The Vampire Queen's Servant(25)

She'd gone back to the kitchen counter, for she was providing Bran scraps from a bowl in the fridge. "In over a thousand years, I suppose I have. It's been awhile, though."

"There's an old-fashioned candy shop at the new mall."

"Good. Pick us up a selection there for the dessert."

"I was actually thinking you might want to come with me. I need to pick out some clothes for the dinner. The new mall's open 24/7." As she turned to look at him, a refusal already evident in her expression, he pressed on. "In the center of the building, there's a Ferris wheel in a glass atrium five stories tall. The wheel turns on a ball, so it not only goes in circles straight up and down, but spirals like a top. They do a light and fog show, so when the wheel tilts at an angle, it's like you're going through a waterfall, all air currents and colors."

When she made a demurring noise in her throat, he continued doggedly. "Waterfalls are the theme of the mall's design, so there are displays throughout the complex. Not just in-house designs. Some of them are sculptures on loan from museums for this first month of the mall's opening. I notice you've got quite a few fountains on your grounds. You might see one you'd like to purchase, or an artist you'd like to commission."

, As he described the Ferris wheel, Lyssa watched the movement of his hands, the sparkle in his eyes., the half smile on his firm mouth. She'd started the morning by ordering him out of her presence. A moment ago, she'd made sure he understood that not only would he be viewed as inferior in the presence of other vampires, he would be required to act accordingly. His response to that dampening information was to invite her on a date. Her lips twitched. Perhaps she should have told him everything he could expect at the dinner, though she wanted the element of surprise to see how he'd handle himself. He'd encounter far worse at the Vampire Council Gathering.

Bran put his paws up on the island's edge to get Jacob's attention, managing to snag one of the legal pads.

"You great mop. Begone." Jacob shoved the paws off and gave him a thump on the head with a rolled-up catalog. Bran answered with a loud woof and beat the side of the cabinet fiercely with his heavy tail, setting off a cacophony from the pots and utensils hanging off the two ends.

"Geez. Here." Jacob picked up an orange out of the fruit bowl and sent it in an impressive sizzling straight line drive across the kitchen. It hit the dog door with enough force to send it through. Bran dashed after it. She heard the barking of the other dogs, startled by the appearance of the orange, initiating a mass chase.

Jacob winced. "Well, I'll be restoring the landscaping on the back walkway tomorrow. You know, I don't think he's half as tough as he'd like you to believe."

"Most males aren't." Lyssa crossed her arms. "I don't usually go out in public. Not in an uncontrolled environment like that. I attract too much attention and make a target of myself."

"You just said you're at somewhat of a lull. What if I got you a disguise of sorts? Planned to get us there in a way we're less likely to be followed. You're interested, right?"

She cocked her head. "Yes. But can you escort me on this excursion and still have everything prepared for my party?"

"Yes, wicked stepmother. I'll have everything planned to the last detail while the mice sew my dress together." He tapped the top of the legal pad with the menu. "You'll have the full proposal with all the details by tomorrow when you rise."

She narrowed her eyes at the reference and pressed her lips together at his unrepentant grin. "What kind of disguise?" she demanded.

His pleased expression warmed her far more than it should have. "Will you trust me to surprise you, my lady?"

Studying him, she was sure she saw mischief simmering behind those clear blue innocent eyes.

"I'm going to regret this," she decided. "But I can still tear off your arms and beat you with them if you make a mockery of me."

He gave her a quick, absent smile as something caught his attention and he bent his head back over a magazine. Lyssa wasn't sure if his reaction made her want to make good on her threat now or eat him alive, but either way, she knew she was in perilous waters. But then, she'd been in those for so long, she should have fins by now. Was Jacob somehow Thomas's version of a personal flotation device?

How much did you know, monk?



* * *





Chapter Sixteen





For the next few nights, she made herself keep her distance. She assigned him a well-appointed room in the servants' quarters, making it clear he needed an invitation to join her in her bedroom.

She met with him for an hour during the early part of the night to answer any questions, but after that she would dismiss him from her presence, indicating her need to handle business away from the mansion where he was not invited, or to work on her own matters that were none of his concern.

However, instead of going on her errands or sequestering herself in the room he could not access without her help, she watched him. With the one mark, she could locate him anywhere, but the preternatural stillness and swiftness of a vampire allowed her to be in the same room with him undetected, a shadow dancing at the edges of his peripheral vision.

She told herself she was verifying his competency, his trustworthiness, his discipline when unsupervised. She also needed to know the man, and one of the best ways to know a man was to see what he was when he thought he was alone.

He took meticulous notes. Not only when she spoke to him, but as he learned other things on his own. He'd scribble the information in the dozen multicolored composition books he had. Gazing over his shoulder when he was deep in thought over them, she saw dates and notes he'd made under Thomas's tutelage. She had four houses and eight safe havens. He'd coded them all with names known only to her and Thomas, the addresses not written down anywhere. Then there were scrawled references to the security systems, the more mundane aspects of utility bills, landscape scheduling, winterizing and maintenance issues. Most of those items were handled by trusted companies, usually owned and operated by other vampires or their servants, but it was her servant's responsibility to oversee it all, make sure they did what they were paid to do.

He didn't waste any time proving his competence in that regard. Her Atlanta home was her favorite, but in the months without Thomas, things had fallen behind. She forced herself to stay up later one morning to watch him inspect the grounds from a crack in the curtain, out of the line of sunlight, despite the exhaustion it imposed on her. When she retired to her bed, he was on the phone. By the time she woke in early evening, the grounds were overrun. He was finishing up with the window company that had come and spent the day pressure washing the house and professionally cleaning the stained glass windows. He'd also ridden herd on the landscaping company, having them tidy up areas they'd not kept as well as they should. At twilight, while both companies loaded up their trucks, he was among her roses with a master gardener. From his gestures, she suspected they were discussing if the soil composition was optimal for the spring, and what type of pruning needed to be done at this point.

As he squatted down sifting the soil, he tilted his head to hear what the gardener said, squinting his eyes against the sunlight, his soft hair ruffled over his forehead by the breeze. She liked the way his jeans fit his body, the stress points all where they should be. In that T-shirt his almost thirty years sat very lightly on his shoulders. Very lightly. She'd think he'd lied to her, except the man had no artifice to him. She didn't need a second mark to know that. If he felt it, he said it. Another reason she was insane for even entertaining the idea of him as a servant.

So she kept telling herself. Yet she kept giving him more information, more to do, knowing he would prove competent in all ways except the ones most vital. She was keeping him around purely for how he made her feel, and that was dangerous to the point of absurdity.

He'd moved a small side table to the edge of the Persian rug, so each evening when she rose, she found an offering waiting for her at the top of the stairs. A single cut wildflower in a water glass. A piece of Belgian chocolate in the shape of a seashell, the white and dark swirled flavors teasing her tongue, her sense of smell. A tiny empty snail's shell that gleamed a light pink. It was then she realized he was using the items as a way to make sure she was all right, since she would take them back below with her or otherwise move them.

Such gestures had revealed something particularly unique about Thomas's choice. On the second night when she'd risen, she'd had a strong thirst for cold water, one of the few things other than blood that vampires needed for sustenance. Next to the Belgian chocolate had been a pitcher of ice water and a glass.

She'd noted it repeatedly during her observations, even now. As the gardener turned to ask for something, Jacob already had the soil tester he wanted in his hand.

At the Eldar, he'd caught her a moment before she fainted, before she even realized she was going to do it. In the kitchen, he'd handed Mr. Ingram his car keys a blink before Ingram had made his choice not to work for her. Jacob was precognitive, anticipating thoughts and desires before they occurred. Intriguingly, he didn't seem to realize it, probably considering it intuition or luck. Which also explained his brother's disappointment in losing him as a vampire hunter. A mortal precog had an advantage, using it to replace what his vision could not give him, the direction from which the vampire would strike. Of course, precognitive ability was hereditary, so the fact Gideon still lived despite his risky profession suggested both brothers had it.