My Maker’s hands slipped upward, this time to my throat, gently resting on either side of my neck as though he were holding something precious. I didn’t dare move. Theo was on edge, acting way out of character. There was something destructive and dangerous in him that I hadn’t seen in more than a year – since
that
night, when he’d ripped into my throat with fangs I couldn’t believe even existed.
I stood perfectly still, reminding myself that I didn’t need to breathe.
He moved again, sliding his arms around me as he bent his head, nuzzling my throat. He brushed his lips against my skin and I felt everything in my body draw tight, even as my mind rebelled and terror rose like soft smoke in my stomach.
‘Perhaps,’ Theo said, his voice practically a growl, ‘
this
will convince you of Murdoch’s guilt.’
I waited for a bite that never came . . . Instead, he pulled a scrap of cloth from his pocket, presenting it to me with a bizarre flourish.
It looked like something that had been torn from a jacket or coat made of classic khaki camo-green. An army jacket.
A jacket exactly like the one Jace always wore.
I stared at it, trying to make it change into something else using the power of my mind. This had to be a mistake, right? Someone was framing Jace. A piece of his jacket torn and left at the scene of the crime? That was ridiculous.
Also: ‘There are thousands of people who’d wear a jacket like that,’ I said. ‘How can you be so sure it has anything to do with the Murdochs?’
Theo narrowed his eyes. ‘There may be thousands who would wear such a garment, but I find it unlikely that the same number of people would know anything about vampires – or be attempting to hunt them.’
I jutted out my chin. ‘It could have been
anyone
on that motorcycle.’
‘I caught his scent in the air. I traced that very scent to a piece of his clothing. I know it was him and I will take what is mine to take. What is
owed
.’
‘Someone could have planted it,’ I said, not thinking before I spoke. Just desperate to distract Theo in any way I could. ‘There are so many explanations, and you’re just jumping to the one that suits you.’
But my racing mind offered up another idea, one I hated to even acknowledge:
What if it was true?
I said, ‘Why didn’t you show this to the others?’
‘You question my judgment?’
‘No,’ I said hastily. ‘Of course not. I’m just curious about your reasons.’
Theo snatched the cloth from me. ‘I wish to hunt him down myself. It is my duty.’
‘Why? Because Nicole died in your city?’ I never understood vampire protocol. It always felt like I was playing catch up.
‘No, it is more than that. Much more.’
Theo met my eyes. His raven-black hair curled around his beautiful face, and I couldn’t help noticing sweat glistening on his forehead.
Theo never sweated.
This was too weird. What the heck was going on? Something was seriously off with him. He winced, as though in sudden pain.
‘Theo?’
‘It is nothing,’ he said. ‘A headache.’
A headache? Since when did my Maker, of all people, get headaches?
I shivered, and Theo noticed my reaction. ‘Do I frighten you, little one?’
‘No,’ I whispered, scared out of my mind. ‘I just don’t want you to do anything you might regret.’
‘You should be afraid,’ he said, crushing me tightly in his arms and leaning his face a little closer to mine. ‘You should be afraid of what I will do to anyone who destroys that which is mine.’
‘What do you mean?’ I croaked. ‘How is Nicole yours?’
‘She created me,’ he replied, his voice shaking with rage and grief. ‘Nicole was my Maker.’
Oh no.
That’s why it all felt so terribly wrong. I mean, beyond the obvious. This was even worse than I’d feared: his Maker was dead.
We could lose Theo over something like this, and I wasn’t sure that I knew how to bring him back.
We stood on the roof of his house, Theo and I, watching the stars and not talking about the thing we were actually
supposed
to be discussing: the fact that Nicole had Made him, turned him into a vampire almost one hundred and seventy years ago.
Theo didn’t seem to be in a hurry to talk about much of anything at all.
His eyes gleamed silver in the half-light, and I watched him as I thought of the very first night we met. I picked at the memory like a scab, afraid that if I let it heal it might fade forever and not even leave a scar.
Some memories are both painful
and
necessary.
I am sitting in my favorite spot along the Charles River, watching the sailboats and a lone canoe heading back to harbor. The air is still and the sunset perfect. My sketchpad lies beside me on the slatted bench. I came out here to escape, but I don’t feel like drawing right now. All I can think about is Mom and the news we got from her oncologist – yet
more
bad news.
I become peripherally aware of someone sitting at the other end of my bench. Joining me, but giving me the illusion of space. I stiffen, refusing to turn my head to see who has disturbed my peace.
‘May I?’ A low voice, smooth and filled with warmth.
I look at my uninvited guest, wishing I had the right to ask him to leave. His hand is resting on the closed cover of my sketchpad, and his face is tilted in question as he regards me curiously. I realize that he is asking about my drawings rather than whether or not I mind him joining me.
Holy crap
, I think.
Holy crap, he looks like an angel.
Or maybe more like a devil, with hair as dark as mine and a black suit that seems to flow with every movement of his lithe body. I have never seen anyone who looks quite like this. He could be a model, a movie star . . . or something else entirely.
‘I’m sorry,’ the beautiful stranger says. ‘You wish to be alone, I can see that.’ He shifts on the bench as though to stand.
‘It’s fine,’ I reply, struggling to move my dry lips.
‘You’re an artist,’ he says, making it a statement.
I shrug, feeling a blush stain my cheeks.
‘Trying
to be. There aren’t many female artists in the mainstream, superhero comic book industry, but that’s not going to stop me.’
My sketches lay open on his lap. His hands are long and fine, and I suddenly want him to touch me. I turn away, confused by the way this stranger makes me feel. Something isn’t quite right and, even though I know I should be afraid, all I want is to go on sitting here with him.
Forever.
I squeezed my hands into fists and pushed the images away, not wanting to remember any of it. Childish memories had no place here, no matter how ‘romantic’ they might have felt at the time. There was nothing romantic about what had come after. Afterward, eventually, there had been blood and pain and death. Followed by a new sort of life that terrified me.
Here in the present, Theo’s face was as open as I had ever seen it. He wore his grief like a shroud, and he suddenly looked old – old enough to scare me. Not in a gross, wrinkly kind of way. I just mean that he seemed, for the first time since I’d met him, exhausted by the burden of years. I remembered what Caitlín had asked me just hours ago, about whether I’d be injured in some way if something bad happened to Theo. Could I really be in danger?
What would it mean for him, now that Nicole was dead? What would it mean for
me
– and for the rest of the Boston Family? Already I was certain that there was more to his strange mood than ‘normal’ shock or grief.
He surprised me by speaking first. ‘We must take care, my Moth.’
‘Because the killer might strike again?’
The killer who is not Jace, not Jace
, I chanted to myself in the hope of making it not-true.
‘That,’ he said, ‘but also because of what might become of me.’
‘Now that Nicole is . . . gone.’ I kept my voice level.
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Now that she has been ended after all her centuries. Any of the vampires she Made will have to be mindful.’
‘Could you die?’ Well, I had to ask. No point in tiptoeing around the issue.
‘No, but there will very likely be . . . changes. Especially in the oldest among her children.’
I swallowed. ‘What kind of changes?’
He didn’t reply and I fought the urge to shake him, force him to give me some answers.
‘Theo,’ I said. ‘What changes are you talking about? Hadn’t you better tell me, so I can help you look out for them?’
He took my hand in his, something he hardly ever did because I usually yelled at him for it. ‘I don’t want you to worry. This part of it, the potential for unraveling, is something I have to deal with alone.’
I thought about that word:
unraveling
. I had a weird image in my head of Theo being slowly unwrapped like a ball of yarn.
‘You’re not alone though, Theo,’ I said. ‘You have me. You have plenty of others around who—’
‘No. You will leave me now. Say nothing of my link to Nicole.’
‘Forget it,’ I said hotly, ripping my hand from his. ‘You’re not allowed to shut me out. You can’t ask me to help you avenge someone’s death, but then push me away when it comes to your pain. I won’t let you!’
‘I will do as I please.’ His voice was suddenly cold. I hated it when he flipped on me like that. ‘I am still Master of this city.’
Oh great, he was going to play
that
card. I scowled and nibbled at the skin on the base of my thumb. I could tear strips off it and it would heal within minutes. I was such a classy gal.
I decided on a change in tactics, softening my tone. ‘Is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all? Maybe I can just listen, if you want to talk.’
‘Nicole meant something to me a long time ago,’ he said. ‘In the last century our relationship has been . . . difficult.’
We made ourselves comfortable on the cushions that Theo had spread on the wooden deck he’d built up here. A rooftop ‘moonbathing’ deck, he called it with a sly wink that proved he actually did have a sense of humor.
Not that we were talking about anything funny at the moment.
I pulled my knees up and rested my chin on them. ‘Even if you didn’t exactly get along with her these days, you’re still allowed to be sad.’
‘Sadness passes, just as one day passes into the next.’
‘You’re not going to go all Zen on me, are you?’ I forced a smile.
Theo looked up at the scattered stars. ‘The past has gone. Therefore, the present is all we have.’
‘But don’t you ever think about the future?’
‘Why would I?’ he replied, leaning against the low wall that led to a four-story drop. ‘In my world, there’s no such thing as never. I can only live in the now – focusing on what
is
. Possibilities are . . . endless.’
‘Because vampires can live forever?’ I asked, trying to understand. Trying to keep him talking, because at least that meant he couldn’t go on a vengeful rampage.
He laughed, and the sound sent shivers down my spine. And not in a good way. Theo was most definitely
not
himself. ‘There’s no such thing as immortality, my little Moth. Didn’t you learn that tonight? Vampires are the ultimate con artists. We cheat death.’ He looked over his shoulder, across the jeweled lights of the city.
His
city. ‘Too many of us grow complacent. We begin to believe that the rules don’t apply to us, and then we learn the truth.’
‘Which is?’ I was hanging on his every word, but I couldn’t help it.
‘Cheating death is not the same as beating it. It is just a temporary solution. When it comes down the final battle, Death will win every time. Nicole learned that tonight.’
‘Stop it,’ I said. ‘You’re scaring me.’
His eyes burned silver and he touched my cheek, so gently it felt as though my heart would crack in two. I couldn’t help noticing that his fingers trembled as he brushed stray strands of hair from my face.
‘There’s nothing you can do, Marie. What’s done is done.’
He’s wrong
, I thought. I had to help him – and I would find a way. I didn’t know what Nicole’s death would mean for Theo, but he was my Maker and that could also mean something might happen to me. Despite the vast and, to most people, entertaining differences in our characters, ages and outlook, Theo and I shared a genuine bond. I was the only one here that he’d personally Made for a start, a fact that Holly never let me forget. Jealousy ran deep in vampire Families – grudges could last for a very long time. And now it appeared that I was the only one he’d told of his true connection to Nicole.
On the one hand, I was desperate to escape the claustrophobic confines of the Boston Family. But on the other, I cared deeply for Theo and only wanted him to be safe. It was a totally annoying paradox.
‘I won’t let you drift away,’ I said. ‘I’ll keep you here. Grounded.’
‘Will you?’ He closed his eyes. Sweat-damp tendrils of hair clung to his face.
‘I’d do anything for you,’ I whispered, wondering, even as I said it, whether that was still true. I
wanted
it to be true. Perhaps that would be enough to save him.
‘Part of me is missing,’ he said. ‘It disappeared the very moment Nicole’s body disintegrated. I can’t get it back. I can only adjust to the loss, and . . . hope.’
‘I’m good at hope,’ I said, resting my check on his shoulder.
‘I am not so very old – certainly not as old as Nicole was – but I have years enough to know that a long life doesn’t always mean a better life. In the end, you lose everyone who matters to you and can only stand by and watch.’
I lifted my head and stared at him.
‘I’m tired, Marie,’ he said.
‘You’re not even two hundred yet. That’s nothing!’
He ignored my lame attempt at humor. ‘I am tired of watching everything around me turn to dust.’
I grabbed the front of his sweat-damp shirt and pulled him toward me, marveling at my own bravery. ‘Don’t talk like that. You’re only saying this crap because you’re upset about Nicole, and I won’t allow it.’