In the Dark (32 page)

Too soon she felt Conrad pulling away from her. “There,” he murmured kissing her so softly it was like a prayer. “That's enough now, I think. How do you feel?”

Suzanne's eyes fluttered open.
He looks tired
, she thought as she smiled up at him.
Tired but content. Me, too.
“Happy. And sleepy.”

“Yes.” He nodded in agreement. “I'm sure you're very sleepy. Don't try and fight it, for that's just what your body needs now, and a very long, strange sleep it may seem, but it will not last forever. Remember that, if you start to worry, if it starts to feel as though it will never end. It will not last forever and I will be right here with you throughout it all, so you have nothing to fear. You won't be alone. You'll never be alone again. And, when you awaken, the world will be yours—a new world,
chérie
, yours to explore and enjoy. Just as you wanted.”

Suzanne nodded. She wanted to tell him that things already seemed different, that she felt as though she was already in this new world of his, but she hadn't the words. As she sank deeper and deeper into sleep she knew only that the room, and everything around her, seemed somehow to be growing brighter, warmer, sharper somehow. As though the very air was alive, buzzing with a strange, indescribable energy.

There was a sizzling, singing sensation in her blood that seemed to spread and grow until she was certain she could feel it vibrating in every last cell. She could hear things, too, like the blinking of her eyes, the subtle rustle of her hair as Conrad adjusted the pillows beneath her head, the beating of her heart as it slowed and slowed and slowed…

And then, just as she was about to surrender to sleep and peace and contentment, she heard something else. She heard two somethings—very soft, very distant, very distinct. Two tiny hearts, so very new they'd only just begun to beat.

 

“Conrad?”

At the sound of her voice, Conrad glanced at the girl in surprise. He'd thought her already asleep. “What is it,
chérie
? Don't try to talk now. You should be resting.” Her eyes were open. The uneasy expression lurking in their depths filled him with dark foreboding. “What's wrong?”

“What about…what about babies?”

He stared at her in disbelief.
Not this again?
“We talked about that,
mignonne
,” he reminded her sternly. “Did we not?” This time they had. This time they definitely had. This time he'd taken
nothing
for granted. He'd told her, damn it. “We do not have children.
You
cannot have children. You said you understood. You said you were certain.”

“I know,” she sighed, her voice failing. “I do. I did. But…what if I were…if I were pregnant…what would happen then? Would the babies still be human? Or would they be like you?”

“Nothing would happen.” Maybe she just needed to hear it explained? “There would be no babies. Our bodies are constantly regenerating themselves, you see, which is why we don't age, why we heal so quickly. New life…it cannot develop under such circumstances. Even if it were possible for you to conceive now, which, I assure you, it is not, the pregnancy could not advance. I imagine your body would simply reabsorb whatever…material…had been created.”

“So…so you're saying…they'd die?”

“They? They would never even
live
. So how could they die? Now, stop worrying about such things,
mignonne
. Sleep. It's just the paralysis that's bothering you, perhaps,” he suggested hopefully. “It plays tricks with your brain, sometimes, I know, but I promise you, there is nothing for you to worry about. We'll talk when you're awake again.”

She shook her head, rocking it slowly back and forth on the pillow. “You said…you said if I don't feed…”

Conrad smiled in relief. “Is that what's worrying you? Never fear,
chérie
,” he soothed, softly stroking her hair, her face. “I will help you with that. I will help you with everything. It's far easier than you think. You'll do fine.”

Her eyes closed. A faint frown remained. “But…if I don't…I'll stay human, then? And…and could have the babies?”

Once again, Conrad stiffened. “Is that what you want now? You've changed your mind? You want to have babies after all? You want to be human?” He should have known.

A tear leaked out from beneath her closed eyelid. “No, that's not what I want. I want you. Just you.”

“Then what is this all about?”

“Scared,” she murmured, lips trembling. “Hold me.”

Conrad did as she asked. Wrapping his arms around her, he whispered in her ear, “You will feed,
mignonne
, I swear it. I will not allow it to be otherwise. You will complete the change and everything will be fine. Everything will be just as it should be. I have said I would give you forever and I will.”

One last troubled sigh broke from her lips and then she was still. Conrad continued to hold her but his mind and his heart were in flux and he could find no peace.

“I'm too old for this, perhaps,” he mused. It had all seemed so much simpler once. The weight of the changelings' regrets had been so much easier to bear. Or maybe it hadn't either. Maybe he had just chosen to forget how it was. Maybe it had always been this way. After all, this was not the first time something like this had happened to him, was it?

“You might have told me about this sooner,” Damian had muttered, gazing at him reproachfully. “I had a right to know what it was I was giving up.”

“I'm sorry, my dear.” Conrad stared at him in dismay. “It never occurred to me that you would be expecting to have children someday. With whom would you have had them, caro mio? One usually requires a woman's help for such an undertaking, does one not?”

“Something might have been arranged,” the younger man replied stiffly. “It would not have been the first time that one such as I contrived to father a child.” Though he tried hard not to show it, both his tone and his expression betrayed his badly injured pride.

Conrad sighed. “And now I've hurt your feelings.”

Dipping his head, Damian stared down at his body. He spread his arms in a helpless gesture and muttered, “I just feel as though I've been…as though I've been neutered. Why did you not just cut off my balls, while you were at it? At least, then, I would look as useless as I feel.”

Conrad winced. “Does it help at all to know we are all in this condition? None of us can reproduce as humans do. I can no longer father children either, you know.”

Damian shrugged. “How does that help? You had children once, did you not?”

“Once,” Conrad agreed. “A very long time ago.”

“So, then, what did you give up? Nothing.”

But what Conrad had lost in becoming Vampire was not something he wished to discuss, not even with Damian. Closing the distance between them, he took Damian's chin between his fingers and gently forced him to raise his head. “I'm sorry, mi amor. I never meant to disappoint you. How can I make it up to you? Tell me what I must do.”

“There is nothing to do,” Damian muttered, his voice sulky, his eyes refusing to meet with Conrad's. “It has already been done.”

“Would it have mattered?” Conrad asked quietly. “If you'd known, would it have changed things? Would you have chosen not to come away with me?”

At that, Damian did look up, his eyes startled, tears sparkling on his lashes. “How can you ask? Of course it would not.” He shook his head fiercely. “Nothing matters to me, mi amor. Do you not know this? Nothing but you.”

Conrad sighed. He gazed sadly at the sleeping girl beside him, wondering if she, too, might feel that way about him when she woke…and, if so, for how long?

“You may be right,
mignonne
,” he murmured softly. “Love might indeed be all any of us needs, but only if it lasts, and it so seldom seems it does.”

Chapter Seventeen

Present Day

Marc climbed out of the car and took a look around. The night was cool, foggy, quiet. The smell of salt hung heavy in the still air. It stung at his eyes and burned his nose and lungs when he tried to get his bearings. Elise's suggestion, that he try and imagine what it would be like to breathe this in for forty years, came to mind. But he didn't want to imagine something like that. He didn't even want to imagine what three weeks of it would have been like
. Agony. Sheer agony
.

“How the hell are we gonna do this?” he muttered. Vincent could be hiding anywhere out here—a hundred vampires could be hiding here—and they'd have no way of knowing it. Just like in Elise's loft, his sense of smell was confused and thwarted. All the usual scents were masked. It could be a trap. It could be a lost cause—and how much time would they end up wasting before they found that out? “It's hopeless.”

“Quiet,” Damian ordered as he, too, glanced around, his expression thoughtful. “Leave that here for now,” he told Julie, indicating the cooler she'd just taken from the car. “We can come back for whatever we need.” Then he locked the car and handed her the keys. “Hold onto these for me.” Then he turned away, heading off with the air of someone who knew exactly what he was looking for. “Come on. It has to be this way.”

“Wait. How do you know where you're going?” Marc called after him.

“Elementary, my dear Marc,” he called back. “Just think like a bootlegger.”

“Do you know what he's talking about?” Julie whispered, clutching Marc's arm as they trailed after Damian.

Marc shook his head. “Not a fucking clue.”

Julie bit her lip. “It's kinda weird, isn't it? He seems like he knows exactly where he's going.”

“Really weird.” Marc sighed. He just hoped weird was all it was.

Damian stopped and motioned them forward. “Here we are,” he said, not bothering to disguise the triumph in his voice.

“Weirder and weirder,” Julie sighed.

“Come on,” Damian called to them again, ducking his head to enter the cave, the twins still following, even more reluctantly now.

The air inside the cavern was drier and cooler and considerably less salty. But that was not nearly the improvement Marc had been hoping for, because that just made the other scents—of blood and death and putrefaction—stand out all the more clearly.

“Holy crap,” he muttered, trying to let his eyes adjust to the odd greenish phosphorescence that appeared to have been painted along the cave's walls and ceiling. The assault on his senses was sickening. It was an effort just to keep from heaving. His heart had begun to pound with a violence he'd never felt before, as though it wanted to jump from his chest.

Definitely there'd been vampires here, at some point. But who or when—that was still a mystery. His senses were too salt-strained and overwhelmed to make sense of any of it.

“I don't like this,” Julie whimpered. “I really,
really
don't.”

“No more talking,” Damian warned. “Stay close.”

For what felt like several minutes the cavern continued, solid rock on either side, nothing but an inky stench ahead. A sudden gust of somewhat fresher air wafting across their faces was the first sign they were getting close to something. Then the rock wall on their right opened suddenly to reveal a shallow chamber lit by the dim, green, fluorescent glow. Marc's nostrils flared. The rank smell of burned and rotting flesh was stronger here. A low growling caught at his ears. He turned toward the sound.

Near the center of the room, a lone figure crouched, huddled over something lying crumpled on the ground. As he stood, rising cautiously into a defensive stance, Marc recognized the once-handsome young vampire from Elise's painting. “Vincent.”

“How do you know me?” Vincent snarled. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“Th-that's him,” Julie said, pointing a shaky finger. “That's the guy who grabbed me.”

At the sound of her voice, Vincent swung around to face her, focusing with his one good eye. “You again,” he growled, ignoring the others now to stare at her, his face twisted in hatred. “Why aren't you dead? You're supposed to be dead. He said so.” For an instant longer he glared at her, then he charged.

“Watch out!” Marc reached for Julie's hand, intending to pull her behind him, to drag her out of the way. But he moved too slow and missed. Julie fell back a step, her eyes widening with fear, her fangs descending, but not quickly enough, coming abruptly to a halt as the weathered rock wall at her back put an end to her flight.

Vincent leaped toward Julie and Marc lunged to intercept him; again he missed as his feet lost their purchase on the rocky ground. Vincent slithered across, his jaws wide, his fangs aimed at Julie's neck. For a split second too long, Marc hesitated, frozen in place by panic and dread. He roared with fury, but before he could stir, Damian flashed past him. With a move too quick for Marc to see, he pulled Vincent away from Julie and snapped his neck.

Just like that, it was over. The vampire fell to the floor in a heap.

“Wh-why did you
do
that?” Julie gasped, her expression one of horrified dismay. “Damian—no. No, are you crazy?”

“Are
you
crazy?” Marc turned on his sister, furious with her on Damian's behalf, even more furious with himself for freezing, for not being quicker, for the confusion of feelings that was slowing down his every thought, his every reflex. “Jules, he just saved your freakin' life. What the hell are you complaining for?”

Julie waved an impatient hand at Vincent's still form. “Look at him, Marc. How's he ever gonna lead us to Conrad now? Wasn't that the point of coming here?”

She's right
. Marc's mouth went dry. “Damian?”