Fallen Embers

by P. G. Forte

  “Can I make a suggestion?” Hawk asked dryly.

  Julie nodded. “Sure, why not?”

  “Just give me your phone number, dude,” Hawk told Brennan. “I’ll call you on my burner; you tell the cops it was an anonymous tip. Problem solved. They’ll probably piss and moan about how you shoulda waited for them to get here before you stormed the place and broke your kid out, but people rarely think straight in a crisis. You can sell it.” He glanced at Julie. “You probably want to get out of here beforehand though. Just in case.”

  “Right.” Julie didn’t bother asking what “just in case” meant. She figured that was something else she was better off not knowing. It was fine, she had stuff to do anyway. “I’ll leave you the car, in case you need it. You can either bring it back, or I’ll pick it up at the warehouse later.”

  She glanced at Brennan and forced a smile. “Bye, Bren. Glad it all worked out.” Then she turned and left, before the tears had a chance to fall.

  By the time she got back to the mansion, Julie’s sorrow had transmuted into rage. How dare he? How dare they? Pretending ignorance and concern, wasting her time with nonsense she still didn’t understand. A cab pulled up in front of the gate just as she got there. She ignored it and continued walking. Bypassing the gate, she headed straight for Marc’s tree. It was the quickest form of ingress and she was in no mood to waste time.

  She was just about to leap for a branch when someone grabbed her arm and spun her around. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Armand?” For one brief, joyous instant, caught up in the relief of seeing him again, Julie forgot everything else. She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tight…until reality once again intruded. She pushed him away. “What are you doing here? They told me you’d left town!”

  Armand nodded. “I did.” He glanced at the wall she’d been about to scale and frowned. “What were you doing? Climbing trees?”

  Julie shrugged. “I was in a hurry. It seemed the quickest way in.”

  “Well, no matter. You can’t go in there. There are things going on you know nothing about.”

  Julie snorted in amusement. “Yeah? Well, there’re things going on that you know nothing about either. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Without waiting for him to reply, she jumped and caught hold of the nearest branch.

  Armand grabbed for her, but she quickly pulled her legs up, beyond the reach of his grasp, then quickly scrambled higher, before transferring to yet another branch, swinging over the fence to drop onto the lawn. The sound of muffled curses and hurried footsteps disappearing in the direction of the drive let her know Armand was headed for the gate. Determined to make the most of her headstart, Julie sprinted toward the house. She was in sight of the steps that led to the front door when Christian stepped out of the shadows, directly into her path.

  “Hullo, Julie,” he said in a voice that was hollow and wooden—completely unlike his usual animated tones.

  She felt the hair rise at the back of her neck. Something was wrong with him. But that was just too damn bad. Whatever it was, she was too angry to care. “Don’t you ‘hullo, Julie’ me,” she said as she marched right up and poked him in the chest. “You kidnapping sonofabitch. Do you know what you put that family through?”

  “I’m sorry,” he replied, his voice still toneless. His sullen expression was at odds with the agonized grief that gleamed in his eyes. “So sorry.” He raised his hands in what she assumed was a placating gesture—until, once again, her arm was grabbed and she was spun around. This time, however, she found herself held roughly in a hard, unyielding clasp. In the time it took her to recognize what was happening, her arms had been pinned behind her and one large hand was clamped across her mouth. She was lifted off her feet and half-dragged, half-carried into the trees.

  “I’m sorry for this.” This time it wasn’t Christian who spoke, but Georgia. The look on her face was fell and hopeless, but it was her next words that caused the butterflies in Julie’s belly to spontaneously ignite. “I’ll try to make this as painless for you as possible.”

  Georgia’s hand was shaking as she gently smoothed the hair from Julie’s face, tucking stray locks behind her ear to better bare her throat. Such a terrible waste. She’d always hated having to kill the young ones, those who’d barely tasted life. It seemed so massively unfair.

  “Darling, please.” Christian’s voice broke under the strain of trying to defy her compulsion. “Don’t do this. I’m begging you.”

  “Be quiet, love.” The continued stress of keeping him in line was already taking almost all her energy; she had nothing left for arguing.

  “But she’s not sick—why won’t you listen?”

  “He’s lying,” she explained to Julie. “I think that must mean he loves you very much, don’t you?” Knowing you were loved—that had to ease the pain of dying somewhat, didn’t it? “And I hope you understand that has nothing to do with why I’m doing this. Indeed, under other circumstances, I would be happy to know that someone would be there for him after I’m gone.”

  Julie’s eyes widened. A muffled whimper left her lips. She kicked and bucked so violently that Georgia grew worried. At this rate, the girl would either hurt herself, or succeed in wrenching out of Christian’s grasp. Neither option was acceptable. She snapped at Christian. “Hold her still!”

  This time it was Christian who whimpered. His muscles bulged. The veins on his neck stood out in sharp relief. But he did as she commanded. Georgia felt her energy draining away, even faster than before. She thanked her stars that a small reprieve was within her grasp. Once she’d killed her, she would drain Julie’s blood. That would give her strength enough to carry out the rest of her tasks. She’d convince Conrad that Julie had attacked her—the inevitable result of her illness. She’d insist that she’d been caught off-guard, that she had not expected Julie to bite her. She’d claim she had contracted the disease from Julie—rather than the other way around. Yes, Conrad would still kill her and Damian would doubtlessly remain suspicious, but the story would hold. No one would be able to prove otherwise. Christian would be safe; with that, she’d be content.

  She smiled sadly, apologetically at Julie. “As I said, I’m so very sorry this has happened to you. It’s a dreadful disease, as I’m sure you’ve already begun to find out. It weakens you. It drives you mad. And, painful! Oh, my dear, you have no idea. Your body literally cannibalizes itself from inside out. In the end stages, where I am now, your only source of succor is the blood of others like yourself, those who carry the disease themselves. Please understand, there is no hope, no cure, no way at all to survive. You are going to die—either by my hand or by Conrad’s. If possible, I’d like to spare him the pain of having to kill someone he obviously adores.”

  “Let her go, Georgia.” Armand’s voice shook so hard it was barely recognizable.

  Furious, Georgia spun around to face him. What was he doing back here? Why now? And how much had he overheard? “Do not interfere in what you don’t understand,” she snapped, struggling even harder to maintain control. “She’s ill. She must be killed.”

  Armand shook his head. “No. You’re the one who’s ill. I know the truth!”

  He was bluffing. He had to be. But two could play at that. “What truth is that? Are you saying you know from whom she caught it? Was it you?”

  Her plan was falling apart. But she could still salvage it. She need only kill Armand.

  Startled by the trend of her own thoughts, Georgia pressed a shaky hand to her lips. What was she thinking? Armand wasn’t ill. She couldn’t justify taking his life too, could she? How far into madness had she already descended?

  That single moment of inattention was all Christian needed to break free of her control. He pushed Julie away from him. “Go!” he ordered, then turned and attempted to restrain Georgia instead.

  “You fool! What have you done?” she hissed as t
hey grappled with each other.

  “You have to listen to me,” he insisted.

  But she didn’t actually. She hooked one of her legs behind his, pushed hard on his chest, and down he went. She stomped on his leg, until she was fairly certain she heard the snap of bone breaking. Then she left him lying there, cursing and groaning, and sped off in pursuit of the others. Guessing that they’d head for the house, she circled around to cut them off.

  “Stop this,” Armand pleaded, after she’d cornered them. “You have to stop. Conrad will kill you if you don’t.”

  “Conrad will kill me regardless,” she replied. She was horrified by the hysterical laughter that bubbled up with the words, making her sound as crazy as she felt. “There’s never been any doubt about that!” She turned to Julie. “And you’re deluding yourself if you think he won’t do the same to you.”

  Clearly the impact of her words was lessened by their breathless, slightly giddy delivery. The girl just stared at her in wide-eyed confusion, peeking at her over Armand’s shoulder, shaking her head, saying nothing.

  Georgia found herself praying for patience and restraint. As if things were not already bad enough, she could feel the hunger rising within her. Her need for blood was growing more intense. Soon she would not be picky about whose she took. She gulped for breath while she waited for her racing heart to slow, for the laughter to stop, for the hunger to subside. When she was finally able to speak calmly, she tried appealing to Julie one more time. “Please. You seem like a sensible girl, and I’ve no wish to hurt you.”

  “You just tried to kill her!” Armand roared in protest.

  Georgia sighed. Apparently she still sounded crazy. But what part of this did they not understand? Killing Julie was not a choice at this point. Hurting her, on the other hand, was. “Send him away,” she instructed Julie. “Let us talk about this like two reasonable women.”

  Before Julie could answer, the sound of footsteps on the gravel path reached their ears. Georgia oriented on the sound, while still being careful to block the path to the house. The vampire who jogged up the drive toward them was not anyone with whom Georgia was familiar. If Armand’s expression was anything to go by, he was equally perplexed.

  “Oh, Julie, hey. There you are,” the intruder called out, greeting the girl with a sunny smile, seemingly unaware of the crackling tension in the air, the strangeness of the situation.

  Julie stared at him in alarm. “Hawk! Wh-what are you doing here?”

  “I was just—you know—in the neighborhood.” He was breathing hard as he boldly stepped into the space between them. Georgia snarled in disbelief. He must be acting. No one could be this much of a fool.

  A shudder ran down the man’s spine, but he continued to keep his back to Georgia, staying right where he was, chattering inanely and pretending not to know she was there. “So, I figured, why not stop by and say hello? I still had to bring you back your keys and… And, anyway, I thought maybe you wanna run ’em up to the house. You know, like now? Before you lose them?”

  Idiots. Georgia shook her head, feeling older and more tired than ever before. She was impressed with their bravery, but did they really think she didn’t know what they were up to? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Christian, limping from the woods, headed her way. Her heart twisted in pain. She had never wanted to hurt him, and yet she had. Distressing though the sight was, it was still not quite enough to distract her completely. In the instant Julie made her move, Georgia moved with her.

  She lunged for the girl—and would have caught her, too—if the unfortunate “Hawk” hadn’t stumbled intentionally into her way. Georgia’s temper ignited. She tore into the man, only distantly aware of Julie’s blood-curdling scream and the pounding of footsteps racing up behind her. Her opponent went down in an instant. Georgia thrust him aside and would have started after Julie once again if she hadn’t been tripped and tackled and dropped to the ground under the combined weight of both Christian and Armand.

  “Let me go!”

  “No,” Christian snarled back at her. “Now you listen to me! You don’t need to kill her. You can’t kill her! She’s special, I tell you. She’s the key to everything. Her blood can save us. If you doom her, you doom yourself as well!”

  Georgia scrabbled at the gravel as she sought to free herself, and sobbed in helpless fury. “Oh, Christian, please. Enough with this nonsense. You know better! She has to be infected. She ingested your blood.”

  Armand gasped. “What? No! That can’t be true. You’re lying. Y-you must be.”

  But suddenly, Conrad was there, shoving the others away, and then lifting her to her feet. “Hold him,” he barked. Out of the corner of her eye, Georgia saw Damian wrestle Christian into submission. Too weak to even protest, she sank against Conrad’s chest feeling treacherously safe for the first time in what felt like forever.

  Conrad peered curiously at her. “What ails you?” he asked in that deceptively gentle voice that made her want to weep. “Are you injured?”

  “It’s the blood plague,” Armand answered. “Her whole family’s infected. Or they were. They’re all dead now.”

  Conrad’s concerned expression gave way to a look of horror. He met her gaze and begged, “Ciccia? What is he saying? Tell me this isn’t so.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry, my love. I should have told you.” Summoning the last of her strength, she gave it one last try. “But, please, Conrad, listen to me. Christian had no part in this. It was all my doing. You must spare him. He’s not ill—I swear he’s not ill! Only wait and see.”

  “He’s not ill because he’s a carrier,” Armand insisted, interrupting once again. “It’s in his notes—all the history, the experiments. I can prove it.”

  A low moan slipped from Georgia’s lips as the last of her hope gave way. It was over. They had lost. She closed her eyes and knew no more.

  While everyone’s attention was focused elsewhere, Julie slipped quietly away. Hawk was still rolling about on the ground, writhing in pain. She knelt beside him. “Take it easy,” she said, gently lifting his hands away from his face.

  “How bad is it?” he groaned, his words barely intelligible due to the torn muscles and lacerated flesh, the blood and gore that filled his mouth.

  Julie bit her lip. Deep gashes stretched across his face, still oozing venom and blood. He was lucky not to have lost an eye. But “lucky” was a relative term. “Could be worse?”

  “Hurts like a sonofabitch.”

  “I’ll bet.” Tears filled her eyes as she recalled Hawk’s earlier remarks about being more than just a pretty face. His face sure wasn’t pretty now, that was for certain. She blinked furiously, and tried to smile—doing her best to hide her reaction. Judging from Hawk’s response, she wasn’t even slightly successful.

  “Aw, shit. It’s gonna leave scars, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know.” Based on everything she’d ever been told about Invitus, everything she’d seen, or knew to be true, the only honest answer would have been yes, but she just couldn’t say it. Somewhere deep inside, she couldn’t accept it, either. And what was it Christian had tried to say to her earlier this evening? Something about…how special she was, how she’d healed the cuts on his neck. What if he were right? What if it was just that simple? “Hold still a minute. Let me see what I can do.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I don’t understand,” Conrad growled at Armand. “Explain yourself! Where is this information coming from? How do you know any of this?”

  “I’ve been to England,” Armand replied. “I went to her house to get proof. I knew something was wrong. The way they were acting, the things they said—none of it made any sense. I’m sorry. I should have told you when I left, but I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

  Julie paused in the act of cleaning Hawk’s face. She glanced up in surprise. So Armand hadn’t left beca
use he didn’t care about her anymore; he’d left because he cared too much, because he was worried and didn’t want to stand by and do nothing. She suddenly wanted to take back every mean thing she’d ever said to him about his annoying tendency to act like a stalker.

  “Holy shit,” Hawk murmured. “Girl, I don’t know what you did, but that feels amazing.”

  Julie stared at him in surprise. “Well…good. It sure looks a lot better.” It looked perfect. Given how crazy everyone was acting right now, best not to mention that fact. “Come on, let’s get you on your feet.” If she could get him out of here before anyone had a chance to notice what she’d done, it would probably be a good thing. Unfortunately, this time around, luck was not on her side.

  “Look!” Christian shouted. He pointed at Hawk. “What did I tell you? She healed him, just like she did me.” Eyes gleaming with excitement, he turned to Georgia. “Do you see that? Now will you believe me? He should have been scarred!”

  Suddenly, everyone was staring at them. Hawk shrank back a step, muttering, “Ohhh, not good. Not good at all. What the fuck just happened?” Julie edged in front of him, as though she could shield him from view—a task that would have required a stepladder to be properly effective.

  Damian’s face had gone dead white. He uttered a heartfelt, “Ay, Dios mio.” As his gaze flew to Conrad’s face, the two men shared a wordless look. The kind of look, or so Julie imagined, that two warriors might share just before heading into battle.

  “Who else is at home?” Conrad asked quietly.

  Damian paused to think. “No one, I believe, as luck would have it. Apart from the servants of course, but I can deal with them. Perhaps we should take this conversation elsewhere?”

  “Agreed.” Conrad hefted Georgia into his arms. He glared at Christian. “Come with me.” He turned toward the stairs, but stopped again, almost immediately, and pivoted to skewer Hawk with a piercing gaze. “You. You’re not of this House. What brings you here tonight?”