To Curse the Darkness (7 page)

“You say it was engineered. By whom?”

“It's difficult to say exactly. The world was very different then. It was more…secretive. Not like today, where there is always some group or some individual eager to claim the credit whenever an atrocity occurs. Our enemies at that time were content to keep their identities a secret from us. As well they might, since retribution was frequently unpleasant. There were those among us who believed that making an example of those we caught would dissuade others from joining them. It was not a theory I subscribed to, but I was not the only one searching.”

“But you did find some of them?”

“Some, yes. As near as we could tell, it was a collaboration between alchemists and the Church. As you should know from your history, vampires were generally perceived to be demonic creatures, a threat to human life and the soul's eternal salvation. We had many enemies as a result. In addition, we had not yet adopted a policy of maintaining secrecy, of attempting to blend in and hide our true natures. There were still many of us who preferred to stand out, to use fear and violence as weapons, to scare people into submission. But ‘he who lives by the sword, dies by the sword', or so they say. And so it was for most of them. For however aggressive one may be, there will always be someone who is stronger or more fearsome or more desperate for power than you.”

Julie suppressed a shudder when a vision of Conrad ripping the head off another vampire whispered through her mind. “I bet you were one of the more fearsome ones, huh?”

“Some of the time I was,” Conrad replied quietly. “Mostly I was concerned with my family. I wanted my people to be safe. My own mistress's downfall had proved to me that while violence begets fear, the reverse is just as often true. Fear begets violence. She was judged invincible in her day. Yet an angry mob armed only with torches proved that assumption false.”

“She was killed by a mob?”

“That's how she was defeated, yes.”

Julie frowned. She was sure there was more to the story than that. She was tempted to pursue it, but that could wait for another time. Right now they were getting too far from the subject at hand. “So…Christian is a carrier. Isn't that what you said?”

“If what he told me is correct, he was infected while still a human. That's how it was spread at first. There have always been humans who have been amenable to being fed upon. Most were probably ignorant of their part in spreading the plague. Like Christian, they were infected without their knowledge. But I'm sure a few knew exactly what they were doing; perhaps they were sympathetic to our enemies' cause, or perhaps they were paid to infect us and cared only about the money they were given. Greed is as powerful a motive as hatred. In Christian's case, I am content he was merely ignorant.”

“But he isn't sick, right? I mean, he's not going to die?”

“Not from the disease he carries.”

Julie pursed her lips. She wasn't entirely happy with that answer either, but that was another subject they could revisit later. “But Georgia's case is different. She's actually sick.”

Conrad sighed. “Yes. She appears to be in the last stages of the disease. Usually, the first symptoms manifest within days of infection, a few weeks at most. It typically runs its course within a matter of months. There are those who survived for several years, but they were the exceptions. The fact that she was so strong when she was infected—and that she was able to continue to feed from Christian all these years without killing him—is likely what helped to prolong her life.”

“But why would feeding from him have helped her—wouldn't it make her more sick?”

“Not necessarily. Vampire blood has certain…medicinal properties, if you will. In most cases that wouldn't have helped her, at least not for long. Whomever she fed from would get sick and die—after going on to infect who knows how many others. The fact that Christian could not get sick—coupled with the fact that she'd sired him in the first place, so that it was her own blood in his veins, so to speak—was likely the reason she's been able to maintain the façade of good health for as long as she has. Now, however, her body is breaking down faster than it can repair itself. I blame myself for that.”

“You? How's that?”

“A nest of vampires is an unusual conglomerate. The strength of the whole is often greater than its parts. And the stronger a nest becomes, the stronger each individual member will be.”

“And ours is very strong, isn't it?” Julie asked.

Conrad nodded. “Yes. It is. And that, no doubt, has also helped Georgia maintain her health all these years.”

“So wait. I don't understand. Are you saying you blame yourself for keeping her strong all this time? That makes no sense.”

“No, it doesn't. For that's not what I'm saying. The strength within a nest is shared among its members, but it is not shared equally. As sire, I benefit the most. I am, in a very real sense, the locus for most of the nest's power. Last year…”

As Conrad broke off, Julie was shocked to see the glimmer of tears in his eyes. “Go on,” she urged.

“Last year, as you know, I very foolishly allowed myself to be taken captive. I do not mean to belittle your efforts, or your brother's, or Damian's. You all worked so tirelessly and risked so much to save me. But I would have died long before you found me were it not for the power I was able to draw from the nest itself.”

“And that was what Georgia had been using to stay healthy.”

“Yes. A strong sire is imperative if a nest is to survive. Prompted by my weakness—and, remember, it took months before I was fully recovered—a large part of the strength and the healing energy that had previously circulated freely amongst us began to flow to me. Deprived of that strength, Georgia began to feel the full effects of her illness.”

Julie nodded. “I'd like to see her, if that's all right with you. Tomorrow, if possible. I want to talk to her about all of this.”

Conrad's jaw clenched. “I really don't see any point in that. I appreciate your wish to help her, but, as I've already told you, I cannot allow you to risk your life on a hopeless gamble. What's more, I
will not
allow it. Do not ask me again.”

“I just want to talk to her. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?” She let her mind press against his entreatingly, and was both gratified and terrified when she felt him yield.

“No. There's nothing wrong with that.”

A few months ago, what she'd just done would not have been possible. Perhaps the stories they told about “her kind” were more right than anyone knew. It was a good thought to cling to. “So I can see her then?”

“No,” he protested stubbornly, though she could feel the struggle inside him. “It's too dangerous. I cannot allow it.”

“Not even if you go with me? I mean, after all, you're going to see her anyway, aren't you?”

“I…” Conrad closed his eyes as though in pain. “Yes, I suppose I am. I really have no choice in that.”

No choice? Julie didn't like the way that sounded. “It will be good for you—to see her, to talk to her. It doesn't have to be anything more than that. Just a friendly visit.”

“Yes. That would be nice.”

“And you'll take me with you?” she asked, adding when he seemed to hesitate. “Just to talk. We don't need to do anything else yet, right?”

“Very well,” Conrad said on a sigh. “If you'd like.”

“I would.” Julie smiled contentedly as she settled herself more comfortably against Conrad, slowly adjusting to the view from these surprising new heights to which she'd ascended. The future suddenly looked to be very interesting indeed. “I would like that very much. Thank you, Grandfather.”

* * * * *

Elise fumbled as she fit her house key into its lock. Everything was damp and slick with mist: the door, the knob, the key itself. The trace of salt in the air stung her skin, making it hard to hold on to anything. It also dulled her senses and made it difficult at times to even breathe. But she barely noticed that anymore. Her senses had been blunted long ago by the oils and turps she worked with. The upside was that everyone's senses were equally useless here. It put them all on common ground—which was as big an advantage as she could hope for.

“Come on,” she groused as the lock refused to cooperate. “You infernal contraption, open up.” It was almost morning and she'd had very little to eat of late. She was tired and hungry…but then again, she was almost
always
tired and hungry anymore. That was yet another downside of living in this sedate little town where they rolled up the sidewalks so early in the evening. It made it hard to find enough food. She'd had to take on a part-time job as a waitress just to provide herself with access to people on a daily basis. It still wasn't very satisfactory. Her choices were not just severely limited, they were also generally unappetizing—all that salt-sea air clinging to everyone's skin and hair. All she could say in its favor, in fact, was that it was better than any of the alternatives she could think of. She was still alive, after all, and no one had come to town looking for her—a state of affairs she'd very much like to continue.

“Finally!” she sighed in relief when the key turned in the lock. She was still alive and she was still safe.

And then, all at once, she wasn't.

Without warning, a hand closed over hers. A big male body pressed against her back and a soft, familiar voice whispered in her ear. “Hello, Elise.”

She jumped in surprise. In her attempt to jerk away from the sudden threat, she spun around so fast she hit her head against the doorframe.
No, no, no!
her mind screamed in useless protest as blackness rose before her eyes and she pitched over into darkness.

Marc caught Elise before she hit the ground. He stared in bemusement at the limp form in his arms.
That
was not supposed to have happened. Of all the many scenarios he'd imagined of what might possibly transpire once he found her, accidentally knocking her unconscious within seconds of laying eyes on her had not been one of them.

Perhaps he should take advantage of the situation? He was half-tempted to simply hoist her over his shoulder, load her into his car and drive them both right back home to San Francisco as fast as possible. They'd be safer there—he was sure of it. Here, he wasn't nearly as confident. But it would be morning soon—which meant the light would be in his eyes the whole way back—and he'd made that same trip three times in the past two days. He was exhausted. And he probably owed her a conversation first anyway, before he ripped her away from her temporary home. Otherwise, this came a little too close to kidnapping.

Not that he could say for sure he wouldn't kidnap her, if he had to. He hoped he wouldn't stoop so low, but all things considered, he'd much rather not have to put that theory to the test.

Instead, he pushed the door open and let them into her house. The city could wait until tomorrow. Everything else could wait until tomorrow. For right now, he wanted to rest, to revel for a moment in the knowledge that his search was over. And that, despite all the questions that were still unanswered, he'd at least been right about one thing: he needed Elise. He still wasn't sure how or why, but being with her grounded him in a way that, so far, nothing else had. He felt a surge of power, a surge of protectiveness and a deep-seated feeling of peace.

He glanced around curiously. Maybe the peace was a by-product of this place? But though the cottage looked comfortable enough, decorated in a charming, shabby-chic style, he doubted the furnishings were responsible for his lightened mood.

He crossed to the small couch and set Elise down gently upon the cushions. Then he hurried back out to the car for some supplies, anticipation welling up inside him. If nothing else, he definitely was looking forward to getting the first decent sleep he'd had in months.

Chapter Five

The following evening…

The sight of his mistress's naked body spread out before him filled Quintano with a myriad of emotions, but lust and revulsion predominated. He craved her beyond all reason and hated her with a near equal passion. The only thing he hated more was himself.

He hated the weakness within him that kept him compliant, that prevented him from wringing her neck. He hated the hideous desire that possessed him, that demanded he worship her body for as long as she'd allow it, rather than tear her limb from limb. To be sure, the desire for violence was always present as well. Even now it simmered beneath the surface, desperately seeking an outlet, but the power she wielded over him kept it trapped inside—like an acid, forever corroding his mind and destroying what was left of his soul.

Lavinia fisted her hand in his hair and drew him closer. “Come, slave, pleasure me. Let us see if you are as skillful here as you are in the arena.”

Quintano shuddered. The pressure on his scalp ignited a panic within him, a deep, visceral sickness. He recalled that touch—too well. That grip, that tug, that hateful feeling of utter helplessness was one of the last things he remembered from his life as a human.

“One last chance,” she'd snarled at him then, softly threatening. She'd twisted her fingers in his hair and tugged, forcing his head up, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Speak now, or suffer the consequences. The offer will not be repeated. Tell me: Do you wish to live or to die?”

What he'd wished for, in that moment, was the strength to spit in her face, for the nerve to say no and allow himself to be slaughtered. But already weak and wracked with pain, desperate for any chance at life, he'd grasped at the offer. “Yes,” he'd whispered, hoping for the nightmare to end. “Please. I wish to live.”

It had seemed like a dream at the time, a horrible nightmare that surely must have an ending. Little did he know then that the real nightmare had only just begun…

“Conrad,
querido
, wake up!” Damian's voice filtered into Conrad's sleep. “You're dreaming again.”

Conrad woke with a start. Instinctively, he started to push Damian away. But need overwhelmed him, so he changed course and pulled Damian close, ignoring his lover's startled gasp. Conrad's jaws ached with the need to sink his fangs into Damian's flesh, to fill his mouth with the sweetness of his blood, to anchor himself in the present. But the caustic taste of his own venom on his tongue meant he could not seek that comfort yet. Instead he burrowed into the warmth of his lover's embrace, breathing a sigh of relief when Damian's arms tightened protectively around him.

“There, there,
querido
. It was just a dream. You're safe now.”

Safe? Conrad stiffened. No. It wasn't true. He must always maintain his guard. None of them could ever be safe enough. But was it possible Damian realized how much Conrad needed to hear those words, even knowing them to be untrue? How much he needed to enjoy the feeling of sanctuary he only found in moments like these, when they were wrapped in each other's arms? He thought not. He hoped not. Even now, even after all their time together, there were still some things Conrad could not bring himself to ask for—that he would
never
ask for if he could help it.

How could he allow himself to show such weakness when the entire family was depending on him to be strong? When it was he on whom all the others relied—for protection, assistance, comfort or whatever else they lacked. Safety was found in strength. Weakness led to death. It was as simple as that. And as difficult.

“What was it this time?” Damian inquired as his fingers stroked lightly over Conrad's flesh. “Your sleep has been so peaceful of late. I thought the nightmares were receding?”

“I thought so too.” Was it just concern in Damian's voice? Or was there a note of derision as well, a hint of revulsion? Perhaps it was only imagined, but either way, it steeled Conrad's resolve. He pushed away from his lover and sat up. “I'm sorry if I disrupted your sleep. Perhaps it would be best if you slept in another room for the next few nights.”

“What? Oh, nonsense.” Damian scoffed. “What are you talking about? It would take a great deal more than this to disturb me. It's
you
I'm concerned about.”

“There's no need,” Conrad assured him. “It was just a nightmare. I'm sure it was merely the upheaval of last night that stirred things up.”

“I'm sure you're right—either that or the conversation. What
were
you and Julie up so late discussing?”

“Everything,” Conrad replied, feeling his muscles relax as he stretched, feeling his emotions come into balance. He felt surprisingly good, all things considered. But he was more than a little shocked to recall the extent of last night's conversation. In truth, he'd revealed a great deal more than he'd ever intended. “But Georgia and her illness more than anything.”

“And why is that?” Damian's eyes narrowed. “Was Julie that upset about her attack? I thought she was handling it rather well. Should I speak with her about it?”

“I don't think she was unduly upset. She seemed more curious than anything. We have given her a lot to think about in a very short time. It's not surprising that she would have questions.”

“I think that would depend on the types of questions she asked.” The suspicious look in Damian's eyes did little to improve Conrad's temper. He could already anticipate the argument that would ensue were Damian to learn the subject of some of Julie's questions.

Do you think Christian is right about me
?
Could my blood be used to save them
?
Will you take me to see her?

Yes, upon consideration, Conrad was very certain Damian would not like those ideas at all. Come to think of it, neither did he. So why was he still entertaining them?

More disquieted than he cared to admit, Conrad climbed out of bed. “Speak with her, if you think it will ease your mind. Although I suspect the quickest way for her to get over the experience is not for us not to keep dredging it up again.”

Damian scowled. “I wasn't planning on dredging anything up. Credit me with possessing some subtlety, if you please. And where are you going? I was just about to ring for breakfast. Aren't you hungry?”

“No!” Conrad bit back a growl. “I fear I will be getting my meals from the kitchen today.” He couldn't risk feeding live until he'd recovered his equilibrium.

“Of course. That was thoughtless of me. Give me a few minutes to dress and I'll join you.”

“No need. I'm quite capable of feeding myself.”

Damian's eyebrows rose. “I was not suggesting otherwise. I merely thought you might like some company.”

“Thank you, but that's not necessary.”

Even with his back turned, Conrad could all but see the small frown that was no doubt furrowing Damian's brow. When he spoke again, however, his words were not what Conrad had expected.

“Conrad, will you allow me to help you? It need not be you who puts Georgia to death, you know. It goes without saying that, as her sire, the right belongs to you, and far be it from me to usurp your privilege. But, please, if it would make it easier, you need not do
everything
yourself.”

“So you would do it for me?” Conrad shook his head. “Thank you, my dear. I appreciate your concern, and I'm sure you mean well, but I fear Georgia would count that as the ultimate betrayal.”

Damian sighed. “I don't doubt it at all. Indeed, I would hardly expect otherwise. I suspect she will find fault with my actions until the very end. But, again, it is
you
who concerns me. I hope you know that I would never be so spiteful as to gloat over her at such a time, or cause her unnecessary pain.”

“Forgive me,” Conrad said as he returned to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached for Damian's hand and linked their fingers together. “I did not mean to imply any such thing.”

“If you would know the truth, I…I do believe I shall miss her.”

Damian sounded so chagrined at the thought Conrad couldn't help but laugh. “Remind me to tell her that. It is possible that she may die easier knowing she spites you by doing so.”

“Conrad!”

“It's a joke, Damian, nothing more, and likely in poor taste. But I still cannot avail myself of your offer. However little I like it, I owe her the respect of seeing to her personally. And even if that were not the case, even if she were amenable, I still would likely insist upon dealing with it myself. Dispatching someone infected with this disease is dangerous, and I've had much more experience with that than you have. Besides, I cannot risk losing you both.”

Damian sighed. “Very well, but if I might make one more suggestion?”

“Go ahead.”

“I know you will want to put her death off for as long as possible, but however much you may be tempted to kill Christian first, please resist the urge to do so. It's entirely too cruel to send her to her death knowing all her spawn are dead before her.”

Conrad nodded. “You are right, of course.”

“Conversely, once she is gone, you may find your job made easier. It may be that Christian will welcome death and the chance to join her.”

“That may be possible,” Conrad allowed. “I suppose. Although I think it unlikely.”

Damian glanced away. “I know that's how I'd feel, were I in his position.”

Conrad paused for a moment before continuing, cautiously. “It is barely possible, you know, that he might not need to be put to death at all. If he could be content to live out his life in isolation…”

“Forever? You're not seriously considering that as an option, are you?”

“Shouldn't I? Is it really all that different from the decision I made to spare the twins' lives when they were newborn? If Georgia were to beg me to save him, as the twins' mother did—and on her deathbed as well—should I not feel equally bound to honor
her
wishes? Surely that's the least I can do for her.”

“It's not the same thing at all!” Damian replied hotly. “The twins were mere infants, helpless and innocent. There were no sins on their souls. Nor did they carry a plague capable of wiping out our entire species.”

“We did not know what they were capable of. We still don't. And now they are no longer infants, and I fear we've yet to even begin to feel the full ramifications of that decision.”

“You sound as though you regret it.”

“I did not say that. Do
no
t start putting words in my mouth again!” They stared wordlessly at each other for a moment while tension sparked between them. After a moment, Conrad sighed. “No, you're right. I suppose I cannot really consider sparing Christian's life. That would hardly be practical or even fair. The twins were an unknown quantity. The plague that Christian carries is altogether too familiar. To spare him, knowing that he might go on and infect others, is not just dangerous; it's irresponsible, as well as an insult to all the others, carriers and victims alike, who were put to death in order to keep the disease from spreading. Nor can Georgia's actions—knowingly bringing the disease here, into
my
house—go unpunished. It's a miracle no one else has been affected. Only consider the disaster we might be facing right now if Julie were anything other than what she is!”

“I know, I know.” Damian held up a hand to forestall him. “Don't even say it.
Dios mio
. It still terrifies me to think of it. That was far too close a call.”

“It was indeed. Still, as you point out, I'm thinking that perhaps that's something I might keep from Georgia. There must be some room for mercy. Unless she asks me what I intend to do, or claims the right as his sire to end him herself—which is her prerogative, and one I will not take away from her—I hope to avoid the conversation altogether. I understand why she did what she did. I don't condone her behavior, but she's dying. And I see no reason to cause her more distress than necessary. Besides, any of us might have done the same in similar circumstances.”

“Yes, of course. However—”

“I also do not wish to talk any more about this matter. Not at this point. I'm sure there will be time enough, in the next few days, to deal with all these questions.”

“You would put this off for
days
?”

“Yes. Why not? It's not the kind of thing we need rush into.”

Damian's lips firmed. “I'm not sure I agree with that. I realize you're trying to be kind, but is it not
more cruel
—to both of you—to prolong the inevitable?”

“All choices are cruel in this regard,” Conrad said as he got to his feet once more. “And, for the record, I am not trying to be kind. I simply want to give us both some time to adjust to the idea.”

“One might argue that Georgia has had an ample amount of time to ‘adjust' to the idea,” Damian pointed out. “Centuries, in fact.”

“But I have not,” Conrad snarled before wrestling his emotions under control. “So unless Georgia begs me to do otherwise, I would rather err on the side of moving too slowly rather than too fast. She'll be dead soon enough.”

“Of course.” Damian sighed. “I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sure you'll do whatever you think is best.”

“Yes,” Conrad replied. “Rest assured that I will. No matter how much I'd rather do otherwise.”

* * * * *

The rhythmic sound of clanking metal—accompanied by the occasional sob and muttered exclamation of distress—pulled Marc from a deep, exhausted sleep. He was so groggy that it took him an instant to identify the source of the noise.