"I feel nothing for you."
Her hand flew to his neck and began to squeeze. He stared at her defiantly as he drew in rasping breaths. Why wouldn't they just stop trying to change him? First it was his brother Sam, now it was Aya. Why couldn't she just let it go? Did she really love him, like she had said, or did she just want to see him suffer?
Resigning himself to whatever fate she had in store, he let his body relax, his expression slackening. Aya's hands dropped away and he drew in a sharp breath through his crushed trachea.
"I never knew how sadistic you really were," he scoffed. "When do we start with the stakes? I hear under the fingernails is excruciating."
"Zac…"
"As long as you finish with the heart, go nuts." His head snapped to the side as her palm connected with the side of his face. "Not hard enough." This time, her fist connected with the edge of his jaw and there was an audible crack as the force of the impact fractured it. "Much better."
As the bone began to knit itself back together slowly, he saw something in her hand. Ahh, there it was. He wondered when she would bring out the stake. She brought it down faster than his eye could follow and he roared in pain as it shot clear through his hand.
"Fuck," he laughed, stifling a grimace, the stake well and truly imbedded. "I felt that, but that's not right is it? Physical pain isn't an emotion."
She must have decided that it wasn't quite enough when she tore the stake from his hand and imbedded it in his thigh. Zac threw his head back, gritting his teeth together, stifling another cry.
"How about now?" she snapped.
"Nope."
Grasping the end, she twisted the piece of wood, grinding it deeper into his flesh until it began to scrape against bone.
"Ahh," he laughed, shakily filtering out the pain. "That's the spot."
Suddenly, she wrenched the stake away, flinging it across the room. "Enough."
"But, I was having such a great time."
"Is that what you really want? You want me to hurt you?"
"If I'm going to feel something, it may as well be pain. Pain I can relate to."
"I don't want to hurt you, Zac. Please."
"Emotional pain is so overrated."
"What do you want from me?"
"What do I want from you?" he scoffed.
"What do you want?" she yelled.
Zac sighed. He wasn't sure if he had ever heard her raise her voice at him before. If she had, he didn't remember.
"The truth," he said, watching her closely. "There was something you couldn't bare to tell me. Remember?"
Aya was silent so long, that he began to think she wouldn't let go of whatever had pulled them apart in the first place. She had nothing to worry about. They were already broken and maybe it was irreparable. Whatever repercussion she was afraid of didn't matter anymore.
"When I killed Arturius," she said, her voice quiet in the small room, "something strange happened."
He didn't dare say anything, too afraid that if he did, she would stop talking. Was this finally the truth?
"My power doubled back on itself and splintered through my mind…" she let out a sharp hiss, shaking her head. "And for so long, I thought it had broken me. He made me what I am and who knew what would have happened when… I was afraid of losing control and hurting you."
"You could have told me," he whispered. "I could have helped you."
She shook her head again, leaning back against the far wall. "It was my problem."
"I would have stood by you," he said almost condescendingly. She looked up at him, her gaze full of pain and regret and he understood. "Nothing happened, did it? All of this was for nothing?"
Aya's silence was all the confirmation he needed. She was as she always was. This thing that had happened when she killed Arturius? Nothing had come of it and he felt… His eyes snapped up and met her blue. He'd felt.
"Zac?" she asked, her voice hopeful.
"You can hear it," he stated. Despite his best efforts, his humanity had begun to come back and all he wanted to do was slam his head into the bluestone wall of his prison.
"Yes."
"I don't want to," he shook his head, the chains around his wrists ratting. "I don't want to."
"You have to." She was back in front of him, a hand caressing his face.
He loved her. He always would. He could never fall out of love with her. And he realized that's what she had been counting on to bring him back.
"I love you," she whispered. "There has never been anyone else and there never will be. I love you. Forever."
A tear slid down his face and she was on her knees, her hands wound in his hair. "Aya."
"I know," she murmured, pressing her lips to his clammy forehead. "I know."
Reaching behind the chair, she brought back a bag clad in a hospital emblem. It was full of blood and he couldn't help it when he let out a strangled moan. She set the bag in his lap and retreated back across the room, giving him some distance. "It's not your issue, Zac. I wanted to keep you out of it. The last thing I wanted was to drag you into my mess."
He managed to lean over and hold the blood bag to his mouth, drinking greedily. "It became my issue long before I ever met you," he said, gasping for air. "From the moment I died, it became my issue."
"No," she shook her head. "If I hadn't of set foot in America, Victoria wouldn't have followed. Then..."
"Shh..." he said to stop her from going any further. "I don't care who pissed off who first. It's not a competition."
"What can I do?" she asked, watching him sate his hunger.
Ignoring her, he asked, "How long have I been here?"
"Almost a week."
"Aya, this is important," he said, deadly serious. "I need to go back."
"No, you can't be serious," she exclaimed.
"I know who the Coven are, Aya. I know everything."
She slumped back against the wall. "Seems like I didn't you enough credit."
"You never did." He couldn't help it.
"If you know everything then you know what they can do."
He was silent for a moment. He knew. He found out right before she'd jumped him on the street. It had been too easy following them in the museum. So easy, at first he thought it was a trap. But, with his blood silenced, he was far too sneaky for his own good. He'd heard everything that the witch had told her. Everything. How they believed the Coven was trying to awaken the Original Witch, how they were plotting to kill Regulus and how Aya was plotting to kill them. And Victoria. How could he feel sorry for her after what she did to his family? What she did to him? He couldn't.
And the Coven had tried to get her to kill herself? That wasn't even possible, she could come back from everything. Everything. She couldn't truly die, there was no known way.
Later, after telling the Four useless information, he'd split off from them and walked, not knowing what to do. Looking down into the cesspool that was the Thames, he was set upon and then he had woken up here.
"I may have turned myself into a heartless monster, but I have a plan," he said, not elaborating. They had Coraline and she had implied that she could do the job for him. "If I don't go back, there's no hope in hell that you'll be able to get within five feet of Regulus. Aya, I'm so close. There's another way."
She stared at him in disbelief. "No," she shook her head. "If there was, I would know."
"I hate to be the one who tells you this, but you don't know everything."
"You don't hate it," she scoffed. "You're loving this."
"Let me go."
"If I let you go, you'll never come back."
Zac sighed and looked away, not trusting himself to look at her. "We keep coming back to this?"
"What?" she asked, like she didn't already know.
"Trust."
Her head dropped into her hands.
"You have to let me go," he whispered, his gaze taking in her eyes that sparkled with unshed tears. "I don't know what will happen, but this ti
me, you need to trust me. For once in your fucking life… trust me."
Tentatively, she reached down and undid his restraints. Standing back, she looked at her feet, gesturing to the door. "Go," she whispered. "Go before I change my mind."
CHAPTER TWENTY
When Zac walked into the apartment, Nye was sitting on top of the kitchen counter, giving him a look that said he'd almost written him off.
"What the fuck happened to you?" he asked, looking him up and down.
He was still wearing the same clothes he'd been in when Aya and Tristan had snatched him from the street and they were caked with his sweat and blood, his coat missing. He looked like he'd been through hell and the story he was going to tell Nye was only nine tenths of the truth.
"I had a run in with my ex," he said, wryly.
"The Hunter did this to you?" he was surprised.
"They jumped me not long after I left you and the others by the museum."
"That was like a week ago. She had you that long?"
Zac grimaced.
"So, that's what was different with you the other night. At the party."
"What do you mean?" he asked, knowing exactly what Nye meant.
"She couldn't bare to let you go without your humanity."
"Nye, the fact that you're a fucking genius makes me want to punch you in the face."
The spy laughed and tapped his temple. "One-oh-six."
Zac leant against the kitchen counter, picking up a bottle of scotch someone had left out. Truth was, he felt strange. It was like he could feel the edges of himself tingling, like his nerve endings had been dulled to feeling and now it was slowly coming back. His humanity had begun to creep back in, but it would still take time for it to come back entirely.
"How did she do it?" Nye asked, watching him.
He shook his head. "She told me the truth."
"Looks like she tortured it out of you."
Zac grimaced. "She tried, but it would never have worked."
"Mate, death wishes are dangerous when you're a vampire."
"I don't know anything else."
Nye gave him a look and snatched away the bottle of scotch. "No offence, but you need to have a shave, mate. You look like a hobo. And you stink like one too."
Zac grunted, pushing off the bench and wandering down the hall.
Aya had become afraid of so many things since he'd come along. Zac knew enough about her that she never, ever felt this way. Maybe she was right when she left, but did it for the wrong reasons. And maybe he'd tried to cope with it in the wrong way, too. He hated feeling all of these emotions he couldn't handle, but it was better than the alternative. Turning his back on his humanity had been an ill advised move on his part. The way he'd goaded her on… it made him feel sick. What would have he become after a week? A month? A year? Fuck, even a decade?
Stripping off his filthy clothes, he turned on the shower in the ensuite to his room. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he grimaced at the sight. Aya had really done a number on him, hadn't she? He was covered in dry blood, sweat and dirt, a weeks worth of stubble covering his chin. Why the hell did he still have to shave when he was dead? Hell, why did he still have to breathe when he was dead? The fucking mysteries of the universe.
Once Zac had showered and made himself presentable, he went back out to the kitchen where Nye still sat on the counter top looking at his cell phone.
"Regulus wants to see you," he said.
"Where is he?" Zac asked, knowing that the spy had called the Roman while he was in the shower.
"The pub," Nye said. "The Mixer."
"Fine," he said, grabbing Nye's coat from the back of the sofa.
"Hey. Get your own."
"Get a new one," Zac retorted, slamming the door closed behind him.
The Good Mixer was a little pub just off the Camden High Street that had been there for forever and a day. It was packed with alternative types; goths, punks, rockers and a few old men who'd probably been drinking there for their entire lives. A punk girl behind the bar eyed Zac as he came in, black and blue hair and tattoos on either arm. From the look on her face he knew she was a sympathizer and she knew what he was. She inclined her head towards the back of the pub and he moved past the bar, not acknowledging her gesture.
Regulus sat at a table in the back, flanked by two men and a woman he'd never seen before. When he laid eyes on Zac, he stood, his expression unreadable. Leading him across to the opposite side of the bar he sat at a free table, gesturing for him to sit.
"Zachary," he said thinly. "You have some explaining to do."
Zac said nothing, sitting down, facing the Roman.
Regulus' eyes narrowed and he tapped the top of the table. "What I want to know is how you gave four very skilled vampires the slip and what you think you were doing once you did."
"The British Museum is a hive of activity these days," Zac said nonchalantly. "All kinds of unsavory people hang around there."
Regulus gazed at him, waiting, his expression unreadable.
"Witches, vampires, hybrids. I'm guessing they don't go there for the history. But, you already know that."
Regulus snorted, taking his cell from inside his coat. He typed a message and dropped it back into his pocket. He stood without a word and walked through to the front of the pub. Zac didn't have to ask, he knew that he wanted him to follow.
It was quiet out on the street. Almost everyone was inside the pub or on their way to somewhere that wasn't out in the cold. Frost was thick on the air and the threat of snow loomed in the darkness above. Walking down the street a ways, The Roman turned side on, his breath vaporizing on the cold night air. He looked calm, but Zac knew better. His jaw was tight and even in the darkness, he could see his eyes changing. This wasn't going to be pretty.
Still, he wasn't prepared when Regulus appeared in front of him, his fist hurtling through the air. Zac stumbled back a few steps from the force of the blow, hardly aware that blood was gushing from his broken nose. It took a few seconds for the synapses in his brain to grow back together and when his head snapped up, it was just in time to see Regulus' fist hurtling towards his face again.
It connected with a sickening thud of bone against flesh and he doubled over, clutching his face, pretty sure his cheekbone had just shattered.
"Do not think I am someone to be trifled with, Zachary. I make good on my threats. Every single one. Who are you to question me? Hmm?"
Zac grimaced, stifling the urge to curse out loud at the throbbing pain in his face.
Regulus was still shouting at him, not waiting for a response. "I could just kill you to teach you and the others a lesson in obedience. Or I could just get Nye to put an end to you. You've become great friends have you not? Imagine having to murder your best friend. Do you think he would care? Would you?"
"That would imply I still had a heart," Zac sneered, spitting blood on the pavement. "You saw to putting an end to that the night you made me kill that girl."
"I made you?" Regulus scoffed, eyebrows raised. "I didn't make you do anything. All I did was simply offer you the opportunity. You're the one who took it, Zachary."
Zac's jaw set and fought the urge to grind his teeth.
"You are not my equal. You will never be anything more than you are now. Mine. Do you understand?" When he didn't answer, Regulus shoved him. "Answer me!"
If he didn't say something to please Regulus, he was as good as dead. "I understand," he said, unable to hide the strain in his voice.
The Roman grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him close. "Fuck with me again and it will be the last thing you ever do. I do not kill traitors mercifully, Zachary. Know that I will drag it out for days, weeks and years if I have to."
He stared the Roman down until he pushed him away. Wiping the blood from his nose with the arm of Nye's coat he spat, "Fine. I get it."
"Now," Regulus said. "I want answers. Where were you for the last seven days, Zachary?"
"Locked in a dungeo
n."
Regulus' eyebrows rose and it looked like he didn't believe him in the slightest.
"Aya," he said. "She snapped my neck and locked me up."
"What was she doing with you?"
"They tried to turn me."
"They?"
"Aya and Tristan."
Regulus seemed to mull this over for a moment, his expression total darkness. "And did they succeed?"
Zac knew the right answer, and it was the truthful one. He'd never been turned in the first place. "No."
"What did she tell you?"
"She told me nothing that you don't already know."
"Then why did she take you?"
"She knew I'd turned off my humanity and she wanted it back."
Regulus scoffed, shaking his head. "I never thought she had a heart."
"Stranger things have happened."
The Roman looked him up and down, his carefully graded expression, suddenly falling. And for a moment Zac saw something akin to jealousy. "What the hell does she see in you?"
He'd said it to himself, but Zac answered anyway. "I ask myself the same question."
Regulus frowned, looking away and after a long minute he snapped, "Get out of my sight."
Zac knew better than to linger and think over Regulus' odd reaction. He strode away towards the High Street before he could be called back.
Weaving his way through the slow walkers and drunkards on the street, he walked and walked, not wanting to go back to the apartment just yet. He couldn't face Nye and the rest of the Four. They'd ask him questions he didn't want to answer. They would want to know what Aya had said and done to him. He still couldn't fathom it himself.
She'd abandoned him, telling him all of those brutal things. How she didn't really love him, how she'd used him. And what for? To protect him? She knew nothing about what he wanted, if she did she would understand that was the worst possible thing she could have done.
Her power had folded back on itself. What the hell did that even mean? It didn't really matter, she'd said nothing had happened and that was the biggest fucking joke he'd ever heard. She'd pulled away from him for nothing. Even if something had happened when she'd killed Arturius it wouldn't have mattered. It was the truth when he said he would have stood by her. A vampire's intensity dial was turned up to a billion and everything he felt for her was overwhelming and he would have done whatever it took to help.
The Shadow's Son (The Witch Hunter Saga) Page 19
