At Grave's End (21 page)

Bones paused to stretch out his hand and examine it. I didn’t see anything unusual. His lips twisted.

“My bones were visible. It was as if I were a partial skeleton. I couldn’t concentrate on anything, could barely see, hear or smell, and was weak as a lamb. When the sun broke, I lost consciousness again.”

“What in blazes happened to you?” Ian demanded. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“I have,” Mencheres said quietly. “Let him finish.”

“I awoke past sunset, and my unknown companion awakened around the same time. He tried to run but I grabbed onto his ankle. I could talk, not quite intelligibly, but enough. I told him to drag me to a phone and then I’d let him go. Chap was petrified, of course. Here a murdering half-rotted skeleton wouldn’t let loose of his leg; I’m astounded he didn’t fall over from a heart attack. We waited until well after midnight, so it was less unsightly for a homeless man to be seen kicking a corpse on his way to a pay phone.”

The image struck me very inappropriately and I started to laugh. This had to be the weirdest thing I’d ever heard.

“We arrived at a pay phone, but the bloke didn’t have any quid for the call. My mind still wasn’t functioning properly—that hadn’t occurred to me. All I knew was I needed to get somewhere safe. I had him ring numbers collect, but he told me all the bloody numbers were disconnected or didn’t answer. I only remembered a few of them: yours, Mencheres’s, Charles’s…but all of you were in emergency mode and couldn’t be reached. There was one last number I recalled, and it worked. I reached Don.”

My uncle? That made me blink in surprise.

Bones gave a rueful snort. “Yes, he was taken aback as well. Don said it didn’t sound like me, well, that was true. I reminded him that the day we met, I told him I wanted to peel his skin like an orange—somehow
that
I recalled—and I’d do it if he kept arguing over who I was. Don had the chap give him our location and said he’d come. So I wasn’t on display in the street, I had the man throw me in a Dumpster.

“Round two hours later, Don opened the lid. When I saw him, I said, ‘Took your bloody time, old chap,’ and he finally believed it was me—though he did inform me that a dehydrated piece of beef such as myself should be more respectful. Don pulled me into a van and gave me bags of blood. I went through all of them, but I still wasn’t back to myself. Don flew me back to the compound with him and continued to give me blood. It took me over twelve hours to fully regenerate.”

“Why didn’t he fucking call me!”

It burst from my mouth amid my overflowing grati
tude toward my uncle. Don didn’t like Bones, never had, and yet he’d saved his life. There was nothing I could do to ever repay him for that.

“For starters, he didn’t know the numbers of who to call, Kitten. Not like he knew their e-mail addresses, and you hadn’t been checking yours, because he did try that. Also, since I didn’t heal right away, he wasn’t sure if I’d recover at all. So Don didn’t want to give you false hope. Round an hour after I regenerated, Tate called Don asking for a prescription for you. Don gave me the location of the pharmacy. Once I got there, I followed Tate’s scent from the pharmacy back here.”

There was something in Bones’s voice that made me belatedly aware there was one person missing in this room. Even my mother lingered by the doorway, pretending not to care about the story as it unfolded.

“Where’s Tate? And why didn’t Don call him when he knew you were better? My uncle
knew
he was with me.”

Bones met my eyes. There was pity in his gaze—and resolve.

“Don didn’t ring Tate because I told him not to. After all, I didn’t want the person who tried to kill me discovering I was still alive.”

B
ONES’S WORDS SANK IN, MADE EVEN MORE
ominous by the way Spade began to squirm in his chair. When I first saw Bones, he’d murmured something to Spade I didn’t catch. Then I’d been so overcome by Bones being alive, I wouldn’t have noticed a stampede of elephants, let alone the noise of a struggle…

“Where is Tate?”

Amazing how I could be overwhelmed with joy and yet also mad at the same time.

“He’s not dead,” Bones answered. “He’s locked up until he admits to his treachery, and then I shall kill him for it.”

“You think the train station was a setup?” It made sense. That oncoming train with its host of Master vampires and one very mean Egyptian queen was too convenient.

“Only those of us in this room knew of that plot, except of course Dave and Cooper, and it doesn’t add
up that it would be one of them. Dave was mostly barricaded in a box with Juan, and Cooper has no cause to see me dead. Tate’s the only one who would risk everything to see me killed in such a manner that you weren’t injured as well. His love for you has driven him to this betrayal, and I want you to hear his admittance from his own lips. Then I’ll kill him quickly, for your sake.”

No. It’s not him.

Bones heard the denial in my mind and sighed. “I’m sorry, luv, I know you care for him—”

I slammed the shields in place that guarded my thoughts, not because of Bones, but for the reason that two other vampires in the room could hear them. There was no way I’d believe Tate would do such a thing. He might taunt Bones and be a dick sometimes, but he wouldn’t betray him to Patra. I just couldn’t believe that.

Which left someone else in the room as the real guilty party.

“Tate’s not going anywhere, right?”

My calm question caused Bones to gaze at me oddly.

“No.”

“Then let’s not deal with him right now. If Tate does admit to doing that, you won’t have to worry about killing him. I’ll do it myself.”

That much was true, except it didn’t apply in this case. If Tate ever did try to kill Bones, he’d challenge him to a fair fight. He’d lose, of course, but being underhanded just wasn’t his style.

“Mencheres,” I went on, “you said you’d heard of something similar happening to a vampire that happened to Bones? About the withering thing?”

Mencheres let his cool appraising eyes meet mine, and in that instant I knew two things. He saw through my apparent lack of distress over Tate, and he also didn’t believe it was him.

Weep.

The word flashed across my mind like it was spoken in my ear. Mencheres’s steel gaze didn’t waver, and I jerked back in shock even as I complied. It wasn’t hard. I still wasn’t all the way back in control of my emotions.

I let some tears fall, big fat drops of duplicity that rolled down my cheeks. Playing weak. Sometimes it was the best offense.

“My sire Tenoch had a similar gift,” Mencheres stated. “He could manipulate his body to appear withered in order to convince whoever was around that he was dead. You must have inherited more from me than I realized, Bones, when I shared my power with you. Tenoch took days to recover from its effects; you will be very lucky to have your strength back within a fortnight.”

Mencheres rose, all grace and leashed authority. “We will keep the traitor secure. You will need blood and sleep. We will keep the news that you’re alive undisclosed until you are completely healed. Please, take my chamber. It is soundproofed, so you will be less disturbed by the noises of the house.”

Bravo!
I wanted to clap, but kept my compliment suppressed under a landslide of shields.
You devious prick, I might start to like you.

To add to the camouflage, I sniffled. “Take me to bed, Bones. I’m very tired.”

He lifted himself and me up in the same fluid motion. “Mencheres, if you’ll direct me?”

Bones carried me out of the study. When we passed by my mother, who still lingered by the door, Bones stopped to give her an impudent smile.

“Thought you were finally rid of me, didn’t you?”

She opened her mouth, paused, and then shut it. Then she further surprised me by moving out of the way without having to be shoved aside. For her, that was the equivalent of a gushing welcome.

“Filthy animal,” she called out when we were almost out of sight.

He snorted in amusement, not slowing his steps. “Nice to see you again, too, Justina.”

Mencheres followed us into the large bedchamber with a vague comment about retrieving some of his things.

“Just need to get these items before I leave you to your slumber…” he said in a regular voice before shutting the door behind him.

“Bones, Cat is correct. It isn’t Tate.”

I was surprised Mencheres felt that way, too, but I didn’t question it. “He wouldn’t do this,” I agreed.

“Why not?” Bones snarled in low, heated disagreement. “It’s his only chance of ever having you. I know if I were Tate, I’d see me buried if I had to betray everyone around me to do it!”

“And you would regret it,” Mencheres said.

For a second, I saw pain flash on his face, and wondered if he was thinking of the murder he’d committed all those years ago.

“Killing your rival doesn’t guarantee happiness. Sometimes it ruins any chance you have of it instead. Memories of dead men hold far more power than the annoyances of living ones.”

I stared at Mencheres. His face was blank again,
giving nothing away, but we all knew what he meant.

“If I had not shared power with you,” Mencheres went on, “you would have been killed on that train. You must trust me, because someone under this roof is counting on your jealousy to blind you.”

Bones paced in short strides. “That would mean one of the people I’ve loved as a brother has plotted against me. It’s only logical that it’s Tate.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Bones was so surprised by that, he quit pacing.

I came to him, brushing my fingers across his cheekbones. “If you’re right,” I continued, “then the traitor is locked up and can do no more harm. I’ll be grieved that my friend did such a terrible thing, and I’ll kill him. But if you’re wrong…then you have a person here who’s desperate not to get caught. Reeling that you’re alive. Frantic over what you’ll do if you find out who they are. If you’re wrong, we’re all in a heap of shit. So what are you willing to bet that you’re right?”

Bones stared at me with a penetrating, hooded gaze.

“You know I won’t take the risk. Fine, then. Whoever it is will want to report to Patra posthaste that I’m still alive, and they’ll also likely try to silence Tate before he convinces me of his innocence. We’ll need more than the three of us to stop this.”

Mencheres nodded. “In the meantime, let that person feel secure that the blame falls on Tate. We will keep him as he is. Who do you want to include on this?”

In other words, who do you trust with everyone’s lives?

“Charles, of course. If he’s the rat, I’ll stake myself. Rodney also.”

“Annette, too,” I said. “When she thought you were dead, she said she couldn’t live without you.”

Mencheres backed toward the door. “I can’t stay any longer, it would appear suspicious. About your recovery…I was exaggerating. Tenoch could regenerate within an hour and be back to full power within two. You will be right in a day at most, but let them think you’re weakened.”

“Grandsire.” Bones halted him at the now-opened door. “Once again, thank you.”

Mencheres smiled. For an instant, it made him look younger than Bones, in terms of human appearance. With his sizzling aura of power, I never noticed that before.

“You’re welcome.”

Bones and I faced each other in the room. All at once, I didn’t know what to say. Should we run through the list of possible suspects? Debate more over Tate’s innocence versus guilt, for Bones still didn’t look convinced. Or forget all of the above and try to sleep as suggested?

“Has anyone called Don to tell him you caught up with me?”

That won the toss, and it hadn’t even been on my mental list.

“No, but he can wait a bit longer. Come lie down with me, I’ve longed for nothing as much as your arms these past days.”

Bones pulled me with him to the bed, enfolding me under the blanket. I reached out, fingering his shock of white hair. Bones’s flesh was cool against my cheek,
his skin tight and sleek. It seemed impossible that not long ago, it was withered.

“Your body aged almost to the point of truly dying. That’s why your hair’s white, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I expect so.”

It hit me then, staring at his unlined, beautiful face and that stark light hair framing it, that neither of us should be alive. Bones had almost been killed by a knife in his heart, and add one more step on a rocky ledge for me, and he would have returned to find my body broken beyond revival.

Sometimes there were moments when things were perfectly clear. When the answers seemed so obvious, I wondered how I hadn’t noticed them before. When I’d thought Bones was dead, nothing else had mattered for me except making sure those responsible paid. I hadn’t cared that I’d need to quit my job to handle the responsibility of his line and avenge his death. No, I’d taken that as a given and had called Don to tell him I wasn’t coming back.

Now, however, with Bones alive, I could return to my job. Except I didn’t want to. I wasn’t going to backburner Bones because his life meant less to me than his presumed death had. What do you do when you get a second chance…or in my case, a third or fourth?

You don’t squander it, that’s what.

“Things are going to change,” I said.

Maybe Bones heard it in my voice. It could have been the threads forming in my mind, because his eyes widened even before I said the next words aloud.

“I’m quitting my job.”

S
PADE GAVE A POINTED GLANCE AT THE CLOCK
and then at a plate on the table. “Your breakfast is cold.”

I glanced at the clock also. We should have been down an hour ago, but oh well. Some things had a higher priority than food.

I sat at the table in front of what I assumed was my plate. The Brie was waxy inside the croissant, the eggs wilted, and the julienne peppers had lost whatever brightness they’d once had. Rodney began to brew another pot of coffee, apparently thinking the previous one was a lost cause.

I smiled at Spade. “Don’t worry, it’s room temperature. My favorite.”

I ate my food with a rush of appetite while Bones went with Spade to find a liquid breakfast. Once out of my eyesight, I heard Annette join them. Bodyguards. Since Mencheres was in the room next to the kitchen, I was covered. Besides, my money wasn’t on Rodney
being the turncoat. Or surprisingly, on the other vampire who glided in.

Vlad took a seat next to me, ignoring Rodney’s inhospitable glare.

“With the color back in your face,” Vlad observed, “Bones isn’t the only one who looks resurrected.”

I leaned back to sip my coffee. He considered the cup in front of me with a sardonic smile.

“Ah, a hot cup of caffeine. You must need it after yet again another night without sleep.”

I felt color burn on my cheeks. Vlad chuckled, picking daintily at his fingernails.

“Really, Cat, you shouldn’t be so shocked. Soundproof isn’t mindproof, and telepathy travels through even the thickest walls. I could barely sleep myself with all the shouts going off in my head.”

Good God, I hadn’t considered that. This must be what it felt like to have someone find a sex tape of you.

“There goes your invitation to ever stay at our house,” I ground out, suddenly fascinated with my coffee cup. “Here I’d been thinking I almost liked you. I’m over it now.”

Vlad grinned, and it was wolfish and charming.

“And here I was lamenting the fact that the opportunity to extend our friendship had passed. I’m not a fool like the other one. You’ll never leave Bones. The boy should realize that and move on with his life.”

I stiffened. What his sentence told me was that Vlad, too, didn’t think Tate was the traitor. If he had, Vlad would know Tate wouldn’t have a future to worry about.

“I owe you.”

Vlad’s expression turned serious just as quickly as
the change in topic. “You would, normally. In this case, however, it’s a debt of mine settled and requires no payment from you.”

“Come on, Vlad, you’re breaking character. Magnanimous isn’t your best color.”

He smiled. “Quite correct. You said before you read about my historical account? Then you know that I was married. At a battle near my home, I was struck in the head. It would have been a deathblow, but I’d been a vampire for several weeks. Dawn came, and I slept as all new vampires do, my forehead still caked with blood. My men assumed I’d been slain. A soldier ran to my house to inform my wife of my demise. You know what happened next.”

Yes, I did. She jumped to her death from their castle roof, thinking to spare herself from enemy captivity or worse.

And almost six hundred years later, Vlad had stepped in to help prevent me from doing the same thing.

That scarred hand slid across the table to mine. “My wife stood alone on that roof when I should have been there. I hadn’t told her what I was. Already I’d horrified her by what I’d done to keep my people safe, I was afraid that my no longer being human would drive a deeper wedge between us. I’d planned on telling her the truth in time…but all at once there was no more time. Since she’s been gone, I’ve done many more things she would have been revolted over, yet on that day with you…I felt her smile at me. I haven’t felt that in a very long time.”

Abruptly he stood. “Don’t squander what you have. If you do, you’ll spend the rest of your days regretting it. Bones should never be afraid to show you all he is,
even though he’s an uppity street peasant who’s been gifted far and away over what he deserves.”

This last part was louder, because Bones was on his way back from the sound of the measured stride heading toward us. I smiled up at Vlad wryly.

“Petty, aren’t you?”

“Of course. Along with my many other despicable qualities. But, Catherine…” He leaned closer until only I could hear him. “I would have never let you jump.”

Vlad left right after that, taking the other exit from the kitchen to avoid running into Bones. This time I thought it was less because of their mutual dislike and more that he wanted to avoid more of his gratitude. Like it was pesky to be reminded he’d done a good deed.

Bones came in the kitchen, glancing from Vlad’s retreating figure back to me. Then he rolled his eyes.

“Blimey, Kitten, don’t tell me you like that conceited sod?”

A smile tugged at my mouth.

“Yeah, I kind of do.”

Last night Bones had assured me Tate was being held comfortably and not subjected to any abuse. When I saw him in the tiny cell that was best described as a dungeon, I was furious.

“This is your idea of comfortable? What’s a little cramped to you, the seventh ring of hell?”

Bones didn’t flinch at my scalding tone. He considered the manacled and bloodied form welded to the wall in front of us.

“He’s not being injured, just restrained. The blood on him is no doubt just from last night. While he
might have preferred a soft bed and a nice neck to sip from, it’s hardly grievous torment considering what he’s done.”

This was said in a clear, biting tone that would have been easily overheard by anyone eavesdropping. I resisted the urge to demand Tate be taken down. After all, there was still a real betrayer on the loose, and we didn’t know who it was.

“You’re the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.”

It was muttered with nothing less than hatred from Tate. His eyes were pure emerald as they blazed at Bones.

Bones laughed. “You know, mate, when I woke up this morning with her sleeping in my arms, I did indeed feel very lucky.”

Tate cursed him, straining against his clamps.

Ian chuckled and clapped a hand across Bones’s back. He’d been the guard last night.

“Bloke’s scorched you up one side and down the other since you came back, Crispin. I’ve had a right enjoyable time listening to it. Ah, Rodney, is it your turn now? Good, I’m knackered.”

“Thank you, Ian, take your rest. I’ll speak to you later.”

Although Ian didn’t make the top two, or even three, Bones put him high on the list of the remaining people who he didn’t think tried to kill him. I thought Ian was capable of it, but Bones disagreed. Since Tate was a liability to whomever really did it, we had to have reliable guards on him.

The area cleared of everyone but Rodney, Bones, Tate, and me. We were underground in a sealed section with just one way in or out. This would be our only chance to talk, because afterward, it wouldn’t
seem plausible. But now, it made sense that I’d want to confront Bones’s Judas.

“How could you do it, Tate?” I asked. Sound traveled well with that echoing hallway leading to this room, so whispering would have been too obvious.

“I hate him, but it wasn’t me,” Tate replied.

I withdrew a small notepad and pen from under my sweater. Tate watched warily. I nodded to Rodney, who unshackled one of his arms from its clamp. Letting him all the way out would have made too much noise, and Bones was still being cautious. He didn’t want Tate loose around me, not trusting if he’d rather see me dead than with him. He still thought Tate was guilty no matter how I disagreed.

I quickly scrawled some words onto the paper and held it up for Tate to see.

I believe you.

Tears came to his eyes. It was all I could do not to hug him and tell him it would be okay. He jerked his head and Rodney brought him the pen, holding the pad up so he could write.

“See, I don’t believe you, mate.”

Bones said it with no lack of venom, and anyone overhearing would have thought it was him answering Tate’s denial to me. Rodney gave a disgusted glance at the page Tate wrote on before he passed it to me.

Love you, Cat

“I don’t give a shit what you believe, you sneaky English slut,” is what he said to Bones.

Well, we wanted this to sound authentic
, I thought ironically.
At least that’s covered.

“Want to know what I think, dickhead?” Tate went on. “I think you faked your death to send her into a spiral of grief, and then you miraculously reappeared with the guy you hate to blame it all on. You’ve wanted an excuse to kill me ever since you came back in her life. Got sick of waiting, didn’t you?”

I blinked. Tate sure went the other way in coming up with an explanation.

Bones gave a rude snort. “Think I’d hurt her like that just to kill you? Imbecile.”

This is not why we’re here!
I wrote and waved it in front of Bones, forgetting in my agitation that I could just think it at him.

Bones didn’t even pause to look. “You’re not strong enough for her by half, mate. Faith, conspiring to have me murdered is the most impressive thing you’ve done. Stick to your story that it wasn’t you? Then you’re right back in that forgotten place where she’ll never notice you. So which are you, a betrayer or a pathetic loser?”

It was a trick question, of course. One answer would have him dead and the other, according to Bones’s scathing analogy, emotionally dismissed. There were several points of contention I wanted to argue with him about, but that would wait until later.

Tate glowered at him with even more fury than before, which was saying something. Bones waited with a mocking curl to his lips. I was still scribbling on the notepad when Tate spoke.

“Just let’s be clear about one thing—if you kill me, it won’t be because I did this. I didn’t rat you out to Patra, though thumbs-up to whoever did. If you kill
me, it’s because you’re afraid that if you don’t, one day you might watch her walk away with me. So right back at you, Crypt Keeper, what’s it gonna be?”

Dark brown eyes that could melt me were flat and icy now.

“I gave you the chance to own up to your deeds with dignity. You refused. Right then, we’ll have it your way. You’ll stay chained here, no food, no companionship, until hunger and solitude soften you up. We’ll see what you have to say again in a month or so. Let him be alone with his deceit and his spinelessness. In the meantime, I’ll be enjoying my wife’s company.”

Bones took my hand. I resisted long enough to hold up the messily written page and have Tate read it as Rodney chained his arm back into place.

“Don’t worry, Cat,” Tate said, with a touch of humor. “I’ll be right here.”

When Rodney closed the door behind us, I whirled on Bones.
Do you still think it’s him?
I demanded.

He stared at me with competing emotions across his face, none of them pleasant. Finally, he shook his head.

No.