Page 29

I take the seat offered, and Elijah brings over a pile of books and places them next to me. "Our kind are tried similarly to the American justice system, by a jury of our peers, with a proper defense and prosecution, and a judge to oversee it. The biggest differences are the laws—what's illegal and what's not—and the punishments. Out of necessity, given the power many of us have, the punishments are harsh and often permanent."

I nod. "That makes sense, I suppose."

He raises an eyebrow. "The punishments can seem medieval and even inhumane to someone not used to our ways," he elaborates.

"Yeah, I get it. Like Dracula will be put to ground while still alive, presumably in a way he can't escape, for all of eternity."

He nods. "Amongst other things, yes, that is one example. Though other punishments are much more gruesome, and often the guilty do not live through the experience. Paranormals tend to liken themselves to the gods of old and are just as capricious with our punishments."

I shudder at the images that come to mind, but then I shake it off. This is my life now. Better acclimate fast. "Gotcha. What else?"

He leans forward, studying me. "You surprise me, Miss Oliver."

"Just Eve is fine, thanks."

"Eve, then. You're not what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"Not you," he says, a smile playing at his lips.

My heart skips a beat at the look he's giving me right now.

"You have a sharp mind," he says. "That much is clear. And courage, for standing up to Liam like that. That hothead is going to get himself killed someday if he's not careful."

"He needs balancing," I say. "Too much fire. He needs water to cool his engines. Earth to ground him."

"What did you just say?"

"The elements? You know, how we all have these qualities in us, and if they get out of balance it can create an excess of certain personality traits. Honestly, you guys should check out Google more often. You might learn a few useful things about the 21stcentury."

"Yes, of course. Well, you do have a keen eye, Miss Oliver, er, Eve. But I'm afraid I must retire. Sunrise is upon us, and contrary to popular media, we do not function during the daylight hours. Not in this world."

"Oh, right." I stand as he does. "Um, is it okay if I stay and read? I have a lot to learn and not a lot of time in which to learn it."

Elijah nods. "As you wish. Until this evening, then." He touches my arm gently, letting his fingers slide over my skin, before walking away.

My skin tingles where he made contact, and it takes my body a beat to settle down from the effects of his attention.

These Night brothers might be the death of me, in more ways than one.

I attempt to read, to study the pile of texts left for me, but my mind keeps returning to the enigmatic Elijah, his clear blue eyes holding keen intelligence and secret knowledge. Giving up, I pull out my sketchbook, which I take with me everywhere, and begin to draw from memory the eyes that I can't put out of my mind. I draw him as I saw him when I entered his study, sitting at his desk, a book before him, his expression one of lost reflection as he looks up at the noise of me entering his space.

When I'm done, I study it and smile. It's as if he's sitting before me, mid-interruption, just before he's about to speak. I tuck the sketchbook back into my bag and refocus my attentions.

For the rest of the morning, I read. And let me just set the record straight, in case there was any confusion about this, reading law books is about as exciting as watching paint dry. Paranormal law books are no exception, though a few of their laws raised my eyebrows.

For example, there's a law that werewolves aren't allowed to leave their clothing on private property not belonging to them, or on public lands, during full moon shifts, unless they request a special permit, which has to be signed by a judge. The penalty for breaking this law is one full moon cycle locked up in silver chains.

I make good work on the books. One of the ways I was able to graduate with both my MBA and law degree so fast was my ability to speed read and retain the vast majority of the material I take in when I do. When I told the Night brothers that I was smart, I wasn't being vain or exaggerating. I'm a member of Mensa, after all.

At around three in the afternoon, I’m in the middle of a thick book on court procedures when I get a flash that I’m needed in the topiary garden. I have no idea by whom or for what, but there’s no resisting the sensation. I decide to take a stroll outside to enjoy some sunshine and Vitamin D before my planned slumber.

There's a gentle breeze that carries the scent of wildflowers, and the sun is so warm and bright that I feel sorry for vampires who can no longer feel the kiss of daylight on their skin. What a sad existence that must be, to be forced into darkness, never again experiencing nature's light.

I make my way through the garden, passing bushes molded into fantastical beasts straight from fairy tales, following my instincts and marveling at the artistry that went into creating the landscape around the castle as I go, until I hear something coming from one of the bushes. A meowing, tiny and faint, but there.

I squat down to peer into the bush, and stuck there between two branches is a tiny black kitten with big yellow eyes staring at me plaintively. It meows again and looks to be at the end of its rope. Careful not to hurt the fur ball, I maneuver it out of the bramble and scoop it into a pouch I make of my sweatshirt. I give the kitten a quick exam to see if there are any obvious injuries.