When Shadows Call

“I’m very hungry,” I said. “Why don’t you pay much attention to time?”

I could tell by his constant dramatic sighs that Azriel had little patience for questions. “When you live forever, a week can pass in the blink of an eye.”

“Forever?” The word clung to my lips. He couldn’t possibly mean what he’d said.

“You are no longer human, Darian. You must stop thinking like one.”

“How can this be possible?” I wondered. Immortality was best left to storybooks.

“How can it be possible that you become one with the darkest shadows?” Azriel countered. “I won’t entertain your questions today. I’m hungry. I want to eat. Now, arise from your perch little bird, and let me feed you.”

I looked down at my torn and tattered dress and ran my fingers through the tangles of my hair. “I must look a fright,” I said. “I’m hardly presentable.”

Azriel went to the closet and presented me with a delicate lace shawl I recognized as one of my own, and motioned to a small vanity in the far corner of the room. “Run a comb through your hair. And let us be on our way.”

I’d been trained by Henry’s fist to be an obedient wife. I’d always thought it better to do as he said and not risk his ire. So as Azriel commanded, I sat at the vanity and began to work the tangles from my hair with a wide brush. I closed my still sleepy eyes as I brushed my hair when I felt a presence at my back. Azriel took the brush from my hand and stroked down the length of my strawberry-blonde curls.

“You have beautiful hair,” he said. “I imagine it would feel like satin against my naked skin.” I stiffened at his bold statement, and his chuckle sent a pleasant ripple across my scalp. “Will you wear it down for me today?” He murmured against the top of my head.

“But, Azriel,” I said. “I don’t have a hat. It wouldn’t be appropriate.” People would be likely to stare if my hair was left loose and curling around my shoulders. Add to that the absence of a hat . . . well . . . proper women just didn’t traipse around in public without at least a hat. Even women of the poorer working classes wore hats.

“No hats,” Azriel said. “I do not care for what humans think is appropriate, or proper, or in good taste. The wide brim of a silly hat would hide your beauty. I want to see your face and your hair shining and unfettered in the noonday sun.”

“Yes,” I whispered as he continued to brush my hair. Anything. I’ll do anything for you.

I nearly fell back to sleep as Azriel passed the brush over my hair again and again. When he set it down on the vanity, the sound barely registered in my ears. “All done,” he said. “Now, be a good girl and cover yourself with that shawl. Going out without a hat is one thing. A torn dress is another. We’ll eat and see the city. And,” he leaned over and planted a light kiss on the top of my head, “we’ll get you a new dress or two.”

I did as he asked and made sure to hide my destroyed dress with the lacy shawl. Azriel offered me his arm and I accepted it gladly. He didn’t make the gesture for anyone’s benefit. His gallantry had nothing to do with keeping up appearances or placating the town gossips. No, his actions were for me and me alone.

He’d won me over with a hairbrush and a proffered arm. And suddenly, forever didn’t seem long enough.

* * *

We walked through the hotel lobby arm in arm. Heads turned as we passed. The smug expression that I’d grown to appreciate returned to Azriel’s face. He enjoyed the attention, reveled in it.

Our breakfast was decadent, the hotel staff more than attentive. I did my best not to ask any questions, but instead allowed Azriel to draw me into simple conversation. Henry had never been interested in my thoughts or feelings on any matter. Azriel listened with genuine interest; he laughed when I said something that amused him, and his eyes gleamed with a heated spark when I said something witty or intelligent. We lingered long after our meal was finished, sipping coffee and talking in hushed tones.

“I’ve never had coffee before,” I said as a waiter refreshed my cup. “It’s delicious.”

“Are you serious?” Azriel asked. A smile spread across his mouth that made my skin tingle and my bones turn soft. “This is the first time you’ve ever had it?”

“Proper ladies drink tea,” I laughed. “Henry insisted that I be the epitome of a proper lady.”

“I take great satisfaction in knowing that I’ve introduced you to something that pleases you,” Azriel said. He leaned in conspiratorially and I mirrored his actions. “I hope to introduce you to many new pleasures, my darling.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks at the innuendo. I dropped my gaze and nibbled at my bottom lip.

“Extraordinary,” Azriel murmured. He took my hand in his and bestowed a kiss to each of my knuckles. “Come. Let us see what Seattle has to offer.”

Azriel came around the table and pulled out my chair. As I stood, he planted an innocent kiss on my cheek. I couldn’t help but brush my fingertips across my lips as I wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by him in a not-so-innocent manner. He brought my hand around his elbow and led me out of the restaurant back toward the lobby.

I studied him from the corner of my eye, taking in every detail and committing it to memory. Walking next to me was a man without comparison. Dangerous. Handsome. Daring. Deadly.

Mine.

Chapter 5

Seattle was not unlike San Francisco––a port city with a booming population and fueled by industry. Automobiles and trolleys traveled along the cobbled streets once crowded with horse-drawn carriages, and modern conveniences were advertised on large billboards, which hung high above the tall buildings that made up the city proper. The air smelled of the sea, and steam billowed up from the stacks of ships that floated in and out of the harbor.

Even in San Francisco I’d never had the pleasure of simply walking the streets without a care. A shadow had always cast itself on my life, reminding me of what I had to look forward to when I returned home.

You have always belonged to the shadows. . . .

Azriel’s words echoed in my mind as we walked in silence. After Henry’s abuse became a regular occurrence, I’d left my house less often. I didn’t want to have to lie to curious folks as I tried to explain away my many bruises. At first, he had kept to bruising my arms and laying his fist to the areas of my body concealed by clothing. But as Henry’s drinking became more steady, and his resentment of me more intense, he did not care where his fist landed. I had no desire to parade around town with a black eye or a bloodied and swollen lip. And so I contented myself with reading or embroidery and I kept to the house. In the end it had saved us both a lot of trouble.

“What say you, darling?” Azriel asked, breaking me from my reverie. “Shall we call Seattle home?”

I broke from his gaze and looked up to find a large sign. Public Market, it declared in bold, black letters. My breath caught in my chest as I watched the hustle and bustle of people at various vendor carts. Fresh fish, cut flowers, and myriad other goods sat ready for purchase. Women chatted with the vendors, bartering for the best deal. Men toiled at the fish carts, hauling up the morning catch as they gutted and wrapped the fish in brown paper and tied the packages up with string. And the sound of laughter mingled with conversation and heated debates.

“Pike Place Market,” Azriel whispered in my ear.

The entire market teemed with life. A synchronicity existed amongst the chaos as people interacted with one another in a strangely detached way. No one seemed to care a whit about the person standing next to them. I’d lived in a tight-knit community of affluent socialites. Doctors’ wives, bankers’ wives, and the like. Everyone cared. No one’s actions went unnoticed. Doctor Hale’s wife made sure to find out what Mrs. Baxter’s household staff was preparing for dinner. And likewise, Mrs. Baxter knew when Mrs. Brighton ordered a new dress from an elegant shop in New York City. For San Francisco’s elite, someone was always watching.

But not here, not now. “I love it,” I whispered back. “Azriel, I love it here.”

He brought my hand to his lips and bestowed a kiss upon it. “Is it Seattle you love so much, or something else?”

In truth, I did love the city. We’d taken the trolley from one end of the city to the other. Just like the market,