The white stone walls around the Etherlin had been sanded smooth and covered with a gloss that made them opalescent. They were topped with glittering silver barbed mesh that matched the silver and white gates.
Kate pulled over and killed the engine. If she had been alone, she wouldn’t have needed to get out of the car, but since she had a visitor unknown to ES, she walked to the guard post. The blazer-wearing guard looked like he should have been rowing crew in the Ivy League. His mop of curly hair had been aggressively tamed with gel, but it still made him look slightly boyish.
Kate explained that she’d brought someone whose nature was, as yet, unclear and that she hoped they could help. She waited while the guard, whose badge identified him as J. Pinter, called for a more senior officer. Nathaniel emerged from the jeep and stood silently beside her as she chatted with Pinter.
Kate smiled when she saw Grant Easton, the ES director. Grant lived up to the blue-blood cut of his nose and jaw. He strode forward like he owned the world—or soon would.
“Well, if it’s not our vampire-hunting aspirant,” Grant said with a broad smile. “How are you, Kate?”
She smiled, too. “I’m well. Thank you.”
“Vampire hunting?” Pinter asked.
“Sure. Kate’s an investigative reporter, and she uncovered a hot spot for missing persons. A human Bermuda triangle for travelers on road trips that turned out to be the hunting ground for a huge nest of cave-dwelling vampires who escaped the extermination.”
“That was you?” Pinter asked.
She nodded.
“I saw those photographs. You were as close to them as I am to you.” He clucked his tongue. “You could’ve been killed.”
“No guts, no glory,” she said.
“Spoken like a champion of the gods. Next up, recovering the Golden Fleece,” Grant joked, giving her shoulder squeeze.
“There’s one God,” Nathaniel said, putting a hand on Kate’s arm and drawing her away from Grant. “And when waging war for him, the weapon carried is not a camera.”
“Muses are real. The gods of Olympus may have been real as well,” Grant countered.
“Many groups of superhuman creatures have resided on the earth or presided over it, but they were all created by a single source. And if they exploit their powers and toy with men for sport, their existence is reduced to myth.”
They all stared at Nathaniel.
How could he know that unless he’s—? No, Kate thought. I saw his back. No wings. No scars. He can’t be an angel. But what about his back pain? And the red marks?
“No one knows for sure what happened to the Olympians, but that’s an interesting theory. Where did you hear it?” Grant asked.
Nathaniel shrugged. “It’s an echo through my soul.”
Grant raised his brows. “That’s an interesting way of evading the question.”
Nathaniel walked to the jeep. “Come, Kate.”
“No,” Grant said. “Kate’s an aspirant, which means she’s under our protection. She’s not going anywhere with you until we’ve established who and what you are.”
Nathaniel tried the door, but it had locked automatically.
Grant rounded the jeep. “Come this way.”
“I decline your invitation,” Nathaniel said.
“Why? What are you hiding?” Grant demanded.
“Hold on,” Kate said, horrified by the rising confrontation.
Pinter drew his gun.
Nathaniel stiffened. “No!” Nathaniel said, stretching a hand toward Pinter. “You must not attack me with intent. I am bound to defend myself by a higher law than my own will. And if we fight, you will not survive.”