Old Sins, Long Shadow

by PG Forte

  Go? Go where? She shivered when he pulled her outside with him. The sun wasn’t up yet, but dawn wasn’t that far off, either. She whimpered a little as she thought of being out in the sun. Too bright. Too harsh. Too strong. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. Someone wants to see you. That’s all you need to know.”

  He pulled her along the sidewalk and it was all she could do to keep up, to not stumble and fall. Someone wanted to see her. She didn’t know what that meant. She didn’t much care. Wherever they were headed, she was pretty sure it had to be better than where she’d just been.

  Chapter Eighteen

  For once, Conrad slept peacefully. Night had already fallen by the time he woke up. As he left his rooms in search of breakfast, he was feeling more optimistic than he had in months and confident he’d be ready to try out one of the new employees before the night was through.

  It was a worthy goal, if for no other reason than it would make Damian happy. He’d be pleased to know his work was being appreciated and gratified when Conrad praised him for his good taste. Most of all, he would likely take great pleasure in the thought Conrad was heeding his advice and not limiting himself to bagged blood. If he were happy enough, he might even forgive Conrad for his actions the night of the party.

  A very worthy goal and really Conrad did not think it too much to ask.

  All he wanted was for things to go back to the way they’d been before his abduction—with none of the bitterness and uncertainty that existed between them now. They’d gotten along amiably enough for most of the past forty years, hadn’t they? They’d been friends, companions, partners. Damian had even smiled from time to time. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a damn sight better than what they had right now. He could live with that.

  “Conrad, may I speak to you for a moment?” Georgia asked, stepping out of her room just as he was passing her door.

  Conrad paused. “Of course, my dear. What can I do for you?” Was it just his suspicious nature, or had she been lying in wait for him? Why? To catch him alone? Or was she hoping his hunger would render him too distracted to pay proper attention to what she had to say, and therefore more likely to agree to something he might otherwise object to? “Is this about your investigations? Have you learned anything yet?”

  “I’m not sure.” Georgia glanced quickly up and down the corridor before continuing. “I did hear a rather disturbing rumor last night. I don’t know if you’ve heard about this yet, but apparently there are stories circulating about humans having been attacked by vampires. It probably has nothing to do with our problem, but it’s worrisome and I’d like your permission to follow up on it.”

  “Of course. You know I have complete confidence in your ability to handle these things.” He should. She’d been dealing with this type of activity for as long as he’d known her. A very long time, indeed. “Any idea who’s behind these attacks?”

  “I did hear some speculation that ferals were involved, but I consider it unlikely at this point. I gather there’s been an increase recently in the local population; that always gives rise to these sorts of stories. Your average vampire tends to be so…skittish on the subject.”

  Skittish not being a term generally used to describe vampires, Conrad couldn’t help but smile. “By average, might I assume you mean anyone not like you and I?”

  A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. “That’s not entirely what I meant. But, seeing as you’ve mentioned it, you must agree there are some advantages to being what we are.”

  “No, actually, I don’t have to agree to anything of the kind.”

  He’d heard all the arguments. They failed to impress. Although he’d long since come to terms with who and what he was, that didn’t mean he had to like it and as for there being an advantage to it? No.

  “Was there anything else?” he asked, noting the small frown that creased her forehead.

  Georgia shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your trust in me, Conrad, but I can’t help wondering why you’re not handling this yourself.”

  Too close to the truth. Conrad arched an eyebrow at her. “I see.” Hoping to draw her off track he asked, “So, what is it you’re questioning? My judgment in choosing you for this assignment, or my right to make demands upon your time?”

  “Neither, of course. It’s just unlike you to keep yourself so much in the background or to delegate quite so much authority to others. Particularly in a case such as this.”

  “Perhaps you feel I’m being cowardly—risking your life on dangerous missions while safeguarding my own?”

  She gazed at him reproachfully. “Be serious, would you? I believe we both know that’s not the case. I’m merely saying I don’t believe you would have acted so in the past.”

  “You’re quite right, of course,” he said as he took her arm in his. He headed down the corridor once more, leading her toward the more populated areas of the mansion and, hopefully, an end to their conversation. “But the circumstances have changed since first I made it my goal to eradicate the Invitus cult. At the time, only a handful of people had access to the necessary documents and information. It made sense to act openly, to make my opposition plain. The fact that I could be counted on to act swiftly and harshly was in itself a deterrent. Nowadays, when technology has made the widespread decimation of ideas entirely too easy to achieve, it seems wiser to deal with things more quietly. If we wish to wipe out all traces of this scourge, once and for all, it’s to our advantage to keep to a minimum the number of people who are aware of what we’re doing—and why. The smaller the number of our enemy, the easier it will be to exterminate them all.”

  “And who is it we’re hoping to exterminate now?” Marc asked, appearing suddenly from around a corner. “Or needn’t I ask?”

  Conrad stared at him, surprised as much by the scowl that darkened his features as he was by the breach in courtesy. He did not appreciate Marc’s tone. The twins had been taught better manners than this! “You’re interrupting,” he scolded quietly. “This conversation does not concern you.”

  Marc snorted. “Oh, I think it does.” He turned his glare on Georgia. “I told you last night I’d handle this, but you just had to tell him yourself, didn’t you? What’d you do, wait with one ear to the door so you could catch him as soon as he left his room?”

  Georgia’s eyes grew wide. “I beg your pardon?” she replied in frosty tones, looking and sounding every bit as annoyed and affronted as Conrad felt.

  Still, he could not help but notice the startled flush on her cheeks. Apparently at least one of Marc’s thrusts had gone home. It seemed they’d both been right about her. She had been waiting for him. A small part of Conrad took pride in his offspring’s perspicacity. But enough was enough. “Marcus, you’re being rude.”

  “Rude? Is that all you’ve got? You two are talking about killing people and you’re pissed off ’cause I’m rude?”

  “That is enough!”

  Georgia cleared her throat. “If you’ll excuse me, my liege, I’ll take my leave of you now. I’ve much to do this evening—as, I think, do you.”

  She’d let go of his arm and was turning away when Marc put out a hand to stop her. “Not so fast. You’re not going anywhere yet.” He turned to Conrad demanding, “Tell her she’s not allowed to harm them.”

  “Oh, really!” Georgia was seething as she pulled herself free of Marc’s grasp. She gazed at Conrad in exasperation. “This is insupportable. Must I put up with his insolence now too?”

  Conrad bit back a sigh. The good mood with which he’d awoken was now a thing of the past. This was like Damian all over again. He fixed Georgia with a steely glare. “Go. I’ll speak with you about this later.”

  “As you wish,” she murmured, inclining her head in a small bow. As she turned to leave, Marc made another grab for her arm, but Conrad stopped him. “No,” he growled as he propelled him back along the corridor to his suite, where they could continue this discussion in
private. “And not another word!”

  Conrad shoved Marc into his room and slammed the door behind them. “Explain yourself!” he demanded as Marc turned to face him. “And this had better be good. I will not accept this behavior from you. You were raised better.”

  “Raised being the operative word,” Marc answered sullenly. “Past tense. I’m not a child anymore. Haven’t been one for a while.”

  “Then why must you act like one?”

  Maybe he wasn’t technically a child, but the stubborn look in his eyes and the determined tilt of his chin made him look far younger than his years. Factor in a surprising hint of vulnerability and… Another wave of déjà vu crashed over Conrad’s heart as he realized it wasn’t Damian that Marc reminded him of now, or even a younger version of himself. He looked like his mother, Desert Rose. She’d been wearing a nearly identical expression the night she’d refused to let Conrad send her away. The sense of loss struck him hard. It was all Conrad could do to keep from keening.

  “I won’t let you hurt her,” Marc muttered, his voice shaky with passion.

  Her? Confusion left Conrad momentarily speechless. As he tried to calm his emotions and drag his mind back to the present, the door they’d just come through was pushed quietly open and Damian slipped into the room.

  “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” he asked as he crossed his arms and leaned against the jamb with studied nonchalance.

  Conrad glared at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Merely satisfying myself that you’re both all right,” Damian murmured in silken tones that all but masked his anxiety. “After having observed your behavior in the hallway just now, I confess to being somewhat concerned.”

  The worried glances he cast in Marc’s direction left Conrad with no doubt as to whose safety was paramount. For a moment he was consumed by a wholly irrational feeling of jealousy. “How very solicitous of you,” he growled in answer. “But, as you can see, we’re both fine.”

  “The hell we are.” Marc cast a beseeching look in Damian’s direction. “He wants to kill off all the ferals in the city, Damian. I heard him say so. Please tell me we don’t behave this way. Is this who we are now?”

  “Ferals?” Damian repeated doubtfully. “Marc, are you sure you heard right?”

  “Of course he didn’t hear right,” Conrad answered impatiently. “Why should I suddenly be concerning myself with plans to eliminate the feral population?” Occasionally, an individual feral would become a nuisance and then steps would have to be taken. As a group, however, they were beneath his notice and he generally paid them little heed.

  Marc’s frown turned a shade doubtful. “Well, who were you talking about then?”

  “As I already told you, Marc, my conversation was with Georgia. It does not concern you.”

  “Georgia,” Damian muttered beneath his breath. “Well, that explains it.”

  “And I say it does concern me,” Marc insisted. “This isn’t an episode of Doctor Who, you know. You can’t just go around exterminating people for no good reason.”

  Conrad blinked in surprise. Of course he could. If there was one thing he’d learned in the course of the last thousand years, it was that he could do whatever he pleased—as long as he was willing to live with the consequences. “My reasons are also not your concern.”

  Damian shifted restlessly. “Tell me, why the sudden interest in ferals, Marc? What’s going on?”

  Marc sighed. “I wasn’t trying to hide it, you know—no matter what Georgia might have said. I just hadn’t gotten around to mentioning it yet. There’s a girl I’ve been helping. Apparently, she’s been hanging around Akeldama for a while now, but I only just found out about it the other night.”

  Conrad started. “A feral? In my club?”

  “You see?” Marc threw up his hands. “Everyone told me you’d react this way. And then you wonder why I thought what I did.”

  “What I wonder is whether I made a mistake in giving Drew quite so much autonomy in deciding how the place is to be run. Is this the kind of clientele we’re attracting now? If so, I may have to make some adjustments.”

  Marc glared. “Oh, that’s just great. Wasn’t the club Drew’s idea in the first place?”

  The change of subject caught Conrad off guard. “I believe so. Why?”

  “Then doesn’t he deserve the autonomy you say you gave him?”

  “Deserve it?”

  Marc sighed. “Look, do not give Drew a hard time about this, all right? Just leave him alone. He was on top of things until I got involved. I’m the one who made him back off. So, if you’re mad and you have to take it out on someone, you can take it out on me.”

  “No!” Damian straightened away from the doorframe. He took a quick step forward before his gaze faltered under Conrad’s glare. “I mean…I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

  “Am I to be allowed to make any decisions for myself anymore?” Conrad inquired coldly. “Or shall I just let you two take care of that for me?”

  At least Damian had the grace—or the good sense, Conrad couldn’t decide which—to look embarrassed by his outburst. He dipped his head in a small gesture of respect. “Of course not. I only meant…nothing. Nothing at all. Perdonarme.”

  Marc, on the other hand, continued to look entirely unrepentant. “Whatever. Anyway, I’m telling you, it’s not an issue. She knows better than to come inside the club now. She’s just really new, you know? She was only turned a couple of months ago and then her sire took off and didn’t teach her anything. She was bound to mess up under the circumstances. She didn’t know the first thing about…well, anything when I met her. But I gave her some tips and she’s doing much better now.”

  “Tips?” Conrad stared at him.

  Marc nodded. There was an odd look in his eyes. Pride, perhaps? “Lessons, you know? She learns really fast. You’d be impressed.”

  Conrad shook his head. “In all likelihood, she reverts right back to her previous behavior the minute your back is turned. I’m sorry, Marc, I’m sure your heart’s in the right place, but you might as well attempt to domesticate a rattlesnake.”

  “You’re wrong,” Marc insisted. “It’s not like that at all. Besides, she deserves a chance. It’s not fair what happened to her. Hell, I don’t think she even wanted to be turned.”

  “Are you certain of that?” Conrad asked in alarm. The practice of taking spawn by force, turning people against their will, had been all too common once, but not anymore. The fact that it was occurring again now, and at the same time as the Lamia Invitus threat…could that really be a coincidence? The two almost had to be related somehow. He would definitely have to have Georgia check into this. “What did you say happened to her sire again?”

  “I have no idea. And no, actually, I’m not certain of anything. That’s just the impression I got when I tried to talk to her about him. All I know is that she said he was gone before she was even awake. I don’t even think she knows his name.”

  “Well, whoever he was, he must have had enemies,” Conrad said. “Of that much, at least, we can be reasonably certain. He wouldn’t have just gone off and left her on his own accord. No one would even think to leave a changeling unattended at such a time unless he were forced to do so. Someone must have lured him away, somehow, and killed him.”

  Marc’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what Elise said too. Something about the biological imperative being too strong, I think?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “She made it sound almost painful?”

  Conrad’s jaw clenched at the question in Marc’s tone. He could feel Damian’s eyes on him, but he refused to meet his gaze. “That’s very perceptive. Who did you say told you this?”

  Marc shrugged. For a moment he seemed lost for words. “Elise is… Well, for one thing, she’s the woman who gave me the information that helped us find you last summer. So, in a way, we owe her. I started seeing her again recently though and, I’m telling you
right now, I intend to keep seeing her. So don’t even think about telling me to stop.”

  Conrad sighed. This insubordination was becoming tiresome. “Am I to assume then that there’s some reason why you think I would?”

  “I don’t know, but she thinks so. I gather you have some sort of grudge against her whole house. Doesn’t sound like they like us a whole lot, either. To hear her tell it, the idea of the two of us being together is enough to make someone from either side want us dead.”

  “Which would be a reason,” Conrad said dryly. If he believed it. He found it hard to give the idea credence, but if he did he would most certainly insist Marc refrain from staying such a dangerous course.

  “Well, I don’t care,” Marc growled, his features hardening once again.

  Conrad felt his temper flare. “Indeed? And just what exactly is it you don’t care about?”

  Damian’s chuckle broke the tension. He crossed to Marc and gave him a quick hug. “Ay, Dios mio. But how very romantic you’ve become. It’s quite like Romeo and Juliet, is it not? Although, I trust it will have a much happier ending. But, come, you must have quite worn out your grandfather’s nerves by now with all this drama. It’s obvious this whole thing is nothing more than a silly misunderstanding. Apologize, at once, for your rudeness and then let’s go find something to eat. I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m feeling quite famished.”

  Marc frowned. “I’ll apologize for jumping to conclusions, if that’s the case, but after days of everyone telling me how the ferals should all be killed, I don’t know what else I was supposed to think. Especially after talking to Georgia last night. I knew she wouldn’t rest until you’d heard about this. I guess I should have remembered she said there was something else you were worried about as well.”

  “Yes, yes, I’m sure it was a very understandable mistake,” Conrad said quickly, before Marc could say anything else. “I’ll let it go this time. Just don’t make a habit of it.” The last thing he wanted was to have Marc ask him what the “something else” he was worried about might be—or to bring Georgia’s name back into the discussion, for that matter. Damian would, no doubt, try hard to find a way to blame her for Marc’s bad manners and the next thing he knew they’d be arguing again. That was not going to happen—not if he wanted to keep any chance of salvaging the night. “Now, go have breakfast you two. I’ll be along shortly.”