Cronin's Key III (Cronin's Key #3)

by N.R. Walker

“What is a Zoan?” Alec shrugged. “I was kinda hoping you could tell me.” Then he looked at Cronin, Eiji, and Jodis. “They’re getting someone who can help. Who knew that heaven had a call center?”

Eiji clapped his hands together and did a weird kind of dance. “Yes! And we have ourselves another mystery to solve.” “Settle down Scooby Doo,” Alec deadpanned. “This one kinda feels bigger than the others.”

Alec could see right into his dad’s mind. He could see himself through his father’s eyes, and it was a humbling sight. There he was, looking a little pale, bloodied, and his vampire fangs clearly visible. Yet, Kole still looked at him like he always had—like a father who simply loved his son. As much as Alec had changed, Kole’s love for him remained the same. Alec’s heart flooded with warmth and humility.

“I fear for your life. I fear you will feel pain, that they will do unspeakable things,” Cronin shook his head before leaning into Alec’s palm, and again he closed his eyes. “I fear for Jodis and Eiji. They are my family, and I worry for them. We were supposed to live forever. One year, Alec. I’ve had you for one year. A mere blink in time. I want forever,” he growled, angry now. “It may be selfish of me to ask for it, and for all I’ve done, maybe I don’t deserve it. But I want forever with you, and I will kill anyone who tries to take that from me.”

Kennard glanced at each of them in turn, and seeing the seriousness on their faces, he sighed loudly. “Really, Alec? You’re just not happy unless you’re the center of attention, are you?” Alec barked out a laugh, and Kennard shook his head. “Alright, alright. So how are we going to kill them?”

Cronin grinned at him. “And I shall decree, be it noted in script and stone, that all Scots are better in bed and battle than ye Englishmen.”

Kennard scowled at him. “Of all the things this country’s Queen would call sacrilege of you sitting in that chair—not that you’re a vampire, or gay, or even married to an American—is that you’re a bloody Scot.”

“Why are churches so damn creepy?” he whispered. Cronin took his hand. “To humble the sinners, maybe?” “To remind the poor that there is untouchable wealth in organized religion, which they shall give to yet never receive, or receive an eternity in damnation,” Kennard added. Then he shrugged. “Or maybe I’m cynical about such things.”

I’m sorry I didn’t take more time to talk with you about this when you mentioned the afterlife before, he told him. Cronin looked back over his shoulder at Alec and gave him a smile. Don’t you see? Not only do we get this life together, but the one after it as well. I get you forever, no matter which life. Alec squeezed his hand again. Two lots of eternity still won’t be enough time with you. It is the same for me, m’cridhe.

“So we are ready?” Eiji asked. His smile was huge. “We have no plan, no maps of what’s underneath St. Basils, no visions of what will happen, no clue what to expect, and no clue what the Zoan are up to or what they’re really capable of,” Alec said. Eiji grinned impossibly wider and nodded. “Like I said, we’re totally ready.” Alec resisted rolling his eyes, he took a hold of Cronin’s hand, and then he leapt them all to Moscow.

“We hear everything,” she replied. “Oh God,” Alec cringed. “You see everything…?” Heather laughed, a chiming of bells. “We don’t look in bedrooms, Alec. Or on dining tables, or over sofas, or in the shower—” Cronin cleared his throat, wanting the earth to swallow him whole.

“So we have a little while to ourselves, yes?” Alec nodded. “Peace and quiet, and fornication.”