by Brewer, Rye
“Where to?” I whispered.
“Downstairs. Below this one.”
“Won’t anybody up here be able to hear?” I asked as I pressed the button for the elevator.
“Soundproofing. It’s pretty thorough.” Even so, he didn’t look convinced. If Sirene screamed…
Well, what was the worst that could happen? I told myself it would be all right, that Philippa was a woman and would be sympathetic to another woman’s pain. I only hoped I wasn’t kidding myself as we bundled Sirene into the apartment.
It was furnished, at least, with a king-sized bed in the master suite. Jonah was as careful as could be in lowering her to the mattress while I made sure there were enough pillows behind her.
That was when the truth hit me: I had no idea what to do now that we had made her as comfortable as we could.
Neither did Jonah, obviously. We exchanged a worried look from opposite sides of the bed.
Sirene opened her eyes and sized up the situation in a glance. “I’ve assisted in many births,” she told us with a grimace. “I can be of help, to a point.”
“What do we need?”
She gave us a list of things. Towels, cool water, and a cloth for her head, ice or something for her to sip on.
“Is there anything you know of which we can give you for pain?” I whispered, leaning close to her ear.
I’d already placed towels beneath her, with Jonah discreetly turning his head away.
She sighed. “I wish… there were. But any potion or tonic which would alleviate the pain would be…” Her cry was louder than ever before, and her hand darted out to grip mine painfully.
I wouldn’t have pulled away for the world; if she could deal with pain as well as she had, I could grit my teeth and struggle through.
When the pain passed, she fell back against the pillows with her eyes closed. I had the feeling I knew what she had tried to say. She would need a witch to create something for her, or a warlock. Some sort of healer. I couldn’t exactly run to a drug store to purchase something for her.
Her hair was already soaked with perspiration, even more of it stuck to her face and forehead. I dipped a cloth in the cool water basin Jonah had brought in, wiping her down as best I could. She managed a weak smile before grimacing again.
The pains were coming faster. They seemed stronger. What were we going to do when the baby started coming?
Jonah paced at the other end of the room, watching us all the while. The life of his baby brother or sister was hanging in the balance, not to mention Sirene’s. I wanted to believe he was anxious because he cared more deeply than he had the words to express. I needed to believe that.
When he looked at me, eyes burning into mine, I knew it was true. He cared more than he even knew he had up to this moment. He’d been kind and considerate of Sirene because his father had asked him to do so, but watching her as she groaned and whimpered, squeezing my hand until the bones ground together and I bit my tongue to keep from crying out, changed the stakes.
“We need someone else to be here,” he decided. “Someone to help with the pain and make sure everything that can be done is being done.”
Sirene took a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut. “No one would. No one.”
“Oh, that can’t be true. If we can convince—”
“There isn’t time!” she gasped, then nearly doubled over with a contraction that wrenched a deep, almost animal growl from inside her.
The sound struck fear into my heart, cold and sharp. My vision blurred before I realized I was crying.
She was going to die right there in that bed, with no one of her kind willing to help her because the baby she carried was half-vampire. Just because of that. It didn’t matter what good she’d done, how many she had helped with her powers.
All of my memories came back, mixed with my fear for her. Being ignored, left to my own devices, my sister forced to break the law in order to support us. Thrown into a dungeon and left to starve because none of the Carvers would help us with the basic day-to-day matter of survival.
Sirene had to live. Her child had to have a mother to protect it. I had already lost my mother twice as I sat on the edge of that bed, holding the witch’s hand and wiping the sweat from her brow.
Somebody had to think about the baby.
I looked down at her, then at Jonah. “I’ll do everything I can to help you. I swear.”
3
Gage
Plink, plink. Plink, plink.
The ever-present sound of dripping water. Dripping from where? It would be better to ask where water wasn’t dripping from, as the sound seemed to be coming from all around me. All the time. Driving me crazy.
I closed my eyes, shutting them tight, willing myself not to hear that which was in every corner of my brain. Like the sound of a heartbeat, only I couldn’t forget the sound, nor push it to the rear of my consciousness. Because there was nothing else to think about, nothing to distract me.
Except hunger.
Despair.
Betrayal.
Rage.
It seemed that no matter how I sliced my situation, there was no aspect worth focusing on for very long. Nothing to comfort me. Not even the thought that Micah would surely take care of Cari—which he would, I had no doubt.
That didn’t help one bit. I knew what his idea of caring for her was and it only made me want to kill him. He thought he could touch her, kiss her…?
I opened my eyes, now looking around for something to take my mind off the mental image of the two of them together. There had to be something to push those thoughts out of my head. Something, anything.
The rats in the corner, perhaps. Not necessarily something worth focusing on. In fact, something I’d rather pretend didn’t exist except in dire situations such as the one I was in, when if I didn’t get my thoughts under control, I’d love my sanity.
There were three of them, slipping in and out of a small crevice in the stone wall. I could only guess that the wall divided my cell from the one beside it. I could further guess that all of the walls were in the same state of disrepair, and that if I worked long enough and patiently enough, I might even be able to tear a hole into one.
To what purpose? All of that work, and all it would lead me to was another cell. And another. I wouldn’t be able to get out.
Not that I hadn’t tried. The outer walls which comprised the prison—which was what I’d come to think of it as, because what else was I supposed to think?—were carved from solid rock, well underground. The only small window sat at the top of the cell, barred, and revealing nothing. No sound coming from outside, no footfalls or murmured voices or engines.
Nothing.
Who wouldn’t watch the rats, then?
They seemed afraid of me, as if they sensed what I was in their animal way. It didn’t keep them out of my cell, but it did keep them away from me. As I never slept, I didn’t have to worry about them approaching while I was deep in a happy dream.
That would’ve been the ultimate slap in the face, I decided. Dreaming of a happy time, a happy place, only to wake up and find a rat gnawing on the hem of my pants. Or my flesh.
They skittered away, squeaking and chattering at each other. There were so many other such noises. I generally tried to tune them out.
But that wasn’t worse than the silence from outside. This was what truly disturbed me. It meant there was no hope of being heard. No hope of discovery.
No hope of Cari ever finding me.
In the first few days, I had yelled and roared and cursed Micah and fate itself for putting me in my situation. I had railed against everything against me and sworn vengeance. Blood would flow.
That was nothing more than a waste of energy. I ended up hoarse and thirsty, with nothing to do about it. And that thirst had only gotten worse as the hours had ticked by.
I sat on the floor with my back against the wall of my cell, looking out at the dimly lit corridor.
“Cari, where are you
?” I whispered, unable to get her out of my mind. The scent of her, the feeling of her skin. The sound of her voice, the sparkle in her eyes. We had come such a long way from that first night, the night I’d picked up on her scent and followed her.
What had been the point of that? All it did was get her brutalized, and all but killed. I’d turned her because of it. And we’d become hunted. I’d ended up left for dead.
What was the purpose, if only pain and utter misery had resulted?
She would never find me here. I didn’t even know if she would want to, after spending enough time with Micah. He would capitalize on her newness, her freshness, the fact that her thirst was still so sharp and demanding. He would give her what she wanted, instead of making the mistake I made by trying to dampen her spirits.
She would fall deeper into his world—the sleekness of it, the seductiveness of the city.
Once enough time had passed, she’d forget me entirely. And he would allow that—nay, he’d encourage it. Anything he could do to put a wedge between us, even without my being there, he would do.
Plink, plink. Plink, plink.
The dripping water again. The only sounds I’d ever hear for the rest of my long, tortured life.
Along with the sound of my moans and cries and pleas for blood. Because I knew, the lust for blood, the need to feed, to have that life-sustaining essence would overcome soon.
Pleas that no one would hear.
4
Cari
I couldn’t stop crying.
For three days, I was either tearing up, actively sobbing or struggling to stop crying. At least, that was how it seemed.
Gage.
Gage!
What was happening to him? What sort of torture was he going through? What were they doing to him in order to try to get to me?
They would stop at nothing. He hadn’t told me too much about the League—he’d avoided specifics pretty strictly—but I knew they were ruthless. I knew they drew a hard line when it came to creating new vampires. They wanted me, and they would use him to get to me.
He’d never let that happen. He would die before he’d give me away.
I let out a guttural moan, sinking into a chair beside Micah’s bed.
He’d insisted I stay in his room in the days following Gage’s kidnapping. We didn’t share it, he never even suggested it. But he sat up watching me as I tried to rest.
Up to now, I had only soaked his pillows with my tears.
I looked at those pillows, at the bed, as I sat alone.
He was someplace, I couldn’t remember where. I had hardly paid attention, which was unforgivably rude after he’d been so kind and considerate. So protective.
I would never let anything like that happen to you. They will never find you. I’ll protect you. We all will.
I reminded myself of his words, which he had repeated like a prayer in my ear, over and over, since Gage disappeared into that car. I wished I had seen it, but was glad I hadn’t at the same time. I didn’t want my last memories of him to be of his terror or pain as they shoved him into some random car and drove away.
Taking him away from me forever.
I bent forward, covering my face with my hands and rocking back and forth. What was I going to do? How was I supposed to go on without him?
“Cari.”
A familiar voice.
Micah knelt in front of me, rubbing my back as I continued to rock.
“Cari, you know how it tears at my heart when I see you like this.”
“How do you think I feel when I imagine what Gage is going through?” I wept, not bothering to look at him. He had seen me in various states of hysteria over three days and didn’t need to see my tear-stained, swollen face again.
“You’re torturing yourself,” he murmured, as steady and patient as always.
I wondered how he managed that. He always seemed so level, where I was frantic and emotional. But he hadn’t just lost his love, had he?
My love. My mate, for God’s sake. The one I was meant to be with. We were supposed to be together!
Another broken cry wrenched itself from my chest, and when Micah pulled me into his arms, I didn’t push away. I was too weak, too tired to fight. And I did need the comfort he promised.
“Shh.” He stroked my hair, his arms firm around me. It was nice, feeling taken care of. And immediately, guilt pulled me to pieces all over again. No one was taking care of Gage. He was suffering, maybe dying.
Because of me.
“It’s all my fault! All of it!” My chest hurt, actually ached, like someone was squeezing my heart. I wished they would tighten their grip and kill me and get it over with.
“How can you say such a thing?”
“I’ve been thinking and thinking about it, and there’s no other answer.”
“So stop thinking about it.” He pulled back far enough to take my face in his hands. “Carissa. You’re driving yourself mad. You obsess and break your own heart. You break your mind. I can’t allow this.”
“I don’t want to live without him, Micah. He’s the only reason I’m still here, still breathing. He made the ultimate sacrifice for me.”
“And what would that sacrifice be for if you were to now squander what he gave up his freedom for?” He tucked my hair behind my ears with gentle fingers, a warm smile playing on his lips. He was so good at pretending to be brave for my sake.
I knew it had to be hard on him, knowing his old friend was suffering unimaginably.
“I guess that’s true. He would hate that.”
“He would. And do you know what else he would hate?”
“What?”
“If he knew how broken up you’ve been over him. He wouldn’t want to see you torturing yourself. He wouldn’t want to see those beautiful eyes so bloodshot and swollen with tears. He would want to see you going on, taking care of yourself. Making sure he didn’t sacrifice in vain.”
I sighed, knowing he was right but not feeling very good about it. “It’s impossible. I can’t just forget about him, and I can’t leave him in the hands of whoever has taken him.”
“We know who took him.”
“I mean, specifically, who took him. Where they put him. I can’t leave him there. He needs me.”
His eyes widened, and hardened. He rose. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying.” I stood, too, facing him. For once, I wasn’t crying. “I want to find him. I want to rescue him.”
“That’s insanity. That’s what you’re speaking of right now. Insanity.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but it doesn’t change my mind.”
“Cari, Cari.” He took my arms in his large hands, shaking his head. “You don’t know who you’re up against. Drop this idea. Drop it and forget you ever had it. It’s far too dangerous for both of you.”
“I can’t sit here in comfort, with you and the others, knowing what he’s going through!”
“But think, cheri. Really think. They want you just as much as they want him—perhaps more, because to them, you are a monster. Something which should never have been.”
I winced, turning my face away.
“I’m sorry to be so harsh with you, but it’s true. Have you considered that they might be lying in wait for you, right now, as we speak?”
“Of course.” I sat down again when my knees went weak. It made perfect sense—sick, perfect sense. They could’ve been using him as a way to draw me in, to lure me. He was the bait in their trap.
“I know that’s difficult to hear.” He sat on the edge of the bed, one hand on my shoulder. “Please, you must promise me something.”
“What’s that? You want me to promise not to lose my head again? To stop dissolving into tears at the drop of a hat? You’re tired of seeing me so emotional, so on edge all the time?”
He winced, shaking his head. “You’re very tough on yourself, you know. I wasn’t going to say any of those things.�
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I blushed, feeling roughly as big as an ant. Grief and panic were turning me into a shrew. My human side still overrode my vampire side, sometimes. “Oh. What, then?”
“I wanted you to promise not to entertain any thoughts of rescuing Gage.”
“I see.” I shook off the hand still resting on my shoulder. “I don’t like being told what I’m allowed to think. Especially when I’m so upset I hardly know which end is up. If you’ll excuse me, I want to go back to my own room for a little while. I need to be alone.”
“Cari. Wait…”
“No, please.” I held up a hand, holding it between us when he tried again to put his arms around me. As comforting as his touch was, I didn’t want him getting the wrong idea about my boundaries.
And I needed to firm up those boundaries. It was too easy to let him comfort me. A slippery slope I couldn’t allow myself to slide down.
“I hate to think of you being alone right now,” he murmured, caressing me with his voice the way he always did.
Normally, I appreciated it. Right now, he made me furious.
“I know what I need. I’ve known myself much longer than you have, Micah.” I stalked out of the room and down the dark, narrow tunnel which led to my room. The room I had shared with Gage.
It didn’t even have a door. I was never truly alone, never able to block out the rest of the clan. I could close the beaded curtain which stood for a door and pretend it meant something, but all it did was block most of the light and none of the sound.
I could still hear the low murmur of chatter further down in the tunnel, coming from a common room where several of the others liked to gather. Naomi’s voice rang out clearly, rich and strong. She was a natural leader. When she spoke, people listened.
The pillow still smelled like Gage. I buried my face in it, holding it close to me, clinging desperately to anything that represented him. I had nothing without him. It was so clear. What was I thinking, fighting it the way I had? Pushing him away? I would’ve given anything to take it all back. Anything.
