Blood Life Seeker (36 page)

Michel was standing right in the centre of the room, facing the door. As if he had expected me to open it that instant. Or maybe he had just sensed me approaching, sensed me on the other side of the door and had just stood and gone to that position, but part of me felt like he had been standing there for a while. For a very long while.

I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, looking at him. It was harder than I had imagined. It hurt more than I could have guessed. Neither of us spoke.

The silence stretched out between us like a giant canyon, all full of shadows and unseen things.

I wasn't the first to break, not that that had been my intention. It just happened that way.

“You came back.”

I nodded, still not trusting myself to speak.

“I did not think you would.”

How could I have not come back? He was still my kindred vampire. I was still joined to him, Bonded to him. How could I have not come back?

“I am sorry.”

And there, he had said it. And it wasn't what I wanted to hear. Despite having seen it with my own eyes, or at least in my own mind, a part of me had wanted him to say
it wasn't how it looked, nothing happened, I didn't turn to another and cast you aside.
But he'd said it now. He'd apologised. That meant it was true. He had done it and there was nothing I could do now to change that. I slid down the door and sat on the floor in an undignified pile.

No tears. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction, but my legs could no longer hold me and I was too far away from a chair to sit down. Stuff it. The floor would do.

He took a step towards me and stopped, hand raised slightly, as though he was reaching for me. It hung in the air between us, not moving, just reaching, as though he would reach for me for eternity and never quite bridge that gap.

“There is no excuse for what I have done, but please let me explain.”

I let a breath of air out. I think it was in indignation, but it was short and quiet and didn't have the force behind it, that it should have. I suddenly couldn't breathe.

“I knew what I was doing.” A little noise escaped my lips then, but I firmly closed them, tightly, determined to not let more noises betray me further. Michel looked pained. “I knew that I didn't want to do it. I just couldn't remember why. The only thing that broke through the fog was when I sensed you, realising that you could see me...and then I...I woke to where I was, what I must have done. I woke to find her in the bed next to me. I am so sorry, so, so sorry,
ma douce
.”

Don't call me ma douce.

He winced. “Lucinda, please. You must hear me, please. I do not know what came over me. I cannot explain. If I could change the past few hours I would, believe me. I would rather die than hurt you.”

I let a little laugh out.
You dying would hurt me, you idiot.

He smiled slightly, tried not to, but failed. He did manage to banish the smile with effort after a few seconds though. Pain tracing familiar patterns across his face again.

“What is the Nemesis?”

He hadn't expected my first words spoken to him to be those. The look of surprise and confusion on his face spoke volumes.

“He is a who, not a what.”

“Who is he then?” Somehow it felt easier to talk of something else, something less painful. I knew I was ignoring the big issue here, but there was only so much a girl could bear at once.

“He is an
Iunctio
council member. He is their Force of Will.”

“What does that mean?” Short sentences have always been my downfall. When I'm angry, I say less and less, giving myself away to whomever I am talking to. Strangely though, right now I didn't so much feel angry, as hurt. There is a difference, but clearly my ability to carry a more complex conversation didn't differentiate. So, short sentences it was.

“Whenever the
Iunctio
chooses a more nefarious path of retribution, they will engage his skill. They believe his ability to force what is due, is a just punishment. It can take many forms, but usually it involves making people choose a path they would not normally take, making them do something they would regret.” He stopped then, obviously comprehending what it was he was saying. “
Mon dieu
.” He quickly sat down on the couch. “The Nemesis has been influencing our decisions. How did you know this?”

“
I didn't. Gregor said to
ask you about the Nemesis
. He said you'd understand.”

“Then he suspected.” He looked up at me then, a strange look on his face I couldn't decipher. “Did you...?” I don't think he wanted to finish that question. Whether or not it was because he didn't truly want to know the answer, or perhaps because he didn't think he had a right to ask. Whatever reason, he couldn't go on.

“Did I do something I would regret with Gregor?” I finished it for him.

He swallowed. “Forgive me, I have no right to ask.”

“Yes you do. Just like I have a right to be angry with you now.” Strangely though, I still wasn't angry with him, just hurt. Hurt can be a big emotion, sometimes it just smothers everything else.

My voice was a whisper when I finally spoke. “I almost did. If it hadn't been for Gregor, I would have. He stopped us. He broke through my shields and put me to sleep. He said I had been bespelled and he had to use tremendous force to overcome it.” At least it was getting easier to speak to Michel. Despite the topic, my sentences were no longer short.

“
Dieu merci!
” The fact that more and more French was seeping into Michel's language was a sure-fire indication of just how close to the edge he was. He normally had much better control than this.

“If he could fight it, why couldn't you?” I hadn't meant to say that out loud, it just popped into my head and blurted out my mouth and I so wish I could have taken it back, because it made me sound weak. It made me sound desperate and I so did not want to be either of those. I am a vampire hunter, for God's sake, I should be stronger than this.

Michel didn't look at me when he answered. “Could you have stopped if not for Gregor's intervention? He was not bespelled, my dear,
we
both were. I did not have someone with me strong enough to fight a spell.”

No. You had someone with you who would have done
anything
,
anything
at all, that you so desired. A human donor under the influence of a master vampire while he feeds. I felt a little sick and by the look on his face, he did too.

I couldn't help his conscience, I had my own to defend.

Part of me realised that this was an opportunity to forgive Michel. He had been under the influence of an
Iunctio
council member, of the Nemesis, but I just couldn't make that leap of faith, not today, not when it hurt too much still. Don't the vamps always say the punishment lies with the offence? It doesn't matter why you did something, or how it came about. Even if the Nemesis could be punished for what he made Michel do, under vampire law, he wouldn't be.
The punishment lies with the offence
. The punishment was Michel's to bear. I may not be a vampire, but even I am affected by their laws. That didn't stop me from wanting this Nemesis dead.

How many more of the
Iunctio
members would I wish dead before this visit was over?

My backside was getting a little numb sitting on the carpeted floor. It might have been plush, but it was still the floor. I wanted to move to an armchair, to something more comfortable, not to mention more dignified, but I didn't know how to make my body obey my commands. I just sighed and it sounded so defeated, so sad.

Life could be a bitch sometimes, couldn't it? I loved Michel, I still loved him, but he had done something to hurt me, something he couldn't take back. But... he had done it without intent. He may have chosen to feed on another, but that was because I had denied him my blood. It was a practical requirement, he wasn't to know a stunning female donor would turn up at our door. Perhaps the Nemesis had, perhaps he had even arranged that. But the bottom line was Michel had not slept with her because he wished to hurt me. He hadn't even slept with her because he wanted to, at least not consciously. He'd slept with her because someone else made him believe it was right. And if he felt any of what I had been feeling when around Gregor the past few hours, then he would have wanted it, needed it, like a drug addict craves his fix.

Did this make a difference to how I was now feeling?

Yes. No. Maybe.

I hadn't realised he had moved, he was now standing in front of me, his hand stretched out, waiting for me to take it. He was stunning as always, dressed in a black shirt and black trousers, his more casual wear, the one that gets me so hot so easily. I knew he'd chosen it on purpose. It made me a little angry, but only because he knew me so well and could manipulate me with such ease because of it. So, crunch time. Do I take his hand and perhaps move on from this horrible place we were now in? Not erase it, but maybe allow it to move from the centre of our heart, to the side; a manageable but peripheral home, for such negative emotions.

I've always been a practical person. It's who I am, how I was raised. You don't live your formative years on a working farm, surrounded by adorable, lovable lambs and live through their slaughter every summer without becoming practical. I like the taste of lamb, I can't have my cake and eat it too. So I am practical. The lamb is cute while it is in the field, it is food when it walks up the ramp onto the truck destined for the abattoir.

So, how does that apply to this situation? Michel did what he did when influenced by another. Now he was standing in front of me, holding his hand out, asking me to let him back in. We had a long night ahead of us. If the Champion had orchestrated this little episode, had employed the skills of the Nemesis in the hopes of throwing us off balance, thereby making us act inappropriately at the dinner tonight and perhaps making a fatal mistake, she didn't know me well. Actually, she didn't know me at all.

I reached up and took his hand. It felt warm and soft and right, like a piece of me had been missing and that small touch brought it all back, made it all fall into its rightful place. Michel pulled me up to stand in front of him. He looked uncertain, not sure what to do next. I didn't want to make things easier for him, he hadn't made it easy for me, but then I am practical and together we were stronger than apart.

I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my head in his chest, allowing myself to indulge in the smell of him, letting that fresh clean cut grass and salty sea air wash over me. It didn't take away the pain, but it did dull it, replacing that raw hurt with a small amount of home. It might not be enough in the long run, but it was just enough right now, to keep me going.

He hesitated, his hands hovering over me, then sighed and let them run through my hair, over my back, up my arms and onto my neck.

“
Merci, ma douce, merci. Je t'aime tellement, si
très
beaucoup
.”

We stood like that for perhaps five minutes, both unable to pull away and break the delicate, fragile spell our closeness had woven. I didn't think it mended the break in my heart, but it did manage to cover it. To put it somewhere out of sight, somewhere where it might just be able to heal all on its own. I hoped so, I really did. I loved this man.

Finally Michel spoke first. “We must get ready for the dinner. They will call for us before too much longer.”

I nodded against his chest, still unable to let go. I'm not normally a clingy person, but I just couldn't undo my hands, which were clasped at the back of him. Firmly locked together.

He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I am not going anywhere,
ma douce
. You can let go.”

“I don't want to.” I sounded like a frightened child. “What is going to happen tonight? The Champion can make us lose all inhibitions, make us practically crawl all over each other in lust, right in front of everyone. The Nemesis can make us do whatever it is we don't want to do. How can we face them and survive?”

“I do not wish to add to your fears, but there are more on the council who could do us harm, not just the Champion or the Nemesis.”

I shuddered against him. This was futile, we were walking into a trap.

“Yes, we are, but what other choice do we have?”

I shook my head, he was right, but there had to be a way to be stronger, to be able to stand against their attacks. I couldn't give up, not yet.

I was obviously projecting my thoughts, because it was as if Michel could hear every word, just like Gregor could.

“There is a way we could be stronger.” His voice was uncertain, soft, tentative. Almost as though he feared what my reaction was going to be.

“Spill it, Michel. Just say it.”

“
You could mark me, if we both shared
Sigillum
our Bond would be even greater. Greater than any other connection possible. They would have trouble breaching our minds.”