Now Comes the Night (33 page)

He was so deep in thought as he inspected the damage, that he almost missed the sound of someone entering the room behind him. He froze as the familiar cadence of Conrad’s heartbeat belatedly reached his ears.

“You’re back.” Conrad’s voice was so carefully modulated it left Damian to guess at his mood. He didn’t sound noticeably angry and Damian’s heart skipped a beat in relief. Was it possible Conrad was actually pleased to have him back, or was that merely wishful thinking?

Taking care to keep his own voice equally neutral in tone, Damian asked, “I hope that meets with your approval? You didn’t specify how long I need stay gone.” What if he’d been wrong? What if he had not stayed away long enough? What if Conrad didn’t want him back at all?

I won’t beg, damn it.
He would
not
beg. If Conrad couldn’t see the wisdom in allowing Damian back into his house, well then… Well, then Damian would just have to convince him otherwise. He’d have to point out all the reasons why Conrad needed him. Calmly. Rationally. He would
not
beg. Not this time. He’d done nothing wrong this time.

“Yes, well…” Conrad paused to clear his throat. “I, uh… I’m sorry for that. I didn’t exactly plan for any of it to happen, you know. It was just that, at the time, I was very concerned about Marc’s health and… I might not have been thinking all that clearly. I was angry.”

Damian nodded. “
Sí
. So you said.” Was that supposed to be an apology? Had Damian’s ears deceived him, or had Conrad just tried to apologize for his behavior? It was not
completely
without precedent, he supposed. Conrad had occasionally expressed remorse in the past, though it had been quite awhile since the last time. Centuries, actually, if Damian was not mistaken. And it wasn’t very much of an apology either. “And what about now? Are you still angry?”

Conrad chuckled. “No, I believe two days was more than sufficient for me to recover my temper. But, all the same…there can be no more of this, Damian. I can’t allow it. I can’t risk this sort of thing happening ever again.”

“No more of what?” Damian asked, finally turning to face Conrad in nervous trepidation. What had Conrad made up his mind about this time? The list of possibilities was as endless as it was potentially terrifying.

Conrad waved a hand to encompass the kitchen. “All this…this cooking and eating, this pretending to be human. It’s dangerous. And, as I’ve already told the twins, I must insist that it end. Immediately. We may be forced to do such things when we are out in public, but I will not have it here. Not in this house. Not any longer. The twins are old enough now and they’ve had more than enough experience. They don’t need any more practice.”

“Very well. If that’s your decision.” Damian didn’t dare argue. He shrugged in an indifferent manner, as though the subject held no interest for him. Then he turned away again, not wanting Conrad to see his disappointment. What did he have to be disappointed about, after all? It was a small enough price to pay, or so he tried to tell himself. A very small price. It was just that it hadn’t all been about practice. It hadn’t all been about the twins. Cooking had brought Damian a great deal of joy and he was going to miss it. Not nearly as much as he’d miss his family, if that were to be taken from him. But, no, he couldn’t even bear to think about that. He had to remember what was important. He had to keep things in perspective. It was just… a little hard to do that, at present. He was too upset, too emotional. He needed to calm himself. Perhaps a change of subject would help? “I couldn’t help but notice all the boxes in the foyer. What are they for?”

“I thought they’d be useful for packing things up.” Conrad’s voice was once again neutral. “I know we’ll need more, but I thought these would do for a start.”

“P-packing?” Damian’s voice sounded faint, but he was pleased that at least it wasn’t noticeably shaky. “Who…or, perhaps I should say,
what
is to be packed up? And…and why?”

“Well, the household, of course. In preparation for moving. I would have thought that obvious.”

“Not so very obvious. Are we moving then? It’s a little ahead of schedule, is it not?”

“It is. But I’ve thought a lot about it, these past few days, and I’ve decided it’s for the best.”

“I see. My, what a…what a very decisive weekend you must have had. I’m quite taken aback by all these sudden changes.”

“I want to make a fresh start for us, Damian,” Conrad said, taking a step forward as he did and moving so quickly Damian was startled into taking a step back. They both jerked to an awkward stop. Embarrassed, Damian dropped his gaze as Conrad continued. “A new beginning. A second chance, if you will.”

This time, Damian was almost positive he could hear a faint, plaintive note in Conrad’s voice. “Do you?” His heart beat fast in eager anticipation. A fresh start…for the two of them? Could it be?

“Yes. I want that more than anything.”

“And…couldn’t we do that here? Now? Do we really have to wait until we move for that?”

“I think so. I don’t see it happening any other way. I think it’s important that we put the events of last week behind us, you see, and I’m not sure that can happen if we remain here. This place…I fear it will always hold too many memories.”

Damian hesitated. “Not that many memories, surely?” Oh, but why was he even arguing? Why could he not just agree—quickly, before Conrad changed his mind again? He should be jubilant about this sudden turn of events! But, while a part of him was, another part wanted to protest the timing. “I mean, after all, we’ve only lived here for two years. That’s not so long a time.” At the moment, in fact, it seemed unfairly short, tragically so. Damian’s heart sank at the thought of never seeing Paul again, of having to cut things off so soon—no, no. It was too cruel, unless…

Unless that was exactly what Conrad intended?

How much did Conrad know? How much had he guessed about Damian’s feelings for Paul, or about where Damian had spent this past weekend? Was that what this was about? Did Conrad mean to force Damian into choosing between them? Or was Fate merely up to her usual tricks once again?

Conrad sighed. “I know it’s not a very long time. And it’s mostly Marc about whom I’m concerned. I’m sure he’ll be more comfortable in a new environment. But, I truly believe it’s in
everyone’s
best interest if we leave this place behind us as soon as possible. It’s been…an exceptionally turbulent two years. Don’t you think so too?”

“Marc? Ah. Of course. I should have realized.” It was all Damian could do to conceal his bitter disappointment.
Dios mio
, what was wrong with him? How could he
still
be so foolish? At Conrad’s first use of the word “us” Damian’s heart had filled with hope, his dreams had grown new wings and taken flight…

He
really
should have known better.

He should have realized immediately that Conrad was referring to all four of them, that he wasn’t speaking only of himself and Damian. That he wasn’t speaking of himself and Damian at all. Damian should just be glad he was still included, and stop feeling so damned sorry for himself. “I beg your pardon. I don’t know
what
I was thinking.”

“Then we’re in agreement? And you’ll begin researching new locations for us? At once?”

“Of course,” Damian repeated, scarcely aware of what he was saying. “Whatever you think best.” He’d have to see Paul next weekend, as planned. He’d have to explain, somehow, that he could never see him again…

Conrad sighed. “Very well then. I’ll leave everything in your capable hands.”

Damian shrugged disinterestedly. “As you wish.” He would never see Paul again. His mind shrieked in protest, but then an irrational spark of hope lodged itself in Damian’s heart. Perhaps it need not come to that after all. If he was in control of finding them a new home, he could choose its location, could he not? He could make sure it was within a reasonable distance, somewhere close enough to be convenient, close enough that he could make periodic trips back here to see Paul.

He could at least salvage
something
, preserve some small part of their relationship, keep a portion of the happiness he’d so lately found. In fact, now that he thought about it, this might even be an improvement. Putting a little bit of distance between Paul and Conrad could hardly be called a bad thing. All things considered, it might even be a very
good
thing.

Conrad paused on his way out of the kitchen. “It is good to have you back, my dear. And I do hope you weren’t too inconvenienced this weekend. The children were quite put out with me over your absence, you know. I don’t think they ever would have forgiven me if you’d stayed away much longer.”

The children. Ah, yes. It was almost amusing how every conversation always found its way back to them, Conrad’s sole reason for wanting to keep Damian around. It was almost as though Conrad had to make quite certain Damian never forgot that fact. As if Damian ever could. His heart heavy, Damian nodded. “
Sí
. I missed them too.”

Over the next few days, Damian threw himself into the business of moving. He spent hours researching likely locations, and even more hours plotting, planning, packing…and preparing for his upcoming
rendezvous
with Paul.

Damian had decided it was best not to say anything to him beforehand. He wasn’t hiding the fact. It wasn’t as though he was
purposely
avoiding Paul. He was just too busy to go out looking for him, too busy to try and explain what was happening, far too busy to argue, and so he’d decided to keep to the schedule the two of them had discussed.

He’d go to see Paul on Friday. He’d spend the weekend with him and use the time to gently break the news of his impending move to the boy. A little sex, a little venom, a few kisses sprinkled in between and Damian was convinced he could bring Paul around to seeing this change in a positive light, to accepting this new arrangement as a good thing—which Damian was mostly confident it was.

It was going to take some effort on his part, a little persistence and a fair amount of luck, but he was optimistic for their chances. He could make this work. He could keep Paul in his life for another few years, maybe even more than a few, and keep everyone else happy as well. After that his and Paul’s prospects grew dimmer, but when had that ever not been the case? Eventually, Damian would no longer be able to hide the fact that he wasn’t aging. Eventually, he would either have to tell Paul the truth or tell him good-bye. It was not the first time he’d had to do something like that, but it would possibly be the hardest. Mercifully, that day was still some years in the future. Right now, things were looking up.

Or so he kept telling himself for almost four days, until Paul showed up at the house unannounced and threw all Damian’s plans into disarray…

Damian was in the dining room, carefully packing away his fine china, when the doorbell rang. “Why don’t you run and see who’s at the door,
chica
,” he suggested to Julie, who’d been assisting him. “Then maybe you can go and get started on your room,” he added as she headed for the door. “As soon as I’m finished in here, I’ll take you to get something to eat.” The girl had barely left his side all week and seemed generally as eager for this move as he was, which was not very much at all. It would do her good to get out of the house for a while and he could certainly use a break as well.

The dishes he was currently putting away had only ever been used on special occasions, like those rare instances when he’d successfully managed to persuade Conrad to throw a dinner party. That had occurred very seldom in the past few years and if Conrad stood firm on his new edict, these dishes might very well stay packed away forever. Which made the task at hand more than a little bittersweet. This domestic arrangement the four of them had enjoyed over the past ten years had been a brief moment in time, but a happy one. He was sorry to see it end.

“D? Are you here? Where are you?” Footsteps in the hallway and the sound of Paul’s voice calling his name filtered into the dining room.

“Paul?” Damian hastily put down the plate he’d been wrapping and hurried across the floor. He reached the door just as it opened. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, thank God.” Sighing in relief, Paul pulled Damian in for a quick hug. “You’re all right. I was so worried.”

“Well, of course I’m all right.” Damian held him away and eyed him curiously. “What’s going on? What’s this all about?”

Paul shrugged, looking suddenly sheepish. “I dunno. I guess… It’s just that I hadn’t seen you or heard from you in days and… Okay, so, maybe I panicked a little. But I couldn’t sleep, you know? My bed’s just too damn big when you’re not in it. It’s too empty. I kept thinking, what if he’s hurt? What if something’s happened to him?”

“Quiet now!” Damian reached around Paul to push the door shut. “Really, Pablito, I’m sure your bed is no larger or more empty than it was last week. Besides, why should you think anything had happened to me? We agreed we’d see each other this weekend, did we not? Why should you be so concerned just because you hadn’t seen me any sooner than that?”

Instead of answering, Paul reached up to frame Damian’s face. His hands were gentle, tender and so was the kiss he pressed to Damian’s lips. Or, at least, that’s how it started out. Soft. Slow. Sweet. But Damian had been far too busy in the past few days to eat very much and the taste of Paul’s mouth hit him hard. Hunger surged in Damian’s bloodstream, swelling swiftly in intensity as his body recognized a familiar source of food.
His
source. All his.