We called you Eden because we thought we were in paradise. Sappy, but true.
Eden squirmed into a sitting position, close enough now that Ashe felt her warmth. They weren’t touching, but the girl’s body wasn’t rigid anymore.
“I miss Dad.”
Ashe swallowed hard, and it felt like something jagged caught in her throat. If she didn’t get out of this conversation, she was going to start crying. With her world already upside down, a weeping mother was the last thing Eden needed.
Besides, real slayers didn’t cry. Yeah, right.
She slid off the bed. “I miss him, too, babe. Every day. Now I’m going to get out of this monkey suit and cook us dinner, okay?”
Ashe headed for the door. She heard Eden shift, the bedsprings squeak.
“Mom, did the spell work? Even if it blew up?”
Ashe froze and didn’t turn around. “Sure. It worked just fine.”
Better than fine. Her parents’ car had crashed, killing them both.
But how was she going to tell that to her kid?
Friday, April 3, 1:00 a.m.
Ashe Carver’s apartment
That night, Ashe went to bed counting on exhaustion to give her a solid eight hours’ sleep. No anxiety dreams. For extra insurance, she had a shot of whiskey to make sure she conked right out, but only one so she wouldn’t wake up later with postalcoholic insomnia.
It was a good plan, but it didn’t work.
This time she was aware of standing in a white room. It looked blank and a bit misty, like the backdrop of a picture no one had bothered to paint in. This is lame. I can dream better than this.
There wasn’t time to worry about the decor. Prickling danced over her skin again, kicking her survival sense into high gear. Her invisible vampire was back. She realized she was wearing her fighting gear, and whipped out her stake.
“There’s nothing you can do that will hurt me,” said a deep, soft male voice.
Startled, Ashe looked around. Son of a bitch. The bastard could see her, but she couldn’t see him. It wasn’t like there was anything to hide behind, and yet she could swear he was within arm’s reach. Ashe shifted the grip on her stake, turning in a slow circle to catch the slightest hint of where he might be.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she growled. “You’re spoiling all the fun.”
“Are you always this tense?”
A crawly sensation went up her spine. She could smell that sweetish venom scent—a bit like sour Gummi bears, sweet and sharp at the same time. If she could smell him, that meant he had to be close. She lifted the stake a little higher. “Who are you?”
“Life and death.”
“No self-esteem problems on your account.”
She felt, rather than saw, his smile. It twisted through her body, as if he were somehow inside her.
He chuckled. “You have a quick wit. I like that.”
“Get out of my dream.”
She thrust outward, deciding to use her powers. Hey, if she was dreaming, she could have whatever she wanted. But they didn’t work, not even here. She’d killed her parents. Her magic had died with them. Those two facts were irrevocably linked.
Guilt filled her mouth with a taste like ashes, followed by a chaser of sour fear. Her skin crawled, as if her unseen attacker were watching her from all sides.
Go away, go away, go away.
Ashe didn’t see or hear any change, but the atmosphere shifted, as if the air had suddenly lost density. Had her prayer worked, or had her watcher simply chosen to back off?
A cry of surprise and pain sounded behind her. She wheeled around to find a corridor that hadn’t been there before. It looked like something out of the Castle, all stone and torchlight. With the certainty of dreams, she knew Reynard was down that dark passage, injured and bleeding, just like he had been last fall.
She raced into the cool shadows, terrified she wouldn’t get there before he died of his wounds. She would bind up his injuries, just like she’d done before. Give him water. Guard him. She was a hunter, so she treasured those chances she had to heal. Maybe it erased a bit of the stain on her soul left from her parents’ deaths.
There he was, curled on his side, the bright blood lost on his red coat. She raced to the still form, gently turning him over.
Oh, Goddess! Horror shrilled through her. It wasn’t Reynard. It was her husband.
Oh, Goddess! His face had the same waxy pallor as when he’d died, organs crushed. Furious, hurt, lost, she’d sat by his hospital bed and held his hand as his magnificent body failed. Her husband had conquered every mountain, snowstorm, and cave worth the challenge. They’d done most of it together.
But his work was as dangerous as his play. He’d chosen to stay in Spain because it offered the most exciting, most glamorous occupation he could find. One with enough peril even for him—he had been a matador.
He hadn’t survived his last fight. The bull had trampled him to death.
Anger and grief ripped through her, a repeat of everything she’d felt when his heart had stopped, leaving hers to beat alone.
She had loved him so much.
Ashe woke up in tears. He was gone. He would always be gone.
She hadn’t been able to save him.
Friday, April 3, 8:30 a.m.
North Central Shopping Mall
The next morning, a very tired Ashe trudged from the parking lot to the mall, stopped at the Beans! Beans! Beans! Coffee Bar, and carried on through the food court to the library. The North Central Branch was attached to a shopping mall, its entrance between the washrooms and the fast-food kiosks. The popularity of any front-rack bestseller could be determined by the number of ketchup stains and ice-cream smudges.
Sadly, slaying library patrons wasn’t allowed. Bad customer service and all.
Ashe had landed a job as circulation clerk mostly because she’d volunteered at North Central in high school. She had no other real qualifications. Fortunately, the head librarian remembered her and liked the fact that she was fluent in three languages. Plus, Ashe was great at keeping even the snarliest mall rats at bay. The pay was average, dismal compared to her contract fee as a kick-ass monster killer.
On the upside, “library worker” would go over well in family court. It sounded responsible, learned, and harmless. Obviously, no judge had ever been to the staff parties.
Ashe yawned, her body objecting to the fact that she’d fallen asleep again at three and been up at six to get Eden off to school. She’d dreamed about Roberto’s death before, but not as often now as she used to. Lately, the nightmares seemed to come up in times of stress. Or whenever another attractive man crossed her path—like Reynard. Guilt, maybe?
If so, the guilt was needless. Roberto would want her to move on. He’d lived in the moment far more than Ashe had—he’d never understood things like photographs and albums before Eden was born. He’d always said the heart was enough of a scrapbook for him, with an infinite number of pages.
Yeah, it was hard to let go of someone who could just look at you, and you knew your image was recorded in their heart forever. That was a tough act to follow.
And yet, Ashe was lonely. It had crept up on her since she moved back to Fairview. Maybe time had finally buried her grief deeply enough for her to feel again. Or maybe it was hanging around Holly and her immortal hunk
