No pity in his gaze today, not even the moderate irritation she’d hoped for at her drawing. His face was stone-cold sober, blanker than blank. Had he been hanging out with Hadrian?
A low, deep laugh came from the shadowy figure behind him. It pulsed across her shoulders and danced down her spine. She knew that laugh. Had heard it in the nightmares of her life, the darkest memories of her death.
”I can see you were right, Silas,” a voice like velvet said. Not only was it the voice from the Venor meeting, but worse, the voice that haunted nearly every memory of her human life. “Still, I do think her sketches have improved in the last few centuries, so they apparently taught her one useful thing.”
A sound escaped her throat, entirely against her will. Rene couldn’t take her eyes from the shadow, couldn’t move to protect herself. A weight, heavy and sick, settled in her bones and kept her still.
“Hello, Sarah, how good it is to see you again. Finally.” His face melted out of the shadows to join the voice and give her the full picture. Handsome and only a few years older than she remembered it. Dark hair and eyes the color of the first tree buds in March. His full lips pulled up in a mocking smirk. “I have been waiting so long for this.”
Trembling, shuddering, coursing rivulets of fear flowed through every inch of her body. Rene pressed against the stone wall with all her strength, but it wasn’t enough. “You’re dead,” she whispered.
“Actually, darling, I think you are.”
She had to be hallucinating. Had to be. Low blood, not enough sleep, the sheer amount of time spent all alone . . . This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be real. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t.
“Aw, my poor little Sarah, what’s wrong? Did you think you would never see me again?”
That was exactly what she’d thought. Prayed for. Hoped desperately. Spasms of fear shuddered through her body, down her extremities, shaking her bones until they felt like liquid. She couldn’t have stood even if she had the strength.
“I heard that your kidnapper died the final death last year. I’ve never regretted anything so much as when they took you away to that monster.” He moved with the same familiar lithe grace and unspoken threat as he came forward to crouch in front of the bars. The moonlight through her cell window fell on his face, caressed the smooth hard lines of it, and clothed the monster in silvery beauty. His eyes shone like twin beacons, lighting the way straight to hell. Rene could barely keep her eyes from closing in fear. His clothes were similar to the werewolves’. Serviceable, warm, easy on and off.
“Can you imagine my surprise when I learned that you were not killed and eaten by the beast? That you were taken in and given immortality? What a joyous day that was for me, Sarah, to know that we might be reunited in this life. It’s everything I’ve been working toward for so long.” He traced his fingers over the bars, eyes never leaving hers. He was a cobra; if she looked away he would strike. “Even though it is in this way, with your soul clearly damned, cloaked in darkness and depravity, I know there is hope.”
To hear him speak of hope was the greatest irony of all. She’d never felt as hopeless as she did just then. Nothing was ever enough to escape him. Not even dying.
“I will save you, Sarah.”
She couldn’t help the sound that escaped her throat then. The sheer terror that built in her heart had no release, no escape valve. The years were erased and she was seventeen years old again. Terrified, alone, and without a prayer that could save her.
“There, there, Ira is here.” He smiled. “Brother is here.”
∞∞∞
“Let me see if I have this straight,” Hadrian Catane said, leaning back in his tall leather chair and regarding Will with his stern green-gold gaze. “You are asking my permission to outright disobey an order from the leader of your clan?”
It took everything Will had not to fidget under that stare. The only thing that kept him still was the knowledge that he was right to do this. He was the only one looking for Rene. If he stopped, she would never be found. “In so many words.”
“Why is it you think I can override Estrada’s orders?”
“Well, sir, I think you can override just about anyone’s orders.”
“And were I to do so, what would that make me?”
“Sir?”
“Would I then be the leader of the Risqueen? What would stop me from then telling Wade’s people what they may do or not do? Or Ignatius’? Why couldn’t I then be the supreme dictator of all the immortals?”
“I’m not—” Will broke off. “I didn’t mean—”
“The problem, Mr. Rynquist, with choosing when you will follow the letter of the law and when you will not, is that the law loses all meaning.”
Will looked down. Hopelessness was a yawning pit inside of him. No one cared about what really mattered. Estrada just wanted peace in her clan, Hadrian wanted order above all else, Wade Elliot . . . damned if Will knew what he wanted. But it wasn’t having Rene back. Maybe he wanted peace and order. And Rene was the antithesis to both.
“If that is all?” Hadrian asked.
Will started to stand, then stopped halfway up. No, it was too much to take anymore. “No,” he said. “That is not all.” Standing straight, he faced the mighty Hadrian Catane and put one finger on the desk. “It’s not all by a long shot. Maybe I have to follow Estrada’s orders. Maybe I have to go to Ireland. But you, you should be ashamed.”
“I beg your pardon?” Hadrian’s voice lowered an octave. The bland expression on his face didn’t alter a molecule, but suddenly Will could feel every one of Hadrian’s superior years pointed straight at him like a bayonet.
“You sent her into that mess. You sent her after the Venor with only a few young, inexperienced vampires to guard her back. And when she got in hot water, where were you? What have you done in an effort to find and recover her? It’s been two months, Hadrian, and I am the only one looking for her. She is your operative. Acrien or not, she was operating under your orders. You are responsible for her.”
“Sit down, Rynquist.”
Will pushed his chair under the desk and turned to walk away. “I’ve got my orders—”
“Sit down now, William.”
The command pulsed through the room like the charge of a lightning bolt. Every hair on the back of Will’s head stood up and he felt with sudden sickening certainty he’d overstepped and there was no backtracking. Still, he’d meant every word, and it needed to be said. Turning around with a stiff back, he slowly retook his seat and waited.
“I’m not in the habit of explaining myself to vampires as low on the totem pole as you, Rynquist, so bear with me and let me know if I use any words or concepts too advanced for you.”
∞∞∞
Go to your room.
The phone buzzed in her hand, screen lighting on the words and sending a quiver of unease down Kendra’s back. Despite the fact that the words made her feel like a misbehaving child, she could easily hear the way her sire’s voice would sound when he said such a thing. His was not the voice of her human father, chiding and angry, but instead the low and assured stern voice of command. The voice that ushered her into this life and told her not to step out into the rays of sunlight when she awoke dead. The voice that warned her against telling her master all, against disobeying.
The phone buzzed again. Now.
She marked the message read and shoved the phone in her pocket. This couldn’t be good. The extraordinary not good of it weighed her down and she decided not to shimmer to her room, but to walk. She needed a little extra time to prepare herself, guard against whatever bad news he had. Kendra didn’t have to ask herself what she’d done, didn’t have to wonder what he wanted to see her for.
When the Venaygo doctor’s shapeshifter friend caught her the night before, Kendra had known she was in for it. She’d hoped that Errin Kaye would dispatch her himself. Instead idiot Fin had jumped in again—literally—and saved her from what likely would have been a mercifu
lly quick death. Honestly, she’d thought her master would deal with her directly. A small portion of hope stirred her stomach. Her sire wouldn’t hurt her too badly. Unless the master told him to. She tried not to tremble. What if the master had her dragged in front of the whole castle for her punishment? He’d done it before. Sometimes the vampire survived, sometimes they were dragged out into the outer courtyard, too weak to move, and left for the dawn.
The more she thought of it, the more tempted she was to run. But they’d find her. Kendra knew this. They had bloods trained especially for the task. As good a watcher as she was, there were seekers just as talented. Maybe she ought to go back to the doctor, let him have another go. She couldn’t though. To leave her clan, her sire . . . Kendra swallowed, expecting a salty sting and still surprised when her tear ducts didn’t react to the tightening of her eyes.
Passing the hall, she overheard voices and slowed. It was her sire and the master. They weren’t speaking especially loud, and they seemed to be in one of the antechambers of the round room.
“—expect you to take care of it, Melchior,” the master was saying. “You brought her into the clan, you are responsible for her actions.”
“I understand,” came her sire’s response, low and serious.
“Do you?” There was a brief pause. “Because when Kaye goes whining to Catane about this I will have no choice but to hand her over. And she’ll talk. I don’t care how strong you think she is, Catane and his minions will have her talking. Damned if I know how we got so lucky with Mariella being put down before she could talk, but it’s not likely to happen again. I don’t think your pet has made nearly as many enemies yet.” Another pause. “Well?”
“I understand,” her sire repeated.
The master went on again, lower. Kendra stepped back from the hall and turned blindly toward the stairs. It was worse than she’d imagined. They weren’t going to punish her; they were going to kill her. This was what happened to watchers who were caught. The master, whatever game he was playing, wouldn’t risk being incriminated. A memory not her own flashed behind her eyes, she tasted ash, saw the round hall covered in a fine layer of gray. Her sire’s memory, a warning that sang in her blood. One he’d reminded her of over and over again. To no avail. She wouldn’t see her hundredth birthday. She wouldn’t even see her twenty-third.
She could flee, hold out as long as possible, but for what? No, she wouldn’t leave her sire. Wouldn’t dishonor him that way. She would face her punishment, unflinching.
Kendra started up the stairs, then thought better of it. No sense in killing time now. She shimmered directly to her room and took a few minutes to organize her meager belongings. Satisfied it was tidy, she sat on the edge of her bed. She didn’t have to wait long. After only a few short minutes a sharp knock sounded on the door and her sire entered.
Neither of them spoke for a few moments. He stared at her with those disconcerting light green eyes. She could feel the regret in every ounce of his body, knew he would rather kill anyone else but her. Kendra held her body still, didn’t allow her face to take on all the fear she warred with, her eyes all the accusation she felt. The master had given an order. Even her sire had to obey.
Standing in front of her, unmoving and expressionless, her sire examined her slowly. They both knew what he had to do. Why did he hesitate? Finally, he took another step forward and bent down in front of her, looking up into her face. Kendra tried not to move, held her body frozen, waiting. This was it. This was the end.
His hand reached out—she wouldn’t flinch, she wouldn’t—and cupped the side of her face, thumb caressing her cheek slowly. He slid his hand around to grasp her neck. Kendra closed her eyes and ground her teeth together in an effort to trap any protest that might spill unbidden from her mouth. She waited, eyes shut tight, as his other hand came up behind her head and pulled her forward. A feather light caress kissed her brow, her cheek. He held her still there and breathed in the scent of her.
“I never saw you tonight,” he said softly, next to her ear. His hand pressed into hers then away again, leaving behind a square of paper. “You were already gone.”
Her eyes shot open. He still held her head gently, his peridot eyes boring into hers with all their strength. “No—I can’t—I won’t—”
His grip tightened on her. “Kendra.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“You will. For now.” He let go of her suddenly and stood. “Now, go. Go straight to Genocide, and don’t wander.”
Kendra stood, wanting to reach out to him, but too afraid he’d push her away. “I—”
“I know. Go.”
She looked at him a second longer, wavering, then clutched the paper tighter in her hands. He was her sire. The one who protected her. The one who guided her. She would trust him. And she would come back to him. Kendra closed her eyes and shimmered, leaving behind the castle, the master, and her sire. When she reappeared, who would she be? Just Kendra Willits once more?
Chapter 27
“Listen to your brother, Sarah.”
“But he’s not—”
Mother raised her hand, the back of it showing thin and wrinkled as she held it before her. “He is and that is final. I don’t want to hear another word on the subject. We are family now, and we will act as such.”
Across the table, Ira smiled endearingly. Even at eight years old she knew the way his eyes followed her was wrong. Her father was only gone a year, but already his father married her mother and that left her with a seventeen-year-old stepbrother. After his own father died only the month before, her mother had determined not to marry again. Ira was a young man after all, and devoted to his stepfamily. He would care for them.
She shuddered lightly, trying to hide the reaction. She’d never liked Ira. Even before their parents married, she’d sensed something in him that scared her. The vicar would have called it darkness. There was a darkness inside Ira that he hid so well, she thought she might have been the only one who saw it.
When he trapped her in the hall moments later, she prepared to let loose a mighty scream.
“If you move, I will kill your mother.”
She stilled immediately, turning wide eyes up in shock.
“I will slit her throat right open and let her bleed out.”
She trembled.
“Good girl, be still. Let me see you.”
That was when she learned about the real monsters.
∞∞∞
Hands on her. Holding her still. Holding her down. Slipping over her skin. Hot breath. Mint. Revulsion. Terror.
Rene woke to find her limbs trembling bone deep. She could still smell mint in the sun-warmed air of her cell. What an awful nightmare. Blinking slowly against the brightness of the day, she let herself wake over the course of long minutes. Tried to force the dream away.
It took a few minutes, but she realized something was wrong. First of all, vampires didn’t dream. Second, the nightmare hadn’t ended. The smell of mint intensified. With her shoulder shoved tight against the wall and her legs curled up underneath her, Rene had made herself into as tight a ball as she could. Same as every day before in the cell. Now though, she felt the burn of eyes on her. Combined with the smell of spearmint, the feeling made her stomach churn.
“You sleep so peacefully,” his voice flowed through the cell like honey. “Like the dead.”
Her shoulders tightened and she squeezed her eyes shut. It hadn’t been a dream.
“I know you’re awake, Sarah, why don’t you come over here?”
She didn’t budge. Didn’t even turn to look at him.
“Sarah . . .” he said softly, chiding.
“That isn’t my name,” she hissed, dismayed to hear her voice crack. It was the thirst. The raw open wound that was her throat. Not the fear.
Not the fear . . .
A scraping noise against the floor brought her head around against her will. He was still outside the bars and had just pulled a plain looking ch
air closer to her cell. “Of course it is. Come here.”
Her neck twitched at the command in his voice. Arms already wrapped around her legs, she had to hold them extra tight to keep them from trying to obey. Over two hundred years and muscle memory still urged her to comply. Not out of loyalty or fondness or anything positive. She knew from experience what would happen if she disobeyed.
Things were different now. She was different. She would prove she was different.
“Oh I see, you’re being willful. What would your poor mother say?”
Sun shone bright in the cell, it had to be early afternoon. What did he expect her to do? Walk across the cell in full sunlight? She tried to avoid looking at his face, but her eyes glanced up of their own will, moths drawn to the light and their demise. He stared at her with a mocking smile. Yes, he did expect that. It was a test, to see how much power he still had over her.
Her stomach rolled over again, squeezing tight and painful.
“Sarah,” he called again, his mouth turning up even more.
“That. Is. Not. My. Name.”
“Oh, isn’t it? Sarah Marie Attinger? Named for your grandmothers. That’s what your mother used to say after you died. She was so upset you were gone, Sarah. It was very bad of you not to come back. Did you even try to escape the creature that took you?”
“He didn’t take me,” Rene growled. “You and the rest of that miserable little village sacrificed me. Tanner saved me.”
Ira rolled his eyes and laughed. “Saved you! That monster took your soul. Is that why you don’t want to go by the name Sarah? Is that just her husk and you the demon who now wears her skin? Did the leech murder our Sarah and leave us with this succubus in her place?” He put a hand on the bars and leaned forward. His eyes traveled the length of her. “Come back to the light, Sarah. I know you are still in there. Reject that demon.”
“Tanner wasn’t a demon. You are. He loved me. He saved me.”
He tsked. “Did he now? Did he know the truth about you? Know that you are a slattern? Impure? A concubine of Satan himself? And have been your whole life?”
Weaken the Knees (The Immortal World Book 6) Page 23
