the Rider, trying to catch the firmness of his profile and the way his mouth curved up at the corners when he smiled at something one of his men had said.
About six-three, she wrote beside the sketch. Lean and agile, but well-muscled. Darketan, with Opir teeth, human features and ability to walk in daylight. Hair dark auburn, eyes gray with violet tint; purple indicates Opir blood. Small scar above left eyebrow.
And handsome, she thought, her pencil hovering above the page. She couldn’t write that in her notebook.
She woke from her thoughts when the half-blood broke away from his men, clearly looking for someone, and stopped when he found Greg. The two men began to speak softly, Greg gesturing with obvious irritation.
Tucking her notebook away, Jamie inched her way toward Greg and the Rider leader. She was able to get close to them without leaving the partial cover of the wagon, and knelt beside the rear wheel to listen.
“...so late,” Greg was saying, his voice pitched high. “Do you have any idea what they could have done to us?”
“I can only apologize again,” the Rider said in a steady voice. “It was very bad timing on our part.”
“And will you be ready the next time?”
A tense silence fell between the two men. Jamie stared at the Rider’s profile. Moonlight rested on the planes of his face and shadowed his pale eyes.
Be careful, Greg, she thought. The Riders might be completely neutral, allied with no one group or race, but instinct told her that this Rider wouldn’t suffer fools gladly. And Greg was acting like a fool.
“The Councilman’s goddaughter was forced to go to that barbarian,” Greg said, fists clenched. “He could have sucked her dry, or worse.”
Light played on the Rider’s lower lip as the corner twitched upward. “She’s obviously a brave young woman. Have you spoken to her?”
Greg’s jaw bunched. “I was just on my way to see her.”
“Then I won’t hold you up any longer.” The Rider stepped gracefully aside, gesturing for Greg to walk past him. Jamie ducked under the wagon and crouched there, breathing a little fast.
Greg stalked away, but Jamie continued to watch the Rider as he scanned the camp and set off again with long, ground-eating strides. Jamie scooted out from under the wagon and followed him at a discreet distance.
Her godfather was talking with the two medics, Akesha and Don, when the Rider found him. Amos broke off with a reassuring smile and gave the half-blood his full attention. Jamie joined her friends, pretending to listen to their excited retelling of the attack as she focused on the other conversation.
“Didn’t realize I was talking to the wrong man,” the Rider said as he shook her godfather’s hand. “The Senator gave me the impression that he was in charge here.”
“He would,” Amos said with a slight smile. “But it doesn’t matter. It would be difficult to stand on ceremony over such a long journey.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” the Rider said, releasing Parks’s hand. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself. My name is Timon, of the Kestrel Band.”
“Timon,” Amos acknowledged. “Needless to say, I’m very pleased to meet you. There’s no danger of the raiders returning?”
“None.” Timon glanced around him. “I’m told there were only minor injuries. Is there anything else we should know about?”
“It’s all under control, thanks to your men. And I want to express my gratitude for what you did for my goddaughter.”
Timon made a dismissive gesture with a gloved hand. “I did nothing but help her up after the raiders fled. She’s a brave young woman.”
“I wish I could send her back.”
“Why?” Timon asked, cocking his head.
Jamie tensed, but she missed her godfather’s next words when Don raised his voice to relate some particularly exciting moment of the battle between raiders and Riders.
“No one can be spared to take her back to your Enclave,” Timon said when she could hear him again. “But she’ll be all right. There are four of us now, and we expect three others to join us before we reach old San Jose.”
“Rest assured that I won’t be doubting or questioning your judgment,” Amos said. “We’re in your hands.”
“Thank you, Councilman,” Timon said, inclining his head in acknowledgment. “Given what’s happened, I think we should wait for dawn before we set out...allow your people plenty of time to sort through their experience today. They’ll be better prepared for the next occurrence, if there is one.”
The next occurrence, Jamie thought. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been warned. The volunteers had been drilled a hundred times. But it was one thing to imagine and another to experience.
Timon obviously knew that.
Jamie mumbled something to Akesha and Don and retreated back to the wagon. Its solidity, and the medical and laboratory equipment it carried, gave her comfort. People were building a small fire, and she observed the activity with a strange lassitude, as if it were happening in some other universe. She watched the other Riders move easily through the temporary camp as if it belonged to them. They had probably been in hundreds of such camps before, guiding and escorting travelers between Enclaves and colonies and even Citadels.
“You should be with the others.”
Timon settled into a crouch beside her...he smelled of warm sheepskin and horse and something subtle but deeply pleasant. He smiled at her, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that took her aback.
“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he said.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Jamie said, her heartbeat quickening. “After all, you said I would be all—”
She broke off, realizing what she’d been about to reveal. She didn’t stop soon enough. Leather creaked as Timon shifted, and she felt rather than heard the rumble of amusement in his throat.
“I knew you were listening,” he said. “You’re not very good at hiding.”
Her skin felt hot, and she barely prevented herself from raising her hands to her cheeks. “I’m sorry I eavesdropped,” she said.
“No, you’re not,” he said. “What made you so interested in hearing what we were discussing?”
She swallowed her unease. “I’ve never met a half-blood before,” she said.
Dark eyebrows lifted. “You live in an Enclave with dhampir agents, and you’ve never met one?”
“I’ve seen them, of course. But I never had any reason to be near them. And you’re not a dhampir.”
“No,” he said. “I’m a Darketan. My mother was an Opir, and my father was human. With dhampires, it’s the opposite.”
“I
