In the Dark (30 page)

Elise wrinkled her nose. “How very unoriginal,” she murmured, lifting her face for his kiss.

He sniffed at her mug. “Is that coffee you're drinking? Another affectation?”

“More of a ritual, really. It started out as a habit. You can sit and sketch all night at almost any cafe in Paris, as long as you appear to be drinking something. Eventually, I grew to like the taste of it.” She shrugged. “Believe it or not, the caffeine helps me think.”

“Is it helping you think about what you're going to tell me about Vincent?”

Elise sighed. “There,” she said, gesturing at a large canvas propped against one of the walls. “Go and take a look.”

“What is it I'm looking at?” Marc asked, stepping closer to the painting—a life study of a long-haired young man, naked except for a string of beads around his neck, reclining on a divan in front of a psychedelic background reminiscent of Peter Max. It was interesting, but… He turned back to her. “I'm not seeing any scars?”

“No. That's because there weren't any then. I painted that in 1968. November or December, I think. Just before his uh…accident.”

“How do you even know it's the same guy?” Marc asked, growing angry. Had he been wasting his time on a wild-goose chase, while Conrad was dying? “This could be anyone!”

“Look, sugar, I know this is the big city and all that but, trust me, there just aren't that many vampires like Vincent walking around in it. He's kind of unique, which is a blessing, in a way. Besides, as it happens, I caught sight of him outside the club the night you were there with your sister. But, if you don't believe me, you're welcome to keep looking for him on your own. Good luck finding him though. The boy didn't survive this long without knowing how to hide.”

“All right,” Marc growled as he reined in his temper. “I believe you. Now, tell me the rest. What's the story with him, and how do I find him?”

Elise shook her head, her face turning softly sorrowful. “It's a sad story, really. His sire was another of my sire's spawn. Audrey. She and I were good friends once, almost like sisters. She should have known better, I suppose, but it was the sixties and everyone's social mores had gone on holiday, or so it seemed at the time. She fell in love with Vincent when he was still human. He was very good-looking. Spiritual. Intense. Very Jim Morrison—into any experience that might expand his mind—but not quite so dark. She used to call him Starshine.

“When he begged her to turn him, she didn't hesitate. Of course, she had no right to do any such thing. I don't know how things work in your nest, but in ours, that kind of thing just isn't done. She had no choice but to hide his existence from our sire. As I said, it's a big city, so she figured he could just…blend in, somehow. That no one would ever know. He wasn't scarred up at the time, so it might have been okay. It was for a while. Of course, he still had to feed, and that wasn't always so easy for him. He had to do most of his hunting out on the streets or in the parks and he couldn't really socialize with the rest of our nest-mates. Usually, one or the other of us went with him when he hunted, but sometimes we couldn't. One night, he had the bad luck to wander into another vampire's territory, a very vicious, very powerful vampire. So powerful he could do whatever he wanted, without fear of reprisal, or repercussion. Vicious enough…well, to do what he did, which was to rip up Vincent's pretty face and all for the sake of some girl.”

Marc frowned. “Wait a minute. You're saying he got scarred like that
after
he was turned? How? That's not possible.”

Elise's mouth tightened. Her eyes flashed angrily. “It's not? Well, now, sugar, I just don't know what to tell you. I didn't used to believe it either. I'd heard stories of such things before, of vampires so scary-powerful even other vampires feared to cross them, but until Vincent's little misadventure I'd always thought they were a myth. He's still the only one I've ever known to run afoul of one, but, frankly, I'm surprised that you'd be skeptical. If the ‘how' is really that important to you, and you're feeling very brave when you do meet up with Conrad again, I suggest you ask him. He's the one who'd know, I'd imagine, seeing as he's the vampire who did it.”

“Conrad?” Marc stared at her. It wasn't possible. He wanted to call her a liar, but he couldn't. Images of Damian, the scars on his shoulder, the anger in his eyes, filled his head.

Elise nodded. “Yes. And that, in case you're wondering, would be the source of the bad blood between our nests. Conrad had Vincent sent back to my sire, assuming he belonged to him, with the message we were no longer welcome on his turf. His right, I suppose, but I do know a lot of people felt hard done by the fact we were
all
being tarred with the same feather. Conrad's parties were always a sure bet for a snack, we'd always been welcome there before and this was the first time there'd ever been any real trouble. It didn't seem terribly fair, but Vincent had had the very bad luck to attempt to hit on one of Conrad's special pets. I guess some people just don't like to share their toys, you know what I mean?”

“What happened after that?” Marc asked, trying not to get distracted by the timing, trying not to wonder too much about the identity of Conrad's “special pet”, trying not to get angry, all over again, at the possibility that Vincent might have attacked both his sister
and
his mother. Hell, if he were Conrad, he'd have wanted to bite his face off, too.

“Oh, lordy, all hell broke loose, that's what happened. Audrey was raked over the coals but good. If anyone
should
be scarred by the treatment they received, it's her. Not that I didn't understand the need for a reprimand. Order must be maintained in some fashion. She'd flouted the rules, disregarded protocol, endangered our secrecy, damaged the nest's reputation
and
alienated the most powerful vampire in the region. But, even so, the treatment she received was more than a bit on the harsh side. As part of her punishment, our sire ordered her to destroy Vincent—personally. I guess she just couldn't do it, but she faked it somehow and, as far as I can tell, kept him locked up for the better part of forty years. How she managed either of those tricks—faking his death and keeping him fed all that time—I don't even want to guess. Once old Rupert bought the farm, however, she must have figured it was safe to let Vincent back out. She probably wanted someone she could trust watching her back, too, 'cause, like I said, things have been a little tense around the old nest lately and she
is
one of the ambitious ones. Can't say I blame her too much for that, though. If I'd been through what she has, I wouldn't be willing to be topped by anyone else either.”

“I see.” Marc nodded grimly. Elise had been right. Now that he'd heard the story, he did feel sorry for Vincent—and for his sire, as well—but that changed nothing.. His need for vengeance was as strong as ever. He studied the portrait a little while longer, taking in the languid, sated look in the young man's eyes. Anger churned suddenly in his stomach. “You slept with him, didn't you?”

Elise blinked in surprise at the question. An amused smile curved her lips. “Why, yes, sugar, as it happens, I did. Shocking of me, I know, but you're not my first.”

Marc felt himself blush. “That's
not
why I'm asking.” Wasn't it, really? The urge was there, all right, the need to possess her, to stake his claim, to keep her all to himself. It was faint, as yet, but unmistakable and it left him horrified. “How do I know you don't still have feelings for him?” he asked, doing his best to ignore his own feelings. “How do I know you're telling me the truth about this guy? You could be protecting him.”

Elise's face grew dark. “Clearly, I'm
not
protecting him, am I? Otherwise, I wouldn't have told you any of this. Do I still feel sorry for him? Yes, Marc, I do. He didn't deserve what Conrad did to him. Audrey didn't deserve what happened to her, either. But, if Vincent attacked your sister the other night simply because he scented her and knew she belonged to Conrad, then I'm very much afraid those forty years have driven him over the edge. He could be a danger to us all now, if that's the case. He could start an all-out war between our nests and, frankly, given the mess we're all in right now, we don't need any more enemies. Besides,” She fixed him with a level gaze. “I'm not exactly a fool, you know. You've got connections that could be useful to me and I figure if I do you a favor now, maybe someday you'll do one for me.”

Marc nodded. “You got it. Anything you ever need, you let me know. Just tell me where I can find him.”

“There's an old bootlegger's cave out near Ocean Beach, where the park meets the water. If you go out there looking for him…well, you probably won't want to go alone. You may be stronger than he is, but he's got crazy on his side, plus he's used to the place. Take someone you can trust, if there is such a thing. The entrance to the cave is pretty well hidden, which it would have had to be, you know? Hardly anybody knows about it or remembers it anymore—other than those of us who've been around for a while. I'd draw you a map, but I'd rather not. I don't want there to be any physical evidence linking me to this. If anyone asks, you did not hear
any
of this from me. If Audrey finds out I told you about it…well, I don't even want to think about that. But, anyway, that's where she's kept him all these years, so it's likely he's still holed up in the vicinity. Gotta hand it to the sister. It was sure enough the last place anyone would ever think to look for him. Can you imagine it, though? Caged up, all on his own, for forty years with nothing but salt air to breathe? No wonder the boy's gone mad. It probably would have been kinder if she
had
killed him.”

“I'm sure you're right,” Marc said as he walked back over to where she stood, trying hard
not
to imagine what it must have been like. “And, now, I just have one last question for you.”

Elise looked faintly surprised. “What more do you want to know? I've already told you every useful thing I can think of.”

“You haven't told me this. When can I see you again?”

At that, she smiled. “Well, sugar, you know where to find me, don't you? Now that you've gotten what you came for, you're not gonna make a stranger of yourself, I hope?”

“Not a chance,” he said as he bent his head to kiss her. “I plan on our getting even better acquainted.”

 

 

“Where have you been?” Julie demanded, practically pouncing on Marc the minute he walked through the door. “Where the hell have you been?”

Marc glanced at his sister tiredly. “Back off, Jules. I've had a long night.” A long night and nothing to eat for two days. Not a hugely long time, but he was feeling it. It fueled his guilt, his impatience, his need to find Conrad before the sun rose again or another night passed.
Agony. He has to be in agony.
It was the same thought he'd had, repeatedly, since he'd first learned of Conrad's possible predicament, but tonight, for some reason, just thinking of Conrad made his teeth itch—and not with any kind of hunger he recognized.

“A long night?” Julie smacked him on the shoulder. “You've had a long night? Is that really all you have to say? Well, you know what? I've had a long night too, Marc.
And
a long day. I couldn't sleep I've been so worried about you.”

Marc snarled impatiently. “I said, back off! And where the fuck is Damian? I need to talk to him. Now.”

“He is right here,
chavalo
,” a quiet voice purred from one of the doorways. “And not yet deaf.”

Surprised, Marc spun around to face him. Damian's eyes narrowed as he studied Marc's face. His mouth tightened. He did not look pleased. “Well,
hijo mio
? May I assume you had good hunting?”

Marc nodded. “I need a car. Do we have one?”

“A car?” Julie squeaked. “Are you kidding? You just got back. Where are you going
now
?”

“He is going nowhere,
chica
,” Damian answered, his voice even quieter than before. “And neither are you. I think it will be best if you both stay here. Give me the address, Marc. I'll go.”

“Like hell you will.” Marc shook his head.
Vampires I thought were loyal to each other unto death…threatening to rip each other's heads off.
Elise's words repeated in his mind. He couldn't trust Damian to go after Conrad alone. Who knew what he might decide he had to do to him? Wasn't it he who said that if any of them found Conrad in a weakened condition they might find it impossible not to kill him? Why should he be an exception to that rule? Why should any of them be? In fact, given the way he'd been feeling these past few days…

No. It has to be me. I have to be the one to get to him. Now. Tonight. It must be tonight.

Damian's eyes flashed dangerously. “Marcus, I do
not
have time to waste on this foolishness. Tell me where I must go. Now,
niño
.”

“Okay, what's going on here?” Julie's gaze shifted from one to the other of them. “Why are you two acting this way? Are you saying you found him, Marc? What are we waiting for?”

Marc ignored her. “All right,” he said nodding at Damian. “We'll both go then. Together.”

“Both?” Julie smacked his arm again. “Screw that noise. Don't even think about leaving me out of this. I'm going too.”

Marc frowned at her. His sister might well be the only person he could trust, and perhaps that's what Elise had been suggesting—that he take Julie with him—but Julie was also the last person he wanted to have tagging along tonight. Not when they were going after Vincent. “Oh, no, you're not,” he told her, confident Damian would at least back him up on that. “Forget it, Jules. You're gonna stay right where you are.”