Ashes to Ashes-Blood Ties 3 (38 page)

Another sardonically arched brow.

"Okay, but those times were life-and-death. And once, it was your life on the line, so you can't really complain." On impulse, I stood and went to his chair, knelt beside him and laid my head on his knee.

I think he was too startled to say anything at first, but after a moment he put his hand on my head. "I love you, Carrie."

If he had hit me in the chest with a sledgehammer, it would have had about the same effect. I couldn't breathe. It was like he'd knocked the wind out of me. I wanted to ask what he meant by that. Did he love me the way a sire is supposed to love his fledgling? Or did he love me like a man is supposed to love a woman when there isn't a bunch of screwed up emotional baggage and vampire history thrown in the mix? And why now? Why wait until we were about to do something dangerous to confess his love? Did he think one of us wouldn't survive to feel awkward about this later?

But I didn't ask any of the questions I was dying to have answered. I'd finally heard what I'd wanted to for so long. I just took it for what it was, for now.

"I listened to my blood tie with the Soul Eater last night," Nathan said, changing the subject as naturally as if he'd just said, "The weather's been fine, hasn't it?" I did not recover so easily. My "Oh?" was forced and transparent. He nodded. "He has the Oracle's heart."

This time my "Oh?" was surprised and strangled.

"Yes. He is planning on devouring it, and with it, the Oracle's soul. Do you want to hear what I think?"

I knew it was a rhetorical question, so I didn't answer. He'd tell me anyway. And I was right. A spark that had been missing for so long lit Nathan's eyes. "I think we

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should change our objective a little. Are you up to finding the Oracle's heart and destroying it?"

I laughed a little to cover my shock. I'm sure it worked about as well as all my attempts to cover my emotions. "Well, um. I suppose so."

"The way I see it, we'd kill two birds with one stone." He smiled. "Or you would. If the Oracle has Max and Bella—hell, even if it's the Soul Eater's people who have them—the death of the Oracle is going to throw things into a tailspin. It'll be easier for them to get away, and it cleans up our problem with her forever."

"It will also ruin the Soul Eater's current plans and buy us more time to regroup." I nodded. "Okay. I'll do it. If father is anything like son, I have a feeling it won't be too difficult."

"Father is indeed like son." Nathan suddenly turned serious. "They are very much alike, Carrie. If something happens, if things go wrong… if you're forced to confront him, don't underestimate him. He is very manipulative and seductive." Seductive? I'd seen the Soul Eater a total of one time in the flesh. He'd been half-decayed and reeking of death, calling out for blood and souls in an inhuman chorus of horror. I'd seen him in memories, but he'd been a filthy peasant then, and dung is not a look I find attractive on a man. "I'll try to resist his charms." Nathan didn't laugh with me. "It isn't a joking matter, Carrie." For the first time, he purposely forced his own memory into my mind. At first, I didn't realize what was happening. I was used to the feeling of sharing memories with Cyrus, and seeing them through blood. I'd even seen Nathan's memories via his dead wife's soul, but I'd never in all the time I'd known him, actually seen something Nathan had chosen to show me.

In an unpleasant flash, I went from sitting calmly on the living room floor to running halfnaked across a vast lawn. The rain slashed Nathan's face and his feet slipped on the grass. Behind him, the sound of barking dogs increased as they gained ground. The tall iron fence, impossibly faraway, mocked him with the chance of freedom. He was doomed.

The dogs were at his heels now. He turned, flashing his fangs at them, feeling guilty and absurd at having to use the tools that monster had given him. More guilty at the thought that he could kill one of these animals and feed. Hunger gnawed his guts, the intensity mounting as his steps slowed and he admitted defeat on the cold, wet lawn. Despair crashed over him. He would never survive here.

Not that he wanted to. Not after what he'd done to Marianne. He thought of her body, still lying in the ballroom, and he fell to the grass weeping, heedless of the dogs that tore at his flesh. They wouldn't bite for long. They didn't like the taste. Rough hands dragged him to his feet. "Take him in to the master," a voice ordered. Nathan knew they were tiring of his constant escape attempts. He didn't resist as they dragged him across the lawn, up to the house. I didn't recognize the place, but I assumed it was still the house in Brazil. The palm trees lining the walk gave it away.

Inside, they took him to a large parlor. A. man in a deep red robe stood at the fireplace. I couldn't see his face, but his white hair hung in a long braid down his back. I recognized Cyrus, lounging in a chair beside the fire. Annoyance crossed his face at the sight of

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Nathan. I'd expected a more volatile reaction, considering his wife had been killed as a sacrifice to the Soul Eater's hunger in Nathan's place. Then Nathan's gaze fell to the sling that cradled Cyrus's arm, and the bruises that marred the shadowed side of his face. Apparently, Nathan had already exacted some revenge.

"Kneel before the master," the guard holding him commanded, shoving him toward the man in red. Nathan stood his ground.

"Kneel!" Cyrus kicked him, an agonizing blow to the kidneys, dead and useless though they might be. Nathan crumpled to the floor.

"Enough!" The man in red turned, his eyes furious as he regarded his son. Jacob Seymour, his body refreshed from feasting on his daughter-in-law, turned his gaze to his new fledgling. His sharp, regal features softened. "Nolen. Nolen, Nolen. Why are we still running?"

Nathan hung his head. Shame filled him, absurd though it seemed. He hated this monster who'd taken Marianne and taken his mortal life. He hated that he could still taste Jacob's blood on his mouth, that he craved more. And he hated the part of himself that kept him from escaping.

It shouldn't be impossible to leave this house, but it was. There was pain, physical pain when he was separated from his
sire
. The word burned like a brand through his mind, which was also under this man's control.

The Soul Eater stooped, elegantly somehow, his moves fluid and spiderlike. "You haven't fed in so long. You look positively worn-out."

His hands on Nathan's shoulder's took away some of the pain and longing. It sickened Nathan and comforted him at the same time.

I could see now what he meant by "seductive." The lines were blurring in Nathan's mind, crucial lines between torment and relief, what he wanted and what he was forced to do.

"Bring him something" the Soul Eater commanded one of his guards, straightening.

"Something… pretty."

"And that screams," Cyrus added cruelly.

Nathan struggled to stand, but he'd expended the last of his energy trying to flee. Jacob straightened, bringing Nathan gently to his feet as he did so. "Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you deny yourself the satisfaction of feeding?"

"I don't know," Nathan half sobbed. He shook from cold and exhaustion. The Soul Eater wrapped Nathan in his arms, cradling him against his cold chest. "It hurts me that you would rather die than stay with me. You're like a son. My son." Cyrus scoffed. "Lucky him."

Contempt radiated off Jacob Seymour like a wave. It even reached Nathan through the blood tie, though it wasn't directed at him. "Better than a son, in some ways." The guard returned, pushing a girl through the doors. Nathan turned, instantly aware of the scent of fear and blood.

The girl wrestled with the guard who held her captive. Her arms were bound behind her back. The buttons of her dress were fastened out of order and the thin fabric hung, limp and dirty, around her body. Her feet were bare, and bloody with scratches.

"This one has tried to escape a few times, as well," the Soul Eater said, stroking Nathan's hair. "It's your right, you know. You're not like them anymore." Above the strip of cloth that gagged her, the girl's eyes widened. Her hair was dark, like

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Marianne's.

"Do what you will with her. She is yours." The Soul Eater stepped back, and Nathan turned, looking for reassurance, an absolution, maybe.

The girl screamed, and he ran. He was on her in an instant, holding her down, whispering apologies that weren't meant for her, before he tore into her throat. And I was in the apartment again, shivering.

"You know I would never do those things, not on my own," Nathan said, his voice pleading. "But that is what he's like. He finds your weakness and he chips away… You don't know he's doing it."

"I'll be careful." But I couldn't stop shaking, and I couldn't get the sound of the girl's screams out of my head. Or the touch of the Soul Eater. Though his hands had been on Nathan, they might as well have been clutching me.

And I feared they soon would be.

Chapter Twenty-One: From Bad…

They came for them, eventually. Max had no idea what time it was. Since the accident, time seemed to be constantly slipping away.

When the door opened, Bella woke with a start, her face creased in confusion. Then she seemed to take in her surroundings, and horror replaced it. "No!"

"Hey, you stop that," he admonished. "Have I ever died before?" Really, it was going to be hard enough to get tortured without having to remember her sobbing and wailing as they dragged him from this room. He'd much rather hold the image of ice-cold-bitch Bella making fun of him for being a pussy, while they did God knew what to him.

"Good morning, good morning," a mocking voice called from the door. A vampire stepped in, cocky smile pasted on his face.

The smile that usually preceded a gory, horrible death for the smiler. Things were looking up.