Page 29 of Fence

I turned to face her. I’d never seen a face so stricken.

“I don’t even know why I let you talk me into bringing you here.”

When I closed the distance between us, she didn’t back away.

“Because you know I would never harm you,” I whispered, reaching out to touch her hair. Her eyes closed for the briefest of seconds as my hand trailed down the side of her face. Her cheek was warm, flushed. I wanted nothing more than to cup her chin and pull her to me.

“Why do I wish I could say you’re wrong?” she asked, staring up at me. “That’s insane. I shouldn’t want you to want to hurt me, but it would make this easier. I could kick you out of my life and be done with you.”

“But you can’t.”

“No. I can’t.” She had no idea how much she couldn’t. But she would find out.

“Come on. Let’s go in. I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

She led the way to the front door while I kept a lookout—what I was watching for, I had no idea, especially on such a quiet street where everybody looked to be minding their business. Even so, it was a relief to get inside and close the door.

The flat was pleasant, though just as small as she’d described. There was hardly room to turn around without bumping into something. How she managed not to wreck the place, as inclined to clumsiness as she was, baffled me.

She was smaller than I was, though, which gave her a little more leeway as she navigated the space between the sofa and coffee table, the kitchen table and stove.

She leaned against that table, arms crossed, while I stood in the center of the small amount of empty space in the living room. There was a photo of an elderly woman sitting on the end table, a woman with long, white hair and sparkling blue eyes and a lovely smile. The woman with all the stories.

“All right. We’re here, alone. You’d better make this good, or else I’m calling the police.”

I held up my hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’ve already told you that.”

“You’re not going to harm me. That’s what you said. Hurt and harm are two different things. You haven’t harmed me, but you’ve already hurt me.” Her chin trembled.

“That was never my intent. Please, believe me.”

“Why the hell should I? Who are you, damn it? No more answering questions with questions. Tell me, flat-out. Who are you, Fence?”

There was so much hope there, still. She wanted an easy explanation, cut-and-dried, though there was no chance of one. There was nothing simple about a man who could heal as quickly as I did.

“Promise me you won’t lose it when I tell you.”

“Jesus Christ.” She looked away, out the window, disgusted.

“Promise.”

“Yeah, I promise. Out with it.”

I hoped I wasn’t about to make a serious mistake. There was no way around it, regardless. I’d already proven there was something off about me. Something “other.”

I had only to explain exactly how different I was. “You’re right about there being a connection between that ancient clan and me. It’s there. It’s strong.”

“All right.” She tapped her foot, impatient—I wondered if she knew she was doing it.

That tapping sound filled the small space while I searched for the right way to drop a bomb on an innocent girl.

“What would you say if I told you I was part of that clan? That original clan?” My eyes never left her face, and the range of emotions which crossed it was a sight to see.

She didn’t believe me. She was afraid to. She thought I was crazy. She hated me. She was afraid of me. She wished it were all over and I would leave. She wished she had never asked who I was.

She knew I wouldn’t lie.

Even so, she snorted. “I would say you look pretty damn good for a guy who’s over a thousand years old.”

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