One With the Night (36 page)

But maybe her nature was the key. He could play upon her desire to help people. He took two slow breaths. He could do this. Could he make her believe his lies?

“I want it because bein’ mortal feels … small, half-alive,” he said. His voice was hoarse with strain. “I miss th’ strength. I had ta let ye move th’ rock, for heaven’s sake. I miss th’ heightened senses. I
want
that feelin’ of bein’ alive, and powerful. It … it was a kind o’ joy. And I want ta be connected ta my Companion. It feels … whole and I miss that.” With a shock he realized he
did
feel that way. He did miss it. And because it was true it might just convince her.

“But what about being a monster … outcast from society?” She took a step toward him.

“All ye have is who ye are, Jane. Ye’re either a monster inside or ye are no’.” Of course he was a monster, with what he’d done. Still, the statement itself was true. He pressed forward. “Ye ha’ ta accept that. It is no’ th’ Companion that makes ye a monster.” There, that was better. He believed that part too, as it turned out, because Jane was still good, regardless of the fact that her blood swam with the Companion.

“You
want
this?”

“Aye.” He let his need for it drench that one word.

“But three days! Surely Elyta will find us,” she worried.

“She’ll think we left early last night.” True, if Flavio lied for them. Callan wouldn’t think about that. “She’d never think we’d hide sa close. She’ll assume we went ta Inverness. By th’ time they find we did no’, we’ll be gone.”

“That only delays the inevitable. They’ll hunt us down…”

He couldn’t tell her his plan. It was so slender a scheme it would just worry her more. Let her think him in control for as long as she could. Had he made a mistake staking all on a plan so tenuous? But at least it was a plan. At least they were trying. “One step at a time, lass.”

He held out his hand in the darkness. He couldn’t see her features clearly, but he could feel her anguish. He’d be totally dependent on her for three days. Once he would have been horrified at the prospect. But not with Jane. He was only sorry she must be subjected to what would come. “Do this for me. Please.”

She rushed forward into his arms. “Callan, Callan, are you sure?”

“I’m certain.” He felt her vibrations wash over him as he gathered her into his chest. How he longed for her happiness! Before she could be happy, he’d have to save her life.

“I’m glad you’ve accepted who you are. You aren’t a bad man, no matter what you say.”

He stiffened. Not true. But he couldn’t disabuse her of that notion, or she’d never share her blood with him. He cleared his throat. “Jane, do it now, before ye lose yer nerve.”

*   *   *

Jane felt him tighten. She looked up and saw the pain in his eyes. She’d seen that pain many times now, right before he closed down emotionally. She searched back over the conversation. He’d never said he wasn’t evil. He only said the Companion was not what made you so. And he’d been very careful to skirt the issue. Which meant he was trying not to lie to her. He would let his guilt, his shame over whatever he’d done, stand between them. The core of him was true and good. She felt it. She believed it. And if he’d made mistakes, well, they were past, and he had to move beyond his guilt. Whether he was vampire or human, that guilt would be a barrier to what she wanted. What did she want? She still hardly dared admit it, even to herself. But he had sacrificed himself for her. That said he cared for her, didn’t it? Yet would he ever act on that feeling, even if he felt it? Not if he kept thinking the worst of himself, thoughts so painful they put up a wall that kept everyone away, including her …

She moved out of his arms. She had to think.

“Jane?” The desperation in that one word ate at her. He
did
want to be vampire again. She could be sure of that. She turned to look at him. What she was sure of was that if he locked himself away from her there was no possibility for them. Whatever he had done, it had festered within him until it turned him against himself. The only hope to achieve her end, and maybe the only hope for him to achieve any kind of peace with himself, whether he wanted her or not, was to clean out the wound and expose the infection to light and air. He needed to tell someone about it. He wouldn’t want to do that. He’d probably go monosyllabic and retreat again.

But she had something he wanted. She could use that. It was for his own good. And it might be the only chance she had for him to love her.

There. She’d said it. A weight dropped from her shoulders, in spite of all the uncertainty around them. She knew she loved him. Now she wanted him to love her in return. And she was going to have to make a push to get what she wanted. Clara had been right.

“Are you evil?” she asked calmly, though her heart was thumping. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t hear it. “I mean, apart from whether you’re vampire or not.”

He blinked but said nothing.

Ahh, she’d been right. He didn’t like to lie, but he was afraid if he admitted he was evil she wouldn’t turn him. Then she had to make it an ultimatum. “Before I turn you, I want to hear what you’ve done.”

“Why would ye want that?” he growled.

“To make sure the man I’m turning is the man I think he is.”

“Who of us is what others think us?” His expression had already closed down. His mobile, lovely lips thinned. Had she overplayed her hand? “Are ye what ye want others ta think? Was yer father?”

“What do you mean?” She was taken aback.

“Well, let’s just use him as an example.” He’d gone on the attack. “Th’ world thinks he’s a caring humanitarian who saves women’s lives. But I saw him keep his daughter in virtual slavery, without valuing her as he should. He cared for women in general but wasn’t generous with them in th’ particular, apparently. And he was th’ kind of man who could watch suffering pretty dispassionately as long as it was in th’ name of science.”

“Leave my father out of this,” she cried. “How dare you?”

“Well, let’s take ye, then.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Are ye what ye seem? Ye wear those dour gray and black dresses like it was a funeral, trying to be sa scientific. But I’ve seen those magazines with lace and folderols and th’ latest fripperies in yer room.”

“You looked in my room?” Her voice was rising, out of her control.

“I did. And ye say ye hate that men want control, but all ye do is try to be one o’ them, with more control over yerself than they ha’ over ye. Ye deny yer a woman, Jane. Ye dinnae like ta be soft or pretty. But ye do love beauty, else ye could no’ paint those flowers as ye did. All ye want is control, yet ye hate what ye are sa much, ye ceded control ta yer father by lettin’ his goals in life be yer goals.” He frowned at her.

“Not true!”

“Tell me ye did no’ try ta be like a man just because yer father wanted a boy.”

Jane didn’t respond to that. She couldn’t. “And
you
know so much what women are?” she mocked. It was the only defense she had. “They aren’t all Elyta.” That had made a hit. She could see it in his eyes.

He pressed his lips together. “I know ye, Jane. Ye’re warm and passionate. Ye’re givin’ and hardworkin’. Ye never think of yerself and ye’ve got a laughin’ way about ye…”

He trailed off and stood there, looking vulnerable. Jane felt her anger wash out of her. Did he hate what she was, or not? That last description, delusional though he was, made that stubborn gleam of hope flare up. She held on to the fact that he had struck an awful bargain just to protect her. There had to be a reason for that beyond just his honor. He was right about one thing. She had denied her femininity. But she’d already abandoned that tactic to pursue what the female in her wanted. Her female part wanted to be loved by one Callan Kilkenny. She pushed away the fear, the anger. He was trying to make her forget her purpose. She gathered herself. “You’re right.” She looked him in the eyes. “About all of it.” This was going to hurt her. “Even about Papa. Perhaps it was that he was so single-minded. He could sometimes ignore almost … anything in pursuit of his aims, even me.” She took a breath. “I went through a time when I hated him for it. All the while I was trying to get him to notice me, to take me into his confidence, let me be like him. Strange, yes?”

“Nae.” It was a soft rumble in the darkness. “No’ strange at all.”

“So, you are a perceptive man. But it doesn’t change what I want from you. I want to hear why you are bad. All of it.”

His brows contracted, half in consternation, half in pain, if the expression in his eyes was any indication. “Nae,” he said, a little raggedly.

“But turnabout is fair play, if we’re to trust each other.” Her relentlessness almost frightened her.

He didn’t answer.

“If you want me to start guessing, as you did, I will.” She went to the pile of blankets and shook out two upon the earth. She sat down on one and gestured to the other.

He stood, irresolute.

Would he be able to tell her the truth?

CHAPTER
Twenty-one

“Ye drive a hard bargain, woman,” Callan said through gritted teeth. Jane watched as he strode across the space between them and threw himself down on the other blanket as far away as he could get from her, his wrists clasped about his drawn-up knees. She heard him take in a breath. He didn’t know where to begin.

“Why don’t you start with why you’re a traitor to England and to vampires?” She saw his shoulders relax. He felt he could tell her, so that must not be the worst of it. “I know part of it. Clara said a woman named Asharti made you vampire. She made an army. You followed her. Is that what made you a traitor to vampires?”

“Aye,” he murmured after a moment. “Though I was no’ a regular member o’ her army.” Here he grimaced.

“Is that the only reason you’re a traitor?” she pressed. If he was to get any relief from confession, it had to be thorough.

He gave a bitter chuff. “Nae,” he said, and took another great breath. “After she was killed, th’ army disbanded. Th’ Elders sent powerful old vampires ta massacre all those she made. I escaped in th’ chaos through th’ desert. But they hunted us down. It had nothin’ ta do with whether we were good or bad. It was no’ about justice. I thought … if made vampires with true hearts had a homeland, a refuge, we could stand against th’ Elders. I guess I was lookin’ for another cause ta give my life meanin’.”

“England was going to be your homeland?”

“Aye.”

So he stood against vampire kind and was a traitor to his human government all at the same time. “What happened to your cause?”

He lifted his chin as though his cravat was tight, though he didn’t wear one. “Pretty much what happens ta every cause. I tried ta pick virtuous men who wanted ta use our powers for th’ good of both races.” He looked away. “It did no’ work out sa well.”

“They weren’t good men?” she asked softly.

His lips curled in self-abnegation. “Some killed for their blood.”

She shrugged. “You aren’t the first to believe in utopia. Or the first to have their ideals stripped from them.”

“People died, Jane.” His voice was raw. “Is no’ that bad enough for ye?” He was angry at her for making him do this. That was clear.

But she couldn’t lose her courage now. That hadn’t been the worst and she wanted the worst. “You’re obviously trying to frighten me,” she said as calmly as she could. “But you’ll have to do better than that.”

He had a tight grip on himself. “Verra well. I said I was no’ a regular member of her army.” He cleared his throat. “In fact … I was her slave.”

Jane nodded. Her guess was right. It didn’t give her satisfaction.

“If I’d been a man I would ha’ found a way ta make her kill me before I let her do … what she did.”

Jane kept silent. She knew what Asharti might have done. No man could stand against compulsion. But she dared not comfort him. If she sympathized he might lose his nerve.

“In th’ end, I did whatever she wanted.” His voice was flat. “And I wanted ta please her. She did no’ need ta use compulsion on me. After she made me vampire it was all tied up with how much I needed sex.” He looked down at his knees. “It was no’ pleasure, but I could hold an erection through anythin’.” He stared at her, challenging. “Worse than ye thought, I expect.”

He didn’t need compulsion? He held an erection through the kind of abuse she had seen on his body? But … his situation wasn’t unique, just hard to comprehend from the outside. “I can see how it disturbs you. But I’ve seen the like before; women who won’t leave the husbands that brutalize them, people who don’t press charges when they’ve been kidnapped. Victims can get tangled up emotionally in their situation. The powerful ones take over their victims’ lives and the victims want to please them. They hate themselves for not being as ruthless as their tormentors. Some even become tormentors themselves of those weaker than they are.” She would wager he hadn’t done that.

“She was th’ center of my life. When I escaped her, I had nae center, nae purpose.” His shoulders sagged.

“So you tried to build a new society,” she whispered. “You can’t tell me you had no courage, no ideals.”

*   *   *

Callan looked at the compassion in Jane’s eyes and it all came flooding back to him. Damn her for feeling sorry for him!

*   *   *

Screams filled the outskirts of the village as the army herded its people into the market square. Callan shuffled beside Asharti’s palanquin, naked except for his chains. She liked to see him dressed only in chains. His veins itched with hunger that bordered on pain. Distracted as he was, he smelled fear along with the dung of animals, dusty streets, dates and onions and rancid sweat. Asharti called a halt at the market square. Slaves drew back the draperies of her litter so she could watch the proceedings. Callan watched with dazed dread as the adults were separated from the children. Those of Asharti’s army who had been turned, as he had been, hovered avariciously around the edge of the frightened crowd. Asharti gave the signal and the vampires moved in, compressing the throng. Wails and ululations rose from the mass. The milling children in one corner of the square screamed and cried. Those adults on the outer circle were the first to go. Vampires clamped their victims’ necks. Red eyes glowed. Screams echoed and were silenced. There was a universal slurping sound that made Callan want to retch. It had been two weeks since Asharti had allowed him blood. The thing in his veins smelled the blood in the air, and demanded of him. How he hated what he was! Several strong young Arabs were brought to Asharti. She held them with her red eyes, and sucked them dry. They fell in a heap next to Callan, flesh sunken because it was no longer supported by full capillaries.