by P. G. Forte
“There may be those who say such things,” Conrad replied. “But I do not count myself among them. Indeed, had I better understood their reasoning, I believe that night might have ended far differently.”
Georgia grimaced. “You’ll forgive me, I hope, for saying I’m glad it did not end differently? But what does any of that matter now? Rupert is a friend well worth cultivating. And all you need give him in exchange for his goodwill is a small amount of tribute. I do not think it a very great price.”
“You cannot mean that!” Conrad could no longer sit quietly. The chaos in his mind demanded action. He got to his feet and began to pace. “What sort of friendship is this you talk of, Georgia? One for which I must pay in blood? And not even my own blood—no! But the blood of innocents, of people who have done nothing to deserve the fate you would so lightly assign them. Even if Rupert were someone I did not despise, I would still want no part of such a ‘friendship’.”
“Listen to me,” Georgia urged, as she, too, slid to the floor, so that they were both once again on their feet. “You’ve been given a great gift, Conrad. You have your freedom, and a second chance at life! Do not throw that away, I beg you. It would grieve me terribly were I to learn of your death.”
Conrad shook his head. “The only second chance I wish to have is with you. Tell me you do not mean the things you’ve said and we will forget this nonsense ever happened. Run away with me, as we’d planned to do before. I will make you my queen, share all I have with you. We could leave here tonight, if you wish, and I will order the entire nest to depart with us. Thus may I keep all my promises and safeguard you as well.”
Georgia shook her head. “Oh, my dear. The time for such pleasant dreams and naïve fantasies is long over. Once upon a time, yes, we had but little to lose, but now? After I have finally secured for myself a measure of security? How could I even consider risking that now? How can you ask it of me?”
“I would not call myself naïve,” Conrad protested. “It is not that I am unaware of the risks, but I count them as nothing compared to the reward. You will be safe with me. I swear it. Indeed, I am now more capable of protecting you than ever I was before.”
“How will you protect me, Conrad? By going to war with Rupert? ’Tis madness! You would doom us both.”
“Was it not madness before? And did we not consider it then?”
“As I have said, things have changed. You are now the master of a great House. You must learn to think like one or I fear your days will be short and your end, when it comes, will be as ignoble as Edwin’s. You will be slain—and all for naught! And the only one who to benefit from your death will be Rupert. If you really wish to gift my lord with all that he desires, I can think of far less costly ways to do it!”
Conrad sighed heavily. “Ah, ciccia, why will you not trust in me? I do not plan on dying, but if it comes to that, then yes, I would gladly risk death on your behalf. I am willing to risk all for you. Can you not say the same about me? Will you not?”
Georgia looked away and shook her head. “I would much prefer that neither of us take such risks, but if I cannot dissuade you from this course, so be it. You are headed for disaster. I will not follow you into it. My answer is no.”
Conrad growled in helpless frustration. “Then why did you even come here tonight? Was it for any reason at all other than to torment me?”
“Conrad…”
“It is not just the lives of these few men—though that would be enough. You are also asking me to sacrifice everything I hold dear, my dreams, my hopes for the future, my word, my pride, what’s left of my soul. And for what? Is it in the hope of winning your love? No, for even that is denied me! Were it otherwise, I might have found myself torn, forced to consider your terms. But you are offering me nothing more than a chance to purchase the goodwill of a man whose very nature I abhor. I tell you now, I will never make that bargain.”
Georgia found herself forced to look away. The pain in Conrad’s eyes tore at her heart. If that organ were still her own to direct, she would be on her knees, right now, begging his forgiveness. If she were free to speak the words locked deep inside, she’d be swearing her love for him. Had it been so long that he could no longer recall what it was to be a slave to someone else’s will?
She fisted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I know not why you speak to me of souls, after all the evil we’ve committed. What of our sins? There was a time—I remember it well—when such things were all you could talk about. We are damned creatures, Conrad. Our souls are lost. This is our eternal life. We had best make the most of it, for we will get no other.”
“All the more reason, then, to live with what integrity we can. But now, at last, I have the answer to my final question. It was not Destiny that brought you here to me tonight. You did not come here of your own free will, for you have none. You were sent here, weren’t you? As your master’s whore no doubt. Tell me, were you acting under orders when you seduced me? Did you think I might be more easily persuaded to comply with his outrageous demands after bedding you?”
Heat flared in Georgia’s cheeks. “It is true that I am here at Rupert’s command, but he could easily have sent someone else. Fool that I am, I begged him to choose me because I wished to see you again. And because I thought I had the best chance of convincing you to be reasonable.”
“And yet I’ve not heard one reasonable thought from you all evening!”
“Because you will not listen! Forget your wounded pride. Give in to Rupert’s demands. Leave this isle, go home, live your life—and allow me to live mine. It will be best for all of us, I promise you. I am already at war with enough people I once cared for. Do not make me add you to that list, I beg you.”
“I do not treaty with slaves. You may take that message back to your master, if you’d like. Tell him I shall call upon him myself on the morrow so that we may settle this between us—as equals.”
His words stung. “You’ve grown cruel over the years.”
“I? I have grown cruel?” Conrad shook his head. “No, Georgia, what strikes me as cruel is the fact that we should have both lived to see this night. I wish now that the ocean had claimed me—and you as well. ’Twould have been a far better fate than to live to see the regard we once had for one another reduced to this.”
“I, on the other hand, am happy that we are both still alive, even with animosity between us. And I pray we might both continue to live long and happy lives.”
Conrad made no answer but the ice in his gaze seemed impenetrable.
Georgia sighed. “Since it seems there is nothing left to say, I will take my leave of you. I’ve an unwelcome message to deliver—’tis best to get it over with quickly.” She glanced worriedly at his sword, which he’d laid by the door. Would he use it on her if she asked him to? A quick, painless death seemed far less unpleasant than the prospect before her—that of returning to face Rupert’s wrath now that her mission had failed. But the will to survive that had kept her alive through centuries of pain and degradation was not so easily extinguished. And, who knew? Perhaps someday… “If you’d be so kind as to unlock the door?”
Snarling in fury, Conrad did as she requested. He slid back the bolt, and pushed the door wide. Then he turned away, refusing to even look at her. Neither of them spoke as Georgia took her leave, slipping past him without so much as a glance in his direction.
True to his word, Conrad visited Rupert the following night. By use of threats, he did eventually win some measure of safety for Kendrick and his men, but if there were ever a chance of winning Rupert as an ally, it was lost that night, just as Georgia had predicted. Conrad could not bring himself to be overly concerned. He had already lost the only friendship that mattered.
He did not see Georgia again for a very long time after that. He spent the next several decades living mostly among humans, avoiding his own kind as much as possible. It sickened
him to realize how enslaved most vampires were—unable to act on their own or think for themselves. Weak, foolish and short-lived though humans were, at least their minds were free.
Hiding his true nature from all but a few of them, Conrad used his strength and his skill as a warrior to find employment among all the wealthiest families of Europe, for which work he was richly rewarded. As his needs were few, and his employers not so foolish as to attempt to cheat him, he soon accumulated a very sizeable fortune, most of which he left in the care of a trusted few among his people—those like Kendrick, who had families of their own to provide for.
His travels took him all across Europe and into Asia, even to the northernmost parts of Africa. Eventually, he found himself in Italy in the employ of a jovial, somewhat avaricious baron who knew of Conrad’s nature and hired him to provide protection.
Although he would not have called himself happy during this time, he much preferred his current status to the centuries he’d spent in captivity. And, overall, he was not discontent with his life.
But there were still times, every now and again, when the wind blew just right, when the gentle scent of certain blossoms reached his nose, or when the moon appeared as a slender curl in a deep blue sky, that he still thought of Georgia, with her blue eyes and her golden hair, her soft sighs as she came undone for him…
“Quintano? Where are you, my captain?” Conrad suppressed a growl as his employer’s voice intruded on his thoughts. “I need to talk with you.”
“I am here,” Conrad said as he turned from the balcony where he’d been observing the night sky. “What is it you wish to discuss?”
“There you are!” The baron’s jovial expression dimmed. “But, what is this? Why does my captain of the guard look so unhappy? Ah, never mind. This plan I’ve devised will quickly put the smile back on your face. Do you wish to hear it?”
Conrad bit back a sigh. “Of course.”
“What say you to the idea of our taking a little trip, eh?” The baron rubbed his hands gleefully together. “I wish to open up a most beneficial new trade route to the East. But first we must travel west. We go to Sevilla, where purses are deep. There we will secure the proper financial backing needed for our venture. How soon can we be ready to travel?”
Conrad considered the matter. “To Sevilla? I will need perhaps a fortnight to make arrangements. How large a company do you wish to take?”
“Oh, minimal, minimal. Just a small party—one does not wish to show up looking like a beggar, after all. But it is mostly for appearance’s sake. I need not worry overmuch about defense, for I have you!”
“For the moment,” Conrad agreed. It would not do for the baron to grow too complacent, or for either of them to get too comfortable with an arrangement that could only be temporary. However monetarily beneficial it was, their partnership could not last long. For now, however, it sufficed. The pay was good, the work was not onerous, and the baron was surprisingly amusing in small doses. “Very well. I shall begin immediately.”
Sevilla. Conrad rolled the word around in his mind. He’d never been there, but he’d heard that it was a most pleasant city, a glittering jewel in the Spanish crown. It should make for an interesting trip.
He could never have predicted how that particular journey would end, could never have guessed to what extent his life was, once again, destined to change…
Chapter Thirteen
San Francisco, California
Present Day
The sun had not yet set when Conrad found himself once again pulled from sleep. Blessedly, however, for once the dreams that had awakened him had not been unpleasant. Rather, he’d dreamed about that fateful trip to Sevilla, where he’d first met Damian, and where he’d experienced for the very first time what it was to truly love someone, and be truly loved in return.
The man of his dreams was still sleeping peacefully at Conrad’s side and Conrad was on the verge of waking him, when he reconsidered. In repose, Damian’s expression was relaxed and free from care—a very rare thing of late. He’d been so concerned with the twins, so anxious. Soon enough he would awaken on his own and—no doubt—immediately recommence his worrying. Conrad saw no need to hasten that event.
Being careful not to wake his lover, Conrad slipped out of bed. He dressed as quickly and silently as possible and, within a very few minutes, he was letting himself out of the house.
The small grove of trees that surrounded the mansion beckoned him. Over the years, he’d come to almost enjoy being awake at this time of day, while the rest of his household continued to slumber. True, the sun continued to press on his nerves while it hovered above the horizon, but inevitably it would slip out of sight as night eased itself over the waiting city. Those few, precious moments before the lights went on—as the shadows grew deep and darkness expanded around him—were among his favorites. Walking beneath the trees at that hour, his senses soothed by their cool, green scents, it was easy to imagine that he had been cast backward in time, or that the world was still as it once had been—dark, quiet and untamed.
It was not that Conrad disapproved of progress. In his estimation, the modern world had much to recommend it. But much had been lost as well. There were times when he very much missed what once had been.
An unexpected sound caught his ear—something out of place—the faint squeak of hinges as one of the lesser-used side gates was stealthily opened. Curious, Conrad moved silently in its direction, intending to intercept whoever was slipping secretively onto his estate. He stopped short, eyebrows rising, when he saw who it was.
“Georgia? What are you doing up and about at this hour?”
“Conrad!” Georgia gasped. “I…I… Well, I could ask the same of you,” she said with a toss of her head. “Couldn’t I?”
Even more curious now, Conrad moved to join her. “You could. Assuming you were feeling either spectacularly lucky, or even more reckless than is usual.” Conrad’s actions were rarely questioned—especially not here. Especially not by her. “Are you?”
Georgia straightened her shoulders and stared back at him boldly. “Perhaps I am.”
“Then I suppose it’s fortunate that I’m feeling unusually tolerant this evening.” Conrad smiled. “Very well. I will indulge you with an explanation. As it happens, I am often restless at this time of day. I find myself plagued by dreams. The curse of a misspent life, I suspect.”
“Yes, perhaps.” Georgia’s lips twisted into an answering smile, one that suggested that she was no stranger to such dreams. “I suppose all of our sins must catch up with us eventually.”
“It seems a reasonable conclusion.” Conrad’s gaze took in her appearance. “You look tired. Have you been out all day?”
Georgia nodded. “I was tracking down a lead last night and did not wish for it to grow cold while I slept.”
“I see.” It was a myth, of course, that vampires could not stand sunlight. It was enervating, to be sure, especially when one was injured or recently fledged, or when food was scarce. But even for the oldest and strongest among them, it was still not comfortable to endure for any length of time. Georgia must have felt it worth the effort—that was promising. “So? What news do you bring?”
Georgia’s expression turned chagrined. “Nothing, alas. It was but a false hope. I fear I wasted the day for naught. If you’ll excuse me, I think a good meal and a quick nap are in order. After which I’ll be good as new and happy to take up the hunt once more.”
“Wait.” As Georgia moved to pass him, Conrad put out a hand to stop her. “Don’t go yet. Come and sit with me for a while. I wish to talk with you.”
“Talk?” Georgia’s eyes widened in alarm. She glanced around in surprise. “What—here?”
Conrad’s gaze followed Georgia’s. There were a handful of wrought-iron benches scattered around the property—mostly holdovers from those days when he had been in the habit of t
hrowing elaborate house parties. They made for convenient dining areas, but were only semi-secluded, not quite what he was looking for tonight.
“Let’s go inside. There’s less chance of being overheard and, if you’re hungry, I can have the servants bring us some food. Come,” he repeated, smiling expectantly. He crooked his arm and waited for her to take it.
Georgia cast another long look around her. “Oh, very well. If you insist.”
Conrad studied her more closely. Was she pouting? Her expression was definitely not happy as she slipped her arm in his. And the sigh she heaved was so unexpectedly mournful, so in-tune with his own feeling of unrest, that it prompted Conrad to reach for her hand where it lay upon his arm He squeezed it gently, offering what comfort he could. “You feel it too?”
Georgia stilled. “Feel what?”
Conrad shrugged. “I hardly know how to describe it. A vague malaise. The rush of time flying past us, perhaps?”
“Ah, that.” Georgia’s mouth tightened. “In truth, I feel it more than you know.”
“Now then,” Conrad said after they’d settled themselves, drinks in hand, in the salon—he on the sofa, she on one of the armchairs facing it. “Talk to me, ciccia. Tell me what’s been bothering you.”
Georgia dropped her gaze to stare into the goblet in her hand. “I don’t know what you mean. What makes you think there’s anything bothering me?”
“Because it’s written all over your face.”
She took a small sip and then replied, “As I told you, I spent the day following up on pointless leads. What you’re seeing in my face is exhaustion. It will pass.”
“Somehow I doubt that’s all it is.”
“Well, I’ve no idea what else you want me to tell you.”
