Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own. Only an hour after she’d arrived at the library, Tory had left her office and hopped on the Metro. The next thing she’d known, she was getting off at the Woodley Park station and, thirty minutes after that, climbing the steps of the National Cathedral, where she walked right on through the massive front doors. For the flash of a second, she’d wondered if she would burst into flames. After all, wasn’t she the devil’s child? She’d been called that and much, much worse through the years. But as she stood motionless at the threshold, no flames erupted and no bolts of lightning sliced down through the night sky to destroy her. Thank the Lord for small favors.
Roland had always insisted she was as much a child of God as anyone else, despite what she was. After some time and at his never-wavering insistence in her inherent goodness, she’d finally started to believe him. At least until that night when what she’d done proved him so very wrong. She hadn’t placed so much as a single toe inside a church since. Safer that way.
Why now was the big question roaring through her mind? Why was she compelled to be in a place God didn’t want her? Or anyone else, for that matter. In all truthfulness, she had no place on this planet. This world was for humans, not the likes of her. Sadly, she lacked the courage to end this miserable thing that passed for her life.
Before entering, she’d paused. The exterior doors with the intricate scenes carved in metal had seemed to beckon to her. Even the gargoyles high on the stone walls looked as though they winked and smiled as if to say come on in. Had to be hallucinations. Had to be. Nobody in their right mind would want her to walk through those doors.
Maybe. Even in the face of every instinct screaming at her to turn around and run as far away as possible, she wasn’t able to retreat. Instead, she’d reached out, opened the door, and stepped inside. The draw was as invisible as it was strong. Unbreakable. Sometimes, she just didn’t have the strength to fight.
Inside the cathedral, the soaring ceilings were aglow with light from the pendant fixtures. The air held the suffocating scent of jasmine, probably from the sprays of so many flowers just inside the doors. Candle flames flickered in the tiny red votive cups that lined the exterior walls, and the murmur of a voice floated disembodied through the chapel like a whisper from Hades.
Turning around and running back to the Metro stop would have been her best response. She had no more place in a church tonight than she’d had years ago when Roland had stood at the pulpit. He’d wanted her to feel at home in God’s house, believed she could. Except she simply didn’t belong. Not then, not now. What in the heck was she thinking? Vampires and religion didn’t mix. Period.
When Naomi Rand stopped to talk with her, she’d wanted to scream go away. To hiss and show her fangs. She’d come here hoping she wouldn’t be noticed. She’d wanted to sit in silence in a place that could bring her closer to the spirit of Roland and simply think. If she could capture him anywhere, it would be in a magnificent church like this one. Her grand plan lasted all of about thirty seconds. Certainly, Naomi had the best of intentions. Wasn’t that what the clergy was all about? She didn’t need it and sure as hell didn’t want it. Her not-so-subtle message got through, and Naomi left her to return to her church duties.
The doors opened and closed behind her as one after another trickled into the cathedral. No one spoke, just quietly found their places and sat. Tory’d sensed and smelled the presence of other preternaturals, not just vampires. An earthy scent just below the pervasive aroma of jasmine let her know at least one werewolf sat among the small crowd, along with several of a variety she couldn’t quite catch. It was a most unlikely and unexpected blend of worshipers.
Even amongst those of her own kind, she’d been unable to stop the feeling that at any moment God would see her sitting beneath the incredible stained-glass window and destroy her where she sat. Actually, that might not be such a bad thing. After a while, immortality became a burden capable of breaking even the strongest.
Thankfully, the service began, the sounds of music floating beautifully throughout the room. About halfway through, she was able to slip out without causing distraction or attracting notice.
Now, out on the church steps, she paused and gulped in the crisp night air. Her hands were shaking as she clutched the New Testament close to her chest. The smell of the old leather brought tears and a flood of memories. She didn’t want to remember and sure as hell didn’t want to feel emotions she’d managed to keep buried. The numbness she’d wrapped herself in for decades, even centuries, was her safety net. Letting in emotion only complicated her life, and that’s exactly what had gone wrong with Roland. Back in his time, she’d managed to delude herself into thinking it would all work out—a terrible mistake impossible to undo. She’d vowed not to let it happen a second time. With the back of her hand, she wiped away tears that she tried not to let fall. She didn’t need some kindly soul to see her crying like a baby and rush over to offer her comfort. Not only did she not deserve comfort, she didn’t want it.
Back under control, she glanced around to make sure she was alone, then hurried down the steps and took a left toward the gardens. Nobody in their right mind would be in the gardens alone at this time of night, which practically guaranteed peace and quiet.
The path wound through the trees, plants, and flowers, and Tory walked slowly along, letting the solitude calm her. The fragrance of blooming flowers filled the night, and, unlike the cloying heaviness the sprays inside the church created, the scents out here were lovely on the gentle breeze. At a bench beneath a tall tree, she sank to the hard granite.
She touched the cover of the New Testament, the leather rough and dry against her fingertips. Thinking about the last time she’d held this book, she closed her eyes and took deep, steadying breaths. The impossibility of holding it now pressed heavy on her mind. Her world no longer made sense, and that pissed her off. Even when she spent a lot of time and effort creating a very secluded existence, somebody found a way to mess it up.
The smell reached her before she saw anyone. A human. Blood rushed through the human’s veins, though interestingly Tory sensed no fear. A woman, and she knew what Tory was. She wasn’t afraid. She knew and understood the night. It wasn’t a stretch to figure out who it was.
“Why are you following me?”
Call-me-Naomi stepped around a tall flowering shrub and onto the path. Her worship attire was gone, replaced by black slacks and a silky button-down shirt with long sleeves. At almost six feet tall with long black hair pulled into a ponytail, she studied Tory with dark eyes. Pretty conservative was her first thought. Pretty nice was her second. She’d always been a sucker for a woman with long, dark hair.
Not quite the time or the place to get the hots for someone, though. She had others to worry about, even if she didn’t exactly know who—or what—they were. She clutched the New Testament to her and returned Naomi’s steady gaze.
Dark eyes met hers. “Following you? No, not exactly.”
“Then why are you here?” Not for a second did Tory believe the encounter was accidental. Maybe Naomi hadn’t followed her here, but a coincidence? Not a chance.
Naomi raised an eyebrow. “I needed to drop off some things for the gift shop.” She pointed to the small building on the edge of the garden. “I noticed you sitting here and so I took a slight detour. No stalking, I promise.”
She looked up and noticed that she was, indeed, carrying a sack. Possibly Naomi was doing exactly what she said. It was also possible she’d come looking specifically for her. Tory hadn’t been born yesterday—far from it actually.
“I’m fine. You can go on to your car.”
With one hand stuffed in a pocket and the other still holding the bag, Naomi examined her for a long moment. “It’s after one o’clock in the morning and you’re sitting in the dark, in the gardens, alone.”
“So…”
“So, I’d be a piss-poor person if I simply walked by and pretended not to see you.”
Piss-poor? Not the kind of language she’d ever heard from a woman of the cloth. “I’m fine,” she said again.
“I don’t think so.”
Tory took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “I really am all right.” She tried to keep irritation out of her voice. Why wouldn’t she just leave her the fuck alone?
“You do realize this is Washington DC in the middle of the night, in the dark? Right?”
No shit. “Yes, of course I do.”
“Then you also have to know that it’s dangerous to be out here all alone. Right?”
As if punctuating the gravity of the word alone, several cars drove through the driveway, and when Tory looked up not a single car remained in the outside parking lot. A few minutes ago, it had been almost full.
Tory turned her gaze back to Naomi. “I appreciate your concern. The thing is, I’m aware of my surroundings and, trust me, I’m perfectly capable of defending myself if need be.”
“So, say I buy that you can defend yourself, would I be any less derelict in my duties if I walked on by without inquiring what brought you to this lonely place in the middle of the night?” She gave Tory a half smile, which did something quite nice to her face.
As much as Tory craved solitude at the moment, Naomi Rand was doing a pretty good job of chiseling away at her defenses. Who would have guessed? Probably nothing more than long-buried emotions that the appearance of the New Testament had brought up. Yes, that’s what it was. It wasn’t attraction or anything stupid like that.
“Okay, would it make you feel better if I went back to work?”
Naomi’s dark eyes looked startled. “Back to work? What are you? A nurse or a doctor or something like that?”
Something, all right. Tory stood and, as if in slow motion, watched the centuries-old New Testament tumble and hit the ground with a solid thump. It lay there on the gray stone path, its cover riddled with spiderweb cracks, the by-product of its age and having spent two centuries sharing a casket with the body of her friend. She bent to retrieve it. Naomi beat her to it.
“Wow,” she breathed, turning it over in her hands as she studied the age-darkened leather cover. “This is really something.”
Tory took a menacing step closer, intruding on Naomi’s personal space. She touched the spine of the book. “I’ll take that.”
Naomi didn’t release her grip or step away to restore her space. Instead, she ignored Tory and began to riffle the pages with a very soft touch, stopping here and there to recite a passage in perfect Latin.
Tory was intrigued, but not enough to get sidetracked. “Give it back.” It took some effort not to show her fangs, though the menace in her voice would be hard to miss.
“Tell me.” Naomi’s face underwent a subtle change. “Why exactly did you bring such a valuable book to our rather special services? Or did you steal this from the cathedral?”
“Excuse me!” Shock and insult made her words sharp. The idea that someone would think she stole the book had never occurred to her.
Naomi shrugged, her gaze intent on Tory’s face. “Legitimate question. You come to our services while security is down, look like you’re in the middle of an inquisition when I stop to say hello, and then bolt before the service is over. To top it all, I find you hiding in the gardens with a very old and probably very rare Bible. You’d have had plenty of time during the services to sneak into our facility and snatch something like this. My question is far from being out of line.”
As Naomi spoke, Tory bit the inside of her lip so hard she drew blood. The metallic taste on her tongue brought an unwanted jolt of electricity to her body. It was time to get the hell out of here, except she wasn’t leaving without her book. The woman needed to give it up or Tory wouldn’t be responsible for what could happen.
“I didn’t steal anything. Now give me back the fucking Bible before I do something we’ll both regret.” Her voice was low and controlled, but with a dangerous edge.
Naomi tilted her head and studied Tory for a long moment. Slowly, she offered up the New Testament. “I’m going on faith here. Please don’t make me a fool.”
Tory took it and said quietly, “You’d have been a bigger fool not to give it back to me.”
She turned to leave, intending to waste no time putting distance between them. As the blessed darkness closed around her, Naomi’s voice cut through the night and made her pause.
“You never told me your name.”