Free Trefoil by Em Petrova Page B

under his head or a hot shower, and he hoped these creature comforts would toughen his shell.
    And he planned to do an internet search for John LeClair.
    He made a wide turn onto a long country lane leading toward a bed and breakfast. The dust was a plume behind the tires and miles of grape vines spread in every direction. The sun was a ripe orb low on the horizon, stretching its glow upon the crop like fingers resting on the heads of her children. Nathan hadn’t seen such beauty since nineteenth century Italy, where he had studied sculpture.
    When he reached his rented room and drew back the draperies to the unfettered view of the vineyard, his cell phone rang. He fished in his pocket for it, and his finger brushed the hair, sending a shock through him.
    Still reeling from this, he brought the phone to his ear and heard Dante’s rich voice.
    “Hi, Dante. Thanks for calling me back.”
    “I received a call from Maria, and she was quite distraught for you. How is that hole in your chest, Nate?”
    Nathan’s fingers lifted to his chest, probing at the ragged edges only he could feel. A hole that had been punched through him when she’d Called to him. A hole only another who had been through it would understand, as only an immortal could detect another immortal’s glow. “How did you know?”
    Dante chuckled in his melodious way. “It has not been so long that I’ve forgotten my own hole. Maria Called to me, punching a hole that only she could fill. I know the Visions are driving you wild.”
    Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seeing the lovemaking worsens the shaking.”
    “I know. The lovemaking starts the bond. Starts it and finishes it. You must share your bodies and blood willingly.”
    The image in Nathan’s head was so erotic that for a moment, he couldn’t speak.
    “Keep searching, Nathan. No matter what obstacles John LeClair throws in your path, you must find Lillian. If you don’t, you’ll be destined to Walk the earth as Ricardo does.”
    Nathan shivered. The immortal who lived as Dante and Maria’s companion was a shell of himself. After following his own Calling to Asia, he attempted to bind himself to his mate, and she had died because their blood wasn’t compatible.
    The flayed hole in Ricardo’s chest was visible to any immortal, glowing with every beat of his heart. To mortal eyes, he appeared to be a downtrodden human. To immortals, he looked like he’d been ravaged by war, had taken a hit from a grenade and wore his sucking chest wound as proof. It was a chance immortals took, and there was no recourse. They had to follow The Calling.
    When Nathan hung up with Dante, he went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. He was unkempt and dark smudges stained his under-eyes. He looked deeply, past the emerald irises and into the cavity of his soul, where Lillian’s light pulsed. She was in there, and if he desired, he could Call to her.
    He whirled away from his reflection. No. Not yet.
    He fell fully clothed onto the thick, soft mattress and was instantly asleep. He woke once in the deep hours of night, parched with thirst. He stumbled to the bathroom and drank two glasses of tap water before returning to bed. The last thing he saw before his eyes slammed with exhaustion was the North Star, winking through the open window.
    His mind played with the images of his day, warping them into new ones. The seabird with the ruffled feathers burst from the chest of Ricardo, even as the long, spindly tree branches embraced that man. Nathan saw Maria trying to restrain him as he pummeled the fender of the rental truck. And he saw Lillian’s braid. The thick rope slid through his palm like a living creature. He tugged it gently to tilt her head back, granting him better access to her mouth. Silver cuff bracelets dug into the back of his neck and raised a pore-deep itch. With a growl, Nathan ripped them from her.
    The bedroom where he led her was awash in the blue of twilight. Holding her