Deadly Captive (22 page)

Nothing left to do but nod, I watched him turn away. Something nagged at the back of my mind. "Daederich?"

He stopped but didn't turn. "What?"

I swallowed and focused on his back. "Who's the little boy?"

Daederich turned, eyes dark and full of rage and bitterness. "Alrik." His lips drew into a hard line. "He's my son."

For a long while, I didn't move. Not even after he left the room, closing the door behind him. His son. I knew now how very lucky I was to be alive.

Confusion took me over, but it didn't last. For some reason, I had assumed the words Cyrus had spoken after killing Mary had meant Daederich didn't have children.

That was obviously not the case. Picturing the little boy in my mind, I could see the resemblance. It was a bit of a stretch, likening the sweet child to the hard man. The eyes were the most telling. Alrik had his father's eyes, lacking only the steel edge that had nothing to do with color.

I poured myself a glass of the brandy that had been left on a small round tray on the table by the bed. Draining it without really tasting it, I refilled the glass and sat on the edge of the bed. It occurred to me what a mess I'd made. If Daederich hadn't hated me already for my thoughtless accusations, he would certainly hate me now. And I couldn't blame him.

The door opened and a tall woman with pinched features and black hair streaked with grey walked in. She stopped a few feet into the room, waiting to be acknowledged. I stood and stepped forward, then stopped. My eyes narrowed.

"You must be, Lydia." Her tone was sharp. She didn't like me either.

"Yeah. Who are you?" I felt like a wayward child, standing there with my arms crossed. There was no way I was going to pull off her dignified stance, so I didn't change my hostile bearing.

She looked down her nose at me, smoothing her hands over her pale peach skirts. "Daederich would like you to gather your things and meet him downstairs. You won't be staying after all."

Grinding my teeth, I gave a curt nod. Seeing I had no more to say, the woman turned and left. Battling with the irritating inclination I had to stick my tongue out at the closed door, I got dressed and grabbed my bag. Never would I admit it out loud but I admitted it to myself. My instant dislike of the woman had more to do with her resemblance to the boy than her snooty attitude. She must be the boy's mother. And, because of it, I was jealous.

Irritated with my own shameful feelings, I buried them with everything else I didn't want to think about. The shallow grave of emotions was getting harder to ignore, and it was making me into someone I didn't much like. I determined to keep repressing whatever emotions I could. If these feelings were part of the old me—the me before I'd lost all my memories—then I was happy to have lost them.

I made my way down the hall, descending the stairs slowly, not anxious to see Daederich again after almost attacking his son. The crying I heard as I reached the bottom of the steps halted me. I watched Daederich step through an open doorway across the great room. Alrik was clinging to him.

Crouching down, Daederich said something to the boy in a foreign language.

Alrik shook his head, refusing to let go. The woman entered from another part of the house and walked briskly toward them. Picking the boy up, she pulled him away from his father. Daederich looked torn.

"Just go, Daederich, I'll handle this." The woman wrestled with the boy, looking exasperated when Daederich didn't move.

"Padre! Please don't go!" A sob broke out of the little boy. I wasn't sure what was going on, but his tear-streaked little face was breaking my heart.

Daederich took a step forward. "Alrik, I must. I . . . ."

The woman turned so the boy was out of reach of his father. "Yes, you must.

Now, go before you make things worse than you already have."

One look at Daederich's crushed expression, and I wanted to tear the woman to pieces. Stepping away from the stairs, I glared at her. "You've got some fucking nerve."

The woman sneered at me. "I fail to see how this is any of your business."

It wasn't, and I knew it. Lips parted, I tried to come up with something clever to say. Words failed me when I realized Daederich hadn't heard either of us. He was still staring at his son.

Alrik, just as deaf to the exchange, was still trying to free himself. "Padre, I'll be good. I promise. I'll eat my broccoli, I won't cry about the monsters at night anymore . . .

please . . . ."

Daederich rubbed his hand over his face. "Alrik, you are good."

The woman set Alrik down and took a firm hold of his shoulders. "Perhaps you should worry about the monsters."

Frowning, Daederich stepped forward. Alrik shoved the woman and ducked under her arms. He ran to his father.

Daederich lifted him up and held him close. "One day, it may be safe again, little man. You know daddy's job is dangerous."

The woman stood and tugged the wrinkles roughly from her dress. "It's not about your job this time."

Jaw clenched tight Daederich gave her a dark look. "Save your spite for another time, Sarah. My son doesn't need to hear it."

Sarah made a face. Shaking her head, she turned and walked away, heels clicking as she disappeared around a far corner of the room.

Wilson cleared his throat. We all looked at him. "Master Alrik, if you would, chef asked to see you. She has prepared tarts and ice cream and requests your expert opinion."

Alrik grinned, gave his father a quick squeeze, and wriggled out of his arms, sprinting out of sight. Daederich stared after him. Wilson approached, putting his hand on Daederich's arm.

"It is for the best, sir. Sarah does have a great deal of affection for him, and you know the staff will see him well cared for." He handed Daederich a folded piece of paper. "The information you requested."

Daederich gave a curt nod, took the paper, and turned to the door. He glanced toward me as though suddenly realizing I was there. "Come on, Lydia."

Brow furrowed I approached him. "Just like that, you're leaving?"

He scowled at me. "Yes. Just like that. Did you really expect me to stick around, considering the danger I pose to my own child?"

I bit my lip. "You mean the danger I pose." I inhaled roughly. "If I go—"

Daederich curved his hand under my elbow and propelled me toward the door.

"No. You may have less control than I do, but that doesn't make me any less dangerous." His lips twisted. "Besides, Alrik is accustomed to me leaving. He'll be fine."

I remembered then what Sarah had said. Daederich had stayed away before because of his job. It hadn't sounded like an absolute necessity, more like a precaution.

His leaving because of what he'd become had a much more permanent feel. He was hoping Alrik wouldn't notice. Perhaps his every departure had been the same. The boy wanted him to stay, but eventually gave in, knowing he would return. Young as he was, he'd been distracted, but it seemed he had sensed something was different.

Daederich, however, didn't have the luxury of letting treats clear his mind. It bowled me over to think that he'd come here for the sole intent of saying "goodbye" to his son. Why come at all if it was just to put them both through the pain of parting?

After a short hesitation, I asked.

Daederich got us out onto the main road before answering. His grip was tight on the steering wheel as he spoke. "That wasn't my plan. I'd been gone for a long time; I wanted to see him. The fact that Wilson is invaluable at finding leads was another strong motivation." He cleared his throat. "Sarah made the suggestion when she noticed the changes in me."

Arms crossed, I leaned back in my seat. "So the mother gets the final say?"

Brow creased in consternation, Daederich glanced toward me. "Sarah's not his mother. She's his aunt. His mother's dead."

My lips parted. "Oh." I jammed them shut and swallowed. "I'm sorry . . . ."

He shrugged it off. "Don't be. Laura and I had a brief fling. Alrik was…

unexpected." He smiled, making it clear the surprise hadn't been the least bit unwelcome. "Neither of us wanted to give up our careers, and we both wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. The living arrangements were for convenience."

Hiding my relief, I nodded slowly. So he wasn't still hung up on his lost love; there hadn't been one. Then I frowned at myself. That didn't mean he still loved me I'd effectively burned that bridge.

"No, you haven't," Daederich said absently.

My head rose slowly. "What?"

Daederich glanced my way. "You haven't burned any bridges. I just need time to figure things out."

Eyes narrowed, I slid away from him, as far as I could go in the confines of the car. "Daederich."

He looked at me again. "What?"

I turned my back on him, staring out the window. I could see the concern in his face through the reflection of the window. "Stay the fuck out of my head."

I heard the steering wheel squeak, then silence. His words echoed around within my skull.
You haven't burned any bridges.

I haven't? Let's try some kerosene then. I'm sure it'll catch this time
.

Bag in hand, I stood there as he struggled for the words. I didn't want to hear them. They changed nothing. He was abandoning me. Not that I could blame him. I didn't much want to be around me either. Unfortunately, only one of us had a choice.

The terminal around us buzzed with the passing of happy, busy travelers. They didn't notice us. Actually, they probably couldn't see us. Daederich had taught himself to deflect the vision of those weak-minded, sweet-blooded creatures we now stood apart from. This ability to make himself invisible was apparently another one of the mental powers that came with being vampire and that we were learning as we went along. But I hadn't gotten the hang of it yet.

"I'll give you a number to contact me in case—" He reached into his pocket.

I grabbed his wrist. "Don't bother."

He looked up. "Lydia."

Shaking my head, I dropped my hand and took a step back. "No, Daederich. We might as well make it a clean break. I don't need you. You don't need me. There's really nothing else that needs to be said."

Grinding his teeth, taking a deep breath, Daederich stepped forward. "Lydia, you're better off without me."

I laughed, cutting him off before he could continue. I couldn't do this. It hurt too much. As was becoming typical for me, I lashed out. "Just like your son, right, Daederich?"

Fists clenched at his side, he gave a curt nod, turned, and walked away. I watched him disappear into the crowds. I was alone. Utterly alone. It was exactly what I had been pushing for.

So, why did I feel like I would collapse to the floor and lie there until either he came back or I lost my will to live?

Shaking my head, I squared my shoulders and went outside to hail a cab. After giving the driver the name of the hotel where Daederich had secured a reservation, I sat back, watching the buildings pass without really seeing them. The choice had been clear. I knew that. There was no way I could stay with Daederich and surrender my will to him. He already had my heart and soul. I couldn't afford to lose anything else.

The information Wilson had supplied Daederich with had been the number to a PI, a discreet, efficient man named Carlos who'd been hired for the sole purpose of linking me to my past. I hadn't wanted any part of it, at first, but, as the distance grew between Daederich and me, the idea of a tangible connection, with anybody, had become an obsession. I wanted someone who wouldn't want to leave me behind. I'd convinced myself my family wouldn't. The fact that Daederich didn't seem to have a problem distancing himself from his own blood didn't sway me. That was Daederich.

My father would want me. My father wouldn't see me as an inconvenience.

I told myself this, again and again, as I sat in my hotel room, staring blankly at the wall. How could my father not want me? I was all he had left. Carlos had given me all the details when he'd found my identity among the missing persons reports he'd begun the investigation with. My father, Louis Bourreau, had been searching tirelessly for me for the five months since my disappearance. He would welcome me home with open arms; he would give me back my past.

Granted, I hadn't wanted my past. But the way I saw it, I was entitled to changing my mind. I was only twenty-four years old. Too young to give my life over to an overbearing bastard like Daederich. My father would love me without asking for anything in return. My mind questioned what it was Daederich had ever asked for.

Since I didn't have an answer, I did my best to focus on how much I enjoyed my freedom. No risk of being controlled, no risk of my heart swaying me. No risk to my heart at all. It hurt too much to let myself feel, so I resolved not to.

It all sounded much simpler than it was.

I showered and changed, forcing my mind to center on my father, not allowing it to drift to Daederich. From what Carlos had learned, my father was a martial arts master, renowned for his teachings. He had obviously taught me all I knew. He would teach me how to harden my heart against this silly idea of love.

On the plane ride from Germany, at the terminal, pretty much ever since Carlos had hunted down every bit of information on my father he could find, thoughts of my father had sustained me. My father, a man whose image I kept at the forefront of my mind, had become my savior. He might as well have been a god in my mind. I knew it was a bit much, but I cast all worries aside. A girl was supposed to think her daddy hung the moon. Why should I be any different?

Taking out the wine bottle I'd stuffed into the mini-fridge, I uncorked it and gulped down the thick red liquid, making a face. There was no wine in the bottle. Only the blood Daederich had stolen from a hospital on the way to the airport. He made certain I had enough to get me through a few days and had suggested I drink some before I went to meet my father. Of all his suggestions, it was the only one I paid any mind to. I could well see how it would ruin the reunion if I couldn't keep my eyes off the throbbing vein at my father's throat while we talked.