Bloodline (4 page)

“Do you remember sleeping?”

My brows drew closer. “I was exhausted. I'd been running and running and—it was almost dawn, and I remember thinking I had to find a place before then.” I frowned and squeezed my eyes tighter. “What an odd thing.”

“It's not so odd,” he said. “Do you remember anything before you started running? Do you remember what you were running from?”

I tipped my head to one side as images assaulted me in tiny, insignificant bits that told me nothing. “I remember a tall fence. I remember thinking, ‘Don't touch.' I remember jumping it.” I smiled a little and shook my head. “That part had to be a dream.”

“Maybe. Go on. What about before the fence?”

I saw another flash, but it was brief. “A white room. Like a hospital room. And I…I have a blade. I'm…” My eyes flew open as shock jolted through me at what I had seen. The blade. My flesh. A spurting stream of blood.

“I cut my wrist!” And even as I said it, I turned my palms upward and stared at my wrists in search of the scars. “I must have been in some sort of…of asylum! I tried to kill myself. And then I ran away.” I searched his face. “I'm an escaped lunatic, Ethan. And where are the scars? There should be scars on my wrists, where are the—”

“You didn't escape from an asylum. And you didn't try to kill yourself, Lilith.”

“I didn't?” I shook my head, looking again at my wrists. “But…why would I cut myself like that? And where are the marks?” Meeting his gaze again, I said, “I'm not an ordinary person, am I, Ethan?”

“No. You're…like me.”

“I'm not like you. I'm not like anyone. I can outrun a deer. I did, when I ran away. I can see perfectly in the dark, and over vast distances. I can hear so well I think I can hear the grass growing. Seriously, sometimes I hear things…that aren't…audible.”

“Like…thoughts?” he asked.

I nodded. Then I blinked. “How do you know that?”

“Because you and I are the same, Lilith. We're not…exactly human.” He came to me, sat beside me on the sofa and took both my hands in his.

“And there's more about your new nature that you don't yet know. Bigger things than you've had a chance to figure out yet. It's going to be hard to understand, but I want you to hear me out and just try to keep an open mind.”

“All right.”

He nodded, licked his lips and held my hands more tightly. “We don't—well, we don't age, Lilith.”

I frowned as that statement sank into my brain and I tried to understand what it meant. A simple phrase.
We don't age.
And yet it couldn't mean what it seemed, on the surface, to mean.

“We only die if we bleed out, or if we're burned. Our bodies are extremely flammable. Open flame is dangerous to us. The sun, too, will roast us to death.”

“The
sun?
” I sat up straighter, pulling my hands free of his and letting the blanket fall from my shoulders. “That's ludicrous.”

“Any wounds we may suffer heal during the daytime. That's when we sleep. It's not by choice, mind you. We just lose consciousness when the sun comes up. We have to sleep where we're protected from it.”

I blew air through my teeth, relieved as I realized he was joking. It wasn't very funny, but maybe he just had a twisted sense of humor. I shook my head and smiled. “Next you'll tell me we subsist on human bloo—” I broke off there, as my eyes shot to the empty stein on the table. And I knew. I
knew.
I gagged and clapped my palm over my mouth.

“Don't,” he said. “You won't throw it up. There's some part of your mind that's repulsed by the notion, Lilith, but it's the part you let go of when your mortal life ended, the night you slit your wrists and let yourself bleed nearly to death before ingesting the blood of one of us to replenish you. To transform you.”

“That's insane. Where would I get the…the blood of one of you?”

“Some sort of lab—not from a living being, or you wouldn't have had to cut your own wrists or go on the run on your own. Of course, I'm only guessing. How you got
this way, I can't be sure. But I know what you are, Lilith. You, the woman you are now, are not sickened at the thought of drinking blood. You need it. You crave it. You relish it.

“You're a vampire, Lilith. And so am I.”

A vampire. It was insane. It couldn't be real.

But even as he said it, he pulled something from one of his pockets and held it out to me. It was a small round mirror, with a little wire hanger on it. He must have gotten it when he'd been in the kitchen getting me my…beverage.

I didn't move as he offered it to me.

“Go ahead. You're not going to believe me until you see proof. So take a look, Lilith. You cast no reflection. And while you're at it, feel your incisors. Or just take a look at mine.”

He bared his teeth, and I sucked in a sharp breath and jerked backward. But even as I did, my tongue was exploring my own teeth and finding the same thing I'd seen in him. My eyeteeth were slightly elongated, pointed—and razor sharp. I met his eyes and had the feeling he knew what I had just discovered, and then I stood and reached for the mirror with a trembling hand.

I held it away from me and looked into it to be sure it reflected other things. The throw pillows, the dancing flames, the painting of Lilith above the hearth. It did.

Swallowing hard, I tipped the mirror slowly toward my face. And then I blinked, because I wasn't there. The mirror reflected the wall behind me, but not me. I lifted a forefinger and moved it back and forth in front of the mirror. But there was no image reflected there.

My hands went numb, and the mirror fell to the floor and shattered.

E
than had watched the reactions cross Lilith's beautiful face as he'd revealed, bit by bit, the truth to her. First there had been confusion, followed quickly by amusement when she finally got the gist of what he was trying to tell her—but thought he was making a joke.

But even then, there had been something more, something lying beneath it all. Some instinctive, living part of her being that recognized the truth when she heard it. And as he went on, slowly, ruthlessly, convincing her,
showing
her, her expression had turned to one of disbelief and then, as she gaped at the glass, to one of horror.

As the mirror fell, her body sank heavily, all at once, onto the sofa. She didn't fall, but she didn't sit down, either. She just…let go, landing hard on the cushions, her head hanging, eyes unfocused, gazing at nothing.

“Lilith…” he began as he moved closer, knelt in front of her, wished he could have found an easier way to tell her what she was.

“I knew,” she whispered. “I mean, part of me knew. It didn't even sound untrue when you said it.” Then she
snapped her gaze up to his, focusing at last. “How did you know? Do you know me, Ethan?”

He averted his eyes. “Vampires can sense other vampires. I knew what you were before I ever set eyes on you in the stable. What I didn't know was whether you had come here to kill me.”

“You keep saying that. Why?” she asked.

He sat in the chair again and let his own head fall forward as he rubbed the back of his neck and wrestled with his conscience. How much should he tell her? Because the thing was, he
did
know her. Though they'd had almost no interaction at The Farm, he knew her. He'd watched her, seen her, learned her nature. Her reaction, once she remembered, would be as predictable as her need for blood, her aversion to sunlight.

She would go back. He
knew
she would.

“I need to know,” Lilith said softly. “If there are vampires out there hunting down and killing other vampires, then don't you think I need to know?”

“You'll be safe as long as you stay here.” His head came up then, and he plumbed her eyes and her mind at once. “And as long as you aren't lying to me.”

“I've told you everything that's happened since I woke up beneath that bridge. It feels to me as if I were born in that moment.”

He tipped his head to one side, ran a hand over his chin. “I suspect you were.”

“What do you mean?”

“I believe, Lilith, that you were made over into a vampire, just prior to this…sleep. I think it likely that you awoke to your new life tonight for the very first time.”

“Do vampires normally forget everything that came before?”

He shrugged. “I didn't. And I've never exactly…known any other vampires.”

She flinched when he said that, her head jerking slightly to the left as her eyes squeezed tight.

“What? What is it?”

Brows furrowed, she pinched the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. “A flash, maybe. I don't know.”

“A memory?”

She opened her eyes and speared him with her steady gaze. “I saw a person—at least I think it was a person, though it looked more like a decomposing corpse. It was bound in chains, and I felt its agony. And that was all.”

He tipped his head to one side, studying her and wondering what horrors she had seen at The Farm that he had not.

“Do you know what it could mean?” she asked.

He shook his head slowly. “No, I don't.”

“What
do
you know about our kind?”

How could he answer that? He only knew the Chosen—the captives who, like the two of them, had been raised at The Farm. Everything he knew of vampires had been taught to him by the keepers. And he didn't trust them—he never had. But as he thought it over, he wondered. If amnesia
was
a common aftereffect of being made over, that would explain why he'd never heard from James in all this time. Maybe his brother didn't remember him.

“But then, why all the training and education? Why teach us things we're only going to forget?” he muttered.

“What are you talking about?”

He snapped his gaze back to hers, aware he'd journeyed deeply into his own mind. “Nothing,” he said. “Just…thinking aloud.”

“Oh.” She stiffened her spine. “That's not the only…flash of memory I've had,” she told him.

He looked at her and tried not to show her that the revelation startled him a bit. Hell, it wasn't as if he honestly wished her memory were gone forever. He just needed some time—to figure things out.

“I…remember kissing—or being kissed by—a man.” She blinked, but didn't avert her eyes from his. “It felt like you.”

“But we've only just met,” he told her.

“Have we?”

Clearing his throat, he got to his feet, feeling fidgety. “I need to go back to the stable. I was on my way to tend the horses when I found you.”

She nodded, then turned her back to him and walked toward the fireplace, leaning one hand on the mantel, lowering her head so that her hair fell as suddenly as a curtain falling across a stage. It was as if she were already alone in the room.

“You can come with me, if you like.”

Without moving at all, she said, “I'll stay, if you don't mind. I have a lot to…process.”

“All right.” He started for the door, then paused, because he hadn't covered half what he needed to. And he wasn't certain how he could, not without revealing everything, something he wasn't confident enough of her motives to do yet. “Lilith, that car you encountered—the Escalade. Are you sure it didn't follow you here?”

“I'm sure.”

Two words. He hoped she meant them. “If you need me…” he began.

“I'll open the door and shout.”

No need. Just…shout at me with your mind. I'll hear you.

Her head rose slowly, and she turned toward him, blinking in surprise. “You will?”

Now that she was looking at him, she would know for sure he wasn't speaking aloud. This was a skill she needed, and one of the easiest to master—over short distances, at least, and with a willing partner.

It's one of the benefits of being…what we are, Lilith.
He spoke to her clearly, without saying a word, and as she watched, her eyes sharpened with interest.
One of many,
he added.
It's not a bad thing, being immortal. Not at all.

As he watched her closely, she closed her eyes, and then he heard her thinking,
But we aren't really immortal, are we?

He smiled. “It depends on how we define the word, I suppose,” he said aloud. “Take care around the fire.”

She smiled, apparently pleased that he'd heard and answered her question. That she could speak to him with no more than a thought. He actually thought there might have a been a glimmer of the old light in her eyes.

“Thank you for taking me in, Ethan.”

“You're very welcome,” he said. And he meant it.

Because, after all, Lilith was the only thing about The Farm that he'd regretted leaving behind. He'd thought of her so much that he'd been unable to keep himself from buying the Waterhouse print when he'd seen it. Because it reminded him of her. Of Lilith. She'd been nineteen
when he'd left, and already notorious. Everyone knew who she was.

She was the one they couldn't break. She was the one who would rather die than submit. She was the voice of his conscience whenever he closed his eyes long enough to listen. She was the face he couldn't stop seeing in his mind, the name he heard on the wind.

She was the one kiss he had never been able to forget.

He hadn't named her Lilith because
she
reminded him of the print. He'd bought the print because
it
reminded him of
her,
right down to her name.

She
was
Lilith.

And somehow, she had found him.

He was going to have to make her tell him how.

21 Years Ago

The taxi dropped Serena off in front of a cracker-box house in a neighborhood full of cracker-box houses and pulled away. She'd never felt more alone.

It wasn't a new sensation, of course. Serena had always been alone. She'd been orphaned at nineteen and had been making her own way ever since, waiting tables at the Broadway Grill, living in her tiny apartment in the low-rent district. On her own. That was how it had always been. The one-night stand that had resulted in the pregnancy had been just that. A one-night stand. A stranger in a bar on a particularly bad night when she'd been too depressed to want to go to bed alone. She didn't even know his name.

But for the last nine months, she hadn't felt lonely at all. She'd had her baby daughter growing inside her. She'd talked to her. She'd laughed with her. She'd sung
to her and read her stories. Then she'd given birth to her—and someone had stolen her away.

It wasn't fair.

She'd briefly considered going back to her own apartment. Her own job. Her own life. Until she'd seen the one person who had tried to help her blown to bits in her own car.

Now Serena was scared. She was angry, and she was grieving the loss of her baby, but fear had layered itself over both those emotions. She'd given her name and address, her employer and insurance information, when she'd checked into the hospital. She wasn't going back home, not until she knew exactly what was going on. It might not be safe.

So she stood in front of the little house staring down at the key chain from the knapsack and wondered briefly if this had been Maureen Keenan's home. If it was, and if Maureen had been killed because she'd tried to help her, then wouldn't those dark killers know where she lived? Wouldn't they be watching?

Serena turned and looked around. There were other houses just like this one lining both sides of the smooth, narrow, perfectly paved road. There were little maple trees spaced at regular intervals along both sides. There was a sidewalk unrolling in front of the houses, not a chip or a crack in it.

A few cars were parked in a few driveways. None along the curb. None with anyone lurking inside. There were swing sets and tricycles in several yards. The place looked for all the world like a cozy, friendly, safe little neighborhood. No faces peered out through parted curtains as far as she could see. Maybe it would be safe to go inside.

Drawing a breath, she went up the perfect little sidewalk to the front door, knocked and awaited an answer that never came. So, with hands that trembled, she slipped the key into the lock, turned it and opened the door.

The house was dark, but it wasn't empty. She didn't know why no one had answered the door, but she could feel another's presence. And along with that feeling, there were the aromas. She smelled something hot and rich, and her stomach growled.

She looked through the darkened room she had entered to the rectangle of light that was an open doorway at the far end. A woman's form stepped into that opening, no more than a dark silhouette.

“Serena?” the shadow asked softly, but the tone of her voice said she already knew.

“Yes.”

“And where is Maureen?”

Serena got the feeling that the faceless woman already knew what her response to that question would be, as well. “I…got off the bus where she told me. And she was there, in her car, and she waved to me….” She spoke faster than she should have, her tempo increasing as she went on. “I started to cross the street, and then her car, it just—it just—exploded. And she was…she was gone. She was just gone, and I couldn't—”

Her throat closed too tightly to let her go on, and she tipped her head back, eyes focused on the ceiling as she tried to swallow, tried not to just burst into the hysterical tears she felt pushing at the gates to get through.

She heard the woman's footsteps coming closer. Felt a hand on her shoulder and lowered her head to see a pair
of kind eyes brimming with tears, an attractive face with full lips that trembled and high cheekbones that seemed pale in the insufficient light.

“I'm so sorry,” Serena said, and sniffled hard. “She was your friend, wasn't she?”

“She was…more than a friend. She was a sister. Not by blood, but…well, hell, you'll understand soon enough.”

“Why was she killed?” Serena's stomach clenched, and she tried to quell the sickness writhing inside her. “Was it because she tried to help me?”

“She knew exactly what she was risking, Serena.” The stranger squeezed Serena's shoulder and spoke these words firmly, as if they were very important. “This…this situation is way bigger than just you or your baby. You bear no responsibility for what happened to Maureen. Even if she had known what the outcome would be, she would have done exactly the same thing.”