At some point it occurred to Ante that despite the darkness, he could watch Peter’s reflection, which would give him a fine view of Peter’s magnificent ass. So Ante opened his eyes and looked, shivering as Peter wonderfully tortured his nipples. It was slightly odd to see Peter hovering over nothing, his mouth and hands moving so industriously over thin air. Yet soon Ante realized something. If he concentrated, he could discern his own shape and features from Peter’s actions. Ante remained invisible, and yet with Peter attending to him, Ante was somehow most definitely there.

  Eventually Ante had to close his eyes because his senses were overwhelmed. And then Peter produced a bottle of lube from goodness knew where—perhaps Patricia had left it for them—and entered Ante’s body with a slow and exquisite push. Peter rocked his hips languorously, as if he too were immortal and they had forever together, and he throatily repeated Ante’s name. When Ante dared to steal a glimpse at Peter’s face, he wondered how he could ever have mistaken this ethereal creature for human.

  “Bite me,” Peter gasped as he lowered his neck within reach. “Just a little. So good.”

  Neither of them should have trusted Ante under these circumstances, but he couldn’t resist. He allowed his fangs to sink into that sweet, tender flesh. And even though Peter cried out and pushed his cock harder into Ante and his neck harder onto the fangs, Ante took only two swallows of Peter’s lifeblood. That was more than enough. Even as he licked the tiny wounds closed, Ante climaxed, meeting Peter’s shudders with his own.

  Peter remained stretched over him and sighed. “Now tell me,” Peter whispered. “Try to convince me you don’t have a soul.”

  One hundred and eighty years of religion and folklore had taught Ante exactly that. But now with Peter’s scent mingled with his own, Ante could not find it within himself to argue the point at all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  WAKING up to the scents of springtime and sugar was wonderful. Waking up to Peter’s warm, willing body? Even better. And when they soaked in the Roman tub afterward, with the water exactly, perfectly warm enough, that was as close to heaven as Ante expected to get.

  Peter ate some of his produce-stand finds—several kinds of fruit, a huge slab of pie, and a chunk of fudge—and Ante grudgingly finished the last of the packaged blood. Not only did it taste awful, but it sustained him less well than the fresh stuff. He was grateful for the tastes of Peter he’d recently had.

  Patricia and her hounds waited in the living room. She wore jeans and a plaid flannel shirt and was knitting something enormous and oddly shaped out of purple yarn. As soon as Ante and Peter sat down, the terrier hopped onto Peter’s lap again. The dog had tiny green spikes along its spine, like a dragon. Ante was positive he would have noticed had they existed several hours ago, but Peter seemed unsurprised.

  “Did you rest well?” Patricia asked sweetly but with a lascivious glint in her eyes.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Ante said. “It has been quite remarkable, especially since you were not expecting us.”

  “Well, like I said, I’m happy for some fresh diversion. And I certainly don’t mind a bit of company from handsome boys. You’re welcome to stay for a while if you want to.”

  “What about the Shadows?”

  “Oh, them.” She huffed dismissively. “As long as I’m here on my own property, I have no trouble managing a handful of troublemakers.”

  “And if you leave?”

  She nodded sadly. “Yes, that’s a problem. I do leave here now and then. We have a monthly meeting in LA, and I really can’t miss that.”

  “We?” Peter asked.

  “The SoCal demon community. We’ve argued a bit over which chapter I should belong to, because being north of the Grapevine technically puts me in NorCal territory. But the NorCal meeting is in Redding, and I hate that drive.” She paused her knitting for a moment. “Although to be honest, I’ve been thinking of switching. Almost everyone in the SoCal group is an incubus or succubus, and I’m tired of spending half the meeting listening to them talk about makeup and clothing.”

  “In any case, you do go away,” said Ante, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

  “I do. And sometimes I like to visit with the Primm haunts. Now and then I pack up the hounds and we go on vacation for a few weeks.” One of her dogs barked as if in agreement.

  Ante said, “And Peter would not be protected then. Even when you are here, he would be a virtual prisoner. In a lovely cage, but….”

  “Yes.”

  “You would be too, Ante,” Peter added quietly.

  Ante squeezed Peter’s knee before turning to Patricia. “This sanctuary the ghosts spoke of—is it real?”

  “It is. I go there now and then.”

  “Will they allow us to join them?”

  She set her knitting on her lap and looked grim. “They might. But it won’t solve your problems.”

  “Because then we’ll just be trapped there instead of here?”

  “Yes. But also, well, the term sanctuary is an overstatement in this case. The only things that protect them are a few glamours and minor protection spells, plus their willingness to band together in self-defense. That serves them well enough in most cases, but if a horde of vampires arrives on their doorstep? I don’t know.”

  “The people there wouldn’t want to risk themselves for us,” Peter said, frowning.

  Patricia perked up a bit. “Now, I’m not sure about that. They have a cute little place there, very quaint. But they’re not a bunch of softies, and they might be willing to stand up for a good cause. For some of us, the older we get, the more we realize life’s only valuable if there’s a reason for it.” She gave Ante a significant look, which made him squirm.

  “I do not wish to bring our grief to others,” he said after a moment.

  “Eh. I think a spot of trouble now and then is good for people. Why don’t you let them decide whether they want to pitch in?”

  A part of Ante wanted to be pure and noble and spare the sanctuary residents any distress. If it were only his own existence at risk, he liked to think he would eschew their help. But it wasn’t just him, of course; it was Peter as well. And somehow over the past few days, Peter had become precious to him.

  Damn. Hadn’t he learned long ago never to become attached to anything?

  Not long afterward, Patricia walked them to their car, her hounds dancing and baying—well, more like yipping—at her feet. She watched as Ante and Peter tucked their belongings away and climbed inside, and then she leaned on Ante’s open driver’s window. “You boys take care of yourselves, now.”

  Peter bent toward Ante to see her better. “Thanks for everything. Um, can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Sure. Hit me.”

  “Um, I was kind of under the impression that demons were, uh, evil. But you’ve gone out of your way to be nice to us.”

  Ante had been thinking the same thing but, unlike Peter, wasn’t blunt enough to ask.

  In any case, Patricia wasn’t offended. In fact, she laughed heartily. “Well, you know, kid, some of that’s just propaganda. We haven’t had the best marketing or publicists. But part of it… sure, we lean toward troublesome. Not evil, but preying on human weaknesses, maybe. Much like Ante here preys on humans and so do you. It’s the way of the world. Call of the wild, food chain, blah blah blah.”

  This reminded Ante of Dorothy comparing vampires to lions. But dammit, vampires—and demons and elves—were capable of free choice. “A lion must kill other animals to survive,” he said. “But we—”

  “Don’t have to.” She patted his shoulder. “At some point, you decided to snack on humans instead of killing them. At some point—oh, I think it was around the Norman Conquest—I decided humans were more fun to live with than bedevil. And Petey here, he could have used his little talent to cause all sorts of problems, but he didn’t.”

  “I don’t really want to cause problems,” Peter said.

  “Exactly my point, sweetheart. Our identity shapes us, but it is not our destiny. I believe anyone—anything—can choose to turn away from harming others.” She stood up straight and slapped the side of the car. “You boys have a drive ahead of you—you’d better get on your way. But you’re always welcome here. I’ll keep your room for you.” And she winked.

  IT was a long drive via a confusing knot of freeways, but luckily Peter had written down Patricia’s directions. They stopped a few times for gas and snacks, using the opportunity to switch drivers. “You are so lucky,” Peter said as he hopped into the passenger seat at a gas station in Pleasanton.

  “Why is that?”

  “You don’t have to use the bathroom. This one was gross.”

  “I do not miss certain bodily functions, it is true. Imagine what it was like before indoor plumbing. Winter was especially bad.” Then he engaged in a long monologue about chamber pots, outhouses, and privy pits, which seemed to keep Peter entertained as they traveled.

  Shortly after they passed through San Rafael, Ante slowed down to well below the freeway speed limit.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Peter between bites of his candy bar.

  “I think someone is following us.”

  Peter swiveled around to peer through the rear window. “How can you tell? It’s dark.”

  “That car behind us has been maintaining a steady distance for miles.” That was suspicious because traffic was very light and Ante—wary of policemen—had been driving near the speed limit. Other cars zoomed by him impatiently, but not this one. Even now, when Ante was ten miles an hour below the limit, the car remained behind him. Because of the glare, he couldn’t make out anything but the other car’s headlights.

  “How did they find us?” Peter asked tightly.

  “Maybe through me again. They may have been waiting near Bakersfield.”

  “Do you think they know where we’re going?”

  “I have never heard any of the Shadows mention this place. I do not know if they are aware of it.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  Such a trusting question. Ante grinned widely, glanced at Peter, and said, “This.” And he swerved abruptly, veering onto an off-ramp they’d almost passed. As they hit the surface street, Ante floored it. He glanced behind, saw that they were still being followed, and raced ahead. He passed a few smaller roads before choosing one that curved off to the left. He swung onto it without slowing down, which would have caused the car to spin out of control but for his skillful maneuvers. He kept on going through the rolling farmland, turning whenever the whim hit him.

  “Jesus!” Peter exclaimed after a particularly sharp swerve. He was clutching the edges of his seat.

  “Sorry.”

  “No, that was— You’re really good at this!” He sounded more excited than frightened.

  Ante laughed at the unexpected praise. “I have been driving for over a century, remember?” And then he flew over a hill and sped around another corner.

  “I wish I’d found you something faster. Wonder what you could do with a Lamborghini.”

  “I doubt a Lamborghini would have done well on the road to Patricia’s house.”

  “Good point.”

  Ante had no idea where he was going; he just wanted to lose their pursuers. But still the car followed them doggedly. Ante hoped he wouldn’t come to a dead-end or collide with an unsuspecting traveler. Luckily nobody in this area appeared to be on the road, which made sense. Farmers were rarely night owls.

  A bit later Ante saw the distinctive freeway lights in the distance. He spun into a U-turn and zoomed past the other car. After a few miles, he made a sharp right, heading north alongside a cow pasture and then curving around a small lake. He thought he’d finally lost the other car and was about to heave a sigh of relief when he saw the headlights behind them.

  “Dammit!” he exclaimed, followed by some Croatian curses for good measure. Peter remained silent.

  The hills grew steeper, and Ante crossed another highway. He smelled salt and realized they’d nearly reached the ocean. He didn’t know this area at all, but he veered north again and was rewarded by a rugged canyon lined with fragrant redwoods. A better place for what he had in mind. When he reached a particularly twisty span, he turned off the headlights and gunned the engine. At a curve in the road, while their pursuers were temporarily out of sight, he yanked the wheel hard and sent them up a narrow path that might have been a driveway or a forest access road. Peter didn’t quite suppress a scream—probably because the trees were so close he could have reached out and touched them. But then Ante slowed, and when the road widened a bit, he did a sharp three-point turn to face back the way they’d come. Then he cut the engine.

  Peter let out a long, noisy breath. “It’s a good thing my bladder was empty.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. That was amazing!”

  “Truly?”

  “Yeah. I thought I was sleeping with Superman, but it turns out you’re really Mario Andretti.”

  Ante considered informing Peter that Andretti was Croatian—sort of. But that would have required an explanation of the annexation of Istria, and he wasn’t in the mood for a history lesson. Instead he shook his head with wonder at Peter’s unflappability. A whole world of wonders and shocks had been thrown at him over the past few days, yet Peter’s primary response seemed to be delight.

  The car engine ticked angrily. “They will probably double back and find us,” Ante said.

  “I figured.”

  “You stay here and I can—”

  “No fucking way.” Peter crossed his arms.

  Ante was stronger. He could have dragged Peter bodily from the car and sped off without him. But that wasn’t how he wanted to spend their last moments together. And anyway, although Ante might temporarily lure these pursuers away, the Shadows would find Peter eventually. Leaving him stranded in the woods, God knew how far from help, was not a great idea.

  The woods were so dark and silent. He was tempted to disappear into them—but he knew how unrealistic that was for him and for Peter.

  “I made Lee,” he said quietly.

  “You think he’s your fault?”

  “If not for me, he’d be moldering in a forgotten grave.”

  Peter was silent for a moment. “You made him a vampire. But you didn’t make him a monster.”

  “When I was first turned, I was vicious. An animal. I had power and I used it without thinking about those I hurt, those I killed. And Helena, who knew perfectly well how to survive without causing death, she let me roam free. She was like the careless owner of an untrained dog.”

  “You stopped.”

  “I did. One night I looked into the eyes of a dead man—a man I’d just murdered—and did not see my own reflection.” He shook his head at the memory, still not understanding why that small thing had shocked him deeply enough to change his ways.

  Outside, an owl called and a small breeze rustled the trees.

  “When I saw Lee, I intended only to fuck him and feed from him, then leave him alive. I did this often with attractive men. But he was ill—tuberculosis. He probably would have died from it. That was my excuse for killing him, my justification, but in truth I was desperately lonely.” Ante turned to face Peter, who probably saw him only poorly in the dim light. “I told myself it would be all right because I would keep him on a short leash. I would make sure he remained civilized.”

  “What happened?”

  “He slipped the collar.”

  “Is that why you stayed in Vegas so long? To keep an eye on him?”

  Ante sighed. “I am not sure. I certainly could not stop him from doing what he willed, but I told myself my presence might… deter him from the worst. It was a foolish superstition.”

  It was good that Peter did not console him or deny what Ante had done—Ante could not have borne those things. Instead Peter remained silent beside him, his face showing concern but not pity or disgust, and that comforted Ante deeply.

  “If we do make it to the sanctuary,” Ante began.

  “Which is feeling pretty iffy.”

  “But if we do, please… do not use your talents to convince them to help us.”

  “Why not?”

  “It would be immoral to force them to endanger themselves.”

  Peter nodded. “I agree. We rely on our silver tongues alone.”

  “A silver tongue would make me ill,” Ante said with a small smile.

  Peter leaned over and kissed him.

  “You always taste like candy,” Ante said when they separated.

  “Is that bad?”

  “No.”

  “Hey, Ante? On the off chance we survive this, what do you picture yourself doing? In your wildest dreams.”

  Ante was going to answer that he didn’t know, but suddenly he realized that he did know. And it was ridiculous. “You will laugh.”

  “Maybe. But not at you. And we could use a few giggles, don’t you think?”

  That was true enough. “When I was alive, we had a small vineyard. I would like to do that again. I would like to make wine.” He wasn’t sure he could do so given his nighttime limitations, but then, they were speaking hypothetically anyway.

  Peter didn’t laugh. “I like that idea. And the sanctuary’s in Sonoma County, right? So that’s perfect.”

  “How about you?”

  “Hmm. What do I want to be when I grow up? I have no idea. But I’d love to have a nice little home. Someplace permanent, with my name on it. I’d paint the walls all kinds of weird colors and get comfy furniture that didn’t match. I’d learn to cook. I’d learn to bake! Just like those stupid cookie elves.”

  “That is an excellent dream.” If he allowed himself to do so, Ante could imagine lounging indoors in the late afternoon with a book, inhaling the scents of sugar and spices, waiting for the night to arrive so he could tend to his grapes.