His strength enveloped her, solid as stone, yet filling her with warmth and confidence. A surge of power sent them upward. Alban’s wings snapped open, their apparent delicacy belied by the authority with which they swept down and drove them higher into the air. Margrit gasped laughter into Alban’s shoulder, hardly knowing when she’d wound her arms around his neck. 'I thought gargoyles weren’t impulsive.'
'Occasionally,' Alban growled, good nature in the deep sound, 'even stone is inspired to enthusiasm. I told you once you could fly now.'
Margrit twisted, looking over her shoulder at the receding city. Hair blew in her face, stinging her eyes as much as the cold wind did. She felt tears slip through her lashes and streak her temples. 'You did.' The accusation that he’d then left her for months hung unspoken between them, until Margrit dared unwind an arm and wipe tears from her face. 'I should get aviator goggles. And warm pants.'
She shivered, drawing close to the gargoyle again. He rumbled, tightening his arms around her until she felt his heartbeat, slower and steadier by far than her own. She counted those heartbeats, both his and hers, until they became nothing more than a tangle of shared life, similarities played up instead of differences. Engines and horns honking in the city cut through the sound of wind rushing in her ears, a distant reminder of the world below them. Her world, the one she moved through every day, and at the same time separate from her in a way made clear not just by the gargoyle in whose arms she flew, but by the extraordinary men she’d encountered in the past day.
'Alban.' She whispered his name against his skin, nose pressed into his neck so she could inhale his clean earthy scent. He curved his head over hers, listening, and she smiled at the temptation to brush her lips against his throat. His ears tapered to narrow, delicate points just in her line of sight, making an intriguing target. The temptation to discover if gargoyle ears were as sensitive to nibbling as human ones teased her. Alban’s inhumanity seemed less of a barrier than it once had, time helping her to adjust and distance replacing caution with inquisitiveness. In his arms, the possibility of freedom from the ordinary seemed so close that she ached from the burden of wanting it. Margrit turned her face against Alban’s shoulder once more, clinging a few long seconds before forcing practicality and the matters at hand to the forefront. 'Where are we going?'
'To see Eliseo before the sun rises.'
'He’s going to have guard dogs. Or security. Or both. We can’t just show up on his doorstep. He’s Eliseo Daisani, for God’s sake, and it’s four in the morning.' Margrit’s protests were weak even to her own ears.
Alban dipped his head with a reassuring chuckle. 'There’s no guard dog in the world that could endanger me. And he may be Eliseo Daisani, but he’s also a vampire, and he’ll certainly see us. I doubt he’ll bother his security. They’re nothing more than showpieces.'
'Shouldn’t we at least call ahead?' It was too late by the time she asked, the Upper East Side building Daisani lived in already in view. 'Why Daisani?'
'Because he has a deep interest in you, and he can move about in the daytime.' Alban came to a landing at the edge of a helicopter pad, avoiding the ungainly white machine’s tail. Without the wind from the flight, the air felt suddenly warm. Margrit shivered as Alban set her on her feet. Arms wrapped around herself, she stared at the helicopter and muttered, 'My life has gotten so strange.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Nothing. I’ve just never actually seen a helicopter from this close before.'
'Gargoyles and vampires abound, and yet a helicopter impresses you. I will never understand humans, Margrit Knight.'
'That’s all right. They’ll probably never understand you.' She set off for the rooftop door, which appeared to be half a mile away. 'It’s going to be locked. How’re we supposed to get Eliseo’s attention?'
'Oh,' Daisani said out of nowhere, drolly, 'you have it.'
CHAPTER 22
Margrit shrieked like a little girl for the second time that evening, whipping around to locate the vampire. He leaned against the helicopter’s running board, arms across his chest, and offered a wink when she located him.
Across the rooftop, the door banged shut, making Margrit look toward it again. 'I didn’t even see it open,' she muttered. 'I wish you people would stop doing that.'
'Which part?' Daisani asked pleasantly.
Caught between laughter and a scowl, she said, 'Stepping out of shadows and scaring the hell out of me, but zipping around faster than I can see, too, now that you mention it. How’d you know we were here?'
'Rooftop security is under my jurisdiction. Alban,' he said with mock dismay, 'this was one of your less wise decisions. Other people live here. What if I didn’t control the security? The tapes are being wiped, but I’d think you knew better than to arrive quite so blatantly.'
'I’ve known you for a long time,' Alban said dryly. 'There’s no chance you wouldn’t control the security where you live. Eliseo, we have a problem.'
'We,' Daisani echoed in fascination. 'When was the last time we had a problem?'
'You know as well as I do.' Alban’s voice darkened. Margrit straightened, looking from one man to the other with curiosity bordering on alarm. After a few seconds, Daisani bowed his head in an acquiescence Margrit had never seen in him before. Alban rumbled in wordless acknowledgment, and as if he’d been released from an agreement, Daisani straightened and gestured toward the door.
'I’m sure whatever it is can be discussed inside where it’s warm. Margrit’s turning blue.'
'Blue’s a good color on me.' Margrit started for the door again. Daisani held it open before she’d taken more than two steps, and she slowed, looking over her shoulder to gauge the distance he’d crossed so swiftly. 'You just like doing that, don’t you,' she said when she was close enough to not have to lift her voice. 'You don’t get to show off in front of people very often, so you take whatever chance you can get.'
'People?' Daisani’s eyebrows arched in challenge.
Margrit blew an undignified raspberry. 'Humans.'
'Guilty as charged. The novelty does eventually wear off.'
'Does it? Or do you just start reining yourself in so you don’t forget and make a mistake in front of the wrong person?'
'I assure you, Miss Knight.' Daisani’s voice went soft with bitterness. 'None of us ever forget.'
Cold lifted goose bumps on Margrit’s arms and she stopped just inside the door, waiting for Alban and Daisani to follow her into the echoing stairwell. 'I was thinking, earlier.'
'Congratulations.' Daisani spoke lightly, as if wiping away the sour note he’d struck a moment before.
Margrit brushed off his teasing, putting together slowly the words she wanted to say. 'Your secrets would get you killed. But I remember pictures of my great-grandmother.' She looked up to find both Daisani and Alban studying her with uncomprehending curiosity. 'We’re pretty sure her family had been working in big houses for a few generations. Great-Grandma probably could’ve passed, except if she’d gotten caught they would’ve hanged her. Things changed,' Margrit said softly, too aware that she spoke from hope rather than conviction. 'Maybe a hundred years from now you won’t have to hide.'
'The difference,' Daisani said after a moment, 'is that no one has been championing our cause for two centuries.'
Margrit let her breath out in a rush. 'I’m working on it.' She leaned over the stair railing, looking down the spiral, and heard Alban move behind her, as if he’d keep her from a fall she had no intention of taking. 'I don’t have a hundred years,' she said. 'You’ll have to take my grandchildren out someday, and show them what pikers the four-minute-milers are.'
'I would like that.' Daisani’s tone changed again, a host of regrets audible in it. Margrit pushed away from the railing to find both men studying her with much the same expression, as though she were a rare breed of animal neither had expected to come upon.
Uncomfortable with their gazes, she glanced away. 'You’re going to have to get me through Malik first, though. That’s why we came.'
Daisani’s eyebrows lifted. 'Malik’s got enough native cunning to realize targeting you would bring my wrath
