To Curse the Darkness (17 page)

“That's not the same thing, and you know it. You
want
to kill her. It's not something you'll be forced to do.”

“I still cannot let you go through with this.” His expression was as determined as ever, but Julie could feel his resolve weakening. “It's a parent's job to look after his young, to care for and protect them, to do for them what they cannot do for themselves—not the other way around.”

Julie couldn't help but smile. “But it doesn't have to be that way forever.” She resisted the impulse to point out that she was no longer that young. It seemed childish to mention it. Given the differences in their respective ages, she doubted it was an argument she'd ever win anyway. “There has to be some point when things change, when the tables turn and you let others care for you. Don't you agree?”

Conrad shook his head. “I'm not yet so weak that I need to depend on others for support.”

“
Querido
,” Damian interjected suddenly. “Since when is it a weakness to accept help from those who love you? Did you think yourself weak when you sought my help in raising the children?”

Conrad spared him a brief, unhappy look—a look that suggested Damian was an idiot for even asking. “Yes. Of course I did. And so I was. Weak. Desperate. Afraid. Don't pretend now that you did not resent me for it. That you didn't hate me for placing your life in jeopardy. I know for a fact that you did.”

Tears glinted in Damian's eyes as he turned away, muttering angrily to himself. Julie sighed. “Look, when you think about it, doesn't it make perfect sense? If Georgia hadn't saved you, you couldn't have saved us. I don't think I'm wrong about that, am I? Marc and I wouldn't be here right now either if it weren't for you. So why shouldn't it be my turn now? Let me save her; that way it all balances out and everyone's happy.”

Conrad shook his head. “No. It's bad enough that I could not protect your brother from that madwoman who abducted him. Or that I would not have been in time to save you the other night if others had not intervened. I've failed you both enough already. Do not ask me to do so again. I will not be the cause of any more pain.”

“But I won't
be
in danger.” Out of the corner of her eye, Julie saw Damian signal Christian to get Georgia. Her hopes rose slightly. Surely reminding Conrad of what was at stake could only help her cause. “I've talked to Christian about it,” she said, mentally crossing her fingers and hoping that she wasn't making a huge mistake by trusting him. “And it all seems pretty simple.” That was a lie, but Conrad didn't have to know that. Not that he looked like he believed it anyway.

“Nothing to do with this disease could ever be either simple or safe,” he replied in a voice devoid of emotion. “Everything to do with it carries risk, every action, every contact—no matter how slight. If I'd had any idea that Georgia was afflicted—” He paused and shook his head. “Well, obviously I'd have done many things differently. But I certainly would not have brought her here. When I think of all the people I've unknowingly endangered…” His voice trailed off as Christian re-entered the room, Georgia nestled in his arms. It was all Julie could do to keep from crying out in shock.

Georgia looked worn out. Aged. Shrunken. A grotesque caricature of the strong, beautiful, capable woman she'd been…was it only a few days ago? For the first time, Julie understood the reason for Conrad's fear. Anyone with half a brain should be afraid of something that could have this kind of effect.

For that matter, actually seeing the results for herself—that was almost enough to make Julie change her mind. Practically the only thing keeping her from jumping to her feet and running from the room was her body's refusal to obey her brain's commands. Her brain might be screaming flee, but her body had clearly determined that freeze was a far better strategy.

Her gaze shifted to Christian's face. He was looking aged as well, and more pressured than he'd seemed only a little while ago. He gazed back at her with a fearful, pleading, hopeless expression on his face, as though he knew just what she was thinking, how little she wanted to do this, how frightened she was. Come to think of it, he probably did know. She'd never had much of a poker face.

You're my only hope
…

As the memory of Christian's words to her earlier resurfaced in her mind, Julie had to stifle the inappropriate urge to laugh. But, oh, how she wished Marc were here right now. He'd appreciate the random
Star Wars
reference—though it was likely they were the only members of their bizarrely ancient extended family who ever really would.

It was a strange way to feel, to know you were exactly where you belonged, surrounded by people who loved you or who shared the same blood, and yet still feel completely out of place, completely alone. But that had always been true for the two of them, even if they hadn't always known it. Perhaps that was another reason she needed to do this—not just for Conrad or Christian, or for anyone other than herself.

And maybe that was why Marc had gotten so caught up with his campaign to save the ferals. It could be the two of them needed that—to use their “specialness” to make a difference in the lives of others. To prove their usefulness and find their place in the world. To learn to fit in and, in time perhaps, to feel less different.

“Conrad,” Damian said, speaking up suddenly and with such quiet urgency that Julie glanced at him in surprise. He was staring worriedly at Christian. “I-I didn't think. She's his sire. Is it wise for him to have that much contact with her while she's in such a weakened state?”

Conrad surged to his feet. “Give her to me,” he demanded, advancing on Christian, who shrank back in alarm but made no effort to stop Conrad from transferring Georgia to his own arms.

Julie sighed. So much for Conrad's insistence that “every contact carries risk”. She'd love to point out the cognitive dissonance between his words a minute ago and his actions right now, but she doubted he'd be impressed. And while she wouldn't go so far as to say that “do as I say, not as I do” had been a major tenet of Conrad's childrearing philosophy, it certainly wasn't a concept with which he was unfamiliar.

Conrad pressed a kiss to Georgia's brow. “Ah,
ciccia
,” he murmured in a voice made rough by tenderness and grief. “It breaks my heart to see you suffering like this. What can I do to help you? Tell me.”

Georgia opened filmy blue eyes. “Conrad.” A tremor seized her and she clutched at him for a moment. Then her mouth firmed. “Is this the end? Have you come to put me out of my misery? Is that why you're here?”

The brave tilt to Georgia's chin brought tears to Julie's eyes, but not enough to obscure her vision, or to make her miss the way Conrad's gaze faltered.

“I-I…I don't know,” he stammered at last. “Is that what you need from me? Is that what you want me to do?”

Christian shifted nervously. And, in Julie's stomach, the butterflies took wing once again. She'd never even considered that Georgia might not want to live. What if, this whole time, she'd been looking at everything from the wrong perspective? If Georgia asked Conrad to end her life, did Julie—or anyone, for that matter—have the right to force him to refuse her? And what about Conrad himself? Killing her would destroy him—there was no doubt in her mind. But what if it wasn't any easier for him to have to live with the guilt of
not
having killed her? What would they all do then?

Georgia's head rocked back and forth for a moment, as though she was debating the question with herself. Finally, a deep sigh broke from her lips. “No,” she whispered, her voice faint and pleading. She lifted a hand as though to touch Conrad's face, but her strength waned and her arm fell limp. She turned her head, hiding her face against his chest. “No,” she said again, almost a whimper now. “Not yet, please. If there's any chance, any chance at all. I want to live.”

Conrad lifted his head. His expression agonized, he stared across the room, fixing Damian with a look that combined grief and guilt, confusion and despair. Damian's expression was an equally heartrending mixture of pain, reluctance and fear.

Julie blinked back her tears. So at least that was one question answered, but it left them all right back where they'd started. And, as much as she hated the broken look in Conrad's eyes, the fear in Georgia's voice, the helpless conflicted expression on Damian's face, even Christian's misery, she couldn't deny that she was also feeling the smallest sense of satisfaction. She'd been right all along.

Hadn't she always known it would come to this? Hadn't she always sensed, somewhere deep inside, that the day would come when she would have to sacrifice everything for those she loved?

It made her happy to know she could do something to ease their pain. And it was oddly comforting to realize that Conrad and Damian both loved her so much they would never ask her to do this, not even when the act of keeping silent was clearly killing them both. But the fact that they were
this frightened
on her behalf—that was not reassuring. Not even a little.

If she could safely save Georgia's life—a task that might prove to be a bigger “if” than Julie had ever imagined—it would solve everyone's problems. If not…she'd only make things worse. She'd end up compounding the hurt her loved ones were already feeling and tear her own family apart in the process. No wonder Damian was still so surprisingly close-mouthed, or that Conrad remained so stubbornly resistant. Losing Georgia was not the only thing that could break them. Losing her would be just as bad.

That wasn't just pride talking, or ego. Losing her meant blaming each other—for what they could have or should have done, or not done, to stop her. It meant losing each other and losing Marc too, when he learned what had happened. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she realized it would not be
just as bad
. In a lot of ways, losing her might even be worse.

But that was still no excuse not to try.

The door to the hall was thrust open suddenly. Armand paused in the doorway and scanned the room, his impatient gaze skipping over everyone else until he found Julie. His eyes widened slightly; no doubt he was surprised to find her kneeling on the floor beside an empty chair. She counted it a good thing that she wasn't standing. The look in his eyes when their gazes met was so intense she wasn't certain her legs would have held her up if they had to. As it was, she felt momentarily light-headed, as though the heat that flared between them had burned up all the oxygen in the room.

As he hurried to her side, Julie rose awkwardly to her feet. She took a quick breath and willed herself to be strong, mentally ordering her heart and her brain to hold it all together. Sure, she loved the idea of finally being able to let down her guard. The thought of leaning against Armand and allowing his strength to support her—right now, that was feeling like the best idea she'd had in a really long while. But it would also send entirely the wrong message to everyone else.

“You're back,” she said stupidly as he took her hand and threaded his fingers with hers.

Armand nodded. “Are you all right?”

She glanced at their joined hands and smiled. She was now. She could feel his concern vibrating through their connection. “Yes, but if you're planning to stay, we need to get a few things straight. I have to save Georgia, and I need you to understand that.”

Armand smiled wryly. “Of course you do. Is that supposed to surprise me?”

“I don't know. But I'm not playing around. And I don't have the time or the energy to argue about it. If you're staying, I'm going to need you to support me. So, if you have any problems with that—”

“Stop.” Armand squeezed her hand. “I don't wish to argue with you either,
chérie
. Just know that I'm here now and I will do everything I can to take care of you. Is that understood?”

It wasn't really. What exactly did he mean to do? Whatever it was, it was important that he not interfere. This risk was hers to take. She couldn't let anyone stand in her way, not even him.

She opened her mouth to say so, but he stopped her with a shake of his head. “No arguing, remember?”

“Listen,” Damian said wearily, “This is all very well,
chica
. You make these grand pronouncements and insist you understand the risks you're taking. And, yes, on the face of it, the idea sounds quite noble. Saving someone's life, protecting those you care about from heartache, these are worthy goals. But how exactly do you intend to accomplish this feat? I assume there's a plan?”

At the sound of his voice, Julie started. She glanced around the room, guiltily aware of the fact that, in the few minutes that had passed since Armand's arrival, she'd allowed herself to get far too distracted. All the admonishments she'd received about
Invitus
—about how dangerous they were, how they shouldn't be trusted or underestimated, how one should never turn one's back on one—had clearly been wasted on her. While she'd been fixating on how good Armand's hand felt clasped with hers, Conrad could have decided to take matters into his own hands. He could have preemptively killed not just Georgia but Christian too.

Luckily, he hadn't. He had laid Georgia down on the daybed, which Christian had made up earlier, and was seated beside her, looking sad and defeated, while Christian hovered nervously nearby, wearing an anxious, unhappy expression.

“A plan?” Julie repeated the word blankly. “Why, yes, of course there is.” She just wasn't sure what it was.

“Fine then,” Damian continued, looking grimly determined. “Tell us about it. If it is indeed as safe and simple as you say, then I'm sure we'll all feel much better about your proceeding with it.”