Now Comes the Night (35 page)

“You know what? I don’t even care. That’s not even what I meant. This time…this time
I’m
the one walking out. You think you can just keep doing this to me—giving me hope, giving me a reason to believe that you care, or that we have a future together, and then just snatching it all away again. But you can’t. I won’t let you.”

“That’s not fair. You’ve always known what my situation is. You’ve always known I could never offer you more than what I was already giving you. I’ve told you so, over and over again.”

Paul laughed. It was not a happy sound. “Yeah, I know you have. And that’s something else that’s never gonna change either, is it? Not unless
I
change it. It’s like this thing with you and him. As long as you keep taking it, he’s never gonna stop abusing you.”

“It’s not like that. You don’t understand. How many more times must I say it?”

“Hey, you know what? You can say it all you like. I don’t care anymore. It
is
like that. And d’you know how I know that? ’Cause I see the same thing happening with us. As long as I keep taking this crap from you, as long as I keep letting you play me like you’ve been doing, that’s all I’m ever gonna get from you either. But you know what? This is it. You’re right. It is over. I’ve had enough. I’m outta here. Have a nice life.”

Without another word, Paul swept from the room. Damian let him go, closing his eyes against the despair welling up inside him once again, wincing as the front door slammed shut. The house echoed with the sound.

“Uncle Damian?” Julie’s voice broke the silence. “Are you all right?”

“No,
chica
, I am
not
all right.” Damian opened his eyes and glared at the girl. “And what are you doing down here again? I thought I told you to go and pack your room?”

Julie scowled reproachfully back at him. “I heard what Paul said to you. He wants you to leave us. You’re not going to, are you?”

“Shame on you,
chica
. I should hope you’d know better than to listen to other people’s conversations. Have I taught you nothing about manners? Whatever Paul and I discussed was private. It does not concern you.”

“Yes, it does,” Julie insisted. “It does too concern me. He wants to take you away from us. You’re not going, are you?”

Damian sighed. “No. I’m not going anywhere.” But a thrill of doubt worked its way through him just the same. For, like so many other crucial decisions in his life, this decision was not his to make. “At least I don’t think I am.”

“What do you mean you don’t
think
you are?”

“Never mind what I mean by it! Just… Just go. Run along now, child, and stop pestering me. I’m sure you can find a better way to occupy your time than spying on the people you should be minding. And, in any case, I have to go and talk to your grandfather. I won’t know anything until I do.”

Chapter Nineteen

December 24, 2009

Conrad paced the floor of his private study, feeling more like a caged animal than he had in at least a century. He should be content. No, what was he thinking? He should be jubilant. Everything was coming together, just as he’d wanted. His strength was returning. Georgia was placated. And Damian had finally agreed to give up this nonsense of insisting on separate quarters. He’d agreed to come home in the truest sense of the word. He’d agreed to commit himself to Conrad once again—in reality this time, not just as part of an act. What more could Conrad ask for?

And yet…he could not help feeling that things could have gone more smoothly than they had. That he could have somehow handled things with Damian better.

As it was, Damian had seemed moody and surprisingly annoyed with him, much more so than Conrad considered reasonable under the circumstances. Hadn’t moving into Conrad’s rooms been Damian’s idea in the first place? He had to know it was what Conrad wanted as well. He had to know it was only a matter of time before Conrad gave into his wishes, as he almost always did. So it was Georgia’s request that had served to expedite things, to ease the way for them to both get what they wanted. Why should Damian view that as a bad thing?

Or perhaps it was the mention of Christian that had upset Damian? It was regrettable, if that was the case, but there was nothing Conrad could do about it. Christian was not his favorite person either, but as Georgia’s spawn he was indubitably a member of clan Quintano and as such would be given the welcome he was entitled to.

Without warning, the door to the study was pushed open. Conrad spun around in surprise. There were not many people who dared even approach his private sanctum when that door was closed. Most shied away at the thought of disturbing him, very few chose to enter. Even fewer did so without knocking. “Marc. I didn’t realize you were at home this evening. It’s good to see you.”

“Thanks. It’s good to see you too,” Marc replied. “But do you have a minute? I kind of need to talk to you about something.”

“Of course.” Conrad waved Marc toward one of the armchairs and seated himself in the other. “Tell me. What’s on your mind?”

“The ferals.” Marc perched on the edge of his seat. His single eye fixed Conrad with an earnest gaze. “I’ve been working them really hard these past few weeks. I know they still have a ways to go, but they’re making great progress. I’m really proud of them.”

Conrad nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.” Pride was an emotion he understood. He was proud of the boy he’d raised, proud of the man that boy had become. Marc was everything Conrad could ever have wished for in a son. Loyal, dependable, brave—handsome, even with the eye patch—the kind of man who could be counted on to always do what he believed was right, no matter what the cost. The kind of man who might one day be trusted with the truth about himself and his sister, trusted to wield whatever unimaginable power he might someday come to inherit wisely and with restraint. Conrad was certain Marc’s mother would have been proud of her son too, had she lived. It pleased him to think that at least he’d been able to do that for her. It eased the guilt that was never far from his mind. “And I’m pleased you found something with which to occupy your time,” Conrad said, resisting the urge to ruffle Marc’s hair. It was hardly the kind of gesture a grown man would appreciate. “Something to take your mind off…other things.”

“Other things. Right.” Marc repeated the words quietly but an undercurrent in his tone caught Conrad’s ear. The boy sounded surprisingly bitter. Up until now, Marc had seemed to bear his deformity stoically, without a word of reproach. Not that Conrad would have blamed him if he had complained. He would have had every right to do so. As Marc’s sire, and even more so as his parent, it had been Conrad’s job to protect him, to save him from harm, not be the cause of it. Over the past several months their roles had been reversed. It was Marc who had helped save Conrad when his life hung in the balance. It was Conrad who’d let Marc down.

“Here’s the thing,” Marc said, leaning closer, peering at Conrad anxiously. “I think you’ll be impressed with the progress they’ve made. I mean, I know I still have more work to do with them, they aren’t where they need to be yet, but…they need a House, a family. I think it would help motivate them. That’s how Audrey roped them in, how she got them to do what she wanted. And, yeah, I understand they’ve made mistakes, they made some bad choices, but everyone deserves a second chance, don’t they?”

“Your compassion for these creatures does you credit.”

“They’re not creatures, damn it,” Marc snapped. “Why’s everyone always talking about them like that? They’re people. Same as you or me. It’s not their fault they got messed up. They didn’t ask for it to happen.”

Conrad struggled to control his temper.
So I’m no better now than a half-wild feral? I think not
. “I’m sure we can both agree that what happened to them is most unfortunate, not something to be wished on anyone.” At least his own House would be spared that fate, were something to happen to him. Even if his nest fell apart at that point, many of his spawn were strong enough to weather the storm and survive on their own, to form their own Houses, to become their own masters. In all likelihood they wouldn’t even get that as a choice. With Conrad out of the picture someone, most likely Georgia, would seize control of his family. She was the strongest, after all, and not even Damian could hope to stand against her.

But could Conrad trust Georgia to care for his loved ones after he was gone? Could he trust her to deal with Marc and Julie, with Damian, as he would want her to? Fairly. Compassionately. Without prejudice. It seemed unlikely. In fact, if she were anyone else, and if Conrad weren’t too weak at present to even make the attempt, he might have given serious thought to the idea of eliminating the threat she represented, of eliminating
her
, if it came to that. It might be the only way to protect the twins. The only way to protect Damian. He owed them that, didn’t he?

But he owed Georgia too. He owed her for this very life he now enjoyed. Long ago, when he’d been lost in a hellish existence, trapped in an endless cycle of desperation, bloodshed, self-loathing and disgust, she’d shown him a way out. She’d saved him from an eternity of anguish. He could never forget that, never completely repay her.

“So will you do it?” Marc’s voice cut into Conrad’s thoughts.

“I’m sorry, my mind wandered. What are we talking about? Do what?”

The muscles in Marc’s jaw bunched. “We’re talking about the ferals,” he gritted from between clenched teeth. “Will you take them in and give them a home, or won’t you?”

“I was under the impression I already had. Did I not give you the warehouse for just that purpose? Have I not instructed everyone that they are not to be harassed? What more do you wish me to do for them than that?”

Marc sighed. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for us, but it’s just not enough. They need a sire. They need someone they can look up to, someone who can take charge and lead them.” He hesitated for a moment then, dropping his gaze, he added quietly. “I need you to adopt them, to claim them as your own, or however it’s done. It’s the only way.”

“But they are
not
my own,” Conrad objected. “And claiming them as such would change nothing. I’m sorry, Marc, but you obviously understand far too little of our ways. What you ask is impossible. Vampires do not adopt one another and one’s lineage is not a question for debate. You either have a master or you do not. And if you do not, if your sire has died without leaving an obvious heir and no one from within his House has come forward to wrest control away from the others then no one from outside will be able to step in and do so either—not without first killing off anyone strong enough to stand on their own. In short, the House is doomed. The strongest, should they survive the inevitable chaos, might be able to come out of it with their minds intact, but it’s unlikely. Most will become feral, outcasts. What you’ve been attempting to do is laudable, but the plain fact is you are merely putting off the inevitable. These creatures cannot be redeemed. It’s not possible for them to willingly give their allegiance to another because such things are not in their control.”

“That’s not true! Audrey told them they could. Why would she say that if it wasn’t the case?”

“This is unbelievable.” Getting to his feet, Conrad resumed pacing. “Is this what things have come to? Is this my reward for indulging you? You would now take her word, the word of the monster who disfigured you, who tried to kill us both, over mine? I don’t care what she told them, Marc. If she said any of what you’ve implied, she was lying. And if they believed her, they’re even more foolish than I thought.”

“All right, fine, I didn’t mean to suggest that… But, there’s gotta be an exception, right? A way around it? I mean, can’t you just pretend? Like Damian did. When we first came here, he pretended we were his. No one questioned it. Why can’t you do the same?”

Conrad bit back a growl. He knew
that
had been a bad idea. Hadn’t he told Damian so at the time? Here was more proof he’d been right. “What Damian did was foolish, ill-considered and wrong, but it was not at all the same thing. For one thing, every member of my nest belongs to me by right, whether or not I made them. So the point was largely moot. He wasn’t suggesting you were not of my House, or my lineage. He wasn’t attempting to cut me out of the picture. He was merely making clear, in a way others might understand, that he had an interest in your well-being as well.”

“Okay, but what’s the difference? My point is, people believed him, right? And, when Julie and I were kids, didn’t you both act as our sire? I mean, we answered to both of you just the same. You both had our allegiance then, didn’t you? So it was just like having two sires, in a way. If you could do it for us, why can’t you just…treat the ferals the same way?”

“Because they’re
not
the same,” Conrad repeated wearily. “The two situations are completely different. How many more times must I tell you this? Why is it I am constantly having to repeat myself? I know you wish I would explain it to you in greater detail, Marc, but I can’t right now. You’ll just have to trust me.”

The bitterness was back in Marc’s voice when he asked, “Yeah? So what makes things so Goddamned different anyway? Is it the
Infragilis
thing? That’s what we are, right? That’s the big secret you’ve been keeping from Jules and me all this time, isn’t it?”

Conrad froze. “Where did you hear that term?”

“It doesn’t matter where I heard it. It’s true, isn’t it?”