Icarus; The Kindred (A Paranormal Romance) (6 page)

"Was. Jacelynd was your husband. You are bound to me now. It's called a Blood Tithe, I'm sure you've heard of it." He smirks. "Jacelynd really didn't tell you?"

Why is the floor moving? Oh, wait, that would be my knees buckling. A Blood Tithe—to be perfectly honest, I thought it was an urban legend. The very idea that vampires could be bound by blood seemed ridiculous until now. If the legends hold true, a Tithe can only be broken by death or near-death. Explains the burns. It also explains why drinking from Jacelynd revived the Tithe.

"No, he didn't tell me. I wouldn't have believed him even if he … that's why he said I wasn't ready to hear it yet. I wasn't just married to him, I was Tithed to him. How could I have been connected to Jacelynd yet tricked into a Tithe by you? Two Tithes can't exist at the same time, can they?"

Why didn't I listen to those stories when they were being passed around in academy? If I had, maybe I would have known what was happening last night.

"Well, Jacelynd was with you for about five hundred years or so. He certainly knows you well enough to know when you will and won't believe something. And I didn't trick you into anything. You drank of me in oath, willingly, just like you swore your oaths as an assassin." Trinity breezes past where I'm crumpled into a lump near the foot of the bed, completely unmoved by how seriously distressed I am. "You revived a
shadow
of your former Tithe with Jacelynd, though I didn't see that coming. An unintended perk, I suppose. You can't hear him now, but he can certainly hear us."

"Five hundred—what?! Trinity, what the … wait, Jacelynd can hear us?"

"And feel us. You were a little too blood drunk last night to keep your emotions in check and I'm sure he knew exactly what was going on." Trinity casually pulls my underwear from between the sheets. "Every moan and sigh. And correct me if I'm wrong, but there was a whole lot of moaning going on."

I'm speechless. I mean … what do you say to something like that? I'm not old … I'm archaic. And he can hear us! Still! This is so not good.

"You can't tell me that wasn't the best sex you've ever had." He pauses for a second, then when I still don't say anything, he adds, "Or rather, that you remember. Don't you get what this means? I can feel everything you're feeling. I know exactly where to touch you and how … not just from knowing you, like I did before, but through actually experiencing what you're experiencing as it happens."

I'm reminded of Jacelynd's comment about my inner thigh. "You sadistic bastard! How can you be so heartless? They were telling me the truth when they said that everything in my past is a lie, weren't they?"

Still holding my panties, Trinity takes a seat in the chair a few feet from where I sit. "Yes, they were." He watches me, waiting for my reaction. "How can I be so heartless? You were my betrothed, Jessica. Jacelynd stole you away from me centuries ago, before we even had a chance to become what we are now. But I've never blamed you. It wasn't your fault."

"I'm not a possession, Trinity! I can't be stolen. God, your arrogance is immeasurable. Quinn and the others? Who are they to me? Quinn knew more about me than the others, why?"

Trinity frowns. "Did they tell you
anything
?" When I don't respond he says, "Blake and Quinn are your cousins."

So much shit to process, so little serotonin to work with. "And we … we aren't humans who were turned? We're really not from … Earth?"

I really am an effing alien.

"You're a Blood-Born Kindred. Technically speaking, we are from Earth. Our parents, on the other hand, were not. However, your classmates and fellow assassins are mostly turned vampires taken from the Rebellion and … reprogrammed, for lack of a better word."

Strangely, laughter is all that I can muster at the moment. "Blood-Born, so there's a name for it. You're telling me all of this like I'm supposed to just accept it. We might be Tithed, but I'm beginning to recall all of the reasons I said 'no' when you asked me to marry you … and then some! You couldn't have expected this to go over well with me. Shit, Trinity, I was sent to bring in my own cousin. Seriously?"

"You could have woken up ten years ago believing that I was your lover, or more specifically, your husband. But I wanted you to come to me on your own. Jacelynd rushed me a little with this stunt he pulled, but you were close enough to fully surrendering."

You know nothing of what I would have done of my own volition.

His fingers dig into my jaw as he takes my chin and forces my back against the wall with his forearm across my collarbone, then slides his free hand between my legs.

You can say anything, think anything you want, Jess. But your body's reaction to me doesn't lie.

It's been hours since Trinity left me alone in his room.
I am sitting in the window seat, staring out across the expansive lawn that suddenly feels like a prison yard. Sunlight bathes my skin and I can't help but feel foolish. Jacelynd, Quinn, they all knew I wouldn't be harmed by daylight. Jace must have asked me what time it was with the intention of keeping me in one place while they looked for me. It explained why the film on the windows was only on one side of the house—why we were upstairs. They weren't going to tell me until … when? Until I regained my memories?

I relive the whole event, from waking up to leaving—every glance, every word and find deeper regret than I've ever experienced. Jace still had tenderness in his eyes even after I ripped his shoulder open, pushed him away. He still spoke to me with affection in his voice after I deceived him and left him unconscious; still professed his devotion to me even after hearing me say the name of who I assume is his greatest enemy in longing and desperation. And Trinity knew, told me to say his name, all to torment Jace. The thought of it makes me nauseous.

And the dreams …
memories
. Why couldn't I have read more into that? Five hundred years? I can't even fathom being that old, let alone being with someone for that long. Yet, just as Jace said, below all of my snark and sarcasm, I feel the truth of it now. Why did it take Trinity revealing the truth about Icarus for me to open my eyes? Why couldn't I have just listened to my heart?

So, I suppose this is where I re-evaluate my life. I think of my mom and dad, my friends from high school and college. Did I even go to college? A terse thought crosses my mind that if they were leaving false memories, they could have at least made me an honor student. I failed out of the history department and had to change majors. What was the point in that? Believability?

Who cares, no one I know from before ten years ago exists.

They do exist,
Trinity says.
But they belong in someone else's life, someone else's memories.

What will happen if I leave?

Oh, angel,
he laughs darkly,
you can try, but I wouldn't count on getting far. You know what being Tithed to me means, don't you?

Yes, I know damn well what it means. No wonder your blood felt like it was corrupting me in Florida. I'd just fed from Jacelynd. Explains why I was freezing—it was distance from him and the need for his blood.

I'm a prisoner—body and soul. I haven't the faintest idea how I am going to get out of this and I start imagining my life as the path is currently marked. My
eternal
life. Though I don't truly remember Jace or anything about my past, I don't hate Trinity—not utterly. In a way, he's all I know. Trinity does have compassion. His powers are not always used to the detriment of others. I've witnessed it. In fact, it's what got my ass out of a sling on that first assignment. We were in the subway, mingling with the crowd. Trinity was supposed to follow us from a distance. The target fouled up a handful of perfectly good chances for us to do what was necessary before I finally got impatient and initiated the take-down. Needless to say, things got complicated at that point. I don't think any of us, Trinity included, expected our target to be so skilled in doling out death blows. It's incredibly hard to kill a vampire—sunlight has manifestly been taken off that list—starvation being the worst way to go, but not the longest. Tearing out a major organ will do it too—not that Kindred can bleed to death, but really awful things start to happen to the body when it doesn't have all of its indispensable parts. There are a good many Death Dealers who are trained in this art. It may have a name, but I don't care to know it. I've seen it in practice, and let me just tell you that it surpasses a mere word. This is what Trinity was talking about when he said grown men were losing it. He wasn't exaggerating. Three seasoned assassins were felled and left bathing in their own blood before my brain could register what was going on and react. In retrospect, I suppose I should be a little prouder of myself. I managed to get at least one good hit in before I was cornered.

Had Trinity actually been a mentor and not the infamous Seer Cleric, I wonder if he would have stepped in or if he would have allowed the target to weed out a liability—meaning me. There is a small part of me that thinks he wouldn't have done things any differently, and yet something else thinks the opposite. I am going to pretend that I don't care either way.

For all its practical uselessness, all this reminiscing does, however, accomplish one very crucial thing: It reminds me of who I am. Beyond the lies, beyond the layers of some other life that's been woven into mine and the shards of a past I can only see in dreams, beyond all of that is the strength that Jacelynd didn't expect, that Trinity has underestimated and that I have so recently misplaced. Ironically enough, Damian is the only one who seemed to anticipate it.

I have two options. I can wallow in pity and remain Trinity's pawn, or I can dig a little deeper and draw on the fortitude that I know is there and do what my heart is telling me is right. Several things vie for attention on my list of shit to do, but finding Blake, assuming he's still alive and not in fifty pieces, takes precedence. So, we'll go with option number two. I survey the yard again and insanely contemplate jumping from the third-story window before reason intervenes.

I stand in the corner of the room and survey what's there. I know that I am taking for granted what belongs in his bedroom after only a few minutes and I do what Trinity taught me to do. I close my eyes and look again. Things that are seen with a precursory glance are merely being noted on a mental inventory, which will be dismissed unless the physical presence of each item is taken into consideration. This is how someone can look right at something and not see it. Now, with my eyes closed, another layer of detail is taken into account—absence.

That's when I find it. Double doors appear to be the only way in and out of the room. But the floor is made of delicately detailed stone and even with the large area rugs that have been placed throughout, their pattern is distinct. Except in high-traffic areas, like the double doors. To the left of the fireplace, in the corner of the room, the pattern is absent on the stone.

I feel along the floor and, as I suspected, there is a draft at the bottom of the baseboard. I try the fireplace and the wall itself, but I'm not that lucky. That only happens in bad espionage movies. Or to MacGyver.

I smack the wall with my fist.
Oh, fuck me.

I've really got to get better at controlling what passes through my head.

Don't worry,
Trinity says.
I'm planning on it.

I decide that going along with whatever he says mentally is my best shot at leaving without his being aware of it. As far as he knows, I will be right here waiting.

You're insatiable, Trinity. Why don't you come back here and redefine the term for me?
I also figure asking him to return will throw him off balance. It does.
I want you … like I wanted you last night.

That's my girl. I'm touched. I knew you'd come around.

While we are chatting, which, by the way, isn't something I will ever get used to—most people who talk to voices in their heads are committed—I continue to trace the floor.

I'd rather you were the one doing the touching, I say.

Christ, you're killing me. I'm really not in a position to lose my train of thought here, Jess.

The good news is this means he's at least involved in something taxing, which also means time-consuming. I've made my way all the way back to the double doors on the opposite wall and still haven't found anything. A certain favored explicative wants to come into mind, but this time I catch myself.

Be careful, Trinity.

I surprise even myself with this. I think it does more than that to him. I don't hear anything in response for a few minutes.

Do you mean it?
There is a dangerous tone in his question, an edge that I have no interest in testing.

Yes. As I say this, I find a loose stone among the well-worn ones in the corner where I started. When I go to pick it up, it depresses at my touch and the worn stones slide under the wall to reveal a circular opening in the floor.
And I will prove it to you when you come back to me.

I take one last look at the room. This is the point of no return. If I do this, if I turn against Trinity, there will be no forgiveness, no shedding of tears and no second thoughts on his side of things. I am utterly replaceable. This thought and the fear of what I've done to tether myself to him mentally are what I am left with as I drop into the passageway.

Getting away from his estate from there is a fairly straightforward affair. The passage leads away from the main grounds, into the woods behind it and dumps me out near the river. I soon tread through wild underbrush in the direction I believe Belladonna to be.

Though I have no idea what good will that do. I have no idea where they would have taken Blake. He could be anywhere. Quinn clearly said that they black-bagged him. But why? This detail suggests that they wanted him to pass as dead. There are only a couple places where this would be necessary, and only one of them has anything to do with labs and comes with a plethora of humans on which to test their theories. The hospital.