Morrigan's Cross (Circle Trilogy 1)

“So when you found him hurt, naturally you assumed his brother tried to kill him.”

“Yeah. Figured you had a part in it, too, but I couldn’t beat the hell out of you.”

“I appreciate the chivalry.”

The sting in her tone made him wince. “You sure got a way of cutting a man down to size.”

“It would take a chain saw to cut you down to size. Oh, stop looking so pitiful and guilty.” With a sigh, she scooped back her hair. “We screwed up, you screwed up, and we’re all goddamn sorry about it. I suppose you want some wine now. Maybe a cookie.”

He had to grin. “I’ll take a beer.” He opened the refrigerator, got one out. “I’ll pass on the cookie. You’re a butt-kicker, Red. Quality I admire in a woman—even if it’s my butt getting the boot.”

“I never used to be. I don’t think.”

She was also pretty and pale, and had to be dog tired. He’d worked her, all of them, damned hard that afternoon, and Cian had put them through the wringer tonight.

Sure she’d bitched a little, King thought now. But not nearly as much as he’d expected. And when it came down to it, Hoyt was right. She’d been the only one who’d known the answer to what the hell they were doing here.

“That stuff Hoyt was talking about, what you said, it makes a lot of sense. We don’t straighten up, we’re easy pickings.” He popped the cap off the beer, swallowed half the bottle in one long gulp. “So I will if you will.”

She looked at the enormous hand he held out, then placed hers in it. “I think Cian’s lucky to have someone who’ll fight for him. Who’d care enough to.”

“He’d do the same for me. We go back.”

“That kind of friendship usually takes time to form, to solidify. We’re not going to have that kind of time.”

“Guess we’d better take some shortcuts then. We cool now?”

“I’d say we’re cool now.”

He polished off the beer, then dumped the empty bottle in a can under the sink. “Heading up. You ought to do the same. Get some sleep.”

“I will.”

But when he left her alone, she was bruised and tired and restless, so Glenna sat alone in the kitchen with her glass of wine and the lights on full to beat back the dark. She didn’t know the time and wondered if it mattered any longer.

They were all becoming vampires—sleeping through most of the day, working through most of the night.

She fingered the cross around her neck as she continued to write her list. And she felt the press of the night against her shoulder blades like cold hands.

She missed the city, she decided. No shame in admitting it. She missed the sounds of it, the colors, the constant thrum of traffic that was a heartbeat. She yearned for its complexity and simplicity. Life was just life there. And if there was death, if there was cruelty and violence, it was all so utterly human.

The image of the vampire on the subway flashed into her mind.

Or she’d once had the comfort of believing it was human.

Still, she wanted to get up in the morning and wander down to the deli for fresh bagels. She wanted to set her easel in the slash of morning light and paint, and have her strongest concern be how she was going to pay her Visa bill.

All of her life the magic had been in her, and she’d thought she’d valued and respected it. But it had been nothing to this, to know that it was in her for this reason, for this purpose.

That it could very well be the death of her.

She picked up her wine, then jolted when she saw Hoyt standing in the doorway.

?

??Not a good idea to go creeping around in the dark, considering the situation.”

“I wasn’t sure I should disturb you.”