by P. G. Forte
“Conrad, may I speak with you about something?”
Conrad glanced up from the book he’d been reading. Georgia stood in the salon’s doorway, her expression one of grim determination. “Of course, my dear.” He laid down his book and nodded at the vacant cushion beside him on the couch—an unspoken invitation and one that Georgia seemingly missed. She crossed the room and seated herself in the armchair facing him. Conrad eyed her curiously. Up until the last few days, he’d been purposely keeping Georgia at something of a distance, in hopes of concealing his weakened state. It had been surprisingly easy. It occurred to him now to wonder whether that ease wasn’t due in part to the fact that the avoidance hadn’t been all one-sided. “What’s on your mind?”
“I was wondering,” she said in a voice that held more than a trace of uncertainty, “how much longer are you going to insist I stay here?”
Conrad’s eyebrows rose. “You sound anxious to leave. Would you deprive me of your company again so soon?” What was going on? Unlike Damian, or even Armand to some extent, it had never been Georgia’s habit to question Conrad’s decisions once they’d been made. Her original sire had made good and certain she knew how to hold her tongue and follow orders no matter how strenuously she might object to them. Much as Conrad deplored the man’s methods, he had to admit it was restful not having to argue every point. On the night Georgia had arrived here, Conrad had explained his goals and expectations for her. He’d told her then that she might need to remain here for an extended period of time. He had thought the subject closed. “After all, we’ve seen little enough of each other this last century.”
“Come now, Conrad, what’s a few decades for those such as we? It’s not as though a little distance is likely to change things between us. We agreed long ago that it would be better for all concerned if I did not make my home with you. Has anything occurred to alter that?”
“No.” There had been much that had changed over the years, but not that. Once, Conrad had hoped things might be different, but time had never been a friend to the two of them. “But nor has anything changed in the last six weeks. I told you then that I would need you to stay until the threat against us had been eliminated. That’s still the case.”
Georgia sighed. “With all due respect, I beg to differ. Only consider. During that time, you’ve successfully discovered your enemy’s identity and routed her from her lair. We have destroyed her lab, her research has been confiscated and she herself has been forced into hiding. Surely anyone would agree that the threat she represented has effectively been eliminated, would they not?”
“And yet I find I do not agree. It’s no longer sufficient that her work be disrupted. Not after what was done to Marc. If I were to allow someone to get away with such an egregious act of aggression against one of my own, it would put all of the family at risk. She herself must be eliminated. Until she is, I must insist that you remain here and continue to search for her.”
“And yet, for all you wish to make an example of her, you insist on this search being carried out quietly. Why is that? Would it not make more sense to enlist our friends in this? Surely there are many who would be anxious to earn your goodwill by doing you this favor?”
“Are you questioning my judgment?” Conrad stared at her in surprise. “I have told you once already, that I do not wish to make public anything to do with Invitus, no matter how distant the connection. Nor do I wish to owe anyone favors, especially not favors I might not wish to repay. This task is to be carried out by one of my own house. Is that clear now?”
“But we’re talking about one single vampire at loose in the wide world. With what little information we have to go on, it might be decades before she’s found!”
“Ah, but what’s a few decades for those such as we?” Conrad replied teasingly. “Come now, Georgia, you exaggerate. I’m sure it won’t take you anywhere near that long to discover her whereabouts.”
Georgia’s hands tightened into fists. “I wish I shared your confidence in my skills, Conrad. But…consider this. If she’s any sense at all, she’ll have fled the city by now—if not the continent. If you wish me to scour the globe ’til I find her, so be it. I will do whatever you command. But let me leave that I might do so! What hope have I of accomplishing this mission you’ve set for me if I must continue to search for her only where she is not to be found?”
“You’ll stay here because here is where I need you. Who else do I have as capable as you? Who better to assist me in safeguarding my family and warding off future attacks? Besides, why would you wish to waste time and needlessly exhaust yourself by chasing after her? I’m sure she hasn’t gone far, even if it is the smart thing for her to have done. And, wherever she’s gone, it’s a certainty she won’t be able to stay away for very long. Only think, my dear. Her end goal has always been to wrest control of her nest away from her siblings. I doubt that’s changed. If anything, I would imagine this goal will seem even more important to her now that the danger to her has increased so exponentially. That’s not something she can hope to accomplish from a distance.”
“But what am I to do here while I wait for her to resurface? You say you need my help, but my every effort to follow your orders is thwarted. Is that not just as much a waste of my time as chasing after her would be?”
“Thwarted?” Conrad’s eyebrows rose. “Again you exaggerate. Who would dare attempt to thwart you while you are acting on my behalf? For that matter, who would dare thwart you in any event?” Georgia’s ability to strike fear in the hearts of other vampires was second only to his. It was one of the primary reasons he’d summoned her there.
“Marc, for one. And I must tell you, Conrad, I think you have another ‘problem child’ on your hands with that one. I believe there’s much he may be hiding about this business. You should force him to tell you.”
“Do you think so? And what do you suppose he’s hiding?”
“I suspect he may have been in league with this woman for some time before his supposed abduction. Perhaps he was even involved in her attempts to create Invitus. There’s something very odd about that young man. Didn’t I say so at the start?”
“Yes, you did. And as I told you then, you’re wrong.” The idea of Marc teaming up with Audrey was laughable, yet Conrad did not feel remotely like laughing. “Let me repeat myself now, so there might be no more confusion on this point. Your suspicions about Marc are unwarranted, as are all your concerns about him. You will forget them. Now. As for his being in league with Audrey, I assure you that could not possibly be the case.”
“You have a lot of faith in him, it seems. But, if he’s so innocent then tell me why he’s chosen to occupy the warehouse she so recently vacated? Why does he refuse to let me search it, as I asked him to? Even more importantly, if he had nothing at all to do with her, why should he have been singled out for injury in the first place? There must be some reason for all of this. If you won’t question him, as should have been done weeks ago, why not at least give me permission to do so?”
“No. He is to be left alone. Is that understood? There’s no mystery as to why he was chosen, Georgia. My enemy was looking for revenge, seeking to repay an injury I’d done her. She first tried to strike at me directly. When that failed, her decision to take Marc was a logical choice. I had made my affection for the boy plain enough. Now drop the subject. He’s suffered enough on my behalf and I do not wish him bothered any further.”
“But what if you’re wrong about his innocence, Conrad? It’s not impossible you know—even for you. What if he has information that could help our cause? I confess I find his behavior extremely suspicious.”
Conrad sighed. “Yes, I know. You’ve made that point several times now. But, I’m not wrong and you will have to trust me on this, just as I trust Marc. I know him far better than you imagine and I assure you, if he knew anything that would be of use to us, he would have already told me. Questioning him further will yield no answers.”
“You can’t be s
erious about tying my hands in this fashion. How exactly am I to gather information if I’m not allowed to ask questions?”
“I didn’t say you weren’t to question anyone, my dear.” Conrad waved his hand in a negligent gesture. “The city is rife with vampires and you’re free to go and interrogate them all, if it suits you, save for Marc and his sister.”
Georgia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why do you include the sister, I wonder? She sustained no injury on your behalf. At least none that I’m aware of. Why should she be exempt from answering questions?”
“Because I have said so,” Conrad replied angrily. “Which is all you need know. They’re mine, Georgia, and I need not justify any decisions I make with regard to either one of them. Not to anyone.”
“Now who’s exaggerating?” Georgia grumbled. “I’m not asking you to justify yourself. I wouldn’t waste my time on so hopeless a cause.”
It was an egregious breach in protocol, but Conrad chose to ignore it. He’d known her long enough to excuse the occasional lapse. Nor did he wish to run the risk of this argument escalating into violence. “Then what exactly is your point?”
“It’s obvious that, for whatever the reason, you place a great deal of faith in these two, but I should think, by now, I’ve earned a little of your trust as well. So, as your friend, I’m asking you. What is going on? What do you know that I’m not privy to?”
Conrad forced a small smile. “I’m sure if there were anything of any importance going on here, Georgia, you’d be aware of it already. Anything else must be too insignificant for me to know about or for either of us to waste our time on.” That was not quite the truth, but Conrad had often found the truth to be an unnecessary inconvenience, particularly when dealing with friends or loved ones, or anyone else he did not wish to have to kill. “You’ll forgive me, I’m sure, for not wishing to dwell overmuch on events that do not reflect well on me. It was Marc and Julie who helped rescued me last summer. Had either of them been in league with Audrey, as you’ve suggested, they could have turned a blind eye to her activities and left me to rot. Their actions have more than earned them both my trust, as well as a respite from any further questioning.”
Georgia shook her head. “But, Conrad, do you not find it even slightly suspicious that they should be so conveniently on hand to affect this supposed rescue? What if their involvement in your rescue was merely a ruse of some sort, a trick to gain your confidence?”
“A ruse? Supposed?” Conrad’s temper flared as he remembered that night, how close he’d come to dying, how close he’d come to killing Damian. “The twins were ‘on hand’ only because Damian thought to bring them here and enlist their assistance—at great risk to himself, I might add. And despite what your feelings for him have always been, I’m persuaded that not even you could suspect him of seeking to betray me. It’s impossible.”
Georgia dropped her gaze. “I will agree it does seem most unlikely, but nothing’s impossible. You know what they say about revenge, that it’s a dish best served cold. Who knows what dark ideas he might have conceived during those years the two of you spent apart. Who knows how his feelings for you may have changed, who he might have met or been influenced by during that time.”
“Enough,” Conrad growled. “You go too far. This conversation is ended. But, before we drop the subject completely, let me say this, you’d do best to leave Damian out of your interrogations as well. It gives me no pleasure to admit it to you, but if he’d wanted me dead, I’ve no doubt he could have accomplished his goal. He could have killed me and assumed my place.” As Conrad had all but begged him to do. “And then you’d all be answering to him now, instead of me. I will not listen to another word against him. Is that clear?”
“It is.” Georgia hesitated for a moment and then asked, “So then…might I at least ask a favor of you?”
“Now?” Conrad stared in disbelief. “You dare to ask me for favors now? After infuriating me with your suspicions, your endless questions? After doubting my word and casting aspersions on those I hold most dear?”
Georgia’s mouth tightened. “Those you hold most dear? There was a time, Conrad, I’ve not forgotten it even if you have, when you counted me amongst that number.”
Conrad sighed. “I’ve not forgotten. And I still do—that goes without saying. But the timing of your request is most inopportune. You used not to be so clumsy about such things.”
“Do you not think so?” A wry smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “Forgive me, my love, but once again I must disagree with you. It seems to me that where you are concerned, all but a few of my actions have been ill-timed.
“Indeed.” Conrad met her gaze and nodded sadly. “Now that you mention it, I believe you may be right about that. I stand corrected. Very well, then. What is it you want?”
“As I’m sure you’re aware, I’m not very well liked or trusted by many of your people.”
“You are one of my people,” Conrad insisted. “Have I not made that plain yet? Are there any who still dare question it? Surely not! If you happen upon any who need further convincing I do hope you will refer them to me for clarification.”
Georgia inclined her head. “I thank you for that. But my point is there are those here who find me…somewhat intimidating. It makes questioning them more than a little problematic. I fear not everyone has been as forthcoming or as helpful as they might have been. Which is why I’m hoping you’ll allow me to bring in one of my own people to assist me.”
“I see.” Her people. Conrad sighed. If she was referring to those she’d turned, they were technically his people as well. The fact that she didn’t automatically see them as such only served to underscore what a very bad idea it had been to have granted her the right to procreate on her own.
She was one of only a handful whom he’d ever allowed to do so. The divided loyalties the practice engendered tended to have a destabilizing effect on the nest and his goal had never been to consolidate and strengthen his family. But Georgia had already lost so much, by that point, he hadn’t the heart to add to her disappointment. “I assume you have someone particular in mind?” He was pretty sure he knew what her answer would be and she did not disappoint him.
“Yes, I do. I was thinking of Christian.”
“Ah. Of course.” It was hardly a surprise. Christian had been the first vampire she’d spawned and he was obviously still her favorite. All the same, Conrad had to struggle to keep from scowling.
“I know you’ve never been particularly fond of him.”
“That’s not true. I liked him well enough once. If you recall, I thought him a very engaging young man when you first introduced us.” It was what happened afterwards that had left such a bitter taste in Conrad’s mouth. It was realizing how much Georgia had been willing to risk for Christian’s sake—far more than she ever would have risked for Conrad. And she’d talked Conrad into risking much as well.
He had no right to feel resentful over that, however. It had been his decision to make; he’d made it. If things had not gone completely as planned, he had no one but himself to blame. Still, a wave of useless anger welled up inside him. Georgia had gambled with their lives. With all their lives. And Conrad had come so close to losing everything.
Seemingly oblivious to Conrad’s worsening mood, Georgia continued speaking. “Well, good then. If you’re able to think kindly of him again, perhaps you can also appreciate how much help he might be to us here now. I promise you, he’s still as charming as ever and I’m persuaded he’ll be able to elicit information much more readily than I could—without resorting to force, that is.”
“Indeed,” Conrad replied, only half listening. He and Georgia had much in common. In addition to their humble beginnings and their brutal rebirth as monsters, they both obviously harbored a fondness for charming, aristocratic young men. Beautiful, dashing young men who in some ways embodied everything Georgia and he had lost, everything they’d never had to start with, everything they could never attain
on their own. He really shouldn’t hold her infatuation with Christian against her—especially not in view of his own, very similar, feelings for Damian—but he was just human enough still to feel an occasional pang of jealousy. She’d been his once. She’d been his before any of the others had even been born.
“Well?” Georgia asked, sounding faintly exasperated. “Might I have an answer?”
Conrad forced his mind back to the present. “Of course, my dear. Why would I deny you anything that might prove useful? Or that might make your stay here more pleasant for you? Go and summon your young man. For your sake, he’ll be welcomed here with open arms.” Assuming he could keep Damian in line.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Georgia’s relief was palpable. As she jumped from her seat to bestow a brief kiss on Conrad’s cheek, she was trembling with suppressed emotion. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and do that now, if I may?”
“Of course,” Conrad repeated, but he was frowning as he watched her go. There’d never been any doubt as to the sincerity of Georgia’s feelings for the boy, but the depth of her emotion, after all this time, that was a surprise. It would be most interesting to see the two of them together and to determine whether Christian was equally ardent.
Hopefully, Damian would be so diverted by the prospect that he wouldn’t pitch too much of a fit when Conrad gave him the news. All in all, it looked as though this year’s party might turn out to be one of the most interesting New Year’s Eve parties Damian had ever thrown. And that was saying something.
Chapter Twelve
New Year’s Eve, 1981
Try as he might, Conrad could not decide which aspect of tonight’s event was the most aggravating. The lights had been an early contender. They glared blindingly at him from nearly every wall, every surface, every fixture in his house, making him yearn for the past, for those halcyon centuries long since gone when night was a blessing that daily returned the world to what it should be. Dark.
