Deep Deception (13 page)

Bran had to be devasted, but he tried to hide it. Adin realized he’d hoped for some definitive answers about what he’d been before being switched with a human child, and it occurred to Adin that Bran might wonder—as any adoptee might—if his original family was still out there. If they might want him back.

“He also told me you’re the last of your line. Your real family is all gone. I’m so sorry.”

“My biological parents? Everyone is gone?”

“I’m afraid so, Bran.” He’d never considered whether Bran had biological parents per se. He should have realized the boy might be looking for his true family, a place where he belonged among those who placed him with humans to begin with. And yet it made perfect sense. Except the entire world made no sense to Adin at all anymore.

He reached out to take Bran’s hand. He understood grief. Leaning way over in his seat, impatiently pushing aside his shoulder belt, he gave Bran a firm, one-armed hug. Everything hurt, yet he felt better.

“You know, you have a family here if you want it. With us.”

Bran shook his head. “I hurt Donte. I made him sick, that old woman said so.”

Adin admitted the prospect looked bleak but held on to the hope that Donte was still alive and that together, they’d be able to find a solution. “We’ll figure something out. I know Donte wanted to help me protect you. He told me so, and he won’t have changed his mind.”

Bran sighed unhappily but clung to Adin, even when he sat back up and replaced his seat belt. Adin saw Boaz’s eyes in the rearview mirror. They were unreadable but he knew Boaz liked Bran. The boy would always have a home. He and Boaz would see to it.

“Thank you.” Bran pressed his face into Adin’s shoulder.

Adin continued patting Bran with his good left hand, thinking hard about what he’d learned from Harwiche. It was all speculation, but enticing enough for a half-crazy dying man to gamble on it being true.

If
Bran was what Harwiche believed and
if
he was some sort of universal donor, then… Yes. That would make him very valuable indeed. And the feeding frenzy would only end when Bran was some greedy man’s experiment, because that would be the only way to find out the truth.

Bran’s breathing grew deep and even as he fell asleep against Adin’s good arm.

“We’ve got company.” Boaz interrupted his thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re being followed. I’ve been driving around for a while. If this person isn’t following us, then we’re experiencing a phenomenal coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in phenomenal coincidences.”

“Neither do I.” Boaz sped up, dodging traffic like a Parisian cab driver. He put a cushion between them and their tail. Adin got a tighter hold on Bran. The late ­afternoon traffic was thick, the air punctuated by the constant staccato blasts of horns.

Well,
shit
.

“Who do you suppose they are?” Adin asked.

“If I had to guess, I’d say they were the men who sold Bran. Seeing as how they probably watched your money disappear from their bank accounts like magic the next day.”

“You could put the money back,” Adin suggested. “If it means we’d be safe.”

“I think that comes under the heading of too little too late at this point.”

“I see.”


“There’s one place we could go…” Boaz reminded him.

“Boaz,” Adin warned.

“Santos will help us, even though he’s away. He has plenty of men at his compound. All I have to do is call and they’ll open the gates and deal with anyone who’s following.”

“Why would Santos be so helpful all of a sudden when—”

“Eventually, I will run out of luck, Adin. I can’t keep driving like this forever. Currently we have nowhere to go. Unless you made arrangements for a hotel?” Adin shook his head. “From Santos’s place I can get papers for Bran, and make travel arrangements. Please, Adin.”

Boaz had never,
ever
said please to him before. The car was stopped momentarily at a traffic light, but whoever followed them was only three car lengths back. He met Boaz’s eyes in the mirror again. Without Boaz, and his connections, Adin didn’t have a prayer of taking Bran back home to the States. Boaz was worried. He cared a great deal for Bran, who looked up to him. Plus, he was something equally not human, which made Bran feel less alone.

“All right,” Adin agreed. “Make the call.”

Half an hour later, ancient iron gates closed behind the sedan. Adin looked back to see how close their pursuers had been.

Five men emerged from Santos’s home, their height and coloring all similar to that of the man who had evicted them from Donte’s. They wore dark overcoats, black leather gloves against the chilly spring air and hats pulled over their brows. They moved with precision and power, their faces covered by blank white Venetian carnival masks, giving them the look of exquisite, if merciless, marionettes.

“He does clone them,” Adin whispered, waiting for a signal from Boaz that it was safe to emerge from the car. “He must. Why are they wearing masks?”

“It’s intimidating, isn’t it?” Boaz murmured. “Mostly it’s to keep the sun from harming them, but it serves the dual purpose of frightening off the unwanted.”

“How come I didn’t notice them before?” Adin shuddered. “It’s like a Jean Cocteau film.”

“You came as a guest last time and it was late at night. This time they’re here to see to any trouble. Santos says they know to stay away from us though, especially Bran, until Santos finds out why the hell the healer’s men reacted that way.”

Adin watched as the car that had been following them sped past. “Should we expect further trouble?”

Boaz glanced at Bran then back to Adin. “We can count on it.”

Chapter Fourteen

Adin pushed his fork lazily around the dish placed before him. It appeared to be a blue cheese soufflé accompanied by some sort of spring mix of greens, topped with Bosc pears, more blue cheese and candied nuts. He stared at it listlessly.

He’d called Donte’s cell phone and the farmhouse repeatedly but no one answered. Donte must know he needed reassuring. Something had to be terribly wrong. It drained him of his strength and his desire for food, although he was trying to act naturally for Bran’s sake. But even Bran, teenage boy and bottomless pit, seemed to have little or no appetite.

Whatever immediate threat the men following them posed, Santos’s minions had neutralized it. Now, nearly night, they’d seen nothing of their host’s private army for hours. Boaz had managed dinner and disappeared as well, leaving Bran and Adin alone to dine. Adin poured himself a second glass of wine.

Bran finally broke the silence. “May I have wine?”

Adin shot him a tired smile. “Pour some water into your glass first.”

Bran did as he was told and Adin added some of the deep red cabernet to it. “You’re worried I’ll become a drunk.”

“For the record, that’s the least of my worries.” Adin leaned back in his chair. Unbidden, a horrible thought occurred to him. “Can you tell me, do imps lay eggs?”

“Excuse me?”

“The only thing Boaz ever cooks is eggs. He’s very inventive, but it’s always eggs.” Adin pushed his plate away. “Donte once pointed that out. Suddenly, I’m not hungry.”

“These are chicken eggs. I saw the carton.” Bran looked at him thoughtfully. “You’re still worried.”

“Of course I’m worried. Donte is…”

“He’s what?”

“He’s my happiness.” Adin shrugged. “I know that’s maudlin drivel. I’m a grown man, and I don’t believe in fairytales, but—”

“Why not?” Bran asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you believe in fairytales? It seems to me that once you learn how the world really works, fairytales make a lot more sense. There
are
fairies. And imps. Things that are dark and dead scary and sources of magic that ordinary people never find out exist. The undead walk the earth.”

“I never thought about it that way.” Adin frowned a little.

“I’ve seen your dreams, Adin. I know why you don’t believe.”

Adin stiffened. “And why is that?”

“Come on. Do I have to spell it out? Do you know how many blokes try it on with a boy living on the street?”

“I certainly never—”

“Charles used you, as much as any pimp who ever picked up a runaway boy at the station. He had to change the way you saw the world to get you to go along with his schemes, and then he used you. In your dreams you see that clearly.”

Adin picked up his glass and drank. “I know Charles used me. But in no way did he change the way I saw the world.”

“No. He just made you feel like the worst fool that ever lived.”

Adin didn’t know what to say to that.

“So you think Donte is…?” Bran asked.

“I can’t bear to think they couldn’t help him. I don’t like not knowing,” Adin admitted.

“It must be nice to have a connection to someone.” Bran’s face twisted. “I wish I knew what I did to make him sick!”

“I’m sure you didn’t do anything. What could you even have done? You saw each other for a brief moment before you went upstairs. There has to have been some sort of mis—” Adin’s cell phone rang and he motioned to Bran that he was going to take it in the kitchen. He answered as he walked. “Tredeger.”

“Adin.” Santos’s voice sounded concerned. “My man confessed he was rough with you. How is your arm?”

“Broken.”

Santos cursed. “You have my sincerest apologies.”

“Thanks for that.” Adin paused. “Is Donte—”

“Fedeltà is perfectly safe in Madame’s hands, which is more than I can say for Peter once Donte finds out he manhandled you until you broke. Peter said you fought like a man possessed. I’m impressed.”

“I was distraught. They made me leave without him. Without saying good-bye. I think that was the worst I’ve ever felt,” Adin admitted. “Can you tell me what the hell happened? He aged overnight.”

There was a palpable silence on the line. Santos had been, at times, an implacable enemy, at times charming, almost kind. One never knew where one stood with Santos. Adin held his breath.

“It’s the boy,” Santos said finally.

“How can that be?” Adin rested a hip on the kitchen counter and glanced back to make sure Bran couldn’t hear the conversation.

“Mme. Restieaux conjectures that the boy manifests a powerful natural energy very similar to that which is given off by the sun. We’re simply allergic to him.”

“That’s absurd; he’s as flesh and blood as I am.”

“Is he?” Santos asked. “Things aren’t always as they appear. Nature’s process is relentless. All living things are part of its cycle. The vampire is its antithesis. We represent the manipulation of nature. The avoidance of death. The mystery that keeps us alive requires deep magic—for lack of a better word—magic that is as old as nature, and in opposition to it.”

“If he were made of sunlight why am I not affected? I would be irradiated. I would be burned.
I
would be growing older—”

“I said it was similar to sunlight. It’s as if he’s made of life itself. At any rate, it seems the undead are unsafe within his sphere of influence.”

“He has no idea of that.” Adin peered into the dining room where Bran sat, eating his salad and finishing his watered wine. “What should I tell him?”

“Tell him nothing, Adin,” Santos warned. “When you took off Bran’s chains, his strength grew and impacted everything around him. He’ll only get stronger. More dangerous to those of us who must not face the sun. You cannot protect him and Donte both. You’ll need to choose.”

“No.”

“Madame said that Bran’s nature is older than time. I am sorry.” Santos’s voice held real regret. “Truly. I had in mind to give you hard choices, but not…never fatal ones.”

Adin took the apology to be sincere. “Thank you, Santos.”

“Odd to hear you say that.”

“Nevertheless.” Adin swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

Santos disconnected the call.

What a clusterfuck
. Adin tried Donte’s number and once again, it rang straight through to voice mail.

Bran spoke from behind him. “If you want, you and Boaz can go to Donte. I’d have to borrow some money, but—”

“There is not a chance in the world that I’d leave you alone to fend for yourself a second time,” Adin told him tiredly.

“I’ve been alone most of my life, Adin.”

“Donte has been fine without me for centuries. He’s with friends. He’ll come for me as soon as he can.”

“What if he doesn’t? What if he decides he can’t risk being around me?”

Adin gave Bran a smile that probably looked as weak as he felt. “It’s his choice to make. His survival is as important to me as my own.”

Suddenly, Adin felt the cold in a new and more profound way. He headed for his bedroom to find a sweater and a little privacy. Once there, he removed his sling and paused in front of the wardrobe drawers, allowing himself to consider what it might mean to him if Donte wrote him off.

He reached into his suitcase for an Aran wool pullover that he’d had for years and slipped it over his head, painfully pushing his soft cast through the worn, loose cuff of the sleeve.

There were others, surely, who could care for Bran. With the correct papers, he could be placed with a family in Washington, somewhere Adin could be a regular part of his life.

Tuan would know about otherworldly immigration and they could all come up with a suitable solution together. Bran could be happy and live a semi-normal life. Maybe even find a family that could love him as much as…

Boaz appeared behind him in the mirror as he pulled his sling back on. “I found a place to go for documents. It could be tricky because we’ll have to deal with people we would normally avoid. We won’t be able to go to the usual forgers because Bran can’t be around the undead.”

Adin turned. “Why does putting myself into the hands of criminals feel so much worse than being around people who want to eat me?”

Boaz shrugged. “If you’d rather stay here, I could take him.”

“No.” Adin followed Boaz from the room and down the stairs. “I’d feel better if I went with you. I don’t know why, really. Of all the players, I’m definitely the weakest link.”

“He trusts you,” Boaz said quietly when they walked down the stairs together.

“Yes. I know.”

“When you’re finished with dinner?”

“Yes.” Adin stopped on the bottom step, already tired. “I’m exhausted and my arm is throbbing. How far is it?”

“Not far. I’ll get your meds. It’s nearly time for you to take them.”

“Thanks.” Adin leaned against the railing at the bottom of the stairs. “I want to go home.”

“Where? To Washington or your sister’s in Los Angeles?”

Adin shook his head. “Maybe San Francisco. I want to see Edward, and to ask Tuan for help. If I go to Los Angeles I’ll have to explain Bran to Deana.”

“I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Thank you, Boaz.” Adin wanted to ask him if he’d heard from Donte, but discovered he didn’t want to know the answer if it was
yes
.

Boaz appeared to read his mind. “He hasn’t called me. I’m sure he’s taking his time to make certain he’s well. It’s far more dangerous than you can imagine for someone like Donte when he’s in a weakened state. Not just for himself, but because no one is safe around a weakened vampire. There are those who would take advantage.”

“Santos is in Taiwan, isn’t he?”

“Santos isn’t the only vampire who would like to see Donte Fedeltà taken down. Men with the kind of power Donte wields will always have enemies.”

“
Perfect
.” Adin picked up his plate, no longer even pretending to be hungry. He walked to the kitchen and placed his food in the trash. Bran followed him quietly. At least he’d finished his dinner. Adin patted his shoulder. “Let’s head out. The sooner you have papers the sooner we can go home.”

Adin’s fears with regard to getting Bran’s papers turned out to be fairly unfounded. All it took was the right word in the ear of a clerk at a specific camera store.

They were led behind a set of dirty curtains and down a flight of stairs into a basement filled with high-tech digital imaging equipment. A photograph of Bran was placed into a highly official-looking U.S. passport along with other papers, a birth certificate, and an identification card for the state of Utah. A great deal of money changed hands.

When Adin asked why Utah, the girl there simply gave him a shrug, but apparently a highly detailed identity had been constructed for Bran, including a social security card, school and health records, and family ties. Adin was even provided with signed and notarized permission from Bran’s very fictitious parents to see to his care while he was in Adin’s custody.

Adin had to wonder—or worry, really—how often adults took children illegally into the United States and required such documents. Boaz’s expression told him not to ask.

They headed back to Santos’s place where they dropped off the car and then had a taxi pick them up. Boaz lugged their baggage from inside, gave the driver instructions to take them to Roissy/Charles De Gaulle, and off they went.

Adin checked his phone obsessively, giving in to the urge at smaller and smaller intervals. By the time they were getting ready to board, he was fully beginning to panic.

Bran stopped him from rising so he could pace for the third time. “Adin. You need to go back and find Donte.”

“He’s a big undead boy.” Adin stopped his hand when it crept toward the cell phone in his pocket again. “He can take care of himself. I just wish I knew why he isn’t answering his phone.”

“Maybe he’s not getting a signal or the battery is dead.”

“That could be it,” Adin replied absently. It wasn’t as if the battery could go dead on Adin’s internal sense of Donte, and that’s what had Adin most worried. Since they’d been together he’d never had a loss of connection of this magnitude.

Bran caught Adin’s good hand between his. “
Adin
. I’ll be fine. Boaz and I can leave on this plane, and you can follow when you’ve found Donte. I hate that you’re leaving without knowing he’s all right because of me.”

Adin shook his head. “It’s important to get you someplace safe, Bran. Trust me, if I didn’t know this before, then my visit with Harwiche nailed that right down for me. Donte lived for five hundred years without my help. He can go another few days.”

“But what about you?”

Adin bit his lip. Donte—all vampires—would see his concern as a weakness. They’d pull at it like a snag in a sweater to see if they could exploit it.

Vampires didn’t think like humans. Selfless devotion was an unknown quantity in the vampire world. Even Donte’s desire to turn Adin, as nice as it felt, wasn’t really based on seeing Adin live forever, but on the very real and painful loss Donte would endure when Adin died.

And therein lay one of the reasons that Adin fought it.

Just as surely as prolonged sunlight would burn out every trace of Donte’s existence, being turned—if he allowed it—would eradicate the human side of Adin.

Adin didn’t want that.

Protecting Bran, caring for anyone, even Donte, required that he be human for it to have any meaning at all. Donte might throw his considerable power into taking care of Adin, might accede to his whim regarding Bran and back him in a fight to keep the boy from Harwiche’s schemes, but he did so only because Adin asked him to.

Adin’s thoughts were too difficult to explain to Donte, much less to Bran, who stood before him with earnest eyes, sharing that very trait, his own humanity, by putting Adin’s need to see Donte before his own desire to feel safe.

Adin took a final look at the busy airport. He was leaving France, and Donte, behind. But not forever. Wherever Donte was, whatever he was doing that Adin couldn’t be a part of, Adin
would
return. They would be together again.

That had to be enough
.