“How do you have this?” she mumbled.
Pulling his hand from her grip, he raised it to examine the ring. “As I’ve already said, I can’t remember.”
The ring had to have some larger significance.
“I had this ring years ago, and it went missing.”
He tipped his head up as though he’d consult the sky on the matter, but instead of arguing or explaining, he cocked his head like an animal listening for predators—or prey.
“Journalist,” he said, grabbing her arms and turning her toward the trail. “Hurry home.”
“What? What’s going on?” she asked, giving him points for not calling her girl.
“Go,” he yelled.
Then she saw a trio of figures threading their way through the trees. They were dressed in black and carried sickle-shaped blades like modern-day grim reapers. They moved fast, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get past them quickly enough. Her heart pounded when she saw their faces, which were pulled into rictus smiles, exposing fangs. They were definitely ventala.
She pumped her legs back and forth, skiing as fast as she could. Would she reach her house before the ventala caught them? It didn’t seem likely, but she had to try, and if she could just get out of the woods, the ventala would be disadvantaged by the morning light.
A shout of pain made her slow and look back. Bronze had not fled with her. From where he stood now, he must have rushed into the trees to face them.
One of the ventala was down. She was relieved to see that Bronze looked unhurt—so far. They swung their blades, and all of them moved in a blur of speed. He knocked another down and grabbed his dagger. Slicing in stunning arcs, Bronze tested the blade on them with devastating results. Then, with a few swift downward thrusts behind their left collarbones, he killed them one by one.
Bronze lowered himself to a knee, shoved the dagger into the snowy ground, and hung his head, whispering. Perched on her skis, she remained frozen, staring at him while he rose, reclaimed the dagger, and returned to the trail. Blood and melted snow dripped from the dagger tip like a deadly faucet.
“You waited,” he said.
It took her a moment to find her voice. All she managed was, “I did.”
He shook his head, walking briskly. “You should not have stopped when I told you to go on.”
She shrugged. “I’m one of those people who always has to know how things turn out.”
He quirked a brow but didn’t pursue the discussion, which left her feeling vaguely dissatisfied. She wanted him to be interested in her life and her work. In some of the dreams, there’d been a profound connection between them. At the moment, he didn’t even seem attracted to her, which was irritating because the mountain-ridge dream had always been so vivid and . . . satisfying. Her ni**les tingled, and she glanced away to hide her flush.
His current indifference was more like his attitude in the nightmares. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to focus her concentration away from anything erotic.
“So,” he said, wiping the blade on his pant leg. “I don’t know who I am, but I think I know what I am. I must be a soldier.”
“I think you’re more than a soldier. Pull your lips back. Show me your teeth.”
“Why?”
“I want to see if you’re a ventala.”
“Ventala,” he said. “What’s that?”
She blinked. “Ventala. Part human. Part vampire.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “You know, vampires bred with humans to try to save themselves from extermination.”
He stared at her blankly.
“After the mutation. The bat plague? The Vampire Rising?”
“Before my time, I suppose,” he said.
“It’s before a lot of people’s times. It happened in the 1950s. But everyone knows about it. Everyone. All over the world. Surely, you must remember something! Even people with amnesia know some basic things about the planet.”
He shrugged. “Apparently, not always.”
Who the hell was he that he didn’t know about the vampire extermination? “What were you doing after you killed those ventala? You knelt and lowered your head like you were—”
“I was offering thanks.”
“To God?”
“Of course, who else? I was grateful for my victory. It seemed right to say so.”
“That definitely doesn’t seem ventala-like, but just to be sure, show me your teeth.”
He retracted his lips. All his teeth were perfectly normal, not a fang among them. Relief flooded through her with confusion on its heels.
“Then what are you?” she murmured. “Human beings don’t move the way you do. And why were those ventala lying in wait for you? There’s so much to figure out, and I’m not sure we have a lot of time. Ventala usually sleep during the day, but they came for you despite the sunrise.” She paused. “Come nightfall, they may come out in force.”
“Journalist, what’s your name?”
She smiled. “Kate.”
“Kate,” he repeated as if tasting the word. He nodded. “It’s kind of you to offer me aid. It speaks well of your character, but you’re a young woman. I wouldn’t enlist your help.”
Was he seriously going to discount her ability to help him because she was female? All the times she’d had to fight the condescension of her older male colleagues came roaring back.
“Perhaps your father or brothers would—”
“My father and brother live in Vermont, which is about two thousand miles away, and when it comes to investigating something and connecting the dots, there’s no one better than me.”
“No one?” he asked. “I suspect you’re overconfident.”
“You know what?” she said. “You’re right. Why don’t you knock on some doors and find some random men to help you? See how that works out.” She skied past him, and as she emerged from the forest, the houses popped into view.
“Ah, good. Shelter,” he said, keeping pace with her.
“Yes, my shelter. My house that I own alone. A concept that may be too much for you to get your caveman head around. Who raised you? The Taliban?”
His brows rose. “I’m not sure who that is, but you’re obviously angry. I meant no offense, Kate, but for a young woman to be so sure of herself is surprising.”