Beyond the Moon

“But you’ve killed female vampires?” She followed him into the elevator.

He tilted his head at her, his eyes seeking but probably not seeing what he wanted to see. He couldn’t read her? Good.

“On occasion I’ve had to stake a woman,” he finally said. “It’s never easy. But my job, first and foremost, is to protect humans, and I do it no matter the costs.”

She nodded. The man was a killer, and she didn’t want to get on his bad side. But only a vampire could do that. She hoped.

The elevator doors slid open to a limestone-walled hallway. It appeared as though it had been carved from the stone beneath the city, much like the hundreds of miles of labyrinths that coiled under Paris.

“Cozy,” she commented, following Rook’s sure strides past a few steel doors that looked out of place nestled within the stone walls. The air was humid, the light thin. “What’s above?”

“Don’t ask me to reveal the exact location of this place,” he said over a shoulder. “I probably should have blindfolded you.”

“You had me at clandestine escapades, but I’ll swing for the blindfold, too.”

She walked right into his embrace. The man slid his mouth along her jaw, and at her ear he whispered, “That can be arranged. But not here.”

“Of course, not at your place of business. Don’t worry. You can trust me to keep a closed mouth about this visit,” she said.

She tapped the blue box, and the knight swung out of the embrace and into a stride. Verity picked up her steps to keep his pace. And to keep the box in eyesight.

Excitement scurried through her system. She had been invited into the inner sanctum! There was something cool about that. A bit like playacting the spies she’d seen in movies. Too bad the man didn’t keep a blindfold in his desk drawer. A little kink never hurt anyone.

Rook arrived at a door. “Ready?”

So much unsaid in that word. An invitation to much more than was exposed on the surface of the sultry look he cast her.

“Always.” And that was a yes to both helping him and the lascivious deeds his eyes promised. “Anything I see while I’m here will go to the grave with me. Promise.”

He spread his hand before her chest, as if to touch, then did not. Must have remembered he couldn’t read her. “I believe you. My office.”

He opened the door and gestured her inside. Expecting hi-tech cyber décor with blinking lights and secret passkeys, Verity let out a sigh of disappointment as she entered the room. It was plain and spare, much like his home, with only a marble-topped desk and a few ancient weapons hung on the limestone walls. Not a retinal-eye-reading device in sight, nor a green laser security beam threatening to cut her off at the knees should she make the wrong step.

“Collected over the years?” she asked and tapped the cold iron spike protruding from a mace. The tip of it was blunted, no doubt from repeatedly connecting to stone or perhaps skull.

“Yes, and used in battle more than a few times.”

She imagined Rook swinging the mace at a vampire’s head, and then—no, she didn’t want to consider the gory details. Besides, beheading a vampire wasn’t always the trick to ending its life. The heart had to burst to guarantee sure death.

Rubbing her palms over her sweater skirt, at Rook’s direction she took a seat in the office chair, while he stood beside her and booted up the computer. Tilting her head closer to his chest, she picked up his tobacco and peaches scent. Wonder if she could lick that delicious scent off his skin? She would certainly like to try. And she’d start…there, just under his jaw where it formed a square corner of his face.

“Verity?”

Had he said something to her while she’d been imagining dancing her tongue over his body?

“It’s yours.” He placed the box on the desk next to the mouse pad. “Thank you.” He winked.

“Always willing to help. Uh, for macarons, of course.”

“Of course. You’ll find we have a few photos. Some vamps photograph well enough, but many do not, so there are sketches mixed in with the photos. Click the right arrow to scan through them. Let me know if you find a face you recognize. Are you cool with this?”

“Oh, yes.” She sat up to the desk and palmed the mouse. “I like a good adventure.”

“Then I’m going to leave you a few minutes to check on operations. I’ll be back with more espresso, yes?”

“Sure. Cream, too, please!” she called, still tasting the bitterness at the back of her throat.

As soon as he had left the office, she lifted the top of the box. Inside nestled colorful jewels that smelled like heaven. If a witch were to believe in heaven, Verity felt sure her ethereal diet would consist entirely of macarons (and the occasional cup of hot chocolate from Angelina). She strolled her fingers over the soft yet crisp pastries and landed on a deep golden jewel that she then drew out and bit into.

“Mmm, chocolate yuzu. I love that sneaky knight.”

She smirked at how easily it had been for the man to win her over. So he’d won this round. She wasn’t at all ashamed of the loss. And really, it wasn’t an official loss considering she’d decided to help him before the bribe had been revealed.

Focusing on the faces before her, she clicked rapidly through the first half a dozen or so because they all had hair, but then she stopped herself.

“He could have shaved his head recently. Better look at them all,” she cautioned.

Again, her gaze swerved to the macaron box. Such a distraction would prove this a most challenging task.

* * *

Smiling to himself at the forethought to purchase the macarons, Rook strode through the locker room and checked in the gym to see if any knights were using the facilities. Most days the headquarters was quiet, and without any current trainees, he usually had the place to himself.

“Kasper,” he said to the man who sat on the weight bench. Clad in sweatpants, his formidable biceps shone with sweat. “How’d it go with the Magic Dust situation?”

Recently vampires had discovered a new drug. Although faery dust was a vamp’s favorite drug, the past few months Paris had been hit with a much crueler version of the stuff that drove vamps insane. And to feed their cravings, they went in search of anything that sparkled. That had resulted in innocent humans getting their necks ripped out as the vampire clawed for the diamond necklace they wore. Even rhinestones had attracted them. Nasty stuff.

“We’ve seen the last of Magic Dust,” the hunter said, standing and grabbing a T-shirt to pull on. “I can promise that.”

“Excellent.”

Kaspar Rothstein was one of Rook’s best knights, and he had recently hooked up with a pretty little witch who made her home on the edge of FaeryTown. Kaz had been recruited into the Order when he was seventeen, the youngest knight to take vows. Tor had found him.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d take some time to update the database with the information you gleaned regarding the sidhe while on the investigation,” Rook said. “You had a few close calls with the Sidhe Cortege, yes?”

Kaz rubbed a hand over a hip where Rook suspected one of those close calls had landed. “Oh yeah. But Zoë fixed it up for me. She’s an amazing healer. You know, the Order should consider having a healer on staff.”

It was a good idea, and Rook was surprised he’d not considered it over the centuries. Probably because he had a way of healing that was more appealing than being tended to by a physician or healer.

“I’ll take that under consideration. I’m conducting a private investigation in my office. Keep your distance, will you?”

He left the knight nodding and probably wondering at that statement. Rook knew he had an abrupt manner, but it was a powerful tool for a trainer and for a man who had centuries of secrets to keep under wraps. He’d learned that less talk and more action was the optimal way to teach, learn and guide. Because he wasn’t much for small talk, the method suited him well.

In the lounge where a full kitchen was kept stocked, he brewed fresh espresso, found some cream in the fridge, then wandered back to his office.

He found Verity gazing at a sketch on the screen. The box of macarons was open to reveal three missing treats. Good girl. Rook walked up behind her and recognized the face on the monitor.

“That’s Johnny Santiago,” he said. “It wasn’t him.”

“I know. He’s too pretty to be the creep that bit me. Thanks,” she said, taking the cup from him and sipping. He’d poured in a lot of cream after noticing her wince in the car. He liked his brew tough. “I’ve seen him before, though.”

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