Twilight Crossing. Susan Krinard
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The next occurrence, Jamie thought. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been warned. The volunteers had been drilled a hundred times. But it was one thing to imagine and another to experience.
Timon obviously knew that.
Jamie mumbled something to Akesha and Don and retreated back to the wagon. Its solidity, and the medical and laboratory equipment it carried, gave her comfort. People were building a small fire, and she observed the activity with a strange lassitude, as if it were happening in some other universe. She watched the other Riders move easily through the temporary camp as if it belonged to them. They had probably been in hundreds of such camps before, guiding and escorting travelers between Enclaves and colonies and even Citadels.
“You should be with the others.”
Timon settled into a crouch beside her...he smelled of warm sheepskin and horse and something subtle but deeply pleasant. He smiled at her, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that took her aback.
“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he said.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Jamie said, her heartbeat quickening. “After all, you said I would be all—”
She broke off, realizing what she’d been about to reveal. She didn’t stop soon enough. Leather creaked as Timon shifted, and she felt rather than heard the rumble of amusement in his throat.
“I knew you were listening,” he said. “You’re not very good at hiding.”
Her skin felt hot, and she barely prevented herself from raising her hands to her cheeks. “I’m sorry I eavesdropped,” she said.
“No, you’re not,” he said. “What made you so interested in hearing what we were discussing?”
She swallowed her unease. “I’ve never met a half-blood before,” she said.
Dark eyebrows lifted. “You live in an Enclave with dhampir agents, and you’ve never met one?”
“I’ve seen them, of course. But I never had any reason to be near them. And you’re not a dhampir.”
“No,” he said. “I’m a Darketan. My mother was an Opir, and my father was human. With dhampires, it’s the opposite.”
“I know that.” She felt hotter than ever. “I don’t know much about the Riders,” she said in a rush, “but you aren’t all Darketans, are you?”
“We have a few dhampires,” he said. “Does that make a difference?”
“Not at all.”
“You’re just curious.”
“I’m a scientist,” she said, as if that would explain everything. “I’m on this expedition to learn.”
“What kind of scientist?” he asked.
“Biologist, among other disciplines,” she said. “My mission is to observe as objectively as possible.”
“Then you have no stake in the outcome of the Conclave?”
“Of course I do. I believe in what it stands for, what it will mean if it succeeds.”
“I’d always heard that the San Francisco Enclave has had very poor relationships with the nearest Opiri communities.”
“No Enclave has suffered more from the war than ours. We provided blood-serfs to the Opir Citadel Erebus for many years before it became impossible to continue. They have not accepted the change gracefully.”
“Then why are you so sure the other Opiri want peace as much as you do?”
With an effort, she held his gaze. “You must know why we humans have hope. Opiri across the West have had to adapt to the lack of serfs as a source of regular blood. Many Citadels have gone from feudal societies where the strongest rule, to communities where resources are shared rather than fought over.” She looked away. “You, surely, have seen this yourself in your travels?”
Timon shrugged. “I’ve seen every possible way that humans and Opiri have adapted. That doesn’t mean that a change this massive will be easy.”
“I understand that you Riders don’t care if a lasting peace is achieved.”
“We’ve been hired to act as security at the Conclave. Our neutrality can’t be in question, but it’s to our benefit if things go smoothly.” He studied her face from the tip of her chin to the crown of her head. “How often have you been outside the Enclave?”
“What did my godfather say about me?”
“That you have little experience with the outside world. He’d like me to keep an eye on you.”
“I don’t need anyone to take charge of me.”
He laughed, his white teeth gleaming. “It’s no imposition, Ms. McCullough,” he said lightly, removing his gloves. “Some things are worth looking at more closely.”
Is he flirting with me? she thought in confusion. “What do you see now?” she asked, far bolder than she meant to be.
“Fishing for compliments?” He grinned. “You must know you’re beautiful.”
Oh, God. “I...” she stammered. “I wasn’t—”
“Hasn’t anyone ever teased you before?” He grew sober. “Maybe you don’t even know it. I’ll tell you something else about yourself—you’re a brave woman. But that doesn’t mean what happened didn’t have an effect.” He took her hand, and Jamie realized that her fingers were trembling.
“That’s why you shouldn’t be alone,” Timon said, his thumb stroking the back of her hand.
She jerked free, alarmed by his touch. “When are you going to need us to donate blood?” she burst out. “I need time... I mean, you should warn people beforehand, so they have a chance to...”
She trailed off, deeply embarrassed. Timon looked at her in silence for a long time, as if weighing her words for some hidden meaning. “Are you afraid of me, Ms. McCullough?” he asked.
“No!” Jamie folded her arms across her chest. “Why should I be?”
With a soft sigh, Timon extended his hand again. “You’d better come with me,” he said.
A cool breeze whispered past her ear, lifting a strand of dark brown hair. “Really, I’m—” she began.
“You’re cold. You need the company of your own kind.”
He squeezed her arm, the slightest pressure of reassurance. Jamie allowed him to pull her to her feet. Her initial unease at the contact had already begun to fade. In fact, the pressure of his fingers felt like something solid to cling to in a world that had lost its moorings.
Before she knew it, she was among the people already settled around the fire. They made room for her, and somehow a warm blanket found its way over her back. Timon’s hands pressed into her shoulders briefly.
“Get plenty of rest,” he said, his breath caressing her cheek. And then, as before, he was simply gone, and she was left bewildered and feeling not at all objective.
I’ve just met him, she thought as someone passed her a handful of hard crackers. I don’t know anything about him.
Except that he was handsome and strong and brave—much braver than she could ever be—and that he’d taken care of her as if she were a friend.
When the others finally spread out their bedrolls to sleep, she pulled out her notebook.
He asked me if I was afraid of him, she wrote.
I don’t know.
She closed the notebook and lay down on her bedroll. Before she closed her eyes, she saw Timon again, watching her from the other side of the fire. His gaze