Shuddering at the thought, Tristan got up. Everything ached, his broken finger, the sprained knee, his belly forcefully emptied of food, time and time again, the burn in his throat… his head, so full of pain and yet utterly empty. Maybe this was what it was to die but remain earthbound. He was a wraith.
The room was gloomy and he frowned. Xuejiao must have moved them again while he was passed out but to where, he had no clue. There was a kitchen and as he zombie waddled his way through he plucked a large butcher’s knife from the counter. It’d been done before, again and again, Tristan would awake somewhere new and he’d find a knife. Threaten but never find the will to use it. He knew he had to stop her but something kept him held back each time.
Yeah, it’s called a fucking conscious, he told himself. But he’d begun to wonder if it was something more, something beyond his control.
His feet were wet and he knew why without looking, could smell it from here. With a groan he followed the blood trail out of the kitchen and deeper into the house. Even without the crimson trail, he could feel her, the weight of her immense presence. She felt heavier tonight, her carefully held back powers seeming to leak and stream all around him, seeking him out.
Sitting in the middle of the room Indian style, Xuejiao turned at the small noise he’d made and looked Tristan up and down, expression empty, before turning her back on him again. She no doubt saw the big ass kitchen knife in his hand but didn’t care, wasn’t anything new.
The blood trail Tristan had been following stopped at Xuejiao and spread out into a great big blob of gore. The vampire sat right in the very middle of it, bent over something. It all smacked of déja vu, he’d been here before, done this before. How many days had it been now that he’d played this very scene over and over again?
Tristan moved towards Xuejiao. “Where are we?” he asked in a tone that was utterly dead. There was no life to his voice and it should have scared him. He didn’t know where, but he had an idea of what. As in, what Xuejiao was doing. And when he got close enough to see over her, he felt the emotions rush in anew. Anger, yes that was there but more than that was the raw emotional pain. “You…”
The vampire didn’t bother looking up as she withdrew her hands from the ball of water she had affixed around the head of the man laid out in front of her. He was face down and not moving but Tristan thought he saw the man’s back move ever so slightly. Both wrists were cut and slowly seeping, but not like he was clotting, more like… well, almost empty.
“You killed him.” Again. Another one died.
Xuejiao made an angry hiss and jabbed at the man’s shoulder. The body flinched under her blow but the man didn’t move voluntarily. “Not yet.”
Tristan’s breath hitched as the life slowly seeped into him again. “Let him out.”
Slowly the vampire looked up to him, her eyes as cold as her powers. “Oh please. You know the answer to that. Honestly, I’m getting tired of this game. Haven’t you learned your lesson yet? I’m ready to move on, this is taking too long.”
“I said, let. Him. Out.”
The anger, yes it helped color the darkness and give him life. If he could only hold onto it, use it, maybe this was his chance to end things. And it was on him, wasn’t it? She’d offered him many times since that night with the woman and her son, for him to kill her. And she meant it. She wanted to die.
Was that the end to all this? Him giving in and killing her? But, no, she’d said she knew her end and she also said it wasn’t by his hand.
Tristan felt like raving again, but what was the point? She’d broken him; too bad that wasn’t the end of their game.
“Let him up already. Xuejiao!”
Tristan just reacted on instinct and dove at the vampire with the kitchen knife. Xuejiao was so much faster, almost impossibly so, and she was so powerful. She didn’t even have to use her hands to stop him, but she chose to reach out and grab him by the wrists, stopping him dead in his tracks.
“Do not forget our agreement, Tristan,” she warned in that all too adult tone. “You can kill me, but only when I say and now is not that time.”
He tugged back, testing her hold on him and found it solid.
“I didn’t agree to that,” he hissed feeling his panic start to overtake him. “Any of this! I won’t stand by anymore and watch you kill innocent people!”
The vampire flinched. “Innocent? You think all these monsters are innocent? Are you really this dense? I knew you were rash, but stupid? Have you not seen anything these past four days?”
Had it been four days already? Jesus, Ash must have been out of her mind. Tristan was. At least, for an entirely different reason. And while Ash’s mind would be mended by their reunion, for Tristan, he wasn’t sure his ever would, not fully.
“Just because they aren’t like you, doesn’t make them wrong!”
“I’m so disappointed. I thought you’d get it right away, but even after four days you’re just as clueless…”
“Xuejiao!” he cried out, the anger gone from his voice. He fell to his knees next to her, the knife forgotten, useless. “You, you have to stop. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t accept that I’ve let you kill all these innocent people—I might as well have been the one who killed them.”
She’d finally broken him, the look on her face said she knew it. “There you go with that word again, innocent. Tell me, why are they innocent?”
“I, uh—what?”
“Wren says I’m practical, but he doesn’t even understand the first thing about me. We’ve never shared blood or bed before, you know.”
She moved close to him, the stink of blood on her clothes and skin, it was too much and Tristan turned away from her. But his attention was drawn back around when the man on the ground stirred as his unconscious body realized it was drowning.
“Let him go,” Tristan whispered.
“No,” she said firmly and a little sob broke from Tristan as he lowered his head in shame. “And I’ll tell you why.”
Xuejiao reached out and lifted his chin, exposed his fresh tears to scrutiny but she only regarded them with a passing glance. “The ultimate lesson… no one is innocent. No one.”
Tristan sobbed again, shaking his head where it still rested in her icy hand. Yes, she was far too cold to have fed on the man. She probably hadn’t even taken a single drop from the man. She hadn’t with the others. In fact, in all the time he’d been with her, he never once saw the vampire feed.
“I’m not playing with shades of gray here, Xuejiao.”
“No? But you are. By your own standards, you should be put to death.”
His eyes darted up to hers and she lifted her brow in challenge.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
He shook his head, the tears coming harder now and he couldn’t see. Damn, he almost wished he hadn’t dropped that stupid fucking cat off in someone’s yard the other night, he needed to hug something soft and warm, alive, right about then.
“No, you know I can’t. You’ve been bottling it up all this time. You’re a murderer and you’ve just been lying to yourself all this time, justifying your means.”
“Please stop.” He could barely whisper, lest his own guilt choke him. She was right. It’d taken some time, aided by the big distraction that was his life now, but she was right. From his very first kill, he felt the weight of guilt and it’d only gotten heavier and heavier the more lives he took. It was easy to justify them, at first. But it was in France that it really hit him.
Audric’s fledglings were misbehaving but no one was in any real danger, they weren’t rampant, wayward killers, stalking people left and right to kill. And yet, two of them died that night. For nothing. Lucien, even Malik, Tristan understood their plights and felt shame that they had to die despite it being the only answer. Every time Tristan killed, he was destroying a piece of himself, of his humanity.
“It’s shades of gray that life and death are decided upon. Like me, you’ve been chosen to judge.”
<
br /> He laughed cruelly. “No one chose me for this.”
“Of course you were chosen. You’re good and just. You make the right decisions on who should live and die. It’s the job you were meant to have. It’s the job fate decided for you.”
“Oh god,” he groaned, curling into himself. No, he never wanted the burden of judgment. Did she know, his ultimate obligation, the task assigned to him in order to stop Mother?
“You know, I’m a little disappointed. I thought you’d rallied the other day but you’ve been quiet since then. You gave up on me. I didn’t think you would. I’d heard you were so tenacious too, relentless. Was enduring me really all that horrible?”
A sob burst from Tristan and he pressed his forehead to the floor, not caring anymore how he looked, what happened to him.
“Your capacity for empathy… you feel deeper than any being I’ve ever crossed on this planet.” She got a sudden but sad smile. “And that’s saying a lot next to someone as emotional as Wrenny-poo.”
He had to snort a little sad laugh.
“You hide your feelings well behind your mouth, your defiance, but everything hurts you, cuts so deeply, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” he croaked out.
“You’ve shed tears for the vampires you’ve killed, the truly wicked and those you were unsure of.”
It wasn’t a question and Tristan could only guess on how she knew. Nodding, he whispered, “Not just them… but does it matter? What do a few tears and heart aches mean for those I’ve sentenced to death? Who am I to make such a profound decision?”
“Do you think death is the end?”
His attention jerked up. Again he was startled at how much adult there was in that soft, round childish face.
“Where do you think the shinigami come from? The angels?”
Tristan’s eyes widened. “The shini—I thought they were just bodiless souls, manifestations of energy…?” Well, that was the best way Mamoru could describe it. He’d said no one really knew what they were, where they came from or how but maybe the truth was closer to Mamoru just not knowing and trying to save face by coming up with the best answer.
Xuejiao’s little mouth turned down and she reached out to put a tiny hand on his head. “Don’t cry so, little Uruwashi. It’s unsightly.”
“Fuck off,” he sputtered. God, he didn’t need her being condescending at a time like this.
“I really am disappointed. I’d heard so much about you, your tenacity, your immutable will, but I guess it was all over exaggerated. Then again, it was unfair of me to judge you on word of mouth alone. You’re every bit the man I expected, but for that one thing. I didn’t expect to have broken you so easily.”
“It’s ‘cause I cried in front of you, huh?” He couldn’t believe he was joking with this little monster, but he had to or he might lose his shit all over again.
“Guess you’ve had a rougher time of it than the rumors say.”
“Rumors? What fucking rumors?”
She smiled. “Oh, just the idle chatter amongst the shinwa. Some of the heikō are whispering about you too. Seems you left a big impression on a mermaid clan in the Mediterranean. You have a small head count, really, but you’ve left a big impression the world over. Shinwa and heikō are taking notice and starting to believe in the myth of the Uruwashi.”
“Are you finally going to tell me what this whole thing was about? What was I supposed to learn?”
She smiled and crouched down to put herself level with him. “I think it’s about time to find out finally…” She stopped and cocked her head as if she was listening to something but all Tristan could hear was his pounding heart. “I really wished you would have proved that conniving pythia wrong.”
Tristan tensed. “By killing you? You really wanted me to kill you?”
She gave him a look that said clearly, “Of course I did.” Standing, she said quickly, “Up, up. Quickly, now. We have to go.”
“Where?”
She took in a deep breath to answer only to let it out in a sigh. Then she laughed sadly, hanging her head. “A short walk into the light.”
Tristan frowned at her cryptic words and tightened his fingers around the knife in his hand. The thought to use it on her now while her back was to him never even occurred to him. Yes, he just spent the last four days forced to watch her torture and kill but he couldn’t bring himself to kill her. It wasn’t that she wore the guise of a child, but something else, something he couldn’t find words for. Intuition, maybe?
“What are you talking about?” he asked, trying to get his feet under him.
She rushed towards a door with Tristan stumbling close behind like a dog after its master. That’s when he felt it and came to a jarring stop.
“Oh my god,” he whispered, his eyes wide. Just how many of them were there?
Xuejiao looked up at him, standing tears in her eyes. “You know, now that the moment has come, I don’t know if I can go. I feel like I owe you an explanation, an apology for what I’ve done to you, but it’s too late now.”
“Xuejiao, you—”
“Xuejiao!” the familiar voice boomed from outside and Tristan’s eyes widened, his whole body running with goose bumps. His mouth opened and he was sure that he said Ash’s name aloud.
“Come face your judgment!” Ash’s voice boomed again.
Tristan was frozen in place, stunned. Was it really her? After four days of hell, he couldn’t hold onto any hope, but surely his ears weren’t lying.
Xuejiao looked up and he was taken aback at the pain in her expression. “Can I tell you something? Something true.”
“Ye—yeah,” he said still feeling a little lost.
“Everyone I’ve ever killed in the forty-two hundred years as a vampire—”
Tristan gasped, taking a stumbling step back at hearing her true age.
“—not a one was an innocent. Every single person I’ve ever killed had been bad. They deserved to die. And because of their wickedness, I’ve never tasted a single drop of their evil blood. I only feed on the innocent and never to the point of their death.”
“But you—”
“Yes, I’ve tormented those I’ve killed but they deserved it. Amoral? Perhaps, but I enjoyed hurting them. Leaving them to be found was just careless and arrogant of me and now I’ll pay for my ego, but it’s okay because my conscious is clear. I will not die with innocent lives stolen on my conscious because there was not a one.”
Tristan wasn’t sure what to believe anymore but that he did want to believe.
“Shī péi le.” Xuejiao gave him one last sad smile and opened the door, stepping out into the world beyond.
21: What Does Your Soul Look Like
IT WAS like a scene out of an old Frankenstein movie. Torches jutted out of the snow all around the field, cutting into the darkness with a fiery audacity. There were people all around, or more accurately, vampires. And every one of them was old enough to make Tristan’s blood boil with excited tension. He gasped, feeling short of breath at the sheer power.
There were too many to pick out individuals. Every member of the mob wore a mask. Many were noh masks, new or old, traditional or something more artistic, but others wore ornate Mardi Gras masks, or simple unadorned masks; there was even one of those creepy black plague doctor’s mask. Every single one of them hid their face. All but one, that is.
Ash stood at the forefront, a cold unmoving sentinel wearing a cloak and scowl, mask propped on the top of her head. It took everything in Tristan not to run to her. If he could run at all with his knee still jacked up.
At her side, Desmond was easy enough to recognize in his rabbit noh mask and kilt with that huge ass claymore slung over a shoulder. And next to him, Yuki in her familiar kitsune mask with her arms crossed over her chest.
A lump in Tristan’s throat blocked his words and he felt keenly sick. Too many, there were just too many vampires in one place so that instead of the usual randiness he just felt overwhelming sick.
He fell to his knees in the snow, gasping for air and trying not to puke or hyperventilate.
Ash reacted, maybe only Tristan saw it but then Xuejiao put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Whatever else she did, he was grateful for since the pressure of the others eased the instant her fingers found bare skin and he could focus again, just a little.
“Are you my welcome committee?” Xuejiao called out to the crowd.
Someone answered in French and Tristan’s eyes searched the crowd for the owner of the familiar voice.
Xuejiao let out a low laugh and marched out into the field to face the others and Tristan groaned at the relief she took with her. Her attention went to one person in particular, just another faceless vampire in the crowd. “I knew you weren’t dead.”
The man in a full face mask standing next to Ash bowed his head, chuckling softly.
“Netty?” Tristan whispered, recognizing that laugh and the man put a finger over his lips. As if the Viking outfit and braids didn’t give him away.
Innokentiy addressed Xuejiao though he was clearly watching Tristan. “Sorry we have to part like this. You know I never held any ill will against you but your crimes, we can no longer overlook them.”
“Yes,” she said coolly, “I know, but must we really do it like this? The age-old masked lynch mob… I thought our kind gave up that tradition decades ago.”
The man shrugged and Tristan imagined his not-so-sorry expression behind the mask. “Some things never change.”
“No, they don’t. Well, I can’t say I fault you, any of you and I go without regrets.”
“So then you give yourself up freely?” Ash asked but didn’t dare to look hopeful.
“With this sort of reception? No, that’d be a waste. I am practical after all, am I right? It’s how I’m perceived?”
Ash frowned but before her answer could be muttered, Xuejiao gave off a war cry that even the mighty Viking himself seemed surprised about. With dozens of highly tuned beings on edge, the shit hit the fan before Tristan could register what’d happened. And from the collective gasp it was before most everyone else could register as well, even with their higher senses. And then everyone was headed towards a central point, shouts and curses, oaths of destruction and come upends nearly deafening Tristan, pushing him into the earth.
White Lies: (The Uruwashi Series #4) Page 23
