Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A fter Merc left her, Ruth wondered if that tight look was caused by what she'd suspected? Was he not allowed to leave the Circus without Marcellus's express say-so?

As sensitive as he was about the topic, she wasn't going to push him to confirm it. However, finding someone else to ask might be okay.

That ended up being Gundar. He was at his smithy. He'd been making metal roses lately, tinting them with hints of color. She admired a bouquet of them, noting the stems were flexible enough to deliver a stinging bite to soft flesh, thanks to their metal thorns.

Intentional, she was sure. Gundar confirmed it by showing her the roses' other uses in that realm. He had her put out her arm and pressed the metal rose against her flesh. When he took it away, there were tiny marks.

"You can heat one and apply it like a temporary brand."

"I better place my order before everyone else does."

Gundar grinned beneath his dark beard and patted the bench next to him. "What do you want to ask? You have that expectant look."

"Can Merc leave the grounds by himself? Without Marcellus or Yvette saying it's okay?"

"Technically, no, but he's been with us long enough to earn some slack to that leash. Yvette doesn't ping him if he's gone for a couple hours. More than that would be a problem. And he's definitely not supposed to navigate the portals on his own."

"How did he learn to do that? It takes a lot of training."

"Apparently angels just know how."

She filed that away, another piece of information suggesting Merc might have more angelic abilities than he claimed. Or maybe knew.

"Shouldn't you be asking him these questions?" Gundar gave her a steady look.

It was a Dom-to-sub kind of question, and Gundar had major Dom vibes, even as Yvette's servant. A human servant, she reminded herself, and made herself react as a vampire was expected to do.

"I'm asking you," she said evenly. However, keeping in mind he was also indirectly her boss, she relented with honesty. "I don't want him to see me as another babysitter."

Gundar snorted. "I don't think you have to worry about that. You're capable and a good fighter, so don't take the next part the wrong way. Merc is way above your league when it comes to strength, speed and power. It would be like making a mouse the housecat's babysitter. And the housecat is a saber tooth tiger."

She knew that, but it did offend her, enough that she couldn't stop the retort. "I was using the word babysitter to be diplomatic. I meant spy or snitch."

Gundar's coal-black eyes sharpened, reminding her he was also connected to Yvette, mind-to-mind. She shut her mouth before she said more inadvisable things.

"Does the Circus seem like a place that wants to curtail someone's freedom?" he asked.

"No," she admitted.

"You've seen his intensity. If he's having to work his ass off to keep himself from sucking away a female's life energy, it's probably good that someone's keeping tabs on that. Right?"

She thought of Merc's close regard as they listened to music. If he was fighting that hunger, it wasn't obvious. But if people she respected kept warning her not to make assumptions about him, she knew she should give those warnings the weight they deserved. Even so…

"The death sentence hanging over him. That's from when he was a lot younger, right?"

"Yes," Gundar said soberly. "Some people believed he should have been consigned to Hell for a much longer redemption period, rather than getting the second chance Circus option."

She thought of Merc offering her a bite of cake. The yearning in his expression when their bodies were joined. "Some people don't know shit."

Gundar's coal-colored eyes glinted. "You like him."

"I find him interesting. And I think there's a lot more to him, though I get that I haven't been here long enough to know shit, either. I appreciate you answering my questions."

The dwarf picked out one of the roses, tinted in red and silver, the petal tips scorched with black smoke color, and handed it to her. "Don't assume he needs a champion, Ruth. He has more of them than you think. Else he'd have been dead long ago. His champions just don't ride white horses and kiss his ass. They kick it, as often as he needs it, because they want him to succeed."

"Why?" she asked bluntly. "No one seems to like him."

"You said you like him. Why do you think that is?"

She twirled the rose, pressing her finger against one of the sharp metal thorns for the kiss of pain. She was pretty sure Yvette was listening in, maybe feeding Gundar the questions she wanted Ruth to answer. So her response was for both of them. "Because he's trying. He's trying hard, even if it doesn't look like it. I think he's trying to find his way out of a swamp no one but him knows how to navigate."

Gundar pursed his lips. "Interesting. Keep using your brain, woman. It's serving you well. You might be careful of the tongue, though. No disrespect."

That was a warning for her about his listening Mistress, she was sure.

"Okay." She rose. "I've asked him to join me in town tonight. If he shows, is there anything I should worry about? Watch out for, to help him?"

"He's learned how to control himself. He'll leave if he encounters a temptation he can't shake. With one exception." Gundar gave her a deadly serious look. "If he finds a pizza parlor where he can watch the guy make the dough, you know, on the fist," Gundar emulated the spinning, "He'll stay and watch for hours. That shit fascinates him."

There were a dozen troupe members on the outing, a mix of performers and roustabouts. The live music wasn't bad, and she enjoyed watching the others flirt and banter. They shared anecdotes with her about Circus life.

She looked like them. Young, ready to play and party. She didn't mind indulging the idea. But after a while, the beat of arteries got louder than the bass line, and the aromas of sweat, sexual interest and alcohol-induced loss of inhibitions became too distracting, goading her bloodlust. A reminder of her age and unfamiliarity with this environment. She thought she'd done well enough, though. It was the first time she'd ever done something like this on her own.

She excused herself, telling her companions she was going to explore the downtown riverfront. They knew she was with the security detail, and a vampire, so they were less concerned about her going off on her own. She told them she'd meet them back at the Circus.

The riverwalk had plenty of green space and sidewalks, populated by late dog walkers and lovers walking hand in hand. She wandered that area for a while, and leaned on the rail, watching nighttime commercial boat traffic.

Her senses tracked everything around her; humans, their pets, the water, the surrounding businesses and distant road traffic. For so long, she'd stuck close to the preserve, only traveling to and from the places she knew were protected. The Circus was a gift her father had given her. How could she ever have thought Mal hadn't noticed her need for this?

Guess she needed to come up with a really good Father's Day gift this year. Since her mother was involved in any of his decisions related to her and Adan, a good Mother's Day gift wouldn't be amiss, either.

Her mind snapped back from its meanderings, her fingers tightening on the rail. Another vampire was close by. Maybe more than one.

Some years ago, Yvette had earned the Council stamp of approval she needed for the Circus to operate in and travel through different territories, without applying for the time-consuming permissions other vampires had to have. As a part of the Circus, that protection would extend to Ruth, but when it came to a random crossing of paths, vampires didn't necessarily consider that approval at odds with establishing a pecking order with the vampire in question. By whatever methods best suited them.

She couldn't head back to the others. That could put them in danger. She didn't know these vampires. But she also didn't have any other direction to go, because they had detected her first and were hemming her in, coming from two different directions, nothing but the river in front of her.

Okay, a bluff then. She straightened from the rail and turned, leaning against it and waiting for their arrival with an expression of casual indifference. Willing to be friendly if they were. Telling herself she was ready to handle it if they weren't.

They were both over a century, both made. They had her overpowered in strength and speed. Fight skills, too, if they'd spent the last century working on those. But on rare occasions, vampires were lazy about that.

She weighed playing the status card, introducing herself as Lady Ruth instead of Ruth. But that could backfire as easily as it could give her points. Made vampires could be touchy, especially if the born vampire couldn't back up the title with greater strength and power.

She looked good tonight, in her fleece jacket, silk blouse and jeans. She had on a couple strands of earth-colored crystals, and a medicine bag strung on a silk cord. Kohana had made it for her when she was a teenager. It contained a bit of tiger fur, a lion's tooth. A dash of earth from the island, and a few other ingredients Kohana said were a secret. Elisa had added beadwork to the fringe.

She wished she wore one of Merc's feathers. Whether wishful thinking or not, it would feel like an additional layer of protection.

The oncoming vampires were male and female. The energy vibrating off them told her they were in a cruel mood, and ready to play. Which meant they could detect her strength level, and thought she was younger than she was. A common mistake, though it didn't make any difference.

She wasn't challenged on the island. Didn't have to abide this terrible feeling in her gut, of falling short, of being overpowered, her decisions taken away from her.

Hell, one trial and she was ready to tuck her tail and retreat. Suck it up and deal, bitch.

The female vampire was blonde and tall, with deceptively pleasant green eyes. Her attractive dress would draw a human male's attention, making it easy for her to secure blood for dinner. The male was working the grunge band look, with long hair, ripped jeans, and a T-shirt that showed off tattoos and muscles. He had a nose stud. The brown eyes locked on Ruth belied the young rocker look. He was the older of the two, probably around a hundred and fifty.

"I'm Ruth," she said with a courteous nod. "Working security with the Circus, under the protection of Lady Yvette."

"Trinidad and Parva." Trinidad nodded to his companion. "We weren't advised a new vampire was traveling with the Circus. Lady Yvette is supposed to let the overlords know that, isn't she?"

"I'm sure it's in process. I'm a very recent addition."

"Or you're passing through, heard about the Circus and are using it for cover."

"That's not what I'm doing," Ruth told him. He was getting too close, leaning in. Parva was on the other side, and reached toward Ruth's straight hair. Ruth slapped her hand away and bared her fangs. She slipped away from the rail and faced them. Trinidad shot Parva an amused look.

"Jumpy, isn't she?"

"Weak." Parva flared her nostrils. "Like a tempting little human morsel."

Ruth chuckled. "Nice try to get a rise out of me. Pretty public place to pick a fight."

"Easy enough to fix."

Parva seized one side of her, Trinidad the other, and before she could orient herself for a decent defense, they were outside a shed in a junkyard. She could hear the riverfront beyond the high fence. Vertigo from the launch over the fence hit her on the back end, but she wrenched away from them, her knives out, and took a fight stance. "You're making a mistake."

"The fledgling has some spirit," Trinidad observed. "I like that. But if you weren't strong enough to be on your own, you shouldn't have been. Maybe we teach you that lesson and Yvette realizes the mistake in hiring you."

Parva lifted a brow. "Want to cry? Want to whine about why everyone won't leave you alone?"

"That's Lady Yvette to you. And no," Ruth said, though the ache in her throat was pricked by the pathetic thought. Which made her angry enough to tighten her grip on the knives. "I want you to cry. If I mess up that pretentious outfit you're trying to pull off, that's just a bonus."

Parva's eyes narrowed, and she was in motion. Ruth ducked left and took a glancing hit on the shoulder as Parva grabbed for her and missed. She jammed the knife into the vampire's side as she passed. Ruth moved with her, using Parva's momentum, the howl of pain, as fuel to spin and kick at Trinidad as he closed in. He took the blow rather than dodging it, which thwarted her next move.

He struck her in the face, snapping her head back and putting her on her ass. If she'd been human, the blow would have broken her neck. One of the knives clattered away. The other was still in her fist, and when he swooped in, she went full-on blitz, slashing before her, catching his shirt front, a portion of chest, and twisting upward, aiming for the throat.

Against a comparable opponent, one who wanted to test themselves against her, she could have gained herself more time. But Trinidad fought her the way a vampire who'd gauged the strength of his opponent fought. Like he was fighting a child, shoving into her, knocking her off balance, disarming her because he had the superior speed and strength to do just that.

Parva, the less experienced fighter, had been more concerned about Ruth's sparring abilities. Trinidad wasn't.

As Ruth scrambled across the floor, she noted they had two humans here. They were sprawled in a near unconscious state, next to a table bearing a tin can of wildflowers and an open bottle of wine. Parva and Trinidad had had a romantic dinner. The humans were like dishes knocked to the floor after the meal had been eaten.

Ruth closed her hand on her knife, even as her cold gut told her Trinidad had waited for her to grab it. He kicked the weapon out of her hand to prove the point.

He retrieved it and was back beside her in a blink. When he grabbed a handful of her hair, Ruth shoved at him, rolled, kicked at his leg. His overconfidence and her training worked in her favor, because this time she was at the right angle. She made solid contact with his knee, cracking bone.

He let her go with a hiss, but plunged the knife toward her face. She ducked her head enough that it missed the vulnerable eye and jugular, but the blade scored her cheek and shoulder. Parva pounced on her, grabbing her from behind and arching Ruth back so forcefully, her spine complained. Ruth shoved backward and knocked them both to the ground, Ruth landing on top of Parva.

"Stop fucking fighting," Trinidad snapped, tossing the knife on the table. "If you just give in, we can enjoy the evening and send you back to the Circus."

"I was enjoying my evening before you arrived," Ruth snarled. "I don't care to enjoy it…with…you."

Parva locked her arm around Ruth's head. "Another move and I will break your neck," she said. "You can lie here like a dead fish while we play. Like them."

She turned Ruth toward the two humans, giving her a closer look. The couple were naked, enjoyed by the vampires sexually as well as for food, because vampires didn't mind putting the two together when the opportunity presented itself. Though usually it was a one-on-one seduction, and the vampire left his or her meal with a hazy memory of pleasure, like a dream. No worse off than before.

There is an important difference between treating a random human source as a meal, and turning them into a victim. Though many vampires would not agree with me, the latter has a cost to your soul as well. We don't have to be the monsters we are believed to be, but we are well capable of it.

Mal, teaching her how to find a blood source when she was away from the island and not somewhere like William and Matthew's, where there were servants to provide sustenance.

The two vampires had overfed. Not fatally, but the humans would definitely be out of it for a while. When they shook off the compulsion, they'd believe they'd been mugged. And raped. The latter would be true. They'd tried to hold onto one another, their limp hands still loosely laced together. Their wedding bands matched. A married couple. She felt sick to her stomach.

"We don't want to treat you like them. Don't be a bitch. You're pretty. We like you. We just want to play."

Parva's tone had become soothing, seductive. They wanted to prove they were in charge and could overpower her, but once she accepted that, they'd probably get along just fine. As long as she did what they wanted.

Almost every vampire in every territory faced such "games." She'd been protected from them, but she knew they existed. What's more, dealing with it, accepting it, was part of being an adult vampire, "independent" within that structure.

"I think we could keep her," Trinidad said. "She's so young. Why did her parents let her out of their sight? Maybe they didn't want her."

"That's all right. We want her." Parva wound Ruth's dark straight hair around her fingers. Ruth had gone still, pretending that she was considering compliance—as she fought the chilling knowledge that it might have to move from pretense to reality. "If Yvette would let you go, you could become our pet. I could put you on a lovely little leash, get you a collar sewn in these beads you like. Oh, look at this."

Ruth grabbed for it, but Parva had already snapped the cord of the medicine bag and was examining the beadwork. She shoved Ruth at Trinidad, and he held her as his companion tied the medicine bag around her own neck.

"No, it doesn't go with the dress." Parva took it back off and opened the bag, dumping the contents in her hands. Her nose wrinkled and she tossed the bits of fur and dirt away from her distastefully.

Ruth had cherished it since Kohana had died, feeling like it was infused with the spirit of the stern Sioux, everything she'd loved about him.

They were within arm's reach of the table where Trinidad had left her knife. With a scream of rage, Ruth seized it and turned on him. She slashed the blade across his thigh, cutting through denim, flesh and the femoral artery. Blood spurted and gushed over his jeans. He cursed, letting her go to put his hands on the wound.

She didn't try to get away. She was right on him, making him pedal back into the table. It scraped across the floor as he landed on it. When she stabbed his face, she hit an eye, rupturing it. Roaring in pain, he shoved her away and rolled to the floor, landing on the limp doll humans.

She pivoted and went after Parva.

Parva's face had gone blank with shock. Ruth only had seconds to take advantage of it. She stabbed the knife into Parva's heart as many times as her vampire speed would allow her, which was about eight before Trinidad was back on her.

He yanked her away from his blood-soaked comrade and disarmed Ruth again. His arms locked around her throat and upper body as he lifted her off her feet.

"You're going to die, little bitch. No one is going to miss you."

"That…is…not…true." She caught a glimpse of his gleaming fangs, extended to full length. Her struggles increased, but to no avail. His fangs tore into her throat, and blood gushed as he ripped open the carotid and shredded the muscle and tissue around it. Then he dropped her, shoving her to the ground onto her hands and knees.

She'd made a good accounting of herself. Gideon would be proud of her.

The fuck he would. He'd say, "You're not dead. Why aren't you still fighting?" She wasn't done until she had no other options. She could still move, so she had them.

Ruth scrambled across the ground, headed for the knife. When she grabbed it and turned, she tried to keep pressure on her neck with her other hand.

She'd assumed Trinidad was fucking with her again, giving her a moment to let her think she could win, but then she saw he had bigger concerns.

His feet were off the floor, Merc's ruthless grip on his throat. Her incubus's black and white wings were spread, showing her all those lightning bolts. They matched the hellfire in his eyes.

Despite the stabbing, Parva was back up. Ruth gave the female vampire props for loyalty as she made a clumsy attempt to rush Merc. Merc lifted a hand in her direction. Magic crackled from his fingers, spinning out like a thrown net. It covered Parva and dropped her to the ground, where she writhed in agony. Ruth smelled burning flesh.

She also heard the crunch when Trinidad's cervical vertebrae broke under Merc's grip. When he dropped the male, both vampires could barely move, but they were doing their best to crawl away.

Merc moved to Ruth, who was still on her ass, trying to contain the wound in her throat. Removing her destroyed shirt, he tore it into strips and tied them around the damage, then cupped his hand over the makeshift pressure bandage.

"You should not have gone off on your own." His expression was cold as a glacier.

"Story of my life," was what she felt like saying. Instead she rasped, "Need blood. Human. Not Circus. Not…them."

She dipped her head toward the couple. They'd already had too much taken from them. She also didn't want anyone at the Circus to see her like this. She was fighting anger, shame, a whole trashcan of emotions, all bad.

Merc picked her up. That toxic mix made her angry about that, too, but his arms tightened, and he gave her a look that settled her. Then he was aloft. He must have cloaked both of them somehow, because no one freaked as he passed over the riverfront. It took her thirty long seconds to find what she wanted. She pointed with a trembling, bloodstained finger.

He landed in the alley next to the Dumpster where a homeless man slept by himself, camouflaged by blankets and shadows. His blood was going to be a little boozy, but he would do, and he was sleeping deep. Merc eased her down to the ground next to him.

"This first." Though she made a noise of protest, Merc wasn't tolerating any refusal. He sliced open his wrist and put it to her mouth.

"My blood rejuvenated you last time. Let it do so again, then you can use this man to supplement it."

The allure of it was too much to resist. She latched on, trying not to use her fangs on him, and swallowed several rich gulps. Thank heavens Trinidad hadn't damaged her throat so badly she couldn't swallow. Great Father, what was it in Merc's blood? She could feel it rushing through her within the first few seconds, telling her its healing properties were going to get right to work.

She made herself stop. "Please go…move humans." She didn't want Parva and Trinidad to recover and take it out on them. Reading his face, she added, "Don't kill…vampires."

"I can do as I please." He touched her bent knee. "I've not wanted to kill someone so much in a very long time. It's difficult to resist."

He meant it. With the least word of encouragement from her, they'd be gone. It would be nothing to him. But he'd told her the dangers of that to his control.

She also understood it. Over and above the annual kill, the Vampire Council allowed a vampire to take up to twelve human lives a year—geographically dispersed and with a reasonable time lapse between kills. It was considered a compromise between a vampire's "natural" urges and the need to keep a low profile in the human world.

At territory meetings at Lord Marshall's, she'd met vampires who took full advantage of that rule, and she understood why her father had taught her to be wary of them. When lives were treated like the number of cookies one could indulge from the cookie jar, something got broken in the head.

One annual kill was more than enough for her. She dreaded it every year.

"What they did was not…prohibited." A whisper was the best she could do right now, but he could hear her. "Me defending myself, you helping me, also okay. Killing them, not okay. Yvette has to tell overlord…then Region Master. It's a whole thing. Merc…please. Take care of the humans."

"I will be back." He brushed his knuckles along her cheek, then took off, his wingbeats sending a welcome breeze across her clammy forehead.

She put her hand on the homeless man's shoulder, summoning as much of a push as she could to keep him asleep. She went right for the throat, because she needed the rush of blood into her mouth, the gulping swallows. She felt his heartbeat accelerate as his brain registered the threat. She soothed it with her compulsion. I won't cause lasting harm. I just need a meal…

When she had what she needed, she fell back onto her backside next to him. She petted him absently, a thank you , even as she fished out a twenty and tucked it into one of his pockets to find later. Maybe he'd buy himself a night or two in a shelter. Or more booze. She wouldn't judge. It took a lot to get through any life, let alone one that had taken the unfortunate turns his obviously had. Whether from his own choices or others, everybody was capable of fucking up.

The alley smelled of noxious things, but the homeless man's shirt was mostly clean. He must have been able to wash his clothes recently.

The wound was mending. She stayed still, helping her body focus on that most important priority. Merc's blood tingled through her, along with the human donor's. Would Merc's alone have been enough? An interesting thought.

One she shouldn't dwell upon. He'd overridden her protest to give her blood, but with the effect it was proving itself to have on her, it would be too easy to take advantage. Their relationship was way too tenuous, and if he had one of his mean moments, where he accused her of using him for that…that might hurt worse than anything Trinidad and Parva had done to her.

When feathers brushed her ankles, she opened her eyes to find her angel incubus resting on his heels in front of her, his wings angled forward on the outside of her knees and hips, offering her a shield. He wasn't just using his wings to do that. The noxious fumes in the alley had been replaced by that interesting musk he could put out. There were hints of flowers in it, chocolate, sunshine, soft rains.

"Wow." She cleared her throat. "You can turn that on or off at will. Without the sexual component."

"It's there. You're just not in a condition to appreciate it."

"I must be almost dead then."

He didn't smile. She didn't either. A rage was waiting on the other side of this, and a despair and sadness that would swamp her. She couldn't avoid the truth she'd faced tonight.

She needed to go home.

She thought of the preserve, her tree in the lion's habitat. Her books. The daily routine. The safety. Her father's protection.

No, damn it. Stop that shit. Her weak ass was staying at the Circus. She had to learn how to handle this. How could she protect and defend all her father had built, if she couldn't protect and defend herself?

She couldn't. That was the beginning and end of it. She pulled herself out of her head. "Are Parva and Trinidad alive?"

"Yes. Not because they deserve it. I put the humans at a hospital ER entrance."

"Thank you." She laid her hand on top of his, still clasping her knee. She traced the dips between his knuckles, the veins his grip raised. He watched her touch him, his expression like when he'd looked at her breasts. Simply for pleasure, to enjoy affection. That was why it had seemed new to him. She'd bet on it.

"So you came to find me. Thanks."

"I was joining you for live music, food. And karaoke."

"I'd picked out a duet for us. ‘Just Give Me the Reason,' Pink and Nate Ruess. We're bent, not broken. Appropriate, right?"

For the first time, she noticed the alley had graffiti art sprayed across the brick wall. Sunlight is married to darkness. The tagger had signed it H2O .

"I get so tired. Does that happen to you, Merc? Do you ever get so very tired that you just want to lie down and not get up?" Let life turn her into a road that others traveled, while she just laid there and felt their passage. Endured their passage.

Merc grip tightened on her. He could use crushing strength on someone like Trinidad, but he wasn't using it on her. "When I was a boy, in Russia. There was a songbird I would see in the trees, during the warmer months. He had a red spot on his head that helped me recognize him. He offended me. How weak and fragile he was, yet he survived, thrived. Sang.

"But then I saw his beauty. It helped me, the way he lived, no matter that his life was so short. His presence added to what was inside my soul. Changed it. Very little, then. But when Marcellus found me, the memory…it changed me more. Because I could change then."

She gazed at their linked fingers, afraid if she lifted her eyes, he would stop talking to her. Giving her what was deep inside of him. Only when the silence drew out did she speak. "My father told me those we think are weak and fragile, but who affect us, always deserve a second look."

She expected Mal had been trying to reassure her about being weak in the vampire world. But when he said it, he'd been looking at Elisa, and Ruth had understood the message. Nothing that could get inside you and stay like that could really be weak or fragile.

It shares the same existence with us. Which binds us together.

She wanted to tell Merc that, and maybe she would, later. If they shared a mind link, she could say it in his head.

At times, though, Merc had an uncanny understanding of what she was thinking, where her head was at. He also seemed to be able to find her, the way a vampire could find a first marked servant. She thought of the day she'd met with Yvette and Lyssa. When she'd "heard" him, it had been in her head, and Adan couldn't hear it.

"Merc…can you talk in my mind?"

"Yes," he said simply. "Sometimes. When I focus the right way. The ability comes and goes."

The shock of the confirmation was a welcome distraction from the other things she was dealing with. "How about my thoughts? Can you hear them?"

"No." He frowned. "But I can feel them, in a sense. And I can follow that feeling to where you are. Again, when I focus. It seems like something I have to practice, and I haven't had much interest in that. Until recently."

Her toes curled in her shoes. Stop being stupid and romantic, she told herself. Near death experiences make you mushy.

"You're not tired. You don't allow yourself to be tired." He took her back to her earlier admission, and lifted his free hand to touch her face. "You fought well and you're strong. But if you need a moment to recoup your strength, I'll carry you."

"How long is a moment?"

The silver in his sclera glinted, sending a ripple of light over the black blood irises. Rather than answering, he picked her up off the alley floor, cradling her in his arms. "You smell like human urine."

"You could have been chivalrous and put your shirt down for me to sit on."

"I like this shirt."

She wouldn't chuckle. It would hurt. She rested her head on his chest as he took to the air. Looking down, she saw the homeless man rouse. He lifted a tentative hand and she smiled at him. She imagined what he was seeing, Merc's wings against a city-lit sky, her hair streaming over her shoulders and Merc's arm.

"You didn't cloak."

"A person like him deserves hope. I may not be an angel, but he can look at me and believe they exist."

Then they were high above everything. Up here she could hold onto better emotions, but the despairing feelings were chasing her. As the blood restored her, the frustration welled up, needing an outlet.

She curled her fingers into a claw against his chest. "Can you find us a place where I can do some screaming? Maybe beat my fists against something I can't hurt?" A dead tree, a big rock buried halfway in the ground. She'd broken her knuckles against several at home when this anger came upon her. The boon of vampirism was the agonizing pain could swallow up the emotions and make them manageable, before the injury conveniently healed itself.

Merc landed them in an empty field, nothing around but patches of wood and distant houses. As he let her move away from him, Ruth stripped her ruined shirt from her throat, and stretched her arms out to the sky. Looking at the stars, she turned in circles, making them wheel above her, or seem that way, even though she was the one turning. She didn't run, scream, punch and hurt things like she'd expected. That was probably good. Her throat wasn't pretty, but it wasn't open and bleeding. She didn't want to reverse that.

She wanted something different. A challenge, something that reinforced what Merc had told her. That she was strong. Mighty. Not just in the ways that her world thought mattered.

She knew what would do it. But she'd think it through for a few minutes. She didn't want him to think it was an impulsive gesture. Plus, he would take some convincing. He'd already proven that when they'd broached the topic before.

"Going bra-only will draw some attention at the Circus." Plus it was stained with her blood. She'd worn a flesh-colored one tonight with her outfit. "I might have to dash through a store, grab a top and leave some money on the counter."

In answer, he took off his shirt, pulling it free of his wings in a practiced move, and handed it to her. "No more urine and garbage stains around," he noted.

She suppressed a smile, enjoying the ripple of muscles. Studying the hemmed slits in the shirt's back, she wondered if Charlie handled the alteration. Picturing Merc with a needle and thread, or curled over a sewing machine, was too mindboggling. She'd ask another time. "Why do you and Marcellus bother with a shirt at all?"

"One less thing to conjure when we have to make the wings disappear from public view. But it's an annoyance and another reason he prefers Legion wear. When I'm alone, I tend not to wear a shirt, either."

"Can't say I object." She saw the surprise in his eyes. "No one flirts with you, do they?"

"Most consider it inadvisable."

She held the shirt in her hands, feeling his warmth. When she pulled it on, she liked the teasing touch of air where the wing slits were. Maybe he'd let her keep it, even if he liked it.

Time to throw it out there and see what happened. "You're always hungry, Merc. That's got to be kind of miserable. I want you to feed on me. The way we discussed."

She'd startled him, but he recovered, his eyes narrowing. "Hunger is not as miserable as the alternative. Many go through life hungry without letting it change their course, their goals or ambitions."

"Like who?"

"Super models."

She rolled her eyes. "I mean it, Merc. Please. I need…I want something that reinforced what you said. What I know inside me. I am fucking strong. I'm capable of not just being cared for. I can care for someone else, in a way that most can't. I do have that strength."

"And if you're wrong? If it drains you? You were badly wounded only moments ago."

"Your blood is healing me." Remarkably fast, compared to her normal healing rate, what she would have expected with only the homeless man's blood. "Worst case scenario, I'm weak and tired for a little while. I'll double up on blood packs at the Circus. It's not going to kill me. You don't have to worry about that."

"You believe it can't kill you because a vampire has never tried it before."

"The things that can kill us aren't subtle. Fire. Decapitation. Wooden stake."

"Delilah virus. Ennui."

She was surprised he knew about those, but he checked into things that interested him. He'd made it clear that vampires had recently made the list. A thought which brought on another surge of unwise feelings.

"Ennui is a disease that leads to a vampire taking their own life. Not even related. And Lord Brian found a cure to the Delilah virus that mostly works."

If one was okay with sacrificing their servant. Most vampires were. You could get another servant, after all.

The sarcasm didn't make it any less true or terrible.

"You're missing the most important point," Merc said.

"What's that?"

"The decision isn't yours."

"I'm not missing it," she grated. "It's why we're having the discussion. I'm asking you to have that fuck-the-world moment where we embrace something that others believe can't happen, shouldn't happen. Defy the odds. Believe things can be different. I need that."

Her voice faltered, her fists clenching. "Will you go down that road with me? Will you be my friend tonight, the one who joins me in that last inadvisable tequila shot because we believe we can handle what comes after, even if we can't? Or are you going to be fucking sensible and responsible?" She shot him a look. "That's not what brought you to my island. It's not why you're still standing there now. Is it?"