“After you came here as a teacher,” Gallowglass said. “I wanted to be sure you were all right in your new job, and Marcus was always telling stories about a robbery at his house or that his car had been vandalized.”
“I take it Marcus wasn’t living in his house at the time,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Lord no. He hasn’t been in New Haven for decades.”
“Well, we’re perfectly safe here.” I looked down the pedestrians-only length of Court Street, a tree lined, residential enclave in the heart of the city. As usual, it was deserted, except for a black cat and some potted plants.
“Perhaps,” Gallowglass said dubiously.
We had just reached the stairs leading to the front door when a dark car pulled up to the intersection of Court and Olive Streets where we had been only moments before. The car idled while a lanky young man with sandy blond hair unfolded from the passenger seat. He was all legs and arms, with surprisingly broad shoulders for someone so slender. I thought he must be an undergraduate, because he wore one of the standard Yale student uniforms: dark jeans and a black T-shirt. Sunglasses shielded his eyes, and he bent over and spoke to the driver.
“Good God.” Gallowglass looked as though he’d seen a ghost. “It can’t be.”
I studied the undergraduate without recognition. “Do you know him?”
The young man’s eyes met mine. Mirrored lenses could not block the effects of a vampire’s cold stare. He took the glasses off and gave me a lopsided smile. “You’re a hard woman to find, Mistress Roydon.”
18
That voice. When I’d last heard it, it was higher, without the low rumble at the back of his throat.
Those eyes. Golden brown shot through with gold and leafy green. They still looked older than his years.
His smile. The left corner had always lifted higher than the right.
“Jack?” I choked on the name as my heart constricted.
A hundred pounds of white dog pawed out of the backseat of the car, hopping over the gearshift and through the open door, long hair flying and pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. Jack grabbed him by the collar.
“Stay, Lobero.” Jack ruffled the hair atop the dog’s shaggy head, revealing glimpses of black button eyes. The dog gazed at him adoringly, thumped his tail, and sat panting to await further instruction.
“Hello, Gallowglass.” Jack walked slowly toward us.
“Jackie.” Gallowglass’s voice was thick with emotion. “I thought you were dead.”
“I was. Then I wasn’t.” Jack looked down at me, unsure of his welcome. Leaving no room for doubt, I flung my arms around him.
“Oh, Jack.” Jack smelled of coal fires and foggy mornings rather than warm bread, as he had when he was a child. After a moment of hesitation, he enfolded me within long, lean arms. He was older and taller, but he still felt fragile, as though his mature appearance were nothing more than a shell.
“I missed you,” Jack whispered.
“Diana!” Matthew was still more than two blocks away, but he’d spotted the car blocking the entrance into Court Street, as well as the strange man who held me. From his perspective I must have looked trapped, even with Gallowglass standing nearby. Instinct took over, and Matthew ran, his body a blur.
Lobero raised an alarm with a booming bark. Komondors were a lot like vampires: bred to protect those they loved, loyal to family, large enough to take down wolves and bears, and ready to die rather than yield to another creature.
Jack sensed the threat, without seeing its source. He transformed before my eyes into a creature from nightmares, teeth bared and eyes glassy and black. He grabbed me and held me tight, shielding me from whatever loomed behind. But he was restricting the flow of air into my lungs, as well.