To Curse the Darkness (8 page)

Guilt washed over him. Elise was already awake. He'd planned to be awake before her. But who knew he'd sleep so soundly? He'd taken a few extra precautions before going to sleep—one in particular that he was not at all proud of—and he'd hoped to have the time to remove the evidence before she realized what he'd done.

It had not been his finest moment, but he had not been willing to risk losing her again—nor did he trust her not to sneak out if she awoke before him. It was clear his instincts had been correct, because that was exactly what she was trying to do: attempting to free herself from the handcuffs he'd used to keep her from escaping.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” he said as he climbed out of the makeshift bed he'd created out of a couple of armchairs. He crossed the room and laid what he hoped was a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You're going to hurt yourself.”

“No! Get away from me,” Elise cried in alarm, struggling even harder to free herself.

“Elise. Stop,” Marc said as he climbed onto the bed and attempted to pin her in place. “It's all right, sweetheart. It's just me!”

She stared up at him, breathing hard, her eyes wide with fear. “What do you want, Marc? Why are you here?”

Marc felt his heart sink. She was obviously awake. That, combined with the fact that she was not even a little relieved to see him could only mean one thing. “Well, fuck,” he said as he got back on his feet. He paced angrily around the small room, not entirely trusting himself to get within striking distance of her right now. “I guess that answers one question. So it
was
you who gave me up to Audrey, after all. Damn it, Elise. What did you do, huh? Did you tell her to go after Heather, knowing I couldn't help but try and save her? Do you have any idea what those goons did to her before I got there? Or what they did to me?”

“No,” Elise said, shaking her head emphatically. “No, no, no! It wasn't me. I don't know anything, I swear I don't. I don't even know who Heather is, and…and I didn't have
anything
to do with…with what happened to you. I didn't know about Audrey's plan until afterward.”

Marc met her gaze, not really buying her story, much as he wanted to. “Afterward? What's that supposed to mean?”

Elise licked her lips, tugging uselessly at her cuffs once more. “After Audrey…after she hurt you. She came and told me what she'd done. But that was the first I heard of it—I swear it was. She didn't tell me anything before then. I hadn't even talked to her in weeks!”

“Yeah? If that's true, why are you so frightened? You obviously think I'm here to hurt you. What's that about if it's not your guilty conscience acting up?”

She blinked at him in surprise. “Of course I think that. Why else would you be here?”

Marc laughed at that. “Strangely enough, I'm here to protect you. I've been going crazy for months worrying about you, afraid that you were in some kind of trouble—that maybe it was my fault if you were.”

“Protect
me
? You can't even protect yourself!”

Marc shrugged. “Well, that's where you're wrong. You'd be amazed by what I can do now.”

“That's not what your missing eye says.”

“Oh, ouch.” Marc took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. He pulled one of the armchairs up to the bed and sat. “You sure know how to hurt a guy, don't you? Look, I know it might not appear like I know what I'm doing, and maybe I didn't at the time, but Audrey took me by surprise. She figured out a way to target my weaknesses before I even knew what they were. But I'm a quick study. And, believe me, that's not gonna happen again. Not ever. But, I gotta say, that's some show of concern on your part. You hear about my eye—or you hear I've been injured, or whatever the truth of it was—and your first thought was to leave town without even waiting to see if I'm all right? I'm really touched.”

Elise's eyes flashed. “You know what, Marc? Screw you.” She shook the hand that was cuffed to the bed frame, until the chains rattled. “If this is an example of your concern, I'm touched too.”

Marc snorted with laughter. “Touché.” God, he'd missed her. “Okay, babe, I admit it, you got me again. I'm a bastard, and maybe I just liked the idea of cuffing you to the bed. But I'm still the bastard that's here to save you. So why don't you tell me what happened with you and Audrey? What made you run?”

“Oh, sugar.” Elise sighed wearily. “What do you think happened? After Audrey'd had her fun with you, she showed up at my loft, demanding I give her money to help her get out of town. I guess things had gone wrong somehow? I mean, from her perspective, obviously—probably not from yours.”

“Definitely not from mine. I'm still alive, aren't I? Which I don't think was any part of her plan.”

“Yes, I'm sure you're right. And I'm happy that you weren't killed. But, beyond telling me about your eye, she wouldn't go into specifics, so I couldn't even be certain you were still alive. She didn't tell me everything, you know. She only told me enough to convince me she was indeed desperate. But I swear, I didn't know
anything
about what she was up to beforehand. I certainly never gave her any information on how to ‘catch' you!”

“But you gave her the money, right? You helped her run?”

“You say that like I had a choice,” Elise grumbled.

“Didn't you?”

“Of course I didn't! It's not like I had the option of refusing her ‘request'. Audrey
knew
I had money. That's why she came to me. She had no intention of going off empty-handed. I could either give it to her voluntarily and hope she'd let me live, or I could say no and let her kill me. Either way she'd have taken the money. Not being a fan of dying for nothing, I chose to live. What would you have done? Hell, sugar, for all I knew,
you
were the one who'd sent her after me.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Who else would do it? You also knew I'd been saving up. You knew I was planning to leave town—and as I recall you weren't too happy about it. And you knew about Vincent. I still don't get why you did it; why would you tell her he was dead? You
had
to have known how she'd react. You had to know who she'd blame for it. Me. That's who. It's a miracle she didn't kill me—just on those grounds alone.”

Vincent. Marc winced as the memory of Vincent's body bursting into flame flashed before his eyes. He had done that. He'd taken a life. He steeled himself against the waves of regret, reminding himself that it was Vincent who had tortured Conrad, who'd tried to kill Julie, who'd raped and abused Heather. It didn't bother him at all that Vincent was dead. But he hated like hell that he'd been the one to strike that match.

It took a moment before the rest of what Elise had said sank in. “Whoa, hold on a minute. What are you talking about? I didn't tell Audrey about Vincent.”

Elise's eyes narrowed. “You didn't tell her he was dead? You didn't tell her that you'd used the information
I
gave you to find him?”

“Hell no. Why would I do that? She was holding me prisoner, remember? I wasn't looking to be killed, and I sure as hell wouldn't have implicated
you
. Of course I let her think he was still alive. That was the only bargaining chip I had.”

“Huh. Well, I guess it's a good thing she and I are not ever likely to play poker again, because her ability to bluff has certainly gotten a whole lot better than it used to be.”

“That still doesn't explain why you left town.”

“What did you want me to do, Marc? Prove my devotion to your memory by sitting at home and waiting for Quintano to come and kill me?”

“Why would you think that? Why would Conrad hurt you?”

“Because Audrey hurt
you
. For all I knew, she'd killed you. And then she went and put a great big target on my back by coming to me for help. If you imagine Quintano could
ever
be persuaded not to avenge your death, you have
no idea
who your sire is. Besides, our clans have been at war with each other for decades, Marc. I've told you that as well. I didn't feel like becoming the latest casualty.”

“So you left that for me?”

“No. You brought that on yourself. Don't you dare try and lay that at my door. I warned you what could happen. I told you it wasn't safe for us to continue seeing each other, but you just wouldn't listen. You have this overly romantic view of our relationship. It's charming, really. It's seductive and alluring and I wish to God it were true. But it's not. I know from experience that star-crossed lovers rarely find a happy ending outside of fiction. Especially when they're vampires from warring families.”

“Well, this time they do,” Marc told her grimly. “If I have anything to say about it. This time they most definitely do.”

* * * * *

Conrad had finished breakfast and was headed for the small salon just off the front hall, where he liked to spend his evenings immersed in a good book, when he ran across Julie seated on the stairs leading up to the second floor.

“There you are,” she said as she sprang to her feet. “Finally. Can we go up and see Georgia now?”

Conrad hesitated. “Julie, I…”

“You promised,” she said, hurriedly reaching for his hand and holding it tight. “You said you'd take me with you. Please?”

Technically, he hadn't promised anything. He'd agreed in theory, yes, but that was a far cry from having actually given his word. He was tempted to try and explain the difference, but the trusting look in Julie's dark eyes, so much like her mother's, demolished his resistance. It wasn't that crucial a matter. In fact it was hardly worth mentioning. “Very well,” he said as he gestured for her to precede him up the stairs. “We might as well get it over with.”

The landing at the top of the stairs was spacious, large enough to accommodate a small seating area where one might enjoy a small snack or indulge in conversation. An ornate marble bench was conveniently located in front of the picture window so that one could also, if one were so inclined, gaze through the glass at the front lawn below. But tonight none of those activities were on Conrad's mind when he slowed to a stop.

Julie turned to look at him. “Grandfather? Is everything all right?”

All right? Conrad shook his head. To the contrary, everything was very much all wrong.

The suite of rooms closest to the top of the stairs was where Georgia had stayed during her first visit here, shortly after Conrad had bought the house in the mid-eighteen hundreds. And even though she visited only rarely, for the next one hundred and fifty years Conrad had made certain those rooms were kept open, reserved for her exclusive use.

He often found himself thinking of her when he passed this way. Perhaps it would prompt him to write her a letter, recounting an amusing anecdote that had recently occurred, one he knew she'd appreciate hearing about. Or maybe it would spark a memory, and he'd find himself reminiscing over events that had taken place over the course of their long friendship. Almost without fail, however, these reminders would bring a smile to his lips and cause his mood to brighten.

It was only recently that Conrad had come to loathe the sight of that cursed door. That was Damian's fault.

Ten years ago, while he and Damian were still estranged, Conrad had convinced his lover to return with him here; and Damian had immediately claimed the rooms for his own use. For nearly a decade, Conrad had been forced to pass by this suite, coming and going, anytime he accessed his own rooms, which were located at the other end of the hall. Gone was the pleasure he had once taken from the sight. Instead it became a daily reminder of his loneliness and his ongoing failure to reconcile with his partner.

Now things had changed again. Now this spot would become linked in his mind not with joy, not just with sorrow, but with tragedy. It would be tainted for him anew, haunted by the ghosts of those he'd loved and lost. Not just for a decade, but forever. He did not know how he would stand it. He might be forced to move.

Julie slipped her hand in his. “Let's just go in, all right? Like you said, we'll get it over with.”

Conrad nodded. “Yes, of course.” He forced his grief to the back of his mind and made himself move forward once again.

As he raised his hand to knock, however, he noticed the small frown on Julie's face and paused. “What is it? What's wrong now?”

“Why are you knocking? Don't you have a key? They
are
locked in, aren't they?”

Guilt stabbed at his conscience. He should have locked them in, shouldn't he? “No, they're not. But I promise you, there's no need for concern. It was not necessary to…to imprison them by such means.”

“Why not?”

“For a couple of reasons, actually. Georgia has been placed in restraints. I deemed that necessary because if the madness strikes her, even I might not be powerful enough to control her without incurring injury. As for Christian…” He paused, wondering how much to reveal.

“He's under compulsion, isn't he? You didn't need to lock the door because he
can't
escape—even if he wanted to.”

Conrad glanced at her in surprise. “What do you know about compulsion?”

Julie shrugged. “Not very much. You said something about it last night.”

“Did I? I don't recall.” It was very possible, however. He'd said entirely too much last night. He still could not imagine what had gotten into him. She hadn't pried, exactly. She hadn't demanded the information from him. She certainly hadn't attempted to wheedle it from him as Damian might. And yet…it was unsettling how much he'd revealed to her. His mind shied away from the possible reasons. She'd caught him in a nostalgic mood. Surely that was all it was. “Anyway, you're quite right. I felt it was best to compel him.”