Broken Heart 01 I'm the Vampire, That's Why (29 page)

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My mama likes to say that we live the lives we're supposed to live. What if I had been Turned while I was married to you? Patrick would've known I was his soul mate and hell, I would've agreed. That's terrifying, to carry that kind of knowledge around in your heart.

I think that's what bothers me so much now. What if you looked at Charlene and saw your other half?

What if you tried to deny it because of your loyalty to me and, one day, gave in to it and it felt right? Then you're torn between duty and honor and true-blue love.

Hell's bells, what a choice.

I sat in judgment of you for so long. The betrayed wife. The stoic widow. The loyal survivor. And feeling the way I do about Patrick… oh God, Rich. I can't say what I would've done faced with how I feel about him versus the way I felt about you.

That's a terrible thing to say, especially to the dead. But I gotta be honest. What's the point of trying to get some closure if I'm lying through my teeth?

Rich, what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that the last words you heard from me were angry and hurtful. And I'm sorry that I couldn't come to terms with what happened to us. I held on way too long to my self-righteousness and my anger and my pain. And if Charlene's telling the truth then I'm sorry you were so unhappy. If you felt trapped, and miserable, and unsure… I'm sorry, honey. God in heaven, I'm sorry.

If you need my forgiveness, you have it. And I'll just have to live the rest of my days not knowing if you could forgive my hatefulness.

If Mama was right about living the lives we're meant to, then you and I were gonna unravel anyway. You see, even though I can't truly have Patrick… I was meant for him. I know it, Rich. Feel it right down to my very soul. And you know, maybe you were meant for someone else, even if it wasn't Charlene.

Then again… what the hell does Mama know? You never did like her much anyway. (That's a joke, hon.)

Rich, please know wherever you are, and I hope that you are somewhere, that the love we created with Bryan and Jenny exists. It's there, always and forever, for you. From us.

So, I guess that's what I have to say. Take care, Rich. Take care.

So it's not a great leap to think that I would cry, all right? I dry-blubbered as I tore up the letter and let the light breeze carry away the tatters.

After a while, I climbed to my feet and brushed off the dirt that clung to my legs and shorts. I felt better.

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I really did. And I was surprised that saying to Rich's grave what I never got to say to him unfettered my guilt.

I heard scuffling behind me. "Patrick?"

No answer, but definitely another person moving across the grounds. As I turned to see who was doing a bad job of creeping up on me, a great hairy arm thwapped me. I flew backward and landed ass-first in the line of well-trimmed bushes that ringed this part of the cemetery. I heard a big, loud
roar
that scared the shit out of me. I untangled myself from the scratchy leaves and flew up into the air, hovering.

The bellowing beast growled and slashed its paws at me, obviously pissed off that I hadn't stayed long enough for him to rip me open again.

Even in the dark I noted those mad, hateful blue eyes.

A screeching noise pierced my head. The whistle-wail nearly cracked my skull.
Stop
! I covered my ears, but the unrelenting squeal increased in volume.
Stop it
! I knew, somehow, the creature was causing the horrible noise inside my mind.

I dropped like a stone; pain ricocheted up my side as I smacked the ground. I curled into the fetal position with eyes squeezed tight, teeth gritted. The earth shook as footsteps of Mad-Bad-Ugly pounded toward me. Even through the howling, I heard the air vibrate with its roar of triumph.

Staggering to my feet, I unsheathed the swords. As promised, I had been practicing the moves that Patrick had "downloaded" into my brain. But I wasn't exactly on the top of my game. The first two slashes met only air. He danced just out of my reach, swinging his big arms at me playfully.

Then he lunged for me and I struck; the blade sliced across his abdomen. Roaring, he reared back. And the shrieking ceased.

"Hold!" shouted a man's voice. I didn't recognize it. To my shock, a vampire appeared next to the crazed lycan and placed his big, pale hand on the beast's shoulder. The thing dropped to its knees and bowed its head.

I looked from the lycan to the very tall, very blond, very scarred man. He was dressed in black dress pants, a vibrant red shirt, and black loafers. He also wore a black coat that reminded me of Neo's garb in
The Matrix
. His face might've been handsome once, but it looked as if someone had thrown acid on him. His eyes glowed black.

Let me tell you, he was fucking scary.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked, keeping my swords at the ready.

"My name's Ron," he said. "This is my pet." His brows rose in consternation. "Tsk. Tsk. You've injured him."

"He was trying to kill me. For the second time, I might add."

"He was a tad too enthusiastic the first time I asked him to fetch you," admitted the mysterious Ron. "So we had a little discussion. He was only supposed to rough you up a little and bring you to me."

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"What do you want?"

"I want you.
Duh
." Ron rolled his eyes. "You'll make a good bargaining chip. I believe Patrick O'Halloran will trade anything to get you back. And I want the cure for the Taint."

"There is no cure." I looked at the beast. It was bleeding, its chest heaving, and he was just… as docile as a lamb. "What is that thing?"

"We know that lycan blood cures the Taint," said Ron. "So ol' Georgie here agreed to a transfusion.

Only it didn't quite work as planned." He looked at me and bared his fangs at me. "I know Lorcan O'Halloran is cured. And I want to know how."

"You've confused me with someone who gives a shit."

Ron's eyes flashed. One instant, he was by the beast and the next, he was two inches from my face.

"You're not smart enough to bring your guardians with you to a fucking cemetery. So, I don't expect you're smart enough to know the secret to getting rid of the Taint."

"Well, fuck you, too." I leapt into the air, but Ron merely looked at me with one raised brow. I slammed right back down and my feet seemed to meld with the grass. I couldn't lift my legs at all.
Shit
.

Panic warbled through me. Then, I felt the familiar heaviness that warned me of the sunrise and the sudden fall into unconsciousness. Oh, great.
Patrick? Are you there? I really need you
!

"Now, now… don't bother contacting your other half. He's a little busy protecting those brats of yours."

"Don't you dare hurt my kids!" I felt weak and unsteady, but I still held my swords. Unfortunately, I couldn't raise my arms to slice Ron's head right the hell off.

"Oh relax! They're safe. You don't think Patrick would let anything happen to his
clann
, do you? He'd sooner put a stake into his own heart."

Ron might be an asshole, but he was an insightful asshole. Patrick wouldn't let anything happen to my kids. I had to believe that they were safe. I tried to reach out to them, to make sure, but whatever power was blocking my mental communication with Patrick worked the same awful mojo for my kids.

"Tired, aren't you?" Ron's eyes glittered like black pearls as he stared at me, watching me the way a zoo patron might gaze upon the caged lion. "Go on, dearest. Go to sleep. The Wraiths will take good care of you."

Exhaustion slammed me. My eyes fluttered closed and my body went limp. Ron's arms wrapped around me, my feet unstuck from the ground, and we whipped forward. We crashed through brush, limbs tearing at us, and I realized we'd entered the forest that edged the cemetery. Broken Heart was pocketed by tree-filled areas. So, the Wraiths had settled here, in this forest, just waiting to strike.

As my consciousness grayed, we entered a place that smelled like an old basement. I heard dripping water, the suck of feet in mud.

Then I was lost to the silence. And to the dark.

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When I awoke, I found myself sprawled on a thin blanket. I sat up and looked around. The cave was dark as, forgive me, a
tomb
, but I could see just fine. I smoothed back my hair and found it full of leaves, dirt, and twigs. I could only imagine what my face looked like.

I rubbed my arms, mostly to get off clinging soil. The interior felt cool, which was a nice change from the humid heat outside. Other than the occasional drip of water, there were no other sounds. It was like being wrapped in cotton.

Patrick?

No response.

Patrick? Are you okay? Are the kids okay? Hello!

Damnation. I was starved. My fangs were already out, my stomach growling.

"Jessica?"

My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. Patrick's voice came from the right so I staggered to my feet.

"Down here."

About five feet away, I saw a man chained to the rocky wall. He wore a T-shirt, jeans, and scuffed high-tops. He looked like Patrick, but he wasn't. "Lor?"

"Yeah."

"What the hell happened to you?"

"I've been cured from the Taint."

I gaped at him. "What? How? Who?"

"Be careful, Jessica. The Wraiths are watching… and listening."

My hands went to my hips. "They took my swords! Those rat bastards!"

He chuckled. "You are left only with your rapier wit to slice at them."

"Oh, ha-ha." I looked at him. "So, you're not dead. They captured you at Putt 'Er There, didn't they?"

Lor's gaze filled with sorrow. "Sharonhad been meeting me there every night. I would feed and we would talk for a while. She was supposed to be gone before you and Patrick arrived."

"But the Wraiths got you instead." I chewed on my lower lip as I considered the silver cuffs on Lorcan's wrists. They looked like the ones Patrick had worn the first night I'd woken up sucking on his thigh. My guess was that it was the spells on the cuffs keeping Lor bound.

"Did Ron's vicious pet killSharon ?"

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"I don't know." He grimaced. "They got to me before I had a chance to warn her. This incredibly painful screeching inside my brain nearly made me go mad. Then I was spirited away and locked up here."

"How long have you been cured?" I asked.

"Tonight. I awoke as I am now."

"I'm sure it'll give Stan a real hard-on to figure out why." I looked around the cavern. "He thinks the Wraiths are into some kind of vampire biological warfare."

"Now, why would we poison our own kind?" Ron said as he appeared right next to me. I yelped and stumbled backward.

He laughed, his black eyes flashing. Today's outfit was the ol' black pants, shoes, coat combo, but the silk shirt was emerald green.

"God, you suck!" I tried to beat back the fear fluttering in my belly. This guy scared me. He had no compunction about killing humans, he wanted to destroy other vampires, and he wanted to rule over the world. "My kids better be safe, buster. If you even
look
at them wrong, I'll gut you."

"Tsk. Tsk. Such melodrama!"

"We'll see how melodramatic you think it is when I put my swords in your woobies." I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue and stamp my feet. I was an adult, after all. "Just let us go already!"

"Of course! It wasn't like I planned to keep you as prisoners or anything." His thin lips curved into an insincere smile. "Tell you what, I'll make a deal. You fight one of my chosen warriors. If you win, I'll let you and Lor go."

I looked at him, my mouth gaping. "You're kidding."

"Yes," he said. "Well, I was kidding about the letting you go part. I fully intend to entertain myself by watching someone else kick your ass."

Before I had time to utter something witty and cutting, I found myself standing in the center of a large well-lit cavern. Vampires, all of whom favored black clothing, ringed the cavern. Some sat, some stood, but all eyes were on me and Ron. He grinned at me and I really wanted to punch him in the mouth.

"We have a guest," said Ron. He grabbed my right hand and held it up. The silver
fede
ring glittered in the flickering torchlight. "The prophesied soul mate of your favorite vampire, Patrick O'Halloran."

Hisses and boos ricocheted off the uneven walls. The atmosphere was heavy with malicious anticipation.

I had never felt such ill will directed toward me. The Wraiths blanketed me with their spite, their glee at my probable demise.

Patrick? Pick up the damned mental phone!

"Oh, stop," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "He can't hear you. If it's any solace, he's frantically searching for you, okay?"

"You have a weird idea about how to comfort people," I said, pulling my wrist out of his grasp.

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"We're not people," said Ron. "Vampires are better than people."

"Right. Which is why you're trying to kill your own kind."

"Wraiths are better than most vampires. We understand nature. We accept the true pecking order.

Humans represent the ultimate dinner-and-a-show concept. First, you'll entertain me…" He licked his fangs, his eyes glowing red. "Then I'll dine on you."

"Hey, Sherlock. I'm not a human."

"Human. Turn-blood. Whatever." He shrugged in dismissal. Then he walked a circle, holding his hands up to quiet the still-grumbling crowd. "Who will fight our heroine? Who will risk death at the hands of this fierce warrior?"

Laughter echoed. Okay, so I wasn't Xena, Warrior Princess, but I could fight. Theoretically. The real question, though, was could I win?