“Don’t. Don’t leave.”
“Remember me,” she repeated. “Until we see each other again.”
Alone, he sat, lowering his head into his hands. And remembered far too much.
Chapter 13
For the most part, Cian avoided the tower room where Hoyt and Glenna worked their magicks. Such things often involved considerable light, flashes, fire and other elements unfavorable to vampires.
But in a way he hadn’t—or hadn’t admitted to in centuries—he needed his brother.
He noted before he knocked that one or both of his magically inclined relations had taken the precaution of drawing protection symbols on the tower door to keep the curious out. He’d have preferred to stay out himself, but he knocked.
When Glenna answered, there was a dew of sweat on her skin. Her hair was bundled up, and she’d stripped down to a tank and cotton pants. Cian lifted a brow.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Nothing physical, unfortunately. It’s just viciously hot in here. We’re working on a lot of heat and fire magicks. Sorry.”
“I’m not bothered much by temperature extremes.”
“Oh. Right.” She closed the door behind him. “We’ve got the windows blocked off—keeping everything contained—so you won’t have to worry about the light.”
“It’s nearly sundown.”
He looked over to where Hoyt stood over an enormous copper trough. Hoyt had his hands spread above it, and there was a sensation, even across the room, of more heat, of power and energy.
“He’s fire-charging weapons,” Glenna explained. “And I’ve been working on, well, it’s a kind of bomb, really. Something we may be able to drop from the air.”
“The NSO would love to have you on staff.”
“I could be their version of Q.” She swiped at her damp brow with the back of her hand. “You want a tour?”
“Actually…I wanted to…I’ll just speak with Hoyt when he’s not so involved.”
“Wait.” It was the first time Glenna could remember seeing Cian flustered. No, not flustered, she thought. Upset. “He needs a break. So do I. If you can stand the heat, just hang out a few more minutes. He’s nearly done. I’m going to go get some air.”
Cian caught her hand before she turned to go. “Thank you. For not asking.”
“No problem. And if it is a problem, I’ll be around.”
When she went out, Cian leaned against the door. Hoyt remained just as he’d been, hands spread over the silver smoke that rose from the trough. His eyes were darkened as they were when he held his power strong and steady.
It had always been so, Cian thought, since they were children.
Like Glenna, Hoyt had stripped down for work, and wore a white T-shirt and faded jeans. It was odd, even after the past months, to see his brother in twenty-fi
rst-century clothing.
Hoyt had never been one for fashion, Cian recalled. But for dignity and purpose. However much they looked alike, they’d approached life from different poles. Hoyt for solitude and study, and he himself for society and business—and the pleasure both brought him.
Still, they’d been close, had understood each other on a level few others could. Had loved each other, Cian thought now, in a way that was as strong and as steady as Hoyt’s power.
Then the world, and everything in it, had changed.
So what was he doing here? Looking for answers, for comfort, when he knew there could be neither? None of it could be taken back, not a single act, a single thought, a single moment. It was a foolish waste of time and energy on all counts.
The man who stood like a statue in the smoke wasn’t the man he’d known, any more than he was the same man he’d been. Or a man at all for that matter.