Page 184 of Vampire's Choice

She wanted to feel her father’s presence through that carved stone. Through that nexus. She didn’t. Sleeping in that bed, she’d been sure they would visit her in her dreams. But all she dreamed about was the blood, and the picture Mason had painted of their last few moments.

She couldn’t bear to wait for that contact another moment. And she couldn’t take that fucking floor another second.

“I can still smell it in there, sense it,” she told him as she flung down the wood. “It has to go, Merc. It’s driving me mad…I shouldn’t rip up the floors. Mal and Kohana put them down together, but if I don’t get rid of those boards…it’s in the wood, I can’t stand it…”

Merc scooped her up, and when she fought him, snarling and hissing, he dealt with it with a sharp, one-word command. “Stop.”

She obeyed, but reluctantly. She vibrated with the desire to resist. He took her back into the house, skirting the impressively large holes she’d created, and moved down the stairs to the vampire living quarters. He didn’t go into her parents’ room, but to her childhood one, deeper in the earth. She was angry, but while just being cradled in his arms, her eyelids were already drooping, the sun doing its best to claim her consciousness.

“I can’t…”

“It will be dealt with,” he told her. “You’re dealing with everything you should. I will deal with this.”

“But—”

“The discussion is over,” he told her curtly. “If you make a face, I will spank you.”

The startling comment jerked her out of her head, her eyes widening. “You would?”

“I would. You know I would enjoy it.”

The tired hopelessness returned, but he took heart from the flash of sexual intrigue, albeit brief, and faint amusement that said she would pull it together after she had some rest. Him being here helped, but she hated that she was dependent on him like that.

Her parents had been murdered only a few weeks ago, changing her whole life. He thought she was doing remarkably well. He’d make that point with her, forcibly, later.

“Can angels visit the dead?”

The question burst from her as he laid her down. He knew it had been hovering in her mind for a while, elusive, kept behind a door, her refusing to ask it. Probably because she already suspected the answer, and couldn’t handle another disappointment. He hated to meet those expectations.

“Not Legion angels…or one like me. The wall between the living and the dead is there for important reasons. Reasons even I couldn’t argue with. Angels have no access to it. The hope for the day we reunite with loved ones, without the concrete assurance of it…even angels are not exempt from that.”

She closed her eyes and turned away, curling into a ball. I’m sorry, Merc. I knew that. Charlie even told me…with Clara. I’m better than this. Just not today. That goddamn smell…

He curled his arm around her waist, pulled her closer and lay with her until she fell into the unrelenting arms of daylight sleep. When she was under, he cleaned her hands, checking that they were healing properly. Then he did something he’d never done. He reached out and asked for a favor from Maddock.

Though his communication with Ruth had much deeper levels, Merc had learned an angel had the ability, with practice, to reach out and speak in anyone’s mind. It was proving to be a useful tool. And amusing, when Maddock, just rising in his part of the world, started at the unexpected intrusion, sloshing his coffee on his hand. Goddamn it, Merc…

The sorcerer nevertheless came through the portal less than an hour later, with Charlie. Charlie went to check on Ruth in her somnolent state, and Merc and Maddock dealt with the floor.

“It needs to contain the scents she expects. Not a new smell. Not something that stands out as having been replaced for the reasons it’s being replaced. No blood or violence from her parents’ deaths. Can it be done?”

After a moment of contemplation, Maddock nodded, his expression serious. “I can do it. Mind helping me with the grunt work part?”

“Just tell me what you need.”

Maddock might have doubted his sincerity, but an hour later, he no longer did. Merc followed the sorcerer’s instruction, starting with bringing the wood back into the living area. It had the scent of her blood on it, too, from where she’d ripped the boards heedlessly off the floor. He laid them back in place, holding them as directed as the sorcerer reversed the damage her strength of purpose had inflicted.

After that, Maddock cast the cleansing smell, lifting out what needed to disappear and restoring to the planks the same scent as what was on the other, unaffected boards. He did the casting throughout the main room and kitchen, everywhere the violence had occurred. When Maddock finished, he had a slight smile on his face.

“Many good memories have been made here. It wasn’t difficult to draw on that energy and use it. I’m barely even winded.”

Charlie returned. Seeing her sober face, Merc closed in on her. When Maddock shifted between them, Merc brought himself up short and stepped back. “I would never cause her harm,” he said.

In the past, he wouldn’t have bothered to offer the assurance. He’d wanted to maintain that reserve and distance a dangerous reputation gave him. Connection was more important to him now. Especially if it helped Ruth.

Maddock looked surprised at the obvious sincerity in the admission. He gave Merc a cordial nod, offered in the same tone. “My apologies. You looked a little intense. I’m used to…how you used to be.”

Fair enough. Merc looked at Charlie. “How is she?”

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