I couldn’t resist an internal chuckle at that: big strong vampire hunter, scared of what Daddy might say if he wrecked the apartment while he was away.
Jace led me into a bathroom and handed me a huge navy blue towel. As I rubbed the soft material over my sopping hair and tried to squeeze out some of the water into the bathtub, I couldn’t help noticing something different about him. I mean, about the way he was acting around me. Sure, he was drinking a beer, but I didn’t really think the alcohol was affecting him as much as he pretended.
That annoying little voice that bugged me whenever I was feeling tired or depressed began to pipe up: Look at you, thinking about Jace Murdoch again. You so have a crush on him.
‘Do not,’ I growled.
Jace raised his eyebrows. ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ Blushing furiously, and then furious that I was blushing at all, I buried my head in the towel and ignored him.
Or at least, I tried to ignore him. It was pretty tough not to notice how good he looked in those black cargo pants and the casual sludgy green shirt that made his eyes look more hazel than brown. His arms were well-defined with muscle, and I could see his tattoos peeking out from beneath the arms of his shirt. A black Celtic band circled his right bicep and there was a phoenix inked with red accents on the outside of his left arm.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Jace asked.
‘Why?’
‘Because your eyes have gone bright silver.’
Crap. ‘I can put my sunglasses on if it bothers you,’ I said, aware that my voice sounded incredibly stiff.
He looked at me for a long moment. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ was all he said.
I wanted to say: Don’t call me stupid, you don’t know anything about me. But I held it in, along with all the other things I wanted to say to people – my father, for example – who treated me as something other because I looked a little different or liked to dress in Goth-style clothes. Just because I’d had dreams – dreams that were now nothing more than ash, like the urns filled with vampire remains I knew Jace’s father would have hidden in this apartment, just like he had before.
I handed back the towel. ‘Thanks.’
‘Sure.’ Jace touched the sleeve of my shirt, as though touching me had suddenly become the most normal thing in the world. ‘You should get changed out of those things. You really are soaked.’
I looked down at the floor, watching in quiet fascination as the puddle of water at my feet slowly extended outward. In the dim lighting and against the midnight blue tile, it looked like it could be blood flowing in an ever-widening pool of darkness. I thought about Erin and the dried blood in her hair, and about the blood surrounding Nurse Fox’s body. I shivered and looked away, my eyes finding Jace’s.
‘Moth—’ he began.
It was his using my name that did it. Not ‘freak’. Not even ‘Marie’. He had simply said ‘Moth’, the name I’d taken for myself and made my own – a shield against the human world that might harm me if I only let it in.
A tear ran down my cheek, totally taking me by surprise. I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand. ‘Shit.’ Another treacherous tear leaked out. Jesus, it was so humiliating. I totally would’ve died if I wasn’t already . . . you know . . . dead.
Jace watched me with a strange expression on his face. I half expected him to be embarrassed, unable to handle a sudden display of emotion. But instead, he had a sort of blank look, like an untouched canvas waiting to be filled. I tried to find pity in his eyes, but if it was there I certainly couldn’t see it. There was just a weary acceptance of what was happening in front of him – he was right there with me, not turning away from my pain but simply acknowledging it.
He didn’t try to touch me, just waited it out until my tears stopped. What was I even crying for? Relief that I hadn’t found Caitlín in Erin’s place? Worry about Theo, and what all of this meant? His task, and how Murdoch’s death would affect Jace? There was so much happening, I was bound to crack eventually. I just hated that it had to happen here and now, in front of Jason Murdoch.
‘Jace, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.’ What was I even apologizing for? ‘I really am sorry—’
‘It’s OK,’ he said. He held up a hand as though to stop another outpouring of apologies. ‘Really. Forget it. Wait here – I’ll get you a dry shirt.’
And that was that. He left the bathroom and returned seconds later with a long-sleeved baggy T-shirt. It was soft and worn at the seams, something that looked like it had seen a lot of wear. It was also black, and had a splashy crimson logo that read: CREATURE OF THE NIGHT!
Nice to know Van Helsing Junior had a sense of humor hidden underneath all that macho angst. This shirt must be merchandise from a cheesy creature flick I’d never even heard of. It came almost to my freaking knees. My jeans were damp, but there was no way I was taking those off.
I padded into the main room and tried not to think too much about my experience in a similar apartment with Jace, six months ago. This was different. Jace was somehow different. He wasn’t going to drug me, chain me up with silver and try to end what was left of my life. I wondered if he was sorry for what he’d done back then. He seemed much nicer to me now, that’s for sure. Maybe we were coming to some kind of . . . understanding.
His mouth quirked up in that rare half-smile I’d seen only a couple times before. ‘I knew that was perfect for you.’
I grinned. Couldn’t help myself, and anyway, I needed the release.
Jace gave me one of those strange looks, the ones I found impossible to decipher. ‘I can see your fangs,’ he said. But he said it in that singsong tone a kid might use to proclaim: ‘I can see your panties.’ Yeah, he was definitely drunk.
He busied himself closing the long floor-length drapes, the heavy-looking velvet making the large room seem cozier. He threw some cushions down on the floor and then gathered a pile of books from the table by one of the armchairs. ‘You OK sitting down here?’ He didn’t wait for a reply and sat cross-legged on one of the cushions. He was graceful for such a tall guy, especially considering how much muscle he seemed to have gained.
Feeling faintly ridiculous in the oversized T-shirt, I curled up on the cushion furthest from him. My hair hadn’t even begun to dry. It was a sodden mass on top of my head, doing that annoying thing it does, thanks to the crazy corkscrew curls that hadn’t become any easier to tame since I’d died. Who knew that being a vampire still involved hair disasters?
‘So, what are we dealing with here?’ I asked. ‘You said you had answers.’
Maybe if I pretended that I hadn’t just had a minor breakdown in the bathroom, we could forget it ever happened.
He pulled an ancient-looking book onto his lap. It was bound in cracked brown leather and the pages were gilt-edged with crumbling gold. ‘This is the book my father spent most time with. He’d start here, at least, any time he had the trail of something unusual.’
I tried to read the name of the book, but he’d already flipped it open. I sat back and pulled my legs up to my chin, pulling the shirt down over my knees. ‘What about the internet? Had your dad heard of that, by any chance?’
Jace glanced up from the yellowing pages. ‘Stop talking about him in the past tense. He’s coming back, OK?’ He took a deep breath and gazed back down at the book. ‘And yes, of course he’d heard of the internet. I even did most of our research online, but you have to wade through a ton of bullshit just to find one useful piece of information.’
‘And what’s so special about these books?’ I waved at the pile resting by his right knee.
‘I don’t know where Dad got them from,’ Jace said, ‘but they’re old. Really old. And he always seemed to find something that he needed in them.’
‘OK then, amaze me,’ I said. ‘What have you found out about these revenants so far?’
Jace raised an eyebrow in that super-cool way few guys could master. ‘Revenant?’
‘Oh, that’s what my Maker said
it might be. He said that there’s no such thing as zombies – at least, not so far as vamps are concerned. Maybe in places like Africa. Or in the movies. Revenants are like . . . vampires gone wrong. We call them “Unmade”, apparently.’
Jace frowned. ‘You didn’t say anything about finding me there, did you?’
‘Of course not,’ I snapped, immediately regretting how defensive I sounded. ‘He’d only want to kill you.’
‘Why? Because I’m Thomas Murdoch’s son?’
Anger flooded my chest and I swallowed hard against the sudden heat. ‘No, you moron, because of what you did to me the first time we met.’
I held out both my arms until he looked at them, watching him with a tangled knot of emotions in my stomach. The scars had faded significantly, but even Theo wasn’t sure whether they would disappear entirely. As long as nobody staked me, I was probably going to be around for a long time – maybe I’d find out if vampires really could heal from severe silver burns.
His cheeks flushed. ‘Did I do that to you?’
I nodded slowly. ‘Unless I’m a vampire who self-harms with silver.’
At least he seemed genuinely . . . something about it. I wasn’t sure quite what. I could smell anger for sure, but other than that the young hunter was sending out all sorts of conflicting messages. But then, that seemed to sum him up most of the freaking time.
Jace reached out toward me, but pulled back when the lamp over his shoulder flashed on a ring he was wearing. The silver ring. It was a heavy Celtic band, similar to one of his tats. I watched his throat move as he swallowed, and tried not to wonder what it would feel like to press my face against his carotid artery and listen to the blood pulsing through it. Ew, why did I have to be so gross?
‘Shit,’ he said. He tugged the ring off his pinky and flung it away like it might burn him. As though it was him who was the vampire and not me.
I watched all of this in silence, something older and wiser in me knowing when to keep my big mouth shut. Although I still couldn’t help gasping when he grabbed my left wrist in his warm right hand and tugged me toward him. We were just inches apart, my legs still curled beneath me as I knelt in front of where he sat coiled with a dark sort of energy I didn’t understand.
OK, I’m not dumb. Maybe I understood what was going on here, but that didn’t mean it made sense.
Jace ran his fingers over my scars, head bowed so that all I could see was the top of his blond spikes. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Should I stop him? Pull my arms out of reach? Say something? My arms tingled wherever his flesh touched mine and I tried not to gaze at his slightly too thin lips.
And then his eyes met mine and there wasn’t any need for anything as lame as words. His eyes told me everything I needed to know about his regret. The expression on his face dared me to challenge him, and for a moment I was tempted to do exactly that. But the moment passed and I moved back to my own pile of cushions, rubbing my arms as though I was cold and wondering what I was even doing here.
Jace ran a nervous hand through his hair, making it stand up more than ever. ‘Let’s get back to the research. That’s what you came here for.’
I bit my lip, then realized I was giving him another good look at my fangs. I looked away.
‘Moth?’ he said.
‘Sure, research is good.’ Safe. ‘That was getting way too touchy-feely for my liking.’
He scowled at me and carried on talking. ‘What was it you were telling me about – the “Unmade”? I’ve never seen that term in any of these books.’
It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. ‘I thought these books always held the answer.’ I pushed wild strands of hair out of my eyes. ‘You spent all this time telling me how great they are, and how your dad always finds the right information at the right time. But now you’re pretty much saying: Dude, I got nuthin’.’
Jace half smiled and went back to scanning pages. If I didn’t know any better, I would say his expression looked sort of indulgent. It reminded me of the way Theo regarded me when he was in one of his better moods.
I grabbed one of the smaller books and read the title stamped on the cover in intricate gold lettering: ‘How the Undead Almost Ruled the World.’ I shook my head. What was this crap?
Jace made a triumphant sound and thrust the heavy book into my hands. ‘Oh ye of little faith. Told you so.’
A line-drawing of an ugly creature took up most of the page he was pointing at. The pen strokes were crude, a simple black ink sketch, but the revenant still seemed to come alive on the page. Which was ironic, I thought, considering how truly dead it was.
This picture certainly had the eyes right; they were blank and milk-white, the iris and pupil hidden behind an opaque film. How could such a two-dimensional drawing look so realistic? I shivered and forced myself to stop staring at it. It seemed almost as if somebody had sketched it while actually looking at the subject – which was obviously crazy, because if anyone tried to do that they’d end up with their arms ripped out of their sockets. Like poor Nurse Fox.
Underneath the drawing was a dense paragraph of text in a spidery, hard-to-read font. I squinted at the page and slowly read the words: The Revenant is an empty shell of humanity, created by the bite of an over-zealous Vampyr. I looked at Jace. ‘What does that even mean? Over-zealous?’ I had a horrible feeling that it was pretty obvious, but was hoping to hear his take on it before I completely freaked out.
Jace stabbed his finger at the book. ‘What do you think it means? It must be when a vampire feeds too much; maybe it takes the victim—’
‘Oh,’ I cut in. ‘Right, it says here in the book: For when the Vampyr feeds until the heart stops beating and all signs of life have faded from the human eye, then the Unmade will rise.’ I shoved the book back into Jace’s hands. ‘Great. So, is this something that happens all the time? Like when vampyrs feed from someone for too long?’
I didn’t want to touch the stupid book anymore; it weirded me out that it seemed to know more about what I’d become than I did. And I sure could’ve done with some of Murdoch’s books when I’d first woken after Theo turned me. Everything I’d found out by myself seemed tame, controlled . . . incomplete.
I thought about it for a moment. ‘Surely if it was that easy to create revenants by accident, there’d be hundreds or thousands of them wandering around in search of braaains.’
Jace rolled his eyes. ‘No – listen to this: The Vampyr must be young, having walked the Earth for less than two centuries. It feeds on blood past the point of possible return, so that the victim travels beyond death. Any attempt to make a new Vampyr will end in failure, Unmaking the human and leaving a Revenant in its place.’
He looked more animated than I could remember seeing him. Apart from whenever he’d been trying to kill me. ‘So these revenants are made by vamps who try to turn a human, only they’re too inexperienced and it goes wrong. That’s where your Maker got the term “Unmade” from.’
Something in his tone irritated me. ‘You don’t even know what you’re talking about; stop making out you’re this big authority on the undead. You haven’t got a clue, Jace.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘I’m not trying to pretend anything. And just because you’ve been a vamp for all of . . . what? A year? . . . that doesn’t make you an expert either. And you certainly don’t know anything about the Unmade. Or revenants, or whatever they’re called.’
I frowned, trying to stay open-minded despite the doubts that were crowding me. ‘I knew more than you did, back at the hospital, while I was busy saving our lives. It’s thanks to me we’re even having this conversation.’
‘If you say so,’ he muttered, as he continued flipping through the book.
‘Seriously, though. I don’t think it can be that simple. I wouldn’t be able to turn you into a vampire – Unmade or otherwise – if I bit you. And I’m less than two hundred years old.’
His lips quirked into a smile that was more of a challenge. ‘I guess we
’ll never find out, because you’re never going to bite me.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘I wasn’t thinking of testing my oh-so-scientific theory.’
‘Good, because I’m sort of getting used to you. It’d be a shame to have to stake you when things are going so well, right?’
‘You could try,’ I muttered.
Jace put the book aside and watched me, his gaze steady. ‘Don’t you ever wonder about it, though?’
‘About what?’
‘About how powerful vampires are. The things you could do if you really cut loose.’
‘I wonder about a lot of things,’ I said. ‘But mostly I just wonder how I’m going to get through the next day, and then the one after that.’
He continued as though I hadn’t spoken. ‘You’re stronger than humans. What’s to stop you from rising up and attacking us? Or even just going on a crime spree?’
I shook my head. ‘A vampire Bonnie and Clyde, you mean? That’s ridiculous.’
‘Why? Vampires are predators, pure and simple. What’s to stop them taking whatever they want?’
‘Humanity,’ I said. ‘You want to forget that part, I know. But it’s way too convenient. Vampires aren’t born, they’re made. I was made. I used to be human – just a year ago, I was as human as you. Don’t you think I remember what that was like? Don’t you think I still feel human?’
‘But you’re not. Human, I mean. Not entirely.’
‘Listen,’ I said, getting annoyed. ‘If vampires choose to live in the human world, that means they should live by human laws. That’s the rule.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘There are rules?’
I’d said too much. Me and my big mouth. Oh, well. Why stop now? ‘If you’re part of a Family, yes.’
‘Which you are? Part of a Family, I mean.’
‘Yes,’ I muttered. ‘Can we change the subject?’
‘Fine, how about this subject?’ He shifted position, leaning forward almost eagerly. ‘Could your Maker have done something like this? Created revenants, I mean. Now that we know a little more about it, could he be the one who Unmade Rick?’
Falling to Ash Page 12
