If she did, he would hypnotize her into saying yes. They could do that, couldn’t they? So she lowered her eyes and found herself struggling, torn between her fascination with the Sumerian connection, her curiosity about what this tablet might reveal, and her lifelong fear of conflict, of danger, of confrontation, of ever getting involved in…much of anything.
“Do I really have a choice?” she asked softly.
He swallowed hard. “No. I’m afraid you don’t.”
7
W hy did something very much like relief flutter through Lucy’s insides just then? Because the decision had been taken out of her hands? Because she couldn’t be brave on her own? Because she knew that not even the most tantalizing opportunity in the world could entice her to overcome her overwhelming cowardice? Yes to all of those, and now, because he’d given her no choice, she didn’t need to search for an inner strength that didn’t exist. She would do this because she had to, and she would be terrified the entire time because that was who she was.
James was turning away now, his head lowered, his hands in his hair. “I hate this, Lucy. This isn’t who I am, and holding you here this way—it’s beyond barbaric. It goes against everything I believe in.”
Lucy frowned, for the first time looking away from her own torment long enough to see that he was not pretending. This was tearing him apart. Or something was.
“No one will hurt you,” he went on. “But we can’t let you go until you do as we ask, Lucy. I’m more sorry than you’ll probably ever know.”
“Shall I just vomit now, or is there a violin solo coming up?” Rhiannon asked, looking from one of them to the other. Roland put his hand on her arm as if to quiet her.
When Lucy did nothing but blink, her mind still on James and the anguish she’d only just now glimpsed in him, along with the hundreds of questions that glimpse had raised, Rhiannon rolled her eyes and went on. “Professor, give Brigit a list of what you need and where we can find it.” As she spoke, she crossed the room to the desk, and then slapped a notepad and freshly sharpened number 2 pencil down in front of Lucy. “Feel free to use the internet. The ISP has been scrambled. You won’t be traced. Be aware, however, that every keystroke is being monitored, so any at tempt to send an SOS will be intercepted. And while J.W. is correct in that we cannot harm you, believe me when I tell you that I can—and will—make your life miserable if you cross me.”
Lucy believed her.
“Just translate the tablet, Lucy,” Brigit said. “We’ll let you go the minute you finish. And that will be faster than anyone could mount a rescue attempt anyway. Besides, just because we can’t hurt you—not that we’d want to,” she went on, “that doesn’t mean we couldn’t do some serious damage to anyone who might come charging to the rescue. And you don’t want innocent people getting killed over this, do you?”
Lucy nodded slowly, understanding that she was completely at their mercy. And wishing she understood why they couldn’t actually hurt her, how she was…related, as James had put it. And more. What were vampires, really? What were their weaknesses? What powers did they possess? Were all the myths true, the crucifixes and holy water and wooden stakes and…?
“Come with me now, J.W.,” Rhiannon said, interrupting her thoughts. “We’re short on time, and your training is about to begin.”
“Take heart, little mortal,” Roland said softly, as he passed her on the way out. “None of us are quite as bad as we seem. And you’ve been told the truth here.”
And with that, they all left the room except for Brigit, who sat at the far end of the table, slouched in a chair. She bit into her half-eaten apple and talked with her mouth full. “You must be pretty pissed off right now. I would be.”
Lucy looked away, refusing to answer. Brigit leaned forward, reaching for the notepad and pencil,
“Do I really have a choice?” she asked softly.
He swallowed hard. “No. I’m afraid you don’t.”
7
W hy did something very much like relief flutter through Lucy’s insides just then? Because the decision had been taken out of her hands? Because she couldn’t be brave on her own? Because she knew that not even the most tantalizing opportunity in the world could entice her to overcome her overwhelming cowardice? Yes to all of those, and now, because he’d given her no choice, she didn’t need to search for an inner strength that didn’t exist. She would do this because she had to, and she would be terrified the entire time because that was who she was.
James was turning away now, his head lowered, his hands in his hair. “I hate this, Lucy. This isn’t who I am, and holding you here this way—it’s beyond barbaric. It goes against everything I believe in.”
Lucy frowned, for the first time looking away from her own torment long enough to see that he was not pretending. This was tearing him apart. Or something was.
“No one will hurt you,” he went on. “But we can’t let you go until you do as we ask, Lucy. I’m more sorry than you’ll probably ever know.”
“Shall I just vomit now, or is there a violin solo coming up?” Rhiannon asked, looking from one of them to the other. Roland put his hand on her arm as if to quiet her.
When Lucy did nothing but blink, her mind still on James and the anguish she’d only just now glimpsed in him, along with the hundreds of questions that glimpse had raised, Rhiannon rolled her eyes and went on. “Professor, give Brigit a list of what you need and where we can find it.” As she spoke, she crossed the room to the desk, and then slapped a notepad and freshly sharpened number 2 pencil down in front of Lucy. “Feel free to use the internet. The ISP has been scrambled. You won’t be traced. Be aware, however, that every keystroke is being monitored, so any at tempt to send an SOS will be intercepted. And while J.W. is correct in that we cannot harm you, believe me when I tell you that I can—and will—make your life miserable if you cross me.”
Lucy believed her.
“Just translate the tablet, Lucy,” Brigit said. “We’ll let you go the minute you finish. And that will be faster than anyone could mount a rescue attempt anyway. Besides, just because we can’t hurt you—not that we’d want to,” she went on, “that doesn’t mean we couldn’t do some serious damage to anyone who might come charging to the rescue. And you don’t want innocent people getting killed over this, do you?”
Lucy nodded slowly, understanding that she was completely at their mercy. And wishing she understood why they couldn’t actually hurt her, how she was…related, as James had put it. And more. What were vampires, really? What were their weaknesses? What powers did they possess? Were all the myths true, the crucifixes and holy water and wooden stakes and…?
“Come with me now, J.W.,” Rhiannon said, interrupting her thoughts. “We’re short on time, and your training is about to begin.”
“Take heart, little mortal,” Roland said softly, as he passed her on the way out. “None of us are quite as bad as we seem. And you’ve been told the truth here.”
And with that, they all left the room except for Brigit, who sat at the far end of the table, slouched in a chair. She bit into her half-eaten apple and talked with her mouth full. “You must be pretty pissed off right now. I would be.”
Lucy looked away, refusing to answer. Brigit leaned forward, reaching for the notepad and pencil,
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