Chasing Shadows(18)

“You didn’t tell me that!” Juliette hollered.

I looked at her. “I haven’t told anyone that, until now.”

Mark reached his hands across the table so that he was holding one of mine and one of his sister’s. “Look, I get that you are worried about me,” he said. “And I appreciate your concern. But I’m sure you’re worrying for nothing. For all we know, my blood’s not even addictive anymore.”

“Some things, like fine wine, get sweeter with time,” I chided gently.

“That’s right, big brother,” Juliette seconded. “How do we know you haven’t become more potent as you’ve gotten older?”

“Okay, fine, but you’re forgetting that I’m a United States Marine. I’ve been trained to kill in more than a dozen ways with my bare hands alone. I think I can take care of myself.”

“Against a human enemy, perhaps,” I pointed out. “But vampires are the world’s most dangerous predator. Their hearing, sight, speed, and strength are ten, maybe twenty times that of the most well-trained soldier. The only benefits dhunphyr get from draculin are the accelerated healing, and possibly an extended lifespan.”

He sat back then. “Wait a minute—only possibly? I thought they were immortal?”

I could see another statement in his eyes: That’s what you said in your books.

“It’s always been believed that they are,” Juliette said quickly. “I mean, we figure that the healing factor they inherit continuously regenerates their bodies indefinitely.”

Mark leaned forward again, bracing his elbows on the table and dropping his head into his hands. “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?” he mumbled.

Juliette looked at me, then at her brother. “But no one knows for sure because no one’s ever met a dhunphyr before. Our stories—among shifters that is—say they never live past infancy because the vampires that create them can’t control the thirst for their blood once they’ve had a taste of it.”

For a moment Mark remained with his face buried in his hands, then he looked up at us. “Just because no one you know has ever met a dhunphyr before doesn’t mean they don’t exist. If the vampires have stories about immortal humans, there has to be some somewhere, right?”

“There’s an equal chance that my father’s people made those stories up to cover up the truth,” I said quietly.

Mark laughed mirthlessly and rose from his chair. He walked over to the fridge and opened it, grabbing what turned out to be the last can of Mt. Dew, popping the tab, and taking three long drinks before he spoke again. “You know what I think?” he said. “I think that until I see some evidence to the contrary, such as wrinkles or gray hairs, I’m going with the theory that I’m an immortal human just like the guy from Highlander.”

I exchanged a glance with Juliette, certain that I saw in her eyes the same concern for Mark that I was sure was in mine. While I was fine with his stance on believing he would be immortal until proven otherwise, I feared that he would take unnecessary risks to find that proof.

In order to lighten the mood, I looked again at Juliette and asked, “Now that Mark knows the truth about you, are we going to be seeing Angel around here anymore?”

She looked up at Mark. “Mom and I talked about that. She thinks that while I don’t necessarily need to spend my time as a dog anymore, I should at least stick around and continue acting as your guardian.”

“My guardian?” her brother returned with one eyebrow raised.

“Why do you think Uncle Buck and Aunt Teresa gave up so much of their lives to be our family pet? Why do you think I’ve given up probably ninety percent of the last year to be Angel?” Juliette challenged. “We did that to protect you.”

“But you’re dogs,” he scoffed. “If you’re telling me that a government trained soldier like myself is no match for a vampire, do you honestly expect me to believe that a dog is any better?”

Juliette grinned. “Not just any dog, big brother. Shapeshifters are supernatural creatures just like vampires are. Technically, shifters are actually weres, because we only take on one form. But the wolves have claimed the term for themselves because of all the legends about werewolves. So, although the rest of us think of ourselves as shifters, only chimaera are true shapeshifters—the kind that can take on multiple animal forms—and there hasn’t been one of them born in centuries. Anyway, shifters have heightened senses, heightened strength and speed, and we can adjust our size.”

“What the heck does that mean?”

“We have the ability to make our animal forms larger for short periods of time,” she explained. “I could shift into a Siberian as large as a horse if I wanted to. It was an incredibly useful ability during the Border Wars of the late 17, early 18 centuries, when vampires and the different shifter breeds were all fighting for territory in the New World. Problem is, a shifter expends an incredible amount of energy to maintain the larger size so it’s generally only utilized during battle. Believe me, Mark, I am more than capable of protecting you.”

“So what are you planning to do with yourself if you’re not gonna be a dog?” he asked, ignoring her declaration that she could protect him.

Juliette turned her countenance to me before looking back up at Mark. “Well, it occurs to me that, with everything out in the open and the two of you being so friendly and all, that you could just make your relationship simpler by Mark moving in here, and I could move into the apartment over the barn.”

“You want us to live together after knowing each other for just one day?” I asked, despite the fact that Mark and I had already discussed the issue. “Don’t you think that’s a bit premature?”

Juliette cocked her eyebrow at me. “Please, spare me,” she said mockingly. “The two of you have already slept together, which in the world according to Vivian Drake means your bonding is complete. Not only will you have a hard time keeping your hands off of each other, you won’t be able to stand the thought of being away from each other even for a few hours.

“Besides, you told me last night that while Mark has just met you, you’ve known him for years.”

I colored with embarrassment and looked away from her, but I knew she was right. Just at the suggestion I found myself lusting for the feel of my skin against his, the touch of his hands on me, and I had to shake my head forcefully to dispel the thoughts before they gained too strong a foothold. From the pitch of his breathing, I could tell Mark was having the same difficulties I was, so I restrained myself from looking at him and making it worse.

Juliette, for her part, had sat back in her chair with her arms crossed, a smug, satisfied smile on her face.

Mark cleared his throat. “You said…you said earlier that shapeshifters also pair-bond,” he said. “Tell me about that. Did Mom bond with Dad?”

I turned my attention back to Mark’s sister, curious about this myself. Before when she had spoken of her mother and father getting together, she had said that Daniel Singleton’s gratitude for Monica’s help had turned into love, but she hadn’t said anything about her mother’s feelings for him. Only that she had wanted to protect Mark.

I was surprised to see her expression falter. “Mom’s never said so,” she admitted after a long moment. “But I have to believe she did, otherwise why would she have stayed with him this long?”

“Maybe because she loves him?” I suggested gently.

“But if my mother didn’t actually imprint on my father, then there’s a chance that she could be forced to leave him, and that would kill Daddy!” Juliette exclaimed, jumping out of her chair.

Mark stepped back over to the table. “Jules, calm down. We’re speculating at best—let’s not jump to conclusions, okay? Maybe Mom did imprint on Dad, but she doesn’t talk about it because it’s personal. Maybe she wants to keep those special memories to herself. Think about it: would you want to discuss your most intimate moments with your kid?”

“It’s not like I’d want the details!” she said hotly. “I’d just hate it if she ever had to hurt Daddy by leaving him. He’s already lost one wife—can you imagine how heartbroken he would be if he had to give up another one?”

“Have you imprinted, Juliette?” I asked, hoping to shift the topic to more even ground.

She shook her head as she returned to her chair. “Nah. Couldn’t have been a dog for most of the last year if I had, because the person you imprint on becomes the focus of your life. I’d like to, of course. Every shifter wants to imprint—it would make dating so much simpler.”

I laughed a little when she said that, and then placed my hands on the table and stood. “Look, I think that maybe we shouldn’t worry too much about all the ‘what ifs,’” I said slowly. “Certainly we won’t be any less vigilant than we’ve always been, but if I have learned anything in the last two hundred-plus years, it’s that a life spent constantly looking over your shoulder is no life at all.”