As Ivy slept, wrapped in a sleeping bag on an air mattress on the cave floor, Nicholas watched her, reassuring himself that she was well; merely sleeping and not unconscious. Not that he cared about her. No, she was merely a tool, and as he’d said, he kept his tools in good working order.
He forced himself to walk away from her, although there wasn’t really anyplace to go. They were holed up in a cave, like animals. Not his first choice of accommodations, especially when he had a perfectly serviceable mansion in Sedona, but he’d been afraid that moving Ivy would harm her further. Overuse of her magic, combined with the shock from seeing him kill Smithson, had pushed her past the limit of what she could endure.
Her son, who had finally succumbed to his own exhaustion, slept in his own sleeping bag next to his mother. Ian had more courage than most adults Nicholas had encountered in his many years. The boy had demanded that Nicholas turn him into a vampire, so that he would be more fully capable of protecting his mother from “scum like you” in the future.
Brave, and a little foolish, like the best of all possible boys. Nicholas allowed himself a moment to mourn his long-dead son and, even more, to mourn the death of their relationship. Lingering on what might have been, though, was never productive. Nicholas lived in the present and dealt with the here and now. He’d always found it a more efficient and useful way to live his life.
He was practical. Pragmatic. Whatever benefited him the most was the course to take. Always.
His gaze involuntarily returned to Ivy, and he scowled. His feelings for this woman were an unwanted complication. A conundrum. She had no value to him beyond her use as a witch who could wield the gem. And yet he found himself wishing he could make her more comfortable.
Get to know her, perhaps. Make her see that he wasn’t entirely a murdering bastard.
And then what? Flowers and candlelight?
He pivoted and walked to the entrance of the cave and motioned to one of the vampires in his blood pride. “Find me someone to eat.”
“Do you have to do that a lot?” Ian walked up next to him, but not too near. “Eat people?”
“I thought you were asleep,” Nicholas snapped. “Go back to bed.”
“I can’t really sleep when my mom is in danger, and we’re hanging out with a bunch of bloodsuckers, no offense, dude.” Ian covered a huge yawn with his hand.
“None taken,” Nicholas said dryly. “Do you have any sense of self-preservation at all?”
“What, because you could kill me with your little finger or whatever?” Ian shrugged his thin shoulders. “Sure, I’m scared. I’m not stupid. But she’s my mom, dude. Wouldn’t you do anything—risk anything—for your mom?”
Nicholas glared down at the boy, but realized that, oddly enough, he was willing to continue the conversation. “Yes, I would have done anything for my mother. And don’t call me dude.”
“Sorry, but I don’t exactly know your name,” Ian pointed out.
“Nicholas.”
Ian stuck out his hand. “I’m Ian Khetta, Mr. Nicholas.”
For the first time in centuries, Nicholas found himself shaking hands with a teenage boy. “Just Nicholas. I know who you are, Ian Khetta, son of Ivy Khetta. Do you know your mother is a sorceress of the dark arts?”
Ian recoiled. “That’s not true. She’d never do that, not after what happened to her mom. I don’t know where you get your information, dude—ah, Mr. Nicholas—but it’s dead wrong.”
“I’m never wrong, boy,” Nicholas informed him, baring his fangs just because he could and because, in some bizarre manner, he felt like he was losing control of the conversation. “Go eat a sandwich or something. Aren’t human boys always hungry?”
“Aren’t vampires always eating people?”
Nicholas bared his fangs. “Just give me a minute.”
Ian’s face turned pale under his sunburn and freckles, but he didn’t back down, making Nicholas feel a twinge of admiration for the boy.
Which annoyed him.
“Yeah, I get it, you’re the big, bad guy here, but I have some information I’d like to trade,” Ian said.
“What kind of information?”
“Information that could make you rich,” Ian said.
“I’ m already rich.”
“Richer, then. Look, do you want to hear it or not?”
“In return for this information, which is likely to be useless, what do you want?” Nicholas leaned against the wall of the cave and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for the boy to make his unreasonable demands, so he could laugh in Ian’s face.
“I just want my mom to be safe,” Ian said, squaring his shoulders. “You can keep me, or drink my blood, or whatever, but you have to promise to let my mom go. She can’t channel this much magic, or she’s going to get a brain aneurysm and die. Also, like I told you earlier, I want to be a vampire like you, so nobody can ever threaten Mom again.”
Nicholas’s composure cracked, for just a moment. This child—this boy not even old enough to shave—was offering his own life for his mother’s. It had been a very, very long time since Nicholas had seen anything but selfishness from anyone, human or vampire, and his fixed-in-stone worldview took a major hit. It didn’t shatter—it didn’t even come close to shattering—but the foundations crumbled, just the tiniest bit.
“Ian, I will find a way to keep your mom safe,” he said rashly. Stupidly.
“Do you promise?”
He grabbed the boy by the front of his shirt and jerked him up in the air, holding him so high that his feet dangled a good twenty inches off the ground.
“Do not try my patience, boy, or question my word,” he hissed, allowing the full force of his power to show in his undoubtedly glowing red eyes. “Give me the information or do not. It matters not a bit to me. I have said I will find a way to keep Ivy Khetta safe, and I always do what I say. Now, go eat something or sleep, or whatever you want to do, but do it quietly, and do not bother me again.”
He dropped the boy, but Ian had good reflexes and landed on his feet, knees bent, and then straightened up. The boy’s face was glowing a hot red, but he didn’t storm off toward his mother, as Nicholas had expected.
“Fair is fair. You said you’d protect my mom, and I said I’d give you information,” the boy said. He walked to the center of the cave, directly underneath the hole in the ceiling from which the rubies had poured down, and pointed up.
“Nobody else but me bothered to look up at the ceiling, inside that hole. Everybody was too busy staring at the rubies, or then at what you did to that guy . . .” Ian faltered for a moment, but then he recovered and looked back up at the ceiling. “There’s another cave painting in there. Like the one the other guy said was so important to the story of what the deal is with that gem you’re making my mom use.”
“In the ceiling? Fascinating.” Nicholas leapt into the air and rose through the cave until his head was actually inside the hole in the ceiling, which put him close enough to see the painting but unfortunately blocked the light.
He snapped his fingers and pointed to one of his vampires. “Light.”
The minion rushed to bring him one of the lanterns and held it up as high as he could reach. Few could fly, as Nicholas could. The ones who could, he had on patrol.
Raising the lantern, Nicholas looked around again and blinked. He blew out a long, slow whistle.
“Boy, you have just earned yourself a reward. I believe this painting contains the secret of the amethyst.” He looked down at Ian, who was shifting from foot to foot nervously.
“I am going to be richer than Midas and quite possibly invulnerable. You, my boy, have just earned your ticket to that immortality you asked me for earlier. When you reach twenty-one, if you still desire it, I will turn you vampire.”
“Over my dead body,” Ivy said. She walked into the space directly below where Nicholas was still floating up by the ceiling and pointed a shaking hand, rimmed in purple fire, at him. “I will kill you now, vampire, before I will let you destroy my son’s future.”
Nicholas felt a very rare smile stretch its slow and unfamiliar way across his face. “Now, finally, things are going to get interesting.”