To Curse the Darkness (27 page)

“You never know.” He wanted so badly to confide in her, but once those words were spoken, things would never be the same between them.

Elise gnawed on her lip for a moment, looking as hesitant as he felt. Marc made himself wait, letting the silence work on her nerves. “What's really going on, Marc?” she asked at last, cracking first as he knew she would. “I've talked to some of the people here and I don't understand. What are you doing with them?”

“I'm not doing anything. I've just been taking care of them.”

“Stop that,” Elise snapped. “Don't play with me. You
know
what I'm talking about—you have to. All this stuff they told me about what you're doing here…it's not possible.”

Marc hesitated. Impossible? Yeah, he'd heard that before. Too many times. “So what do you think is going on?”

“I wish I knew. You hunt me down when you know I'm trying to stay lost. You drag me back here—and for what?”

“I told you. I want to keep you safe. Why can't you just trust me? I know what I'm doing.”

“Then explain it to me! Because as far as I can tell, you're nothing but a little boy playing games, messing with things that are better off being left alone and giving no thought at all to the fact that even games can have consequences.”

“Don't you think I know that?”

“No, Marc, I don't think you do. You're so used to Quintano having your back that I don't think you realize how different it is for the rest of us.”

Marc thought about mentioning his eye again. That had been a really big consequence, as far as he was concerned. Having Conrad's “protection” hadn't helped him any there, had it? If anything, Marc's association with Conrad had been what caused Audrey to target him.

Maybe it was time he told Elise the truth. After all, Conrad had already told both Julie and Armand; Christian and Georgia knew the truth now too. That meant the number of people who were keeping this secret had doubled overnight. And no one had died yet. Maybe he could risk telling just a few more.

For that matter, maybe there were benefits to letting people know the truth. Not only would they be better able to protect themselves, but they could give him information he didn't already have, advise him on sensitive issues he probably had no idea about, maybe even save him from making critical errors out of ignorance. It could be a
good
thing to have people he could confide in and whom he could trust to tell him what he needed to know—unlike Conrad and Damian, who still seemed far too enamored of secrets.

Marc thought about that for a minute longer. He was sure Hawk would be able to handle the truth—he'd already put most of the pieces of that puzzle together on his own anyway. Drew had probably figured out a few things as well, and he'd proved to be a useful ally in the past. Marc might as well get everything out in the open and clear the air between them.

As for Elise, perhaps there was no pressing need to tell her, but he wanted to. More than almost anything else, he wanted her to trust him. And perhaps the quickest way to gain someone's trust was by trusting them first.

“Funny thing about all these supposed impossibilities,” he said as he lifted the patch that covered his eye. He had to blink a couple of times before his vision cleared, but even blurred, he could see well enough to read the shock on her face as he met her gaze with both eyes. “Sometimes they're not quite as impossible as everyone supposes.”

She stared at him, her face gone white. “I don't understand. You told me your eye was gone. You said Audrey took it. Damn it,
she
told me she took it. What games are you playing?”

“No games. She took it. She sent it to Conrad in a box. It was definitely gone. A couple of months later, it grew back.”

“Impossible!”

“There's that word again.” Marc smiled as he put on his thickest Spanish accent and intoned, “I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Elise shook her head. “Don't talk nonsense. You know exactly what I mean. Eyes don't grow back.”

“And yet…”

“It's a fake. That's the only logical explanation. Why are you doing this?”

“It's not a fake.” Marc stepped closer, trapping her against the desk. “Look as close as you want. I'd invite you to touch it, but I'd really rather you didn't. I'm a little squeamish about it yet. Besides, just because it's healed doesn't mean it can't get re-injured. And growing it back wasn't the most comfortable thing I've ever had to endure. I sure as hell don't want to risk having it poked out again.”

“If it's not a fake, then you were lying when you said it was gone.”

“Was I? And Audrey too? Why would either of us do that?”

“How am I supposed to know the answer to that? To get my sympathy, maybe? To disarm me by making me think you're less of a threat? Or, in Audrey's case, to convince me she was desperate for my money—desperate enough to hurt me, too, if I didn't hand it over to her.”

“You're not thinking this through. Up until now, your argument has been that I'm too weak to protect you and too dependent on Conrad to stand on my own. You were already disarmed—you never saw me as a threat.”

“Oh, sugar, that's so not true. I've
always
been afraid of you.”

“Well, stop it! There's no reason to be. I'd never hurt you.”

Elise said nothing, but the distrust in her eyes made the words unnecessary.

Marc shook his head. “What about Audrey then? You said she came to see you and told you what she'd done to me. The same story, right? So what do you think—that we cooked it up together?”

“No, but…”

“But what? Those are your choices, Elise. Either we've both been telling you the truth all along, or we're conspiring with each other to lie to you—for some reason no one can explain. Which do you think is more likely?”

“Neither!” Elise insisted. “There's nothing about this whole situation that strikes me as being likely.”

Marc nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I guess you're right about that. Poor choice of words on my part. Because from everything I've learned, everything I've read or been told, there's nothing about my situation that could ever be termed ‘likely'. But with all of that, it's still the truth.” He backed off a step and motioned her toward the desk chair. “Here, have a seat. Let me tell you a story.”

* * * * *

Dawn was breaking when Conrad turned away from the window, letting the drapes fall back into place. Instead of heading into his bedroom, he pulled a book from one of the shelves and settled on the couch. Dawn or no dawn, he wasn't yet ready for sleep. It had been a long night, a very difficult night. He shuddered as he considered how disturbed his dreams would likely be as a result. Tired though he was, he could see no harm in putting that off for a little while.

He sighed heavily, shoving a hand through his hair, disgusted with the direction his thoughts were taking. When had he become so weak? He had no patience with such foolish sentimentality. Bad as they were, his dreams would not kill him. Lack of sleep, on the other hand, very possibly might. There was nothing to be gained by avoiding his bed.

As he was debating the subject with himself, the door to the suite edged open and Damian slipped into the room. Conrad glanced up at him inquiringly. “Well?”

Damian nodded. “She's doing much better. She's resting now. I made her promise she would text her brother as soon as she feels stronger and let him know she's all right.”

“You surprise me. I thought you were hoping he'd use her condition as an excuse to come back for more regular visits? Doesn't her texting him rather defeat that purpose?”

“Yes, well, perhaps I've changed my mind. If Marc is going to continue to be in so foul a mood, it might be better if he stays away,” Damian answered, averting his gaze as he crossed the room to curl up on the couch next to Conrad. Now both of them were acting as though it were still early in the evening instead of quite late. Excellent. Conrad sighed again. Perhaps Damian was also worried about bad dreams.

“I did not think his mood was so very foul,” Conrad pointed out. “He was angry. That was understandable and hardly unexpected. He had every right to feel that way. Under the circumstances, I thought him remarkably restrained. Only imagine how either of us might have reacted had we been in his position.”

Damian shuddered, and Conrad could not help but wonder if he was remembering one of the many times over the years that Conrad had flown into a rage. One of the too many times…

“He's changed,” Damian said at last.

“Yes, I know. They both have. I've been noticing that for some time now.”

That earned him a scowl. “Have you? You must have given the matter a great deal of thought.”

“Yes, of course. Haven't you?”

“No. Why should I have? Why should they have changed so much all of a sudden?”

“It's not sudden. Nor is it unexpected. Everyone changes at some point, do they not?”

“No. Not everyone. I feel the same about them as I always have.”

Conrad smiled. “I'm not surprised. You've been besotted from the start.”

“Unlike you, do you mean?”

“Not at all. I have been equally entranced, and still am. I suspect that's the entire reason I spared their lives as infants. I thought I was acting independently, making my own decisions. Clearly that was madness.”

“What? Such nonsense. Of course your decisions were your own.”

“You sound very sure of that.”

“I am. The situation was very straightforward. You're merely overcomplicating matters again, as usual.”

“Am I? How do you figure that?”

“They were infants, Conrad, and hardly capable of the kind of manipulation you're suggesting.”

“That may be true, but not even you could argue that my decisions were grounded in logic.”

“Not in logic, no. Instead I would say that you acted out of the goodness of your heart.”

Conrad laughed. “Even less likely.”

“Do you not remember how it was? How easy it would have been to kill them? They were tiny, helpless, entirely dependent upon us for everything. At the very beginning, in the days before we'd formed any real emotional bond with them, it would have been entirely
too
easy.”

“You're making my point for me, I think.”

Damian shook his head. “No, because one of the many things I have noticed about you over the years is that you often mistrust things if they appear to be too easy. That alone would have prejudiced you in their favor.”

Conrad shrugged. “Perhaps. There was also the small matter of the promise I'd given their mother. All the same, you make an interesting point. I'd never thought of it quite like that before. I'll allow that you may be right.”

“Of course I'm right. You needn't sound so surprised. I often am, you know.” Damian sighed. “I do wish I had some idea what might happen next, however.”

That, too, was something Conrad had given some thought to. “Well, here's one scenario we might consider. If they continue to grow in strength, as we must assume they will, they might eventually succeed in taking over control of this nest, or even splitting the entire House between them.”

Damian's eyes widened. “Why would they do such a thing?”

“I'm not saying it would be intentional, at least not in the beginning, but look at the influence Marc already wields over the ferals. It is unprecedented, as you know. They have no blood ties to him, yet they act as though they do.”

Damina nodded. “I know. We're lucky that no one has thought to question that.”

“As far as we know,” Conrad corrected. “We cannot relax our guard just yet.”

“Yes, of course. That goes without saying. But never mind that now. What does it have to do with the twins taking over
this
House?”

“It's possible that the ferals, having no sire, were easier for Marc to influence. But as his strength and his ability to influence expand, there may be others who will fall under his sway. As for why
this
nest, one reason is because the twins share my bloodline. It would be a natural place for it to start. It's become obvious in the last few days that Julie has already reached the point where she can consciously manipulate my thoughts. It has been a very unsettling experience.”

“I'm sure it has, but—”

“We talked about this earlier. It's probably been going on for years.”

“Without our ever having noticed?”

“I believe so. It's just that, as they've become stronger, it's become more obvious.”

“Yes.” Damian sighed once again. “I see what you mean.
Dios mio
.”

“In short, I do not think it at all unrealistic to suspect that there may come a point when everyone in the family will find themselves faced with a choice: continue to ally themselves with me, or follow one of the twins. Or the two of them together perhaps. Actually…” Conrad paused as a new thought occurred to him. “I'm not quite certain it would even be a matter of choice at that point. I imagine, were they somehow to succeed in joining forces in some fashion, the two of them would become…unstoppable.”

“Just like the legends always said, in fact.”

“Yes. Just like that.”

Damian stared anxiously at him for a moment. “
Querido
, much as it would ease my mind were our
niños
to become invulnerable, I hope you know that whatever happens, I, for one, will never desert you.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Conrad pulled him close. He was touched by the sentiment, but he could not help teasing, because really, how could either of them say for certain what the future might hold? “But I believe you left a little something off that last sentence, did you not?”