Runaway Vampire (Argeneau, #23)(36)

Mary’s mouth tightened. She hated being reminded of the children he’d had with other women. She knew they existed, but not how many. “No. They’re our adopted children. We adopted a boy and a girl. Both grown now with children of their own.”

“I see. But Joe had children of his own without you?” he asked, not letting the subject go.

Mary opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t want to talk about that subject, but then sighed and said, “He traveled a lot for work when we were younger. It was at a time when we were having marital problems. Sometimes he was away for months in foreign countries negotiating this deal or that one. He was lonely and took up with other women.”

“I would never be unfaithful to you Mary,” he said solemnly. “No matter how long we were apart.”

The words surprised a short laugh from her and she shook her head. “Dante, you’re far too young for me. Save proclamations like that for someone your own age.”

“I am older than I look,” he said solemnly.

Relieved to see that they’d reached the end of the lane and were approaching the RV, Mary smiled at him and said dryly, “So you’ve said. But, sweetheart, if you’re over twenty-five or twenty-six I’ll eat my hat.”

“I am well over twenty-five but would never make you eat anything you did not want to, especially a hat.”

Mary raised her eyebrows, then just shook her head and led Bailey to the picnic table to collect her double dish. She carried it to the RV and quickly unlocked and opened the door. Bailey immediately tried to rush up the stairs, but Mary stopped her with a sharp, “Stay.”

Bailey sat then and waited for Mary to mount the stairs before following her into the RV. Mary wasn’t very good at consistency, but according to the dog training books she’d resorted to lately, she should have made the dog wait for Dante to enter as well, but the leash made that difficult. Pausing next to the table, Mary set the dish on it, then bent to undo Bailey’s leash as Dante followed them in.

“I am serious, Mary. I am much older than I look,” he insisted, pulling the RV door closed behind them.

Something about the tone of his voice made Mary glance warily his way as she finished removing Bailey’s leash and straightened. He had sounded determined. He looked determined too. She wasn’t sure what that determination was about, but it made her nervous, so she simply slipped past him to hang the leash from the hook next to the door and waited for him to continue.

“Come, sit,” Dante suggested when she turned back.

Mary watched him take a seat at the dinette booth, but grabbed Bailey’s dish, rinsed it out at the sink and filled both sides with water. She set it on the floor by the table for the dog, then settled at the dinette across from Dante, sliding further in and petting Bailey when the shepherd jumped up to lie on the bench seat next to her. “Okay, I’m sitting.”

Dante nodded, and then paused briefly as if considering how to start, before saying, “Mary, my people are different.”

“Your people?” she queried uncertainly, her gaze sliding over his dark hair and olive skin. That and his accent had made her assume that he was Italian. But Indians had darker skin and black hair, they also had sharp cheekbones as he did and often referred to their tribe as their people. Tilting her head, she asked, “Are you Indian?”

“No. Atlantean.”

“Huh?” Mary peered at him blankly. “You mean from Atlanta, Georgia?”

“No,” he said with a small smile, and then reached across to take her hands gently in his. “You’ve heard of Atlantis?”

“Atlantis?” she repeated slowly. “That place that supposedly existed and sank into the ocean or something like forever ago. That Atlantis?”

“Yes.” Dante smiled as if pleased she knew that much. “That Atlantis. My ancestors were from there.”

“Riiiiight,” she said slowly. “And who told you that?”

“My grandfather Nicodemus told me.”

Mary nodded slowly, and then shook her head. Grandparents told their grandkids all sorts of delightful tales to entertain them, or to make themselves seem more interesting than they really were. Most kids grew up and realized they should take those tales with a grain of salt. Dante obviously hadn’t and still believed them. Poor schmuck, she thought.

“He told Tomasso and me all about Atlantis,” Dante went on. “About the tall buildings built from a white stone found only there. About the creeping vines that quickly grew to cover the buildings, helping to insulate them from the heat. He said that every summer they would sprout beautiful flowers, much like the flowers we call azaleas today, but larger.”

“Dante,” she said gently, “Even if Atlantis existed, your grandfather couldn’t possibly know what it looked like. No one knows if it even really existed, let alone what it looked like.”

“He does know. He lived there,” Dante countered quietly.

“Ah, sweetheart,” she murmured pityingly. “Surely you know Atlantis is supposed to have collapsed into the sea or whatever ages ago?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then your grandfather couldn’t possibly—”

“My people are different,” he interrupted, repeating his earlier words. “They were advanced technologically, Mary. They were isolated from the rest of the world and had created transportation before the rest of the world even came up with the wheel. And scientifically they were advanced beyond where the rest of the world is even today.”