anyway, their lives were impossibly intertwined.
What is that?
Memories scattered as Hayden jerked to attention.
He inhaled again, frowned, felt his fangs drop, and moved his lips in silent acknowledgment of what he’d found in the breeze.
Bloody hell and back. Although he was the last of the Flynns, he wasn’t the last vampire on earth, or in Ireland. The stink of the undead cruised tonight’s wind with the fervor of an awakened banshee.
It was a sure bet those others would scent a Slayer in their midst. Quite possibly Connor’s safety was the Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
61
reason her grandmother had sent her away. If she truly hadn’t been aware of him, and therefore ready to destroy him, then she’d been telling the truth.
His Slayer was in more danger than she knew if she had just begun to find herself and her strength. If she hadn’t known what she was until he had gotten close, he was partly to blame for bringing her here.
He just couldn’t cut a break. All he wanted was…her. As well as whatever gross oversight Fate might offer up that would allow for past sins to be forgotten.
"Take care, Connor," Hayden said, with his head in his hands. "For me."
CHAPTER SEVEN
The wind on the cliffs was unrelenting as it whipped through Kelsie’s hair. The late evening sky was a deep charcoal-gray. Rain had retreated over the ocean.
What she needed was more time to think, and didn’t have it. She had seen the family book, and in it the long list of Connor and Flynn destruction dating back to the Middle Ages, the names meticulously penned by enemies keeping track of each other.
All those Irishwomen, Murphys, Connelleys, Malloys and more, brought into the family to do their duty and protect their land from an invading species.
Like Darwin’s noted laws, Slayer abilities might have been developed over time to deal with vampirism.
In Gran’s book Kelsey had found her vampire.
Hayden, a lyrical, melodious name, so like him. A derivative of Aidan, after Aodh, the Celtic god of sun and fire. Funny, Kelsie thought, that a creature who couldn’t exist long in sunlight carried the name of a sun god.
Gran, when pressed, had explained things about the Flynns, though not everything, and not to Kelsie’s satisfaction. Suspiciously missing were the main points, like in most old arguments. Not even Gran knew the origins of Slayer mysticism, nor the secrets and rituals of dealing with a vampire rival.
Gran’s daughter had been born with this gene. A Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
63
boon for the Connors, who didn’t have to go looking for it, and also an anomaly, since Slayer “Sense”
didn’t usually run in families. And now, seemingly, another anomaly had appeared: Katherine Connor had passed this Sense along to her own daughter.
Surprise!
Yet Kelsie now understood it to be true. A kernel of internal memory had been awakened by her acknowledgment of the existence of vampires. This newness was as weighty a burden as it was mysterious.
She waited anxiously for the full impact to make itself known, realizing that in order for old feuds to dissolve, the bad blood between families had to end here, on these cliffs. It was up to her to see that it did.
Was it reasonable to think you could discuss things sensibly with a vampire? Point out the negatives of this ridiculous relationship? See Hayden Flynn without wanting to end up in his arms?
It wasn’t helpful to surmise why he had attracted her instead of killing her outright, or why their moments of intimacy had birthed a Slayer—even though those questions plagued her.
The biggest question of all: Why had she liked it?
Liked him?
As for actually being a Slayer…could she refuse the title? Shun it? She didn’t plan on hunting anyone, not even a gorgeous vampire from a family who hated Connor guts. Not even for a promotion. Hayden Flynn had said that he didn’t want to harm her, but could a vampire be trusted to tell the truth or keep his word?
As an insurance
What is that?
Memories scattered as Hayden jerked to attention.
He inhaled again, frowned, felt his fangs drop, and moved his lips in silent acknowledgment of what he’d found in the breeze.
Bloody hell and back. Although he was the last of the Flynns, he wasn’t the last vampire on earth, or in Ireland. The stink of the undead cruised tonight’s wind with the fervor of an awakened banshee.
It was a sure bet those others would scent a Slayer in their midst. Quite possibly Connor’s safety was the Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
61
reason her grandmother had sent her away. If she truly hadn’t been aware of him, and therefore ready to destroy him, then she’d been telling the truth.
His Slayer was in more danger than she knew if she had just begun to find herself and her strength. If she hadn’t known what she was until he had gotten close, he was partly to blame for bringing her here.
He just couldn’t cut a break. All he wanted was…her. As well as whatever gross oversight Fate might offer up that would allow for past sins to be forgotten.
"Take care, Connor," Hayden said, with his head in his hands. "For me."
CHAPTER SEVEN
The wind on the cliffs was unrelenting as it whipped through Kelsie’s hair. The late evening sky was a deep charcoal-gray. Rain had retreated over the ocean.
What she needed was more time to think, and didn’t have it. She had seen the family book, and in it the long list of Connor and Flynn destruction dating back to the Middle Ages, the names meticulously penned by enemies keeping track of each other.
All those Irishwomen, Murphys, Connelleys, Malloys and more, brought into the family to do their duty and protect their land from an invading species.
Like Darwin’s noted laws, Slayer abilities might have been developed over time to deal with vampirism.
In Gran’s book Kelsey had found her vampire.
Hayden, a lyrical, melodious name, so like him. A derivative of Aidan, after Aodh, the Celtic god of sun and fire. Funny, Kelsie thought, that a creature who couldn’t exist long in sunlight carried the name of a sun god.
Gran, when pressed, had explained things about the Flynns, though not everything, and not to Kelsie’s satisfaction. Suspiciously missing were the main points, like in most old arguments. Not even Gran knew the origins of Slayer mysticism, nor the secrets and rituals of dealing with a vampire rival.
Gran’s daughter had been born with this gene. A Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
63
boon for the Connors, who didn’t have to go looking for it, and also an anomaly, since Slayer “Sense”
didn’t usually run in families. And now, seemingly, another anomaly had appeared: Katherine Connor had passed this Sense along to her own daughter.
Surprise!
Yet Kelsie now understood it to be true. A kernel of internal memory had been awakened by her acknowledgment of the existence of vampires. This newness was as weighty a burden as it was mysterious.
She waited anxiously for the full impact to make itself known, realizing that in order for old feuds to dissolve, the bad blood between families had to end here, on these cliffs. It was up to her to see that it did.
Was it reasonable to think you could discuss things sensibly with a vampire? Point out the negatives of this ridiculous relationship? See Hayden Flynn without wanting to end up in his arms?
It wasn’t helpful to surmise why he had attracted her instead of killing her outright, or why their moments of intimacy had birthed a Slayer—even though those questions plagued her.
The biggest question of all: Why had she liked it?
Liked him?
As for actually being a Slayer…could she refuse the title? Shun it? She didn’t plan on hunting anyone, not even a gorgeous vampire from a family who hated Connor guts. Not even for a promotion. Hayden Flynn had said that he didn’t want to harm her, but could a vampire be trusted to tell the truth or keep his word?
As an insurance
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