Laws of the Blood 1: The Hunt by Susan Sizemore

Author:Susan Sizemore [Sizemore, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group
Published: 1999-10-01T06:00:00+00:00

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Valentine breathed as she stared at the television screen.

“What?” Yevgeny asked, without taking his attention off the printout in his hands.

“He saw me.” She laughed breathlessly. The old, leather-bound book she’d been reading slipped off her lap. It fell to the floor with a heavy thud that startled Valentine. Yevgeny didn’t pay it, or her, any mind. She shivered and searched the crowd at the Lakers game for another glimpse of Selim. The camera was more interested in play on the floor right now than panning past the celebrity-filled front seats. A moment before, Selim’s face flashed by on the screen just as an impulse told her to look up. Their eyes met, though miles separated them. His expression froze, the big dark eyes set in his long, triangular face widened. Maybe he didn’t see her, not the woman sitting on a couch with a book in her lap and a companion curled up beside her. But Selim saw something.

“This is not good,” she murmured.

Maybe it was the book that brought them together. There was magic in the book, and she didn’t mean just written-down spells. Words had their own power. Every writer knew that. Some magicians did, too. Selim’s name was in the book. The name of every Enforcer of the Law was in the book. And how they were made. How all vampires were made, though there was more than the one, traditional way. Very few vampires knew that.

Yevgeny put the script onto the coffee table. “I like the part with the kid. It’s intense. Fast.” He blinked and rubbed a hand across his face. “Why are you frightened?”

“Frightened? Me?”

He nodded.

She glared at him. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Why did I let you come back? When did I give you a key to my apartment?”

“Fifteen years ago.”

“I should have the locks changed.”

“You never let anything change.”

She slammed a fist into the softly cushioned back of the couch. He ignored her burst of temper. He bent over and picked up the dropped book instead. He ran his thumbs along the thick, cracked leather of the cover. “What’s this?”

“It’s a romance novel,” she snapped. She reached for it.

He moved it out of her reach.

“Give me that. I was just getting to a good sex scene.”

His smirked and tilted his chin toward the bedroom. “If you want a sex scene—” He let the book fall open to the page she’d been reading. He squinted at the squiggled marks made in ancient, faded ink. “What language is this?”

“Linear A.” Though that wasn’t what they’d called it where she came from.

“Ah.” He continued to stare at the page. Yevgeny had a gift for languages. Rather, a Gift. He picked knowledge of a language he’d never seen before out of her head while staring at the words, though she tried to block him. Either she was getting thoroughly senile, or his mind-reading talent had grown lately. Within moments he said, “Interesting.”

She didn’t know whether to be panicked or amused.

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