Immortal Born (Argeneau #30) - Lynsay Sands Page 0,1
had continued to snow after that and there were a couple of inches of the white stuff out there. Not a crazy amount, but enough to make pushing a baby carriage a bit of a trial. Not that Stella appeared to be having trouble, Allie noted. But Stella was a lot stronger than the average woman.
Despite the hour and lack of traffic, Stella paused to check both ways before crossing the road and making her way to her own town house. Stella then scooped up the “baby” and mounted the steps to her small porch. Allie watched her unlock the door and step inside. The door was just starting to swing shut behind her when the explosion happened.
The sound was deafening, and Allie felt the floor vibrate under her feet as the building across the street shuddered. Its windows shattered, glass flying as flames roared out of them with a stunning fury before receding back inside.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure she got out the back with that crazy speed of hers,” Allie whispered when Liam began to fuss in her arms as if he had seen and understood what had just happened. The words had barely left her lips when Stella reappeared in the still-open door of the burning town house. The fake Liam was still clutched to her chest and her body was cloaked in fire. Stella stood there briefly, obscured by the flames shrouding her, and then turned back into the house and collapsed into the blaze.
Allie stared at the burning entrance to the woman’s house for a long time. She had no idea what she was waiting for. Perhaps for Stella to reappear and wave to let her know everything was all right. But that didn’t happen, and finally, she made herself release the edge of the blind so it blocked the burning house from view.
Swallowing thickly, Allie looked down at the baby in her arms. The promise Stella had mentioned was to raise and keep Liam safe if anything happened to her. Stella hadn’t been specific on what that something might be, but dying in a fiery explosion would fall into that category.
“Dear God,” Allie breathed, staring down at the little orphan in her arms. She now had a baby to care for and keep safe. Her, Allison Chambers—a thirty-year-old single woman with no children of her own, or any likelihood of ever having them—was now a . . . mother? Foster mother? Adoptive mother? She didn’t know what she was except that she was responsible for the child in her arms . . . And she didn’t know a thing about babies. She knew even less about raising vampire babies. What the hell was she supposed to do?
One
Magnus stepped out of the plane and stopped abruptly on the steps, his fingers tightening around the handle of his suitcase as a frigid north wind blasted over him. It was cold enough to steal his breath away and had him briefly wishing he could turn around, reseat himself on the plane, and demand to be taken home to the UK. Then he spotted the SUV pulling onto the private landing strip.
Straightening his shoulders, Magnus ducked his head and quickly descended the stairs to the tarmac, leaning into the frigid, roaring wind to do so. He was resolved to staying. He hadn’t flown all the way here from England just to turn tail at the first chill breeze and fly back home without collecting the woman he’d come for.
“What did you do? Check the weather forecast for the coldest time of year to arrive and book the flight for then?”
Magnus lifted his head at that shouted comment to see that the SUV had pulled to a halt just a few feet in front of him, and a young dark-haired male had got out on the driver’s side to rush around to him.
“Tybo,” he greeted mildly, giving up his suitcase when the younger man reached for it. “It is a bit brisk.”
“Brisk, my ass. It’s freezing.” Tybo shouted to be heard over the wind as he stowed the suitcase in the back of the SUV. Closing the door then, he hurried around to the driver’s side, adding, “I’ll be surprised if the pilot can take off now he’s here. His wings probably have ice on them already.”
Magnus merely grunted and slid into the front passenger seat, eager to enjoy the waiting warmth.
“How was the flight?” Tybo asked, fiddling with buttons and knobs to adjust the heat.