Page 29

29. Sir Serious

Rome

After lunch, Mira was ready to test out the bow she’d repaired. Kerry said we’d passed an overgrown field on our way back from the store and suggested it would probably be as good a place as any. Then he surprised me by asking if I’d escort her.

When I met his eyes, I understood.

So I agreed with a smile until she said she wanted to walk. Frowning, I reminded her that it was two or three miles away.

“If you’re worried about time,” she said, “we can jog it, but I need to stretch my legs.”

Hmm. Stretch her legs. That’s a lot of leg to stretch.

I sighed, for more reasons than one, and drew hard on my power to absorb more of the pain.

“Time isn’t the issue,” I said. “We’re stuck here until we get a lead to where our friends were taken. But you were just freed from a minor devil who didn’t exactly take care of you. Maybe you need to recuperate another day or two.”

I didn’t know what to make of her expression as she stared at me. A dozen emotions seemed to flit across her face before she looked away.

She doesn’t like someone being concerned for her . It makes her uncomfortable. How curious.

“I’ll be fine.” She shrugged into her coat.

#

Mira

We walked along the side of the road, the crunch of gravel under our boots making the only sound except for the occasional car whizzing by. Rome wasn’t a fast walker and I had to slow down to stay in step with him. My stride reflected my let’s-get-it-done personality. Maybe his reflected a more zen one.

Before we left, I’d decided I would keep my eyes on my feet, but I kept stealing glances at him. I scolded myself, but that didn’t stop my gaze from straying to his profile.

In my defense, the man was pure eye candy.

His hair was such a light blond, it was almost white. It swooshed across his forehead in a thick wave and highlighted his crystal blue eyes. Even better, he was taller than me and heavily built, so I didn’t feel like the giantess I usually did next to a guy. And those broad shoulders—

Stop it, girl. I flushed, uneasy with where my thoughts were going.

I know, I know, but he really is one fine-looking man!

Needing a distraction, I decided to start a conversation. Problem was, I had no idea what to talk about. I’d never really been much of a socializer to begin with; engines made more sense to me than people most of the time. And after two years of being kinda isolated from the rest of the world, I had little to offer in the way of casual chit-chat.

“What’s your favorite metal?”

I stumbled a little at his sudden question and he grabbed my elbow, like it was an automatic reflex or conditioned manners to make sure I didn’t fall.

“Steel. It’s practical and available and you can fix nearly anything with it.”

“What metalwork do you enjoy? An artificer I know at college makes dragon keychains and bracelets from chainmail and metal scales.”

“I dunno.” I looked at my feet. “I made stainless steel roses and sold them when I was in high school. They were pretty and it was a challenge to make the tiny petals. I haven’t made anything fine like that for a long time. Mostly been working on cars and engines.”

“Do you have any idea what you want to do next?” He dropped my arm and put his hands in his coat pockets. “When you get to the Sanctuary, you could go back to school.”

“No, thanks. Maybe later. We live a long time, right?”

“Yes. First-generation nephs live up to five hundred years, unless you get yourself killed.”

“Hmm. Then I’d rather take some time to gather myself before I commit to school again.” Thinking he might have the wrong idea, I hurried to explain. “Not that I won’t work! I’ll get a job right away. I don’t need charity or anything.”

“Okay.”

He said it so easily, I felt like I’d attacked him over something ridiculous.

Don’t say anything else . You’re lucky these people are willing to help out someone with so much taint on her soul. You don’t need to be any more of a burden than you already are.

“I need to pick up a hobby,” he broke into my thoughts. “I’m either at school or in the gym or out on a mission. Chance keeps telling me I need something that will help me de-stress. Well, I guess I do have a hobby. I like to read, but I think of that as more of an addiction.”

“Oh, yeah? Any certain genre?”

“History. World War Two is a favorite, but anything military-related is good.”

“And who’s Chance?”

“Chance Parker. He’s a healer and one of my best friends. He was captured in the ambush. He and my other best friend, Spin. Mike Spinelli.”

“What’s his power?” “Annoying people.” He kicked a rock out of the way. “He’s a guide, but he has a real talent for being obnoxious.”

“Still growing up?” I smiled.

“That’s one way to put it. He loves to joke around, but pushes it too far. Until you get angry or sick of it.”

“Ah.” I nodded. “He teases Mr. Serious until you’re ready to hammer him.”

“Mr. Serious? Me ?”

“Uh, yeah .” I looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “He’s probably your exact opposite. Anyway, what are you studying in college?”

“Everything and nothing.” He sighed. “I don’t know what to major in. I took all the general requirements first to give myself time to decide, but I still have no idea. I’ve just been taking classes I’m interested in.”

“Don’t know what you wanna be when you grow up?” I grinned.

“Something like that, although I hope I don’t do any more growing up. It’s hard enough to find clothes as it is.”

“Try shopping for girl stuff when you’re six-three,” I shot back.

“I can imagine. Shirts are the worst, right? Kerry told me his warden ordered his from an online store and they fit perfectly. I need to get that website and do the same. I can’t stand sleeves that end above my wrists and shirts that won’t stay tucked in my pants.”

Oh, I knew all about that.

“There are a few stores that get the tall section right,” I said, “but brand-new stuff costs too much money. Thrift stores are cheaper, and you’d be amazed at what you can find there, but it’s also harder to find clothes that fit right.”

I flinched. I hadn’t meant to point out my poverty like that.

What would someone like him know about scraping to get by? About counting every penny and going hungry and doing without to make the dollars stretch?

Once more, I resolved to keep my mouth shut. He wasn’t really interested, anyway. He was obviously being polite, like when he’d grabbed my elbow.

“My oma loves thrift store shopping. She and my aunt used to drag me along.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious, but his crystal blues seemed honest enough.

“Oma?” I asked.

“Ope, I’m sorry. My grandma.”

Ope? What is ope?

“You grew up with your grandparents?” I tilted my head, curious about him.

“My mom had me when she was very young. My aunt is only eight years older than I am, so she was stuck with me most of the time. Oma took us shopping on Saturday mornings, then we’d stop for lunch at a little cafe run by one of her cronies.”

His laugh hit me like a lightning strike to my nervous system, and I fussed at myself to behave.

“At the time, I was a brat, complaining because I wanted to stay home with Opa. I mean, Grandpa. Looking back now, I have nothing but good memories of those times.”

“Where did you grow up?” “Michigan. A city near Grand Rapids. We get a ton of visitors in the spring because of the tulip festivals in the area.”

“Your name’s Dutch!” I blurted out as it hit me.

“Romein Willem Aalders. Very Dutch, but don’t call me Romein, please.”

“Do you still keep in contact with your family?”

“Of course.” He shrugged. “I call once a week and visit on breaks. They came to the Sanctuary when I graduated high school and I went to Tante Roos’— Ope, sorry. Aunt Roos’ wedding in October.”

“Do you speak Dutch?” I asked, curious if ‘ope’ was a Dutch word.

“Poorly, I’m ashamed to admit. Do you speak Russian?”

“Nah. It’s just a last name. Don’t know anything about the Russian culture or language. Grew up in a mostly Irish neighborhood, where my mom ditched me with anyone’s nan who would take me for the day. What about your m—”

I stopped myself. He might not want to talk about his mom anymore than I wanted to talk about mine.

“What?”

“I’m being rude.” I shook my head. “It’s not my business.”

“Are you wondering about my mom? I never knew her. She handed me off to her parents after I was born, and none of us have seen her since. Oma is my mother in every way that matters.” He frowned and stared into the distance. “I have a theory that our fathers ruin our mothers. It’s rare to hear of a nephilim’s mom having a normal, human life after we come along.”

“Do your grandparents know what you are?”

“No. My warden, Paul, got in touch with them when I was five. He posed as my biological father and offered them child support payments, which they appreciated. They live paycheck to paycheck, and a grandson unexpectedly dumped in their laps strained the budget.”

Okay, so maybe he did understand about scraping to get by. That made me revise my opinion of him.

He went on to say that, as he got older, Paul gave him the rundown on nephilim and visited a few times a year. When Rome finished eighth grade, Paul told the family he wanted to enroll his “son” in his alma mater for high school, then college.

“They saw it as a golden opportunity for me, so off to the Sanctuary it was.”

When I first saw Romein Willem Aalders’s scowling face at my bed, his size and icy eyes intimidated me. Of course, I was a little frightened by everything at that time, which added a layer of menace to my perception of him. But I was learning he wasn’t cruel or brutal and, while he carried himself with confidence and utter surety, he wasn’t arrogant or boastful. In fact, he seemed modest and down-to-earth.

Oh, girl. Be careful. Be very careful with this one.

We reached the edge of the field and I looked around, but didn’t see any no trespassing signs. I tramped through the waist-high weeds to a relatively flat spot and laid the bow case on the ground, then hunkered down in front of it. As I opened it and prepared the bow, he changed the topic to one I’d been dreading.

“I’ve been yammering on and on about myself. Sorry about that. What about you? Where are you from?”

“Ocean City, Maryland.”

“Ah. So you also know what it’s like to have your hometown invaded by tourists at certain times during the year. Do you still like the beach or are you over it?”

“I love it. Beachcombing, swimming, surfing. The surfing’s not all that great, unless a storm comes through.”

“Same with Lake Michigan. Good for boating, though. Opa started teaching me to sail as soon as I could walk. Do you have a family?”

“None I care to ever meet again,” I muttered. “My mother should never have been allowed to have a kid. I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen.”

“That must have been rough.” He laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

It startled me for a moment. I’d become unaccustomed to being touched. The warm weight of his palm was oddly comforting and I glanced at his big hand. It was a nice hand, broad and steady and rough with callouses. A hand strong enough to do what needed to be done and carry what needed to be carried.

As if he would ever wanna help carry my burdens . Get your mind right, girl!

“It is what it is.” I stood and moved away. “You wanna try this thing or should I?”

“You do it.”

I shot off a few arrows and announced the bow worked as good as new, as I’d known it would.

“Good work, Mira. You know, the armory wardens are going to wine and dine you until you join them.”

“Yeah, right.” I started to pick up the arrows.

“I’m serious. Divine metallurgy is a field with a high demand and few suppliers. You could name your salary.”

“That would be a nice change,” I admitted and packed up the bow case. “I wouldn’t mind having a steady income to rely on. How long do you think it’ll be before you return to the Sanctuary?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But you’re coming with us until we do, whether you want to or not.”

#

Rome

I don’t think she’s the kind to appreciate sugar-coating . Pretty sure she’d rather have the truth, unvarnished and straightforward.

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows drew together.

“I’ll be frank. We don’t know you well enough to trust you. You could be legit. You could be playing us. You could be setting a trap or spying for someone. Since we can’t spare anyone to babysit you, you’re coming with us.”

“You think I’m a liar?”

“Why were you at that gas station?” I asked, keeping my tone soft.

“I needed gas.”

“How did you end up so near our motel?” “My devil told me where to go, so I went.” She made a duh face.

“Coercion is a tight hold, stronger than enthrallment, but it can be fought.”

She stilled, as if every muscle had gone taut, and her eyes narrowed to slits of amber.

“I did fight it. I waged war on that devil, and the most I ever achieved was a stalemate. When I realized I was never gonna win, I decided to end it on my terms.”

She put down the bow case, pushed up her sleeves, and showed me the thick, faintly pink lines that ran up the inside of her arms. Each one began at her wrist and ended at the crease of her elbow.

“I almost managed it last June before it caught on to what I was doing.”

Reaching out with one hand, I ran my fingertips over the scar on her left arm, careful to keep my touch feather-light.

She’d meant business, all right. Those are the kind of cuts you make when you want to end up in the morgue, not the hospital or psych ward.

“Even if you turn out to be a spy, I’m glad you didn’t succeed.” I lifted my eyes to meet hers. “I’m glad you’re alive and have hope again.”

The words seemed to embarrass her. She pulled back, ripped her sleeves down, and bent to pick up the bow case.

“I wanted to escape.” She kept her face averted and hunched her shoulders. “It didn’t matter if I died. You saw that, didn’t you? When you first approached me. You even said it.”

“Yes.”

“Just so you know, I understand your reasoning. I could give you my word, but that’s as meaningless to you as yours is to me. I guess time will tell if either of us is trustworthy.” She lifted her chin. “But I owe you for saving me, and I wouldn’t mind getting a little of my own back for the two years I’ve lost. I’ll come with you and help you rescue your friends. In exchange, I want you to promise you’ll take me to the Sanctuary when this is over.”

As if she has a choice. Kerry will tie her up and toss her in the trunk if she tries to leave, then steal her car for us to use. And if she does anything to betray us, he’ll—

I didn’t finish that thought because I didn’t want to admit, not even to myself, what he’d do.

“Of course I will,” I promised. “Look, these kids are on their first mission and it’s already FUBAR. My team came in as their backup, but I can’t take the risks I might if it were only me and my boys. I’ll warn you, though, that helping us could be dangerous. I don’t know where we’re going or how it will end or even when, and I can’t promise that you won’t get hurt.”

“What does that matter? Pain and I are old friends.”

She smiled a brittle smile, and my jaw tightened. Whether it was the warrior in me or my personal moral code, I hated that she’d been tortured enough to want to end her life.

“I never said thank you,” she said out of the blue. “You’ve given me back my free will. You and Kerry. It’s a debt I can never repay.”

“You don’t owe us anything. It’s what we were born to do. Slaying the Diabolical is more than a duty. It’s our honor to help you.”

“Like a medieval knight of old.” She smiled, and this time it wasn’t brittle.

Encouraged to see that, I forgot myself for a moment and launched into a lecture.

“Did you know the warrior class of nephilim was once called knights? There’s a branch of bibliothecaries at the Sanctuary who specialize in linguistics. Some of them have theorized that the original word, which came from a pre-Germanic language, was used as far back as the first millennium.”

I caught my history geek before it could slip out any further and dropped my eyes to the ground.

“I think they should still call you knights. Warrior sounds barbarous, but knight? Yeah, that sounds honorable. Well, warrior or knight, I’m grateful to you.” She waited until I met her eyes to add, “Sir Serious.”