No Dominion, chapter three (HL/AB:VH)
Chapter Three: Before Me Today
"While I speak to ye,
The jaw is falling,
The red cheek paling,
The strong limbs failing;
Ice with the warm blood mixing..."
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson - All Things Will Die
"Adam, would you excuse us for a moment?" I asked, and didn't wait for an answer before turning to Edward. "Can I see you in the bedroom?"
He raised one pale eyebrow in silent commentary at my tone of voice, but followed me anyway. I closed the door, then turned to him.
"All right, Edward. What the hell is going on?"
"I just told you," he said mildly.
"Who is Adam?" I demanded. "He doesn't look like a player."
"He's not, exactly," Edward said. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, but it was gone before I could figure out what it was. "He was my target."
"He's still alive," I pointed out. "That's unusual."
"I told you it was a set up," he said. "The client specified strangulation. It didn't exactly have the desired effect."
"He's a were?" I asked, surprised.
"No," Edward said. "I'm not sure what he is. That's one of the reasons I came to you. Have you ever heard of anything that can come back from the dead?"
"I'm going to assume that you don't mean vampires."
"That's a good assumption to make," Edward said dryly. "He died when I strangled him. Forty-five minutes later, he was fine."
"Maybe you just knocked him out," I suggested, knowing even as I did so that it was a stupid thing to say. Edward didn't make that sort of mistake.
"I used a garrote," he said. "Even if I had made a mistake -" his expression showed me what he thought of that possibility -- "there should still be a mark on his throat. Which there isn't."
"So you brought him to me."
"You know more about the preternatural than I do," Edward said.
"That doesn't mean I know everything," I said. "If he's not a shifter, then I have no idea what he is. I've never heard of anything that can literally return to life."
Edward's slight frown was the equivalent of another man's throwing his hands up in frustration. "Can you keep him here anyway? As far as set-ups go, this one was fairly elaborate. As soon as I start asking questions, whoever was behind it is going to realize it didn't work. I'll take that risk -- but I need to hold Adam in reserve. Whoever sent me after him was convinced that he could kill me. Depending on what they know of my reputation, he might prove useful later."
"Could he have done it?" I asked.
"Excuse me?" Edward's expression was politely non-committal.
"Could he have killed you?"
Edward regarded me intently, his eyes as cold and distant as Antarctica.
"Yes," he said after a moment. "Yes, he really could have."
***
After Edward was gone, there was an awkward minute or two of silence.
"Coffee?" I offered, when it became too much to bear.
"I don't suppose you have any beer?" Adam asked hopefully.
"Sorry," I told him. "I don't drink."
He sighed. "Coffee's fine, thank you."
As I moved to the kitchen to start a fresh pot, I asked casually: "So, Adam, what do you do for a living?"
He blinked, visibly startled. "Er - well, I'm a professor of Medieval European History at St. Louis University."
That was an unexpected response. For one thing, he looked too young to be a professor of anything; for another, I would have thought that he'd be in a more violent line of work. Despite what Edward had told me, I was having a hard time accepting that a life-long academic could ever have gotten the better of him, even with the benefit of surprise.
I took a long look at Adam, not bothering to hide what I was doing. He fidgeted uncomfortably and shoved his hands back into his coat pockets, plainly aware that he was being evaluated, and just as plainly not liking it.
With a mind to what Edward had told me, I ran a careful eye over him, looking for weapons. At first, I didn't see any. His long coat could have been hiding any number of them, but the way he'd wrapped it around himself disturbed the lines of the garment too much for me to tell; then I noticed the slight bulge at his ankle.
"I don't know that many professors who walk around armed," I said bluntly. The caution in Adam's eyes sharpened suddenly into something harder; then he blinked, and the moment was gone so quickly that I couldn't tell if I'd imagined it or not.
"Armed?" he asked, so blankly that I found myself looking again at his ankle, just to double-check. He followed my glance, and ducked his head sheepishly.
"Oh," he said. "That."
"Yeah," I said. "That."
"I like to be able to protect myself." He shrugged. "There are some very dangerous creatures in St. Louis."
"So that's what, a gun?" I asked.
"Glock nine millimeter," he answered.
I decided to go for broke. "Why does someone who can come back from the dead need to carry a gun?"
"Edward told you about that," he said quietly. It wasn't a question.
"How did you do it?" I asked. Caution had never been one of my strong points, and I wanted to know what, exactly, I was sheltering in my home.
"That's none of your business," Adam said, and I realized that I'd pushed too hard. He hadn't moved, and the tone of his voice was as mild as ever, but there was something implacable in his eyes that told me that I was treading on dangerous ground. "It can't be taught; it can't be passed on, and if my abilities become general knowledge, I will be very upset."
I could be implacable too. "It's my business if you're hurting other people to do it."
He gave me a searching look, catching and holding my gaze with a pair of green-hazel eyes that seemed to be reading me far too clearly for my taste. Then he nodded, and his face relaxed back into harmlessness.
"Fair enough," he said. "The ability's inborn. I'm not really sure how I do it, any more than you could explain why you're able to raise the dead."
"You're not sucking other people's life force or anything like that?"
"No." One corner of his mouth lifted in what looked like amusement. "With the one glaring exception, I'm as human as you are."
***
( chapter one)*( chapter two)
( chapter four)
***
Author's Notes: As always, my thanks to my lovely beta's,
shellseeker,
goldenrat84, and
strangevisitor7. You guys rock. Any remaining errors are my own. The title is borrowed from an Ancient Egyptian poem called The Man Who Was Weary of Life.
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