hand on his arm. His muscles jumped under my fingers, as if he was resisting the comfort offered. "You couldn't have known."
"But I could have checked."