I grabbed my cell phone and called Jace. I needed to talk to someone and, once again, it was the hunter I turned to. I tried to tell myself that by staying in touch with him I might find out more about Thomas Murdoch’s whereabouts – something that could help Theo – but I didn’t know if I was convincing myself anymore.
He answered quickly, sounding out of breath. ‘What?’
‘Sorry, am I
interrupting
something?’ I put lots of innuendo into my tone.
I could almost see him rolling his eyes. ‘What’s up?’
I told him everything I’d just seen. I even swallowed my doubts, convinced myself that I wasn’t betraying Theo but
helping
him, and told Jace what I’d smelled.
‘So,’ he said, after listening for a few minutes, ‘you need to at least accept the possibility – the
possibility
, that’s all I’m saying – that your Maker is responsible for this.’
‘No.’ I could think it, in the privacy of my own head, but Jace wasn’t allowed to say it. I know that’s not even remotely logical, but there it is.
‘You told me yourself that you scented your Maker on Erin’s body! Who is he, Moth? Who
is
your Maker? Who turned you?’
I ignored that. ‘Just because your father is a killer doesn’t mean that my Maker is one too.’
‘Oh, don’t start this crap again. What my dad does . . . that’s totally different.’
‘Why? Because we’re monsters? Because we’re not even human?’
‘Listen, I don’t want to have this argument with you. I understand why you want to defend him, but all I’m asking is that you consider it. I don’t think that’s unreasonable.’
‘Stop it.’
‘What?’ He sounded genuinely confused.
‘Being so reasonable!’ I couldn’t argue with him, then.
‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting to think the best of people,’ he said. ‘It’s a good character trait.’
‘Then why do I feel like crap?’
‘Maybe because it could get you killed?’
I shook my head. ‘I just know I’m right on this.’
‘Which part? The part where your bizarre optimism gets you killed?’
I sighed. ‘No. About my Maker.’
‘What’s your reasoning? There’s gotta be something concrete you can point to.’
‘It wouldn’t have been him who planted my address on Rick’s body,’ I insisted. ‘And it wasn’t my Maker who killed him in the first place. Or turned him into a revenant.’
As soon as I said it aloud, I realized that I
believed
. I really did. It didn’t matter what the circumstances were, or could possibly be – Theo wouldn’t lose control like that again. Not after what he’d done to me. He’d rather die.
Jace sighed. ‘So, were you still coming over this evening? Why not come now?’
‘OK, I’m on my way.’
‘You’ll need the address first.’
‘Oh. Yeah, I knew that.’ I blushed, for all the good it would do me.
‘You’re not exactly Nancy Drew, are you?’ He sounded like he was smiling, but he gave me the address and directions before we hung up.
I stuck my phone in my jacket pocket, tapping my foot as I waited for the next set of lights to change. As if vampire-related murders and sort-of-zombies weren’t enough, Sinéad had blindsided me by showing up at the apartment. It was the last thing I’d expected, and now I also had Caitlín to worry about. I called her again, but her phone rolled straight over to voice mail. I tried not to think about what that might mean.
I glanced over my shoulder, more out of instinct than anything else. You know that feeling? The one you get when you’re sure someone is standing right behind you – or, at the very least, watching you? Yeah, I had that feeling right now. I scanned the area, my gaze drifting over
pedestrians
and traffic, trying to find whatever had made my flesh crawl in the increasing gloom of the afternoon.
There was nothing to see. Now, on top of everything else, I was imagining things.
Of course, then the rain started. I shivered and pulled up the collar of my leather jacket. One of the advantages of being a vampire was that I didn’t really feel the cold. Although I still
noticed
things like heat and cold, extremes didn’t bother me in the regular human way. Weather was just something that happened around me. But the rain was making my bones feel sort of damp.
I took a quick short cut over a nearby wall, landing softly on the sidewalk on the other side. A middle-aged man sheltering under a newspaper was walking past as I landed, and he caught my eye as he squinted through the drizzle. Instinctively, I gritted my teeth and shook soaking strands of hair out of my face. The guy did a double take and almost dropped his newspaper.
Oops, fang-alert
. I lowered my head, quickened my pace and began running. Running to Jace.
Chapter Thirteen
‘WHAT A PLEASURE
it is to see you again,’ Jace said, all faux manners. ‘Please, won’t you come in?’ He swept me an impressive bow and almost fell over.
‘Have you been drinking?’ I asked, wondering what else could’ve possible gotten into him.
‘Only a little,’ he said, waving a bottle of beer in my face.
Great, and it was still only the afternoon. I was visiting a drunk wannabe vampire hunter. My life was perfect.
Jace suddenly realized how soaked through I was. ‘Hey, get over here – you’re dripping all over Dad’s rug.’
I couldn’t resist an internal chuckle at that: big strong vampire hunter, scared of what Daddy might say if he wrecked the apartment while he was away.
Jace led me into a bathroom and handed me a huge navy blue towel. As I rubbed the soft material over my sopping hair and tried to squeeze out some of the water into the bathtub, I couldn’t help noticing something different about him. I mean, about the way he was acting around me. Sure, he was drinking a beer, but I didn’t really think the alcohol was affecting him as much as he pretended.
That annoying little voice that bugged me whenever I was feeling tired or depressed began to pipe up:
Look at you, thinking about Jace Murdoch again. You so have a crush on him
.
‘Do not,’ I growled.
Jace raised his eyebrows. ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ Blushing furiously, and then furious that I was blushing at all, I buried my head in the towel and ignored him.
Or at least, I tried to ignore him. It was pretty tough not to notice how good he looked in those black cargo pants and the casual sludgy green shirt that made his eyes look more hazel than brown. His arms were well-defined with muscle, and I could see his tattoos peeking out from beneath the arms of his shirt. A black Celtic band circled his right bicep and there was a phoenix inked with red accents on the outside of his left arm.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Jace asked.
‘Why?’
‘Because your eyes have gone bright silver.’
Crap. ‘I can put my sunglasses on if it bothers you,’ I said, aware that my voice sounded incredibly stiff.
He looked at me for a long moment. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ was all he said.
I wanted to say:
Don’t call me stupid, you don’t know anything about me
. But I held it in, along with all the other things I wanted to say to people – my father, for example – who treated me as something
other
because I looked a little different or liked to dress in Goth-style clothes. Just because I’d had dreams – dreams that were now nothing more than ash, like the urns filled with vampire remains I knew Jace’s father would have hidden in this apartment, just like he had before.
I handed back the towel. ‘Thanks.’
‘Sure.’ Jace touched the sleeve of my shirt, as though touching me had suddenly become the most normal thing in the world. ‘You should get changed out of those things. You really are soaked.’
I looked down at the floor, watching in quiet fascination as the puddle of water at my feet slowly extended outward. In the dim lighting and against the midnight blue tile, it looked like it could be blood flowing in an ever-widening pool of darkness. I thought about Erin and the dried blood in her hair, and about the blood surrounding Nurse Fox’s body. I shivered and looked away, my eyes finding Jace’s.
‘Moth—’ he began.
It was his using my name that did it. Not ‘freak’. Not even ‘Marie’. He had simply said ‘Moth’, the name I’d taken for myself and made my own – a shield against the human world that might harm me if I only let it in.
A tear ran down my cheek, totally taking me by surprise. I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand. ‘Shit.’ Another treacherous tear leaked out. Jesus, it was so humiliating. I totally would’ve died if I wasn’t already . . . you know . . . dead.
Jace watched me with a strange expression on his face. I half expected him to be embarrassed, unable to handle a sudden display of emotion. But instead, he had a sort of blank look, like an untouched canvas waiting to be filled. I tried to find pity in his eyes, but if it was there I certainly couldn’t see it. There was just a weary acceptance of what was happening in front of him – he was right there with me, not turning away from my pain but simply acknowledging it.
He didn’t try to touch me, just waited it out until my tears stopped. What was I even crying for? Relief that I hadn’t found Caitlín in Erin’s place? Worry about Theo, and what all of this meant? His task, and how Murdoch’s death would affect Jace? There was so much happening, I was bound to crack eventually. I just hated that it had to happen here and now, in front of Jason Murdoch.
‘Jace, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.’
What was I even apologizing for?
‘I really am sorry—’
‘It’s OK,’ he said. He held up a hand as though to stop another outpouring of apologies. ‘Really. Forget it. Wait here – I’ll get you a dry shirt.’
And that was that. He left the bathroom and returned seconds later with a long-sleeved baggy T-shirt. It was soft and worn at the seams, something that looked like it had seen a lot of wear. It was also black, and had a splashy crimson logo that read:
CREATURE OF THE NIGHT!
Nice to know Van Helsing Junior had a sense of humor hidden underneath all that macho angst. This shirt must be merchandise from a cheesy creature flick I’d never even heard of. It came almost to my freaking knees. My jeans were damp, but there was no way I was taking
those
off.
I padded into the main room and tried not to think too much about my experience in a similar apartment with Jace, six months ago. This was different.
Jace
was somehow different. He wasn’t going to drug me, chain me up with silver and try to end what was left of my life. I wondered if he was sorry for what he’d done back then. He seemed much nicer to me now, that’s for sure. Maybe we were coming to some kind of . . . understanding.
His mouth quirked up in that rare half-smile I’d seen only a couple times before. ‘I knew that was perfect for you.’
I grinned. Couldn’t help myself, and anyway, I needed the release.
Jace gave me one of those strange looks, the ones I found impossible to decipher. ‘I can see your fangs,’ he said. But he said it in that singsong tone a kid might use to proclaim: ‘I can see your panties.’ Yeah, he was definitely drunk.
He busied himself closing the long floor-length drapes, the heavy-looking velvet making the large room seem cozier. He threw some cushions down on the floor and then gathered a pile of books from the table by one of the armchairs. ‘You OK sitting down here?’ He didn’t wait for a reply and sat cross-legged on one of the cushions. He was graceful for such a tall guy, especially considering how much muscle he seemed to have gained.
Feeling faintly ridiculous in the oversized T-shirt, I curled up on the cushion furthest from him. My hair hadn’t even
begun
to dry. It was a sodden mass on top of my head, doing that annoying thing it does, thanks to the crazy corkscrew curls that hadn’t become any easier to tame since I’d died. Who knew that being a vampire still involved hair disasters?
‘So, what are we dealing with here?’ I asked. ‘You said you had answers.’
Maybe if I pretended that I hadn’t just had a minor breakdown in the bathroom, we could forget it ever happened.
He pulled an ancient-looking book onto his lap. It was bound in cracked brown leather and the pages were gilt-edged with crumbling gold. ‘This is the book my father spent most time with. He’d start here, at least, any time he had the trail of something unusual.’
I tried to read the name of the book, but he’d already flipped it open. I sat back and pulled my legs up to my chin, pulling the shirt down over my knees. ‘What about the internet? Had your dad heard of that, by any chance?’
Jace glanced up from the yellowing pages. ‘Stop talking about him in the past tense. He’s coming back, OK?’ He took a deep breath and gazed back down at the book. ‘And yes, of course he’d heard of the internet. I even did most of our research online, but you have to wade through a ton of bullshit just to find one useful piece of information.’
‘And what’s so special about these books?’ I waved at the pile resting by his right knee.
‘I don’t know where Dad got them from,’ Jace said, ‘but they’re old. Really old. And he always seemed to find
something
that he needed in them.’