“Irish station, traditional music.”
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it, that you can have music at the snap of a finger. Or move so fast from one place to another in a machine.”
“Not in Chicago traffic. You do a lot of sitting and cursing instead of moving.”
“Tell me about your Chicago.”
“It’s not my Chicago. Just where I’ve been based the last couple of years.”
“It was the Boston before that.”
“Yeah.” But Boston was Jeremy, and she’d had to get away from it. “Chicago. It’s, ah, it’s a city. Major city in the Midwest of the U.S. On a lake—big-ass lake.”
“Do you fish in it, this lake?”
“Fish? Me? No. I guess people maybe do. Ah…they sail on it. Water sports and stuff. It’s wicked cold in the winter, wind like you wouldn’t believe. Lake effect, a lot of snow, bone-chilling cold. But, I don’t know, it’s got a lot happening. Restaurants, great shopping, museums, clubs. Vampires.”
“A big city? Bigger than Ennis?”
“A lot bigger.” She tried to think what he’d make of the El, and just couldn’t.
“How is it that if it’s such a large city with so many people, they haven’t banded together to fight against the vampires?”
“They don’t believe in them, or if some do, they pretend they don’t. If somebody gets attacked, or gets dead, they put it down to gangs, or sick bastards. Mostly the vamps keep a low profile—or they did until recently. Prey on the homeless or runaways, transients. People other people don’t miss.”
“There were legends in Geall of creatures that haunted the night, preyed on humans long ago. I never believed them, until the queen—my aunt—was killed by them. And even then…”
“It’s hard to believe what you’ve been taught is fantasy, or the impossible. So you put up the shield. It’s natural.”
“But not you.” He studied her profile. It was strong, yes, but with such a pretty curve of cheek, and that dark, dark hair such a lovely contrast to the white of her skin. “You’ve always known. Do you ever wish it otherwise? That you were one of the people with the shields. Who never knew?”
“No point in wishing for what you can’t have.”
“What’s the point of wishing for what you can and do?” he countered.
He had a point, Blair decided. He usually did if you listened long enough.
She found a spot in a car park, dug out the money for the ticket. Larkin just stood, hands in the pockets of the jeans Glenna had bought him on some earlier trip, looking at everything.
>
It was a relief not to be asked a dozen questions. She knew he’d been to town before, but imagined every visit was a little like a walk through Disney World for him.
“Just stick close, okay? I don’t want to have to go hunting for you.”
“I wouldn’t leave you.” He took her hand, tightening his grip a little when she started to shake him off. “You should hold on to me,” he said with absolute innocence in his eyes. “I could get lost.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Not in the least.” He linked fingers with hers and set out at a stroll. “Why with all these people, and the street, and the sounds and sights, I could lose my way any moment. At home, the village isn’t nearly as big as this, and there aren’t so many in it. On market day now, it can be crowded and colorful. But I know what I’m about there.”
“You know what you’re about everywhere,” she said under her breath.
He had good ears, and his lips twitched at the comment. “On market day, people come into the village from all over the land. There’s wonderful food—”
“Which would be your first priority.”
“A man has to eat. But there’s cloths and crafts and music. Lovely stones from the mountains, and shells from the sea. And you bargain, you see, that’s the fun of it. When we’re at home again, I’ll buy you a gift on market day.”