Boundary Crossed (Boundary Magic #1)(90)
When they realized they’d been dismissed, the vampires began to shuffle off, looking decidedly uncertain of themselves . . . for vampires. Maven moved into the crowd to coordinate everyone’s daytime resting places, while I stood where I was, frozen in shock. Quinn sidled up to me. “What just happened?” I asked, my voice no louder than a whisper.
He took my elbow and, after exchanging a glance with Maven, led me across the room and into the tiny office where I’d first met Maven and Itachi. I collapsed into one of the visitors’ chairs. Quinn came over and knelt on the floor beside it, touching my face, my hands, checking on me. “I’m okay,” I mumbled.
“You need rest,” he said. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“Do we have to clean up that body?” I wondered aloud.
He glanced over his shoulder. “We have a . . . daytime hiding place. It can go there for today, and we’ll take care of it tonight. We need to figure out the logistics for your new job anyway.”
“What just happened?” I repeated, my brain on autopilot. “Did we win?”
He sighed. “Yes and no. Itachi’s gone, and you got the job, which means Charlie will be left alone. But Maven has also outed you to every vampire in the state. They’ll be afraid of you now, which means they’ll want you dead.”
“Then why did she tell them? She could have forced Itachi to confess by herself.”
“Yes, but this way, she’s tied your fate to hers,” Quinn said, his words oddly formal. “You’re under her protection now, just like Charlie is. As long as you have Maven behind you, everything will be fine. If anything happens to her, the other vampires will kill you.” I gave him a wry look. I wasn’t the type who needed things sugarcoated, but jeez. “Like it or not, Lex,” he said gently, as if needing to make sure I understood, “you work for the vampires now.”
A giggle escaped my lips, surprising us both.
“What?” he asked, giving me a small smile.
“Hazel is going to be pissed.”
Epilogue
When I finally drifted to sleep that morning, showered and clean, two dogs and a cat draped around me on the bed, I dreamed of Sam. Or I guess you could say I called her.
Our old bedroom came into view more slowly this time, my mind struggling to form the meeting room where our essences could talk. Finally, though, the haze cleared away, and there was my sister, sitting cross-legged on her bed with a wide grin on her face.
“Thank you for saving Charlie,” she said. “I wish I could hug you, babe.”
“It’s okay, Sammy.”
“Now, when you wake up,” she instructed, “you should get John to take her to the doctor, just to make sure whatever they gave her wore off.”
I smiled, a little sadly. My sister had been such a naturally gifted mom, yet she’d had so little time to actually be that person. “I will.”
“And be careful,” she warned me. “With the vampires, I mean. They’re going to push you, push what you’re willing to do.” She hesitated for a moment, then grinned again. “Although that Quinn fella, he’s pretty easy on the eyes, huh?”
“Exactly how much of my life can you see up there?” I asked, feeling a little scandalized.
She waved a hand. “You know I can’t tell you that.” She fidgeted for a moment, biting at a fingernail, and then added, “Speaking of things I can’t tell you . . . there’s something you deserve to know about now, but I’m not supposed to say anything.”
I arched an eyebrow at my twin. “Be more cryptic, Samantha.”
“I know, I know. It’s just that there’s a lot I’m not allowed to say.” She hesitated, as if struggling with her wording. “Just . . . ask Jesse Cruz how I really died.”
And just like that, she blinked away.
Acknowledgments Starting a new series can be a lot of work, and Boundary Crossed wouldn’t have made it into your hands without plenty of help. My eternal gratitude goes out to the beta team: my beta anchor (betanchor? There’s a combo in there somewhere) Elizabeth Kraft and my fellow urban fantasy author Steve McHugh—not to mention Brieta Bejin and Matt Ventimiglia, who gave me lots of advice on the lovely city of Boulder, and Denise Grover Swank, who tossed in some last-minute “chemistry” advice (wink wink nudge nudge).
My special thanks also to Sybil Ward, a former US soldier who did a wonderful job keeping an eye on how I portrayed Lex’s state of mind. For more background on US soldiers in Iraq and how they handle coming home, I also highly recommend David Finkel’s wonderful nonfiction works The Good Soldiers and Thank You for Your Service. Although I can never personally comprehend what it was like to fight in Iraq during the war, I credit Mr. Finkel’s books with helping me get as close to understanding as I can.
Of course, this page wouldn’t be complete without sending my gratitude to the 47North team, especially Britt Rogers, who will be running the world any minute now, and Angela Polidoro, who was always quick with brilliant advice.
Last but so far from least, thank you to my family, especially my husband, sisters, parents, and—you know what, just all of you. You are instrumental in keeping me sane and reasonably productive, without which I would never have Lena, Scarlett, Sashi, and now Lex. I love you guys.