by Jenna Black
“What difference would it have made if I’d told you? You’re far too young to—”
“I’ve had enough of your goddamn secrets! I don’t care anymore why you keep them.” Drake’s pulse raced, his muscles taut with the need to take action, and yet he forced himself to stay seated, using every ounce of his self-control. “You can skip the excuses. Just tell me why you won’t leave the house. You owe me that, at least.”
A shadow of pain crossed Eli’s face before he quickly erased it. He clasped his hands in his lap and stared at them. “I’m sorry for any distress I’ve caused you. I did what I thought was right, but I can understand how you’d see it differently.”
Drake shook his head. Eli had been like a father to him ever since Drake had come to Philadelphia. A far better father than Drake’s own. But these last months had revealed some highly unpalatable truths, and he was no longer sure he’d be able to forgive the Founder for the secrets and the deceptions.
He gave Eli his coldest stare. “Tell me why you won’t leave the house. Tell me why you’re throwing me and all the Guardians to the wolves.”
Eli winced and looked away. “I’m not throwing you to the wolves,” he protested. “We will figure out some way to deal with Gabriel. It’s just that it will take some time—as it always does when we hunt a Killer.”
Drake crossed his arms over his chest and said nothing.
“All right,” Eli said. “I’ll tell you why I don’t leave the house, although you won’t understand.” He rose from his chair and turned his back on Drake, moving to one of the windows and looking out. The overcast must have cleared, for a shaft of moonlight illuminated his profile.
“As I said, when I was a mortal, I was a man of God. When I became a vampire, I was sure my immortal soul was damned for all eternity, that there was nothing I could do to return to a state of grace. I thought about committing suicide, but I wasn’t eager to begin my eternity in Hell, so I did what was necessary to survive.
“At first, I was a virtual slave to my maker, just as Camille’s fledglings were her slaves. But after a few centuries, he died, and I was finally free of him. I was his oldest fledgling, and I easily destroyed my ‘brothers.’ I planned to spend the rest of my existence as a hermit. But even though vampires are not naturally social creatures, we aren’t made to live in complete solitude either.
“Eventually, I couldn’t stand being alone anymore. So I transformed some people as companions. Thus I became a master, creating other Killers like myself while living in a constant state of guilt.
“It was during that time that I met and transformed Camille. She wasn’t always as she is now.” He allowed himself a wry smile. “Not that she was angelic by any means. I had enough conscience that I refused to transform anyone I didn’t believe was bound for Hell anyway. Camille was a courtesan who’d made extra money by betraying an important man or two to their deaths.
“You don’t need to know all the details. Suffice it to say that I was as resigned as I could be to eternal damnation. Then, about two hundred years ago, I met a young seminary student named Patrick McNabb. I usually kept my distance from mortals, except when it came time to feed, but for whatever reason, Pat drew me to him. We discussed matters philosophical and theological. He was the first person I’d felt was actually a friend ever since I’d been transformed.
“We were still friends after he was ordained. I’d told him I was a lapsed Catholic, and he’d been gently urging me to return to the arms of the church ever since we’d first met. I think he sensed the longing in me. Of course, I couldn’t tell him why it was impossible for me to rejoin the church.
“But he kept after me, assuring me there was no sin God couldn’t forgive. I assured him there was. Then he told me the story of Tannhäuser.” Eli risked a glance at Drake. “Are you familiar with the story?”
Drake shook his head. He’d heard the name before, but knew nothing of the story.
“The legend is that Tannhäuser was a terrible sinner who went to the Pope to ask for absolution. The Pope was horrified by the magnitude of Tannhäuser’s sins, and said that his staff would sprout leaves before God could forgive a sinner such as he. Dejected, Tannhäuser left and returned to his life of sin. And three days later, the Pope’s staff sprouted leaves.”
Eli smiled faintly in remembrance. “It’s just a legend, of course, but the story moved me, and I let Pat talk me into giving him my confession. I told him everything, never expecting that he’d believe me.
“But he did believe me. Sometimes I think he was a bit clairvoyant, that he’d known all along that I wasn’t a normal human being.
“He convinced me that redemption was possible, even for such an ancient sinner as myself. I vowed that I would never again kill a mortal. I bought myself a new house.” He gestured to encompass his house. “And I told my family and fledglings that I needed some time to myself. Then I locked myself in the basement with no food and prepared to die. It was suicide, which of course was a terrible sin in and of itself, but I deemed it the lesser sin than continuing to kill others so that I might live.
“I don’t know how long I was down there before Father Pat found me. It must have been at least a couple of months. I went mad with hunger along the way, destroying everything in the room. I was comatose when he found me, very nearly dead. He force-fed me lamb’s blood in an effort to revive me. And it worked.
“Believe me, I’d tried many, many times before to subsist on animal blood. Because my vampire strengths grew as I aged, and my vampire weaknesses dwindled, I hoped that someday I wouldn’t need to kill anymore. Apparently, I needed to take myself to the edge of death first.” His smile turned wistful. “Or perhaps it was simply the grace of God.
“When I returned to full strength, I knew I’d been given a second chance.
“At first, I tried to convert my fledglings. My two oldest, next to Camille, volunteered to try the experiment. They both died. I tried to force-feed them for days, but they rejected the lamb’s blood. My other fledglings were unwilling to risk their lives for a chance to cure the addiction. It was then that I realized I had to kill them all. I had created them, unleashed them on the world. It was my duty to right that wrong.
“So I destroyed my fledglings, and I tried to force myself to kill Gabriel.” His voice tightened. “But of course, I couldn’t. I let him and Camille leave the city, and I’m paying for that folly now.
“I founded the Guardians then. At first it was just me, but then I experimented with a newly made vampire who hadn’t killed yet and discovered he could live on animal blood. He became my first Guardian.
“I went back to church, attending services as often as possible. I went to confession, though I could only confess to Father Pat. Those were some of the happiest years of my life. My relief at being saved was indescribable.”
Eli’s face clouded, old misery haunting his eyes. “I had three decades of the closest thing to peace I’ve ever felt. Then, Father Pat fell ill. I think it was some form of cancer. He was in constant pain, and yet he lingered, and lingered, and lingered.
“I visited him as often as I could, and when I was with him, I used my glamour to erase the pain from his mind. But I couldn’t be with him twenty-four hours a day, and so he suffered terribly.
“One day, I just couldn’t stand to see him suffer anymore. I went through the ritual of confession with him, and I confessed that I was going to kill him.”
A lump formed unexpectedly in Drake’s throat. No matter how furious he was, the pain in Eli’s voice was almost unbearable to hear.
“If I hadn’t seen that spark of hope in his eyes, I wouldn’t have done it. But for one unguarded moment, he showed me how desperate he was to end the suffering.
“Oh, he begged me not to do it. Not because of any fear of death, but because he was still trying to save me. He couldn’t absolve me of a sin I hadn’t yet committed, because absolution requires repentance. If I was still planning the sin, then I obviously did not rep
ent. He’d saved my immortal soul, and he begged me not to throw it away on his account.
“I vowed to him that even if there was no chance of redemption for me, I would do penance all the rest of my days. And then I killed him.”
Eli’s eyes shone with what might have been the glimmer of tears. “I will never repent what I did. He deserved to be released from his suffering. After all that he did for me, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”
He breathed in slowly and deeply, then let his breath out just as slowly. One blink dispelled the glimmer in his eyes, and when he spoke again, his voice was deceptively even. He turned away from the window, meeting Drake’s eyes for the first time since he’d started talking.
“My final vow to Father Pat was that I would make of this house my prison, never to set foot outside its gates again. My soul is already damned. But I will not break that final vow. No matter what my son does to torment me.”
Drake looked at the Founder’s face and knew he faced an implacable will. Eli would not break his vow, no matter what happened around him, no matter what Drake said or how convincingly he argued.
There was no mistaking the soul-deep pain that ate away at the Founder. Drake even felt some pity for his mentor’s moral dilemma. But more than anything, he felt anger, for whatever Eli claimed, he was indeed throwing his Guardians to the wolves.
And there wasn’t a damn thing Drake could do or say to change his mind.
11
DESPITE HIS PROMISE OF the previous night, Gabriel found himself reluctant to stop by Jez’s apartment. He felt unsettled by her, and by the strangeness of the bond between them.
He’d suspected it would be different even before he’d bitten her. And when he tasted the first drop of her blood, he’d known it would be different. But he’d thought he would merely have more power over her. How could he possibly have known she’d develop this unnerving empathy? And how could he possibly have known that she’d have power over him as well?
Because although he wasn’t yet ready to admit it to her, he had indeed felt her call last night. He hadn’t known what it was, at first. Just a nagging feeling, like some kind of intuition. When he’d started walking toward her apartment, the nagging had eased. When he’d tried veering away, it had strengthened. Until he arrived on her doorstep and it went away.
Yes, she was definitely more than he’d bargained for.
The reluctance pounded at him as he mounted the stairs, but his feet kept moving. He wasn’t one to break a promise.
Usually, he just let himself in. His telekinetic powers were delicate enough to allow him to coax the locks open. Tonight, however, he knocked. The door swung open moments later, and he felt something almost like shock at how good it felt to see his fledgling.
Jez stood in the doorway, her hip cocked, a sardonic grin on her face. A bra-top camisole in royal blue left her shoulders and the tops of her breasts bare to his view. A multicolor peasant skirt that didn’t quite clash with the top skimmed her knees, and her feet were bare save for a toe ring topped with a glittering blue stone on her big toe.
His pulse sped, and his body hardened. He stood there like a fool, staring, not knowing what to make of his own reaction.
True, it was hardly unusual for a man to become aroused when faced with a beautiful woman. But it was unusual for him. He enjoyed sex a great deal, and was painfully aware that he hadn’t had any in too long. But before Jezebel, the intention to have sex had come first, and the arousal had come later. He’d never been one to let his cock make decisions.
Jezebel was different. Jezebel made him hard when he had no intention of bedding her.
“Well?” she said drolly. “Are you going to stand there in the doorway ogling or are you going to come in?”
He gave her a repressive look, hoping to hide his embarrassment. “I was not ogling,” he answered with as much dignity as he could muster.
She laughed and stepped away from the doorway, gesturing for him to come in. “Right. And that’s a banana in the front of your pants.”
He stepped into her apartment, closing the door behind him. The heat in his cheeks suggested he might actually be blushing. He couldn’t remember ever feeling such a thing before.
Had she worn that oh-so-sexy top because she knew he’d be stopping by?
Gabriel wanted to slap himself silly. He was acting like a besotted teenager! Jezebel was a tool in his revenge against Eli. Nothing more. Perhaps it was time he reminded her of that fact.
“I did some research this evening,” she said, before he had a chance to chastise her. “I called Eli and got the names of the two victims you left on his doorstep.”
Gabriel stumbled to a halt as Jez took a seat on the sofa, picking up two sheets of paper on the end table beside it. She pulled her feet up onto the sofa, and the skirt slid up to reveal a hint of thigh.
“Margaret McCall,” she said, reading off the first piece of paper. “In 2004, she was questioned in the bludgeoning death of her six-year-old daughter. She was eventually released due to lack of evidence, and her husband was convicted of the murder. To this day, he claims she did it and framed him.”
She shuffled that sheet to the back, and her finger skimmed down the next page. Gabriel wanted to tear the paper from her hand, stop her from reading any more, but he seemed not to be in full control of his body.
“George Parks,” she read. “Eighteen years old, twice questioned and released in regards to the rape and murder of girls who attended the middle school near his home. Again, not enough evidence to hold him, although when I dug at it a little bit more, I found a couple of assault charges against him when he was still a minor. No convictions, but I’d say there’s a pattern of behavior here.”
She put the papers aside and stared up at him, blinking innocently. “This is just a coincidence, right? Of all the people in Philadelphia, you just happened to pick two people who might have gotten away with murder.” Again, the innocent blink.
For once in his life, Gabriel was utterly speechless. Despite all the evidence of his ferocity, despite having felt his ecstasy at the kill, she didn’t believe he was a soulless Killer.
She’d said something to that effect last night, but he’d dismissed it as a case of wishful thinking on her part. Apparently, she’d been convinced enough to spend her evening chasing down the facts.
He stared at the tips of his boots, not sure the floor beneath his feet was stable and solid. Jezebel waited patiently for him to speak. He had to say something. He could deny her allegations, but that would merely make him seem stupid.
He swallowed, clenching his fists so hard his knuckles cracked. “Parks had two more victims the police didn’t know about. Transients no one missed.”
“Why don’t you come sit down,” Jezebel said gently, patting the sofa beside her. “And take a deep breath or two. You’re making my chest ache.”
He winced slightly to realize his emotions were bleeding into her. Then, she rubbed between her breasts, and his eyes fastened on her fingers in fascination.
He managed a shaky laugh as he lowered himself onto the couch. “Are you making any more sense of all this …” He searched for a word to describe what he was feeling, but came up blank. He settled for a vague hand movement. “ … than I am?”
She smiled at him. “I think it’s called confusion. You’re not used to having anyone call your bluff.”
He sat up straighter. “It’s not a bluff,” he growled.
Jez made a face. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You heap bad Killer.” She made a claw with one hand and scratched the air. “Grr. Grr.” He opened his mouth for an outraged reply, but didn’t get it out in time. “But there’s more to you than that.”
She gazed at him earnestly, sliding closer to him on the couch. He felt an insane urge to run away, even as he couldn’t help noticing the enticing view down the front of her top.
“You have a heart, Gabriel,” she said. “You just don’t have much practice using it.”
&nbs
p; He laughed bitterly. “I wouldn’t go that far, my sweet. Having a conscience and having a heart are not the same thing.”
She shrugged. “If you say so.” She reached out and took his hand, moving still closer to him on the couch, till her thigh brushed up against his.
He breathed in deeply the clean scent of her, perfumed with herbal shampoo and spiced with womanly musk. And all the inner turmoil in the world couldn’t stop his body from responding to her. She licked her lips and raised his hand to the smooth, warm skin just above the neckline of her top. He could see the outline of her pebbled nipples through the thin, stretchy fabric.
Suddenly, his pants felt about two sizes too small, and he squirmed. “Are you trying to seduce me?” he asked, a trifle breathlessly.
She smiled and licked her lips again, a hint of nervousness in her eyes. “Yeah. Is it working?”
He took a deep breath to calm himself, but that was a mistake, for he couldn’t help noticing the increasing muskiness of her scent. He closed his eyes, fighting for self-control.
“It’s a bad idea,” he warned.
“But it’s working?”
Her voice was so hopeful he had to open his eyes and face her. He gently moved his hand away from her chest and cupped her cheek.
“You are a very beautiful, very desirable woman,” he told her.
She grimaced. “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”
A sudden twinge in his chest let him know he was hurting her. As if he couldn’t have read that in her eyes.
What could he say to explain this to her? He wasn’t about to use the old chestnut, “It’s not you, it’s me.” Accurate though it might be.
“You are in many ways still a virgin,” he tried, and her eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, you know, you have to go through that being-a-virgin thing before you become not a virgin. It’s not some incurable disease.”
He shook his head and tried again. “Your only experience with sex so far has been a dreadful, brutal, painful attack.”
