Now Comes the Night (22 page)

“It is.” Georgia hesitated for a moment and then asked, “So then…might I at least ask a favor of you?”

“Now?” Conrad stared in disbelief. “You dare to ask me for favors
now
? After infuriating me with your suspicions, your endless questions? After doubting my word and casting aspersions on those I hold most dear?”

Georgia’s mouth tightened. “Those you hold most dear? There was a time, Conrad, I’ve not forgotten it even if you have, when you counted
me
amongst that number.”

Conrad sighed. “I’ve not forgotten. And I still do—that goes without saying. But the timing of your request is most inopportune. You used not to be so clumsy about such things.”

“Do you not think so?” A wry smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “Forgive me, my love, but once again I must disagree with you. It seems to me that where you are concerned, all but a few of my actions have been ill-timed.

“Indeed.” Conrad met her gaze and nodded sadly. “Now that you mention it, I believe you may be right about that. I stand corrected. Very well, then. What is it you want?”

“As I’m sure you’re aware, I’m not very well liked or trusted by many of your people.”

“You
are
one of my people,” Conrad insisted. “Have I not made that plain yet? Are there any who still dare question it? Surely not! If you happen upon any who need further convincing I do hope you will refer them to me for clarification.”

Georgia inclined her head. “I thank you for that. But my point is there are those here who find me…somewhat intimidating. It makes questioning them more than a little problematic. I fear not everyone has been as forthcoming or as helpful as they might have been. Which is why I’m hoping you’ll allow me to bring in one of my own people to assist me.”

“I see.” Her people. Conrad sighed. If she was referring to those she’d turned, they were technically his people as well. The fact that she didn’t automatically see them as such only served to underscore what a very bad idea it had been to have granted her the right to procreate on her own.

She was one of only a handful whom he’d ever allowed to do so. The divided loyalties the practice engendered tended to have a destabilizing effect on the nest and his goal had never been to consolidate and strengthen his family. But Georgia had already lost so much, by that point, he hadn’t the heart to add to her disappointment. “I assume you have someone particular in mind?” He was pretty sure he knew what her answer would be and she did not disappoint him.

“Yes, I do. I was thinking of Christian.”

“Ah. Of course.” It was hardly a surprise. Christian had been the first vampire she’d spawned and he was obviously still her favorite. All the same, Conrad had to struggle to keep from scowling.

“I know you’ve never been particularly fond of him.”

“That’s not true. I liked him well enough once. If you recall, I thought him a very engaging young man when you first introduced us.” It was what happened afterwards that had left such a bitter taste in Conrad’s mouth. It was realizing how much Georgia had been willing to risk for Christian’s sake—far more than she ever would have risked for Conrad. And she’d talked Conrad into risking much as well.

He had no right to feel resentful over that, however. It had been his decision to make; he’d made it. If things had not gone completely as planned, he had no one but himself to blame. Still, a wave of useless anger welled up inside him. Georgia had gambled with their lives. With
all
their lives. And Conrad had come so close to losing everything.

Seemingly oblivious to Conrad’s worsening mood, Georgia continued speaking. “Well, good then. If you’re able to think kindly of him again, perhaps you can also appreciate how much help he might be to us here now. I promise you, he’s still as charming as ever and I’m persuaded he’ll be able to elicit information much more readily than I could—without resorting to force, that is.”

“Indeed,” Conrad replied, only half listening. He and Georgia had much in common. In addition to their humble beginnings and their brutal rebirth as monsters, they both obviously harbored a fondness for charming, aristocratic young men. Beautiful, dashing young men who in some ways embodied everything Georgia and he had lost, everything they’d never had to start with, everything they could never attain on their own. He really shouldn’t hold her infatuation with Christian against her—especially not in view of his own, very similar, feelings for Damian—but he was just human enough still to feel an occasional pang of jealousy. She’d been his once. She’d been his before any of the others had even been born.

“Well?” Georgia asked, sounding faintly exasperated. “Might I have an answer?”

Conrad forced his mind back to the present. “Of course, my dear. Why would I deny you anything that might prove useful? Or that might make your stay here more pleasant for you? Go and summon your young man. For your sake, he’ll be welcomed here with open arms.” Assuming he could keep Damian in line.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Georgia’s relief was palpable. As she jumped from her seat to bestow a brief kiss on Conrad’s cheek, she was trembling with suppressed emotion. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and do that now, if I may?”

“Of course,” Conrad repeated, but he was frowning as he watched her go. There’d never been any doubt as to the sincerity of Georgia’s feelings for the boy, but the depth of her emotion, after all this time, that was a surprise. It would be most interesting to see the two of them together and to determine whether Christian was equally ardent.

Hopefully, Damian would be so diverted by the prospect that he wouldn’t pitch too much of a fit when Conrad gave him the news. All in all, it looked as though this year’s party might turn out to be one of the most interesting New Year’s Eve parties Damian had ever thrown. And that was saying something.

Chapter Twelve

New Year’s Eve, 1981

Try as he might, Conrad could not decide which aspect of tonight’s event was the most aggravating. The lights had been an early contender. They glared blindingly at him from nearly every wall, every surface, every fixture in his house, making him yearn for the past, for those halcyon centuries long since gone when night was a blessing that daily returned the world to what it should be. Dark.

True, in those days, most of humanity had still spent their evenings huddled around small fires, seeking warmth or protection from predators such as Conrad and his kind. Facing the threat of immolation at each and every meal had been no picnic, to be sure. Ah, but such glorious darkness had stretched between those isolated blazes, mile upon mile of it in some places. He missed those days.

Nowadays, he still managed to spend the larger portion of his time in an atmosphere that at least approximated something close to darkness, but not tonight. Tonight, Damian had decreed their guests must be accommodated and human tastes taken into consideration. Apparently, this meant the entire household had to be illuminated as brightly as though ’twere lit by the noonday sun itself…at least as Conrad recalled it, at a distance of several centuries. He had never wished more ardently for a new year to arrive with all possible haste, so that everyone here tonight might return to their homes forthwith and leave him in peace.

The noise was equally annoying. It maybe even had an edge on the lights, due to its sheer unpredictability. Shrill laughter, excited greetings, loud and increasingly drunken discussions—they eddied and flowed for no discernable reason and radiated from all directions. His hearing was such that he could discern the slightest whisper from across the room with ease. Unfortunately, no one present tonight was talking at anything close to a whisper.

Occasionally, all those voices did subside into something approaching a dull drone, but even then there was still the matter of Damian’s questionable musical choices to contend with. Assuming the noise issuing incessantly from the stereo could be termed music. Conrad was not at all certain about that. Nor could he imagine what had possessed him to allow the purchase of such a demonic contraption in the first place. Doubtless that was Damian’s fault as well. As was the almost overpowering mélange of fragrances that he knew would linger in the air for weeks afterwards, a combination of cigarettes and alcohol, a wide range of food products, both sweet and savory, and entirely too many competing perfumes.

Then again, on further consideration, perhaps the most annoying factor of all was the guests themselves. Ten years of relative isolation, while not a particularly lengthy stretch of time, had left Conrad ill-prepared for this sudden onslaught. It would not be so bad, perhaps, if he were able to take advantage of the throng and slake a little of the inevitable hunger their presence had stirred up, but Damian had made clear that eating was also a
verboten
activity.

It was critical that the twins get sufficient practice in controlling their impulses, Damian had argued. Even in the face of this much temptation, they must be able to hold their instincts in check, a suggestion with which Conrad had heartily agreed. They were also not yet skilled enough in stealth to attempt to feed unnoticed in a room full of people. Once again, Conrad could not fault Damian’s logic.

What Conrad did not understand was why Damian should insist that he and Conrad abide by the same restrictions they’d laid on the twins. Conrad certainly needed no such practice. He’d had centuries of it! Not only were his impulses well under control, he was also exceedingly well versed in stealth.

Do as I say, not as I do
. Was that not also an excellent lesson for the twins to learn? What would be the harm in Conrad’s offering to give a select few of his guests a private tour of some of the house’s more secluded rooms?

At the moment, of course, it did not appear there
were
any secluded rooms to tour. The house had been thrown wide open and was currently packed to overflowing with more people than Conrad would have thought possible for it to contain. He must be the only person in the entire county to be hosting a party tonight, if the number of people intent on crowding into his home was any indication. Didn’t
anyone
stay at home on New Year’s Eve?

An Open House. The event certainly was living up to its name, but what would possess anyone of sound mind to wish to open his house to all and sundry? And where had Damian even heard of the term?

“Fabulous party, Quintano.”

The voice, an unfamiliar one, pulled Conrad from his thoughts. “Er, yes. Thank you,” he responded politely. He gazed curiously at the man who’d addressed him. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, rather rotund, with his fashionably long hair combed sideways across his head, possibly in a lamentable attempt to disguise his receding hairline. Conrad tried hard to place him. Perhaps this was someone he’d met at one of those infernal, neighborhood block parties Damian had insisted on dragging them all to the previous summer? Block Party—another of those odd turns-of-phrase Damian was so fond of slinging about. “It seems quite a successful…er, crush.” Crush? Was that the correct term? Conrad bit back a sigh. He found it so hard at times to keep up with all the modern slang. Everything changed so quickly nowadays.

His new friend smiled. “I must say, we were quite happy to receive your invitation. The wife here has been dying to get a glimpse inside your house for years.”

“Have you?” Conrad turned his best genial-host smile on the woman in question. “And why is that?”

“Oh. Well, I mean, it-it’s just so…so elegant,” she answered, a confused blush staining her cheeks. “So unusual. So…unique, and…and historic.”

“Yes.” Conrad felt his smile slip just the slightest. Damn it, he’d warned Damian about this—hadn’t he? “Isn’t it though?”

“Boy, they really don’t make them like this anymore do they?” her husband suggested in overly cheerful tones.

Again, Conrad agreed. “No, they certainly do not.” Which, again, was precisely what he’d told Damian when the topic of buying the property first came up.

Once, a hundred years ago or more, houses like this one were quite commonplace. They still were in some locations, in San Francisco for example, where Conrad owned a house of a similar age and style. In this community, on the other hand, such architecture was something of a rarity. How were they to keep a low profile, to blend in and go about their business unnoticed with this house calling attention to them by their very presence here?

Not to mention the size of it! While considerably smaller than Conrad’s mansion in California, this house was still the largest in the community, and much bigger than any place they’d lived in the past ten years…

“Look, it even has a gymnasium!” Damian had pointed out excitedly when they’d first toured the place.

Conrad glanced quizzically at him. “And you consider that a point in its favor do you?” While many of the details of modern parlance did tend to escape him, Conrad knew—knew for a fact!—that most homes nowadays did not boast of having such a feature. His San Francisco home had one, but that was entirely different.

He supposed he should be pleased. The fact that Damian apparently placed a high value on so many of the amenities that graced Conrad’s primary residence suggested it might not be as difficult as Conrad feared to persuade Damian to move there with him when Conrad judged the time was right to return to San Francisco.

“What do we need with a gymnasium at this point?” Conrad asked.