take you somewhere else in private to rape and kill you, and no one would even know where to start looking when you turned up missing."
That was a rather grim view of it. "Well, that's not what happened, is it?"
"Only because your boy either got whacked or did the whacking."
"Or it's a coincidence."
"I don't believe in coincidence. Slash wanted you in that spot." Nate crumpled up his paper napkin. "The question is why. What made you look back there, by the way?"
"I thought I heard something." Gwenna was lying. There hadn't been any sound at all. In fact, after the rush of passengers had departed, heading down the escalators to the street had been unnaturally quiet. She had instinctively taken the down escalator herself because she had smelled death. A deceased body had a very peculiar fungal and putrid odor that was unmistakable for anything else. She'd known someone was dead. It had been a matter of just figuring out where the body was, not that it existed. "And the machine was turned a little. I actually thought a cat or something was back there."
"That must have been a grim surprise." Nate shook his head again.
"It was." Gwenna wrapped her arms around her chest. Despite being nine hundred years old, she had never seen a murder victim before. She hoped she never did again. The man—boy really—had been almost unrecognizable because of the way he'd been stuffed back there, his skin waxy and pale. She shuddered involuntarily.
"Hey." Nate's voice softened. "It's okay."
"No, it's not." Gwenna sat back in her rickety chair. "It's not alright at all, because whoever that poor man is, or was, he's dead, and whoever did that to him is just walking around feeling pleased with himself for getting away with it. I feel responsible in some way… like if I'd gotten there sooner…"
"You'd be dead, too."
Highly unlikely, but she wasn't going to argue. "I know it sounds irrational, but I feel just awful."
"I wouldn't like you if you didn't." He popped the lid off his coffee cup and dumped two packets of sugar substitute into it. "Death makes us feel bad. That's normal. When it stops feeling bad, that's when we know we're in trouble."
Maybe that was what had happened to Roberto. He had lost his compassion for the suffering of others. He had learned to take his immortality for granted, and fallen under the mistaken notion that having been granted eternity, he was entitled to use it as he chose.
"So your sister had cancer? How old was she?" she asked softly.
Nate didn't answer right away. He took a sip of his coffee and set it down. Then he met her gaze. The pain there was palpable.
"Kyra was twenty-five. She had leukemia."
"So young? That's just awful." And suddenly it made Gwenna profoundly ashamed. She'd had almost a thousand years of life and what had she done with them? Nothing. She had embroidered and played the harp and pianoforte, hosted dinners for Roberto, and read a vast quantity of books. But she hadn't done anything useful, not like her brother and Alexis. Not like Corbin, who had spent his vampire life engaged in genetic research.
"Yeah, it is awful. It totally sucks, really."
Nate's sister had lived but a whisper in comparison to her, yet Gwenna was ungrateful for her immortality. Or at least she had been. That had changed in recent months, and she should allow herself credit for that.
"I hope you were able to be with her at the end." Gwenna had wanted that with Isabel, had wished she'd had the chance to tell her daughter good-bye.
"Yeah, I was. Kyra, she is… was an amazing girl. She really did go through this whole thing with dignity and grace. I'm in awe of how brave she was. Right until the end."
The tears hung in his eyes again, and he fought them back brutally, clearly determined not to let them fall.
"It's okay to cry, you know," she whispered.
"No, it's not. Not here in the freaking coffee shop." Nate pressed on his forehead. "God, I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Gwenna reached for his free hand and
That was a rather grim view of it. "Well, that's not what happened, is it?"
"Only because your boy either got whacked or did the whacking."
"Or it's a coincidence."
"I don't believe in coincidence. Slash wanted you in that spot." Nate crumpled up his paper napkin. "The question is why. What made you look back there, by the way?"
"I thought I heard something." Gwenna was lying. There hadn't been any sound at all. In fact, after the rush of passengers had departed, heading down the escalators to the street had been unnaturally quiet. She had instinctively taken the down escalator herself because she had smelled death. A deceased body had a very peculiar fungal and putrid odor that was unmistakable for anything else. She'd known someone was dead. It had been a matter of just figuring out where the body was, not that it existed. "And the machine was turned a little. I actually thought a cat or something was back there."
"That must have been a grim surprise." Nate shook his head again.
"It was." Gwenna wrapped her arms around her chest. Despite being nine hundred years old, she had never seen a murder victim before. She hoped she never did again. The man—boy really—had been almost unrecognizable because of the way he'd been stuffed back there, his skin waxy and pale. She shuddered involuntarily.
"Hey." Nate's voice softened. "It's okay."
"No, it's not." Gwenna sat back in her rickety chair. "It's not alright at all, because whoever that poor man is, or was, he's dead, and whoever did that to him is just walking around feeling pleased with himself for getting away with it. I feel responsible in some way… like if I'd gotten there sooner…"
"You'd be dead, too."
Highly unlikely, but she wasn't going to argue. "I know it sounds irrational, but I feel just awful."
"I wouldn't like you if you didn't." He popped the lid off his coffee cup and dumped two packets of sugar substitute into it. "Death makes us feel bad. That's normal. When it stops feeling bad, that's when we know we're in trouble."
Maybe that was what had happened to Roberto. He had lost his compassion for the suffering of others. He had learned to take his immortality for granted, and fallen under the mistaken notion that having been granted eternity, he was entitled to use it as he chose.
"So your sister had cancer? How old was she?" she asked softly.
Nate didn't answer right away. He took a sip of his coffee and set it down. Then he met her gaze. The pain there was palpable.
"Kyra was twenty-five. She had leukemia."
"So young? That's just awful." And suddenly it made Gwenna profoundly ashamed. She'd had almost a thousand years of life and what had she done with them? Nothing. She had embroidered and played the harp and pianoforte, hosted dinners for Roberto, and read a vast quantity of books. But she hadn't done anything useful, not like her brother and Alexis. Not like Corbin, who had spent his vampire life engaged in genetic research.
"Yeah, it is awful. It totally sucks, really."
Nate's sister had lived but a whisper in comparison to her, yet Gwenna was ungrateful for her immortality. Or at least she had been. That had changed in recent months, and she should allow herself credit for that.
"I hope you were able to be with her at the end." Gwenna had wanted that with Isabel, had wished she'd had the chance to tell her daughter good-bye.
"Yeah, I was. Kyra, she is… was an amazing girl. She really did go through this whole thing with dignity and grace. I'm in awe of how brave she was. Right until the end."
The tears hung in his eyes again, and he fought them back brutally, clearly determined not to let them fall.
"It's okay to cry, you know," she whispered.
"No, it's not. Not here in the freaking coffee shop." Nate pressed on his forehead. "God, I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Gwenna reached for his free hand and
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