Fallen Embers (13 page)

“Call it what you will. It's unlikely to serve you a second time. Indeed, if Rupert did not order me to kill you myself, I would at the very least be forced to stand by, helpless to intervene, and watch as you died. Please do not let it come to that, for truly, my heart would break were such a thing to occur.” Georgia shook her head. “I cannot help but fear for your safety, my love. I'm convinced these odd notions will be the death of you.”

Conrad shrugged. “That, surely, it is yet another reason why I need you with me. For how am I to avoid such difficulties without you by my side?”

Georgia sighed. “Alas, I do not know. If I were given a choice, I would of course choose to stay with you—if only to provide you with the guidance you so obviously need. But, as I've explained to you, such a thing is impossible.”

“Is it?” He sat up and reached for her hand. “I do not agree. To the contrary, I believe it to be entirely possible. Come away with me and allow me to prove it to you.”

“What?” The blood drained from Georgia's face. He could feel her fear in the trembling of her hand. “Where is it you want to go? You and I… We are not fated for each other. We're lucky to have met at all, and I will be forever grateful that we did, but this brief interlude is all we can ever hope for. Must I remind you again who and what we are? We are not the masters of our fate. We are not free to choose our own roads. That reality is unlikely to ever change.”

“There are those who say we make our own fate.” Conrad shrugged. “Who's to say, in the ages yet to come, that we will not both win our freedom? I spoke the truth when I said that being with you soothes the pain of defying my mistress's wishes. Indeed, I feel I can withstand anything with you by my side. Why should not the same hold true for you? Come with me across the channel. Mayhap, at that distance, you'll find your own sire's summons will fall on deaf ears.”

“It sounds like a dream. By which I mean it seems too good to be true. I don't know if I can risk it. If we were to be found out, it would be a disaster.”

“To be parted at all 'twould be disaster. What do you lose by trying? You're not under duress at the present time, are you? So why not chance it? If, at any time, you find that being with me is no longer to your liking you need only say the word and I shall escort you wherever else you wish to go, without delay.”

Georgia eyed him, indecision writ plain on her face. “I wonder if I can believe you.”

“Have I proven myself so false that you can no longer take me at my word?”

“It is not that I think you faithless.” Georgia sighed. “But life has taught me not to trust in anyone overmuch. Promises given in the heat of passion are oft recanted later. I would hardly be surprised if that proved to be the case.”

“I give you my word that I shall honor your wishes—always. Though it would grieve me to lose you, I will stand by the promise I made to you on the night we met. I will take nothing from you that is not freely offered, including the pleasure of your company. You are free to leave at any time.”

“You should not make such vows lightly,” she replied sternly.

“I assure you, I do not.”

She studied his face a moment longer, searching his eyes as he gazed steadily back at her. Finally she nodded. “Very well. But be forewarned, I shall hold you to that promise.”

Conrad could not keep from smiling, even though she still insisted on calling him by that hated name. He was elated by her acquiescence. “Ah,
ciccia
,” he crooned as he pulled her into his embrace. “You may hold me to whatever you like. I only pray you may continue to do so for a very long time.”

Conrad's optimism, though boundless, was tempered with a certain amount of realism. He judged it best that he get Georgia out of range of her sire as quickly as possible—before she had time to think too much and change her mind, or before Rupert could take steps to recall her. Though it appeared her sire was not quite a match for Conrad's in terms of cruelty, Georgia's turning had been almost as brutal as his own. In some ways, perhaps, it had been worse.

Whereas Conrad had been a man, and in his prime, when he'd been taken, Georgia had been yet a girl when she was stolen away from her family. Too young to be safely turned, she'd been forced to work in her master's household until he'd judged her old enough to be made his spawn.

She'd spent those intervening years at the mercy of her master and all his family. She'd lived in constant fear for her life and with the knowledge that any failure to please might result in her death, in her being thrown into the dungeons, so that the emerging
Invitus
might use her for sport. Nor was that an empty threat. For, as she'd told Conrad, she'd seen it happen to many of the others.

Conrad could not stand the thought of returning her to that bleak existence. She'd given him back his life. The least he could do was to try and improve upon hers. Ultimately, however, the choice was not his to make.

The rising sun had turned the sky to blood on the morning they set sail for the continent. The ship's crew shook their heads and muttered gloomily. Conrad ignored them. He had enough on his mind. He'd been feeling the effects of the brackish environment since before they'd even gotten underway. Ignoring the crew seemed preferable to the beast's suggestion—that he grab them one by one and rend them to pieces.

If he'd been on his own, he would have done as he had last time—locked himself away below deck and rode out the voyage in darkness and solitude. But Georgia was restless and refused to be confined. So Conrad stayed topside as well, to keep her in sight. The look on her face as she gazed out at the water and back at the dwindling white cliffs from which they'd departed had him worried. Every minute he expected her to try and jump ship in an effort to swim back to the shore they'd left behind.

Blessedly, or so he thought, the day was overcast and gray. The solar disc could not be spied at all through the glowering skies. If only he'd known, if only he'd listened to the muttering of the crew. If only he'd harkened to the rising wind or the streaks of lightning along the eastern horizon, then perhaps the storm, when it swept over them, wouldn't have taken him so much by surprise.

On the other hand, even if he had known, what could he have done about it? Even the sailors seemed to be running about in confusion, shouting orders at one another. Conrad did his best to stay out of their way. He secured himself to one of the masts, wrapping a heavy rope around his forearm several times, and wrapping his other arm around Georgia's waist and pulling her close. He would have been happier if he could have strapped her to the mast itself, but she had fought him when first he tried it. Now, however, as the sea rose higher all around them and the ship began to buck and fall, she clung to him, wide-eyed with fright, and begged him not to let her go.

He pressed her close. “Don't be afraid,
ciccia
. This story does not end today. We are
Invitus
, after all. Surely it will take more than water and a little wind to defeat us.”

The storm raged on. Lightning lit up the sky; the sea grew wilder. As the weather grew worse, so did Georgia's shivering. Conrad shifted her so that she was sheltered from the worst of the wind between his body and the mast, transferring the rope from his arm to hers, to help her keep her footing on the heaving deck. It was, perhaps, a measure of how serious the situation was that she no longer complained about being restrained or confined.

He had barely finished securing her when a bolt of lightning struck the mast, and snapped it in two. Georgia cried out a warning as the upper half came crashing downward, accompanied by yards of rain-soaked canvas. Conrad pulled her out of the way just as a particularly violent wave rocked the ship. Water surged over the side, nearly knocking him off his feet.

As the ship rocked back the other way, Georgia lunged at him—perhaps in unreasoning panic, perhaps in an effort to steady him as he fought to get his balance back—whatever her intention, the result was not what either of them wanted. He lost his footing just as the wind caught the loose sail and sent it sweeping across the deck. Tangled in ropes and canvas he found himself airborne, hurtling toward the ink-black waves.

In the instant before he hit the water and lost consciousness, he thought she'd fallen too. He heard her call out to him, her voice barely audible amid the roar of the wind and the rush of the waves. He was certain her cries came from somewhere close at hand. Vainly, he twisted in mid-air, attempting to orient on the sound, but, before he could locate her, the sea rose up to claim him. Water closed over Conrad's head and he knew no more.

When next he opened his eyes, Conrad found that night had fallen and the storm had ended. The moon sailed calmly through a cloudless sky, its light illuminating the lonely beach upon which he'd washed up. Though he was still half-blinded by the salt water, he didn't need eyes to know he was alone. He felt it in every cell.

“No!” The anguished howl broke from his parched lips. He scrambled to his feet, his gaze frantically searching the shore, the sea, the horizon—all were empty. “No, no, no!”

He spent what was left of the night searching the shore, straining his senses and losing his voice as he sought for a sign, any sign, any reason to hope that Georgia might also have made it to shore. But he found nothing. No ship, no wreckage, no bodies—either living or dead.

He had made it back to the continent—alive and mostly unharmed. But it was now the last place he wished to be. There was nothing here for him now. There was nothing anywhere in the world, he was sure, that could make up for his loss.

He cast himself down on the strand to weep, but he had no tears—neither for the girl he'd loved and lost, or for his own, cursed existence. He felt empty. As desolate as the sea that stretched out ahead of him, sighing sorrowfully, as though in sympathy, as though tempting him to return to its depths and find comfort in its eternal embrace. The dunes rolled on behind him, another temptation. Its call was even louder, urging him to dull his grief with a full belly, with blood and gore and someone else's pain. And overhead, the mocking stars gleamed silently down upon him, saying nothing.

Like everything else he might yearn for, everything whose glow might call to him, they were forever out of reach.

Chapter Nine

San Francisco, California

Present Day

“So this is where you call home, huh?” Kevin's cool gaze assessed the property in a way that had Julie biting back a smile. “Nice.”

“It's where I stay while I'm in town,” she answered evasively. “Let's leave it at that.”

“Whatever.” His gaze tracked back to her face. “Am I going to see you again?”

“I shouldn't be surprised. I'm sure stranger things have happened.”

One corner of his mouth curled upward. “Not a big fan of direct questions, are you?”

Julie shrugged. “I can think of better ways to be pinned down, if you catch my drift.”

Kevin laughed in surprise. “Well, I guess I can't argue with that. And, just so you know, I'll be sure and remember all the ways you
do
like being pinned down for future reference. You know, just in case it should ever become relevant.”

“I'd like that.” Julie framed Kevin's face with her hand. “If it were to become relevant, I mean.” Leaning in, she brushed a soft kiss across his lips. A soft kiss, a small bite, a hint of venom…

“You're killing me,” Kevin groaned helplessly.

“No, no. None of that.” Julie pressed a finger against his lips to stop the flow of words, and then kissed him once again—short, sweet. She pulled back quickly, before the urge to take just one more taste became too strong. “Goodnight, Officer Sullivan,” she said as she climbed out of the car. “Stay well.”

“And you stay safe,” he called after her. “Stay off the streets at night.”

Julie shook her head in amusement. How would she live without the streets? Where would she eat? She gestured for Kevin to go and then waved off the guard who'd come out to open the gate. Finally, when they'd both departed, she turned and assessed the property, seeking for what her senses had already told her was there. “You can come out now, Marc,” she called to her brother and then watched as he dropped down from one of the big trees that edged the grounds.

“Have you gone completely crazy?” Marc asked.

“Me? I'm not the one climbing trees and spying on people. What is this, delayed childhood? We're not kids anymore, you know.”

“It never hurts to stay in practice. But don't change the subject. Since when do we bring people home? Since when do we let them see where we live? And a cop? Jeez, Jules, that's flat out asking for trouble.”

“Oh, relax. It's not like dating's against the law all of a sudden. Besides, what's wrong with cops? He might come in handy; you never know.” Julie peered at her brother curiously. “Seriously, Marc, what are you doing here?”

“You mean, aside from the fact you asked me to stop by?”

“Yes, aside from that. Seeing as that was less than twenty-four hours ago, I doubt you're here in response to my li'l ol' request. Besides, I'm quite certain I never said anything about climbing trees.”

Marc shrugged. “Like I said, it's been a while, that's all. I just wanted to make sure I could still do it. I also wanted to ask you about something. I'm taking a little road trip and I was wondering if you'd like to join me?”

“Road trip? Where to?”

“Just down the coast a ways. I was thinking we'd check out Big Sur.”

“Why?”

“Why what? Why am I going or why am I asking you to join me?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Well, why not?” Marc shrugged again. “California's a big state. Don't you want to see some of it? I have to go down there anyway, and you're the one who was saying we haven't spent much time together lately. Besides, we've both been through a lot in the last year. Don't you want to get away, decompress a little?”

Julie chewed on her lip as she considered Marc's offer. He was doing a good job of making the idea sound casual, logical, reasonable, even altruistic—which meant there was a good chance it was none of those things. On the other hand, strange as it might seem, she actually
did
want to visit Big Sur.

She'd been itching to go there ever since she'd found their mother's scrapbook, filled with postcards and souvenirs from all the places she'd visited. The photos depicting the California coast, just south of Carmel, were the most troubling. There was no reason for the way they made her feel. The craggy cliffs, the sundrenched beach, the blue swells of sea—there was nothing in those images that should cause Julie to yearn and ache, as though her heart were breaking, as though she'd lost something precious and dear, forever out of reach. No reason, but still the feeling persisted; she just couldn't shake it.

“How long?” she asked at last.

“Just a few days.”

“All right, you're on. When do we leave?”

“Whenever you're ready.”

“What?” Julie gaped. “You don't mean tonight, do you?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Marc…”

“Okay, look. Tonight, tomorrow, it's up to you. I'm flexible—to an extent. But I don't want to put it off any longer than that.”

“Oh. Yeah. That's real flexible. So, tomorrow, then?”

“I guess. If we have to.”

“Marc!”

“All right, fine. Have it your way. But if I have to wait until tomorrow, then I think you should be the one to get us a car.”

“A car?”

“That's not going to be a problem, is it?”

“Of course it's not.” Getting the car wasn't ever a problem—as Marc damn well ought to know. Conrad had a small fleet, impeccably maintained, rarely driven, and supposedly at anyone's disposal. “Are you sure that's not the
real reason
you're asking me to come along—because I can get us a car and you can't?”

Marc shook his head. “Who says I can't get a car? I could ask Conrad too, if I had to, same as you.”

“Yes, but you don't want to do that. Do you?”

“No, I don't. But, that's certainly not my only option. You, on the other hand, are my only sister. That's the
real reason
why I want you to come with me. I want to spend time with you. The rest is just…convenience.”

Julie crossed her arms and glared at her brother. “Oh, yeah, borrowing a car is going to be real convenient, all right!
How'm I supposed to get a car from Conrad without mentioning that you're involved? You know I'm going to have to tell them—he and Damian both. I can't do this and not let them know that this was your idea.”

“Go ahead and tell them. I figured you would. I don't think they're going to turn you down just 'cause of me.”

“Oh no? Then why are you skulking around out here? Why not come inside and ask them yourself? You could at least poke your head in and say hello.”

“Let it go, Jules. I'm just not ready.”

Julie sighed. Of course he wasn't. Heaven save her from stubborn male pride. Maybe he'd loosen up when they got out of town and tell her what
really
happened last December. “Okay, well, suit yourself. But I've been out all day and now I'm tired. So, if we could do this tomorrow, that'd be great.”

“Sure thing.” Marc pulled her in for a quick hug. “How about I meet you right back here, about the same time tomorrow. That sound okay?”

“Yep. Same bat time, same bat channel. Sounds perfect.”

Perfect. Right.
Julie watched as Marc flashed one last smile, then turned and loped away. He blended into the shadows so seamlessly that even she couldn't track his movements for more than half a block.
Dangerous.
The word floated up from her subconscious, surprising her. Since when had she ever felt that way about her brother? It was true, all the same. At some point, over the past few months, Marc had become a frightening stranger. One who radiated an odd sense of power.

On the other hand, why should that be a surprise? In some ways, she'd become a stranger to herself in those same few months, and the changes just kept coming. So, maybe, when the ground beneath her feet seemed constantly on the verge of shifting, getting out of town wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Julie sighed and turned back toward the house. On a whim, she decided to follow her brother's example; she gained entrance to the grounds via the conveniently overhanging branches of a large cedar. It was surprisingly easy. Satisfied that neither of them had lost the ability, she crossed the lawn and made her way into the house.

Inside the house, something had changed. Julie couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something was off. As luck would have it, the best person to answer her questions about that particular puzzle was also the very person she needed to seek out anyway.

She found Damian at his desk in the salon off the front hall. He looked up as she entered the room and immediately frowned. “There you are!
Chica
, where have you been? We've been worried about you.”

Worried? It was rare for Damian to scold her—and for what? She and Marc had been living on their own for most of the past ten years. Had anyone been worried about them then? She didn't think so. “I don't know why you'd worry, D,” she said as she crossed to the desk and sat in the extra chair that had been drawn up alongside it. “You know I can take care of myself. Besides, it's not the first time I've been out all day.” Or the tenth time, or the twentieth, or…well, she'd never actually kept count.

Damian's mouth pursed. He cast a cautious glance at the open doorway before lowering his voice to say, “Where you and your brother are concerned, we will
always
worry. You should know this by now.”

“Yeah, well…” Julie shrugged. “Don't.” The parental concern that would have warmed her soul when she and Marc had been on their own only served to irritate her now. There were entirely too many people who were “worried” about her these days—and for all the wrong reasons. “What's the point, anyway?”

Damian's eyes narrowed. “Out with it. What's wrong now?”

“Nothing.” Julie brushed his question aside. “Really. I'm just…” She paused, wondering how best to explain the unsettled feeling in her gut. “I'm just feeling a little cranky tonight. Lack of sleep, I suppose.” It could be that. Officer Sullivan had exhibited a surprising amount of stamina. It could also be anticipation about tomorrow's trip, annoyance at everybody's misplaced concerns, or even that lingering sense of something
wrong
in the atmosphere. “By the way, I need to borrow one of the cars. I'm going out of town for a few days. Is that all right?”
Or will you worry too much about that as well?
She bit back the question; it was petulant and pointless. Why
was
she acting like such a brat tonight? What was
wrong
with her?

Damian looked like he was having trouble with his own reactions. “Where is it you're going?” he finally asked, his voice strained. Julie would have bet anything that what he'd really wanted to say was more along the lines of, “that's out of the question”.

“Just down the coast with Marc. He says hello, by the way. The trip is his idea. He says California's a big place and we should see more of it than one city, or something like that.”

“I see. And when did he say all this?”

“Outside. A few minutes ago. He was waiting for me when I got home.” She hadn't asked Marc how he'd known she wasn't home. It hadn't occurred to her until now. But she supposed she didn't have to ask. She would have known if he was here too, or not here. Once again her subconscious mind nudged at her: something's missing, something's not right. Was it just her imagination, or had spending the day away from the nest given her a new perspective, allowing her to sense things she'd overlooked in the past?

“Marc is here?” Damian got to his feet, his swiftness betraying his eagerness.

“Well, not now he isn't.” Julie felt a pang of sympathy for him as she waved at Damian to sit. “I asked, but he wouldn't come in. He's still being stubborn about…whatever you're all not telling me.”

“There's nothing to tell,” Damian replied. But his pinched expression gave lie to the words. “How is he?”

“I dunno. Fine, I guess.” Different. Dangerous.

Damian leaned back in his chair and regarded her curiously. “You don't sound very certain of that.”

Julie shrugged. “It's nothing. We just haven't seen each other in a while. So can I take a car, or do I need to tell him to find some other mode of transportation? He says that's not a problem for him, by the way. And, no, I don't have any idea what he means by that.”

Damian sighed. “No more do I. Nothing good, I'm guessing. Of course you can take one of the cars. But you tell your brother from me that he is not to embroil you in anything dangerous. With any luck, that might keep him out of danger as well.”

“We can only hope.”

“And…do me a favor,
por favor
. Tell your grandfather yourself that you're going. It will make him far happier than having to hear about it from me. The poor man is having a hard time already with so many of you leaving him. Oh, and be sure you let him know you've seen your brother and that he's okay—but,
chica
, no need to mention the weirdness—
vale
?”

“Sure. I can do that.” Julie shifted uncomfortably. There it was again, that flutter of nerves in the pit of her stomach, the sense of something wrong. “What do you mean ‘so many of you leaving'?”

“Well, your brother for one, and now you; although, thankfully, that's only for a few days. And Armand, of course. It's a pity, you know? I mean, there are others I'd much rather see go.”

“Armand?” Julie's stomach lurched. “Where's he going?”

“Oh, who knows? I told Conrad not to let him go, but he wouldn't hear of it. And now, well, he can say all he likes that it's for the best, but I'm not fooled. I know it worries him.”