Page 29 of The Guardian's Curse

With her supplies ordered, she began sketching the smaller sigils for individual rooms. Some would be long term protections like the ones at Infinity, and others were temporary wards with more pronounced effects. Those were the smash glass in case of emergency of Weaving, but they could be handy. She placed a sunlight sigil at the front door, painting it onto the hardwood floor with a dyed ink to conceal it against the brown plank.

As she worked, she checked the time obsessively as she anticipated Alistair waking. She knew her job here didn’t require his attention. But damn if she wasn’t intrigued after his impromptu lesson last night. And she was fully aware of being a walking cliche; seeking attention from the distant vampire who was an eerie echo of her emotionally distant dad. If a therapist was in her modest budget, they’d have had a field day with it.

Nine thirty took its time arriving, and she exploded into action when the first tinkling alarm sounded. She was filled with nervous anticipation as she prepared his meal, then delivered it with a quiet knock. Again, the door opened just enough to reveal one gloved hand. “Alistair?” she asked quietly.

“Yes?”

“Can I show you part of the spell work I did today?”

“I told you that I don’t need updates,” he said.

“But you need to know in case the house is attacked,” she said. “Your reaction will be faster than mine.” Manipulation 101; appeal to the big manly vampire’s superpowers.

He was silent. “Fine.” When he emerged, he was cloaked in black again.

His steps were nearly silent behind her. He followed her to the front door, where she knelt next to the sigil. With a flick of her hand, she cast a tiny veil of light that glowed within the neatly drawn lines of her sigil. Precise geometric shapes were connected by circles and arcs. The neat work filled her with pride.

“If anyone you don’t like tries come in, this will hold them off for a few minutes,” she said.

“Just a few minutes?” There was a note of disdain in his voice, and it made her feel both irritated and embarrassed. It wasn’t like he could build a protective ward from scratch.

“It’s temporary,” she said hotly. “This will basically put up a wall made of sunlight. Humans can’t pass through and vampires won’t want to unless they like getting deep-fried. It’s self-powering, so it won’t last long. Once I get the central array done, I can do better. But I thought you might want something to keep us safe until then.”

“I see,” he said.

Nothing else? No good job, Shoshanna? Thanks for making sure no one decapitates me while I sleep?

She scowled at the floor, taking a moment to compose herself before she let her mouth get her in trouble. “If you need to activate it, you’ll need to touch it and say allumez. It’s French.”

“Oui, je sais,” he said. “Merci.”

“Oh,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Then you’re all set. I know you told me not to go into your chambers, but I need to get in sometime this week to place a sigil on your door.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” he said.

Her temper flared. It wasn’t like she was going to creep on him. “Paris put it in the contract.”

“This house does not belong to Paris,” he said coldly.

She drew a deep breath through her nose. “I can wait if you want to talk to him about it. It won’t take long, and I can do it at night so you’re not there to be disturbed.”

“We shall see.”

She rose and took a deep breath to settle her nerves. Arguing with him was an inauspicious start to her mission. “I was also wondering if you’d listen to me play again and tell me if my wrists are better tonight.” She braced herself for another resounding no.

His silence stretched for hours. “I can spare a few minutes.”

While she perched on the piano bench, he settled onto one of the big leather couches, long legs crossed neatly. All she could see were those fiery eyes from the shadows, intent on her.

Her heart thumped as she rested her fingers on the smooth ivory keys. The music unwound itself beneath her touch. She briefly wondered if he was looking, but the steady spill of black ink over the page kept her attention. It wouldn’t win an award, but her rendition of The Swan was respectable, with only a few missed notes. When she finished, she let the final chord ring before stealing a glance over her shoulder.

No Alistair.

When she looked back to the music, he was at her left side, one gloved hand on the keys. She yelped in surprise.

Freaking vampires.

“Can I touch you?”

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