A Fall of Silver (28 page)

“
I thought they believed the undead don’t exist.”

“Precisely. We don’t, and we will make sure the undead don’t exist.”

“I understand.” Kethan rose, eager to escape the poisonous atmosphere of disapproval and unspoken threats.

The Cardinal
made the sign of the cross when Kethan caught his gaze. Kethan nodded wryly and turned on his heel, leaving quickly.

In the hallway,
Father Connolly awaited him and led him back to Quicksilver. She sat curled up in a chair set a few yards away from a blaring television. Some chirpy blonde reported that the major roads were clear and traffic was moving smoothly for those leaving early for work.

Quicksilver’s
chin was propped up on her hand, and she was sound asleep.

Thank God the Cardinal had not permitted her inside his study
to hear what he had to say about Kethan’s past.

Recidivist.
How would she have reacted to the news that he was once a vampire and had reverted back to human?

As h
e shook her shoulder, a surge of desire hit him to drag her away and start a new life elsewhere where they could forget all of the pain and complexities they now faced.

“What happened?” S
he yawned and stretched her arms above her head. Her face looked pink and defenseless, her expression softened by sleep.

“
Father Donatello really is gone. Come on. Let’s get something to eat and see if we can find him.”

She trotted after him, scanning left and ri
ght, her hands hidden behind her back. “Are they sure? Maybe he’s in the bathroom, taking a shower or something.”

“No. They’re sure. He’s gone.”

They walked through the doors into the clear morning light, brilliant and blinding. The previous night’s rain had stripped the last leaves off the trees, their black branches twisted outward from the thick trunks like aged arthritic fingers reaching out to grasp the last threads of life.

“I’m sorry about
Father Donatello. I like him.”

He gave her a sharp glance.
“I didn’t think you liked anyone.”

“I’m getting soft
. Must be old age.” She studied him, her eyes a little too discerning in the golden sunshine as they climbed into his car. “You’re worried. It’s more than just Father Donatello, isn’t it?”

“
Isn’t that enough?”

She
touched his arm as he shifted into reverse. “You were in there a long time. What did they say?”

He repeated what the Cardinal
had told him, leaving out the personal information about his past. The last thing he wanted was to have her sneak up on him and decapitate him because she had decided he remained a vampire at heart.

As
he drove, he flicked several glances at her, thinking about the possibility of a southern clan. No wonder Sutton was nervous. Fate held the honed, triple points of a trident a few inches from his face: humans, a southern clan of vampires, and his own clan; a triad of violent death.

“There’s something else, Quicksilver.”

“Nothing good ever comes after that statement.” Her light voice quavered. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“I didn’t like it.
” He smiled to reassure her and make the information sound less horrifying. “There might be a southern clan trying to force Martyn Sutton out of this territory.”

She inhaled sharply as h
er face drained of color. Then she turned away and stared through the window at his house as he pulled up to the curb. “A southern clan? What do you mean? Some good old Georgia boys?” She tried to laugh. “Or a bunch of Confederate soldiers too ornery to die?”

“No
. I don’t think so.” He sensed her panic and considered his own doubts. He guessed the “wrong people” she’d met in Mexico were vampires, given the scars on her neck. Had they escaped her vengeance and grown stronger in the interim? Had they followed her here? He reached over and squeezed her arm before getting out of the vehicle and circling around to open her door. “But I don’t really know. Clans are widely spaced. I don’t think there’s another one on the east coast. Before Sutton, the only other master vampire was on the west coast, in Oregon.”

“That’s not southern.
Oregon isn’t in the South. You meant southern United States, right?” Her voice sounded as if she were having difficulty concentrating. He caught her arm when she tripped on the curb getting out of the car.

Her creamy, translucent skin glowed
in the early morning light. Her profile seemed etched as cleanly against the pale blue and pink sky as a cameo, devastatingly fragile and vulnerable.

She squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingers into the nap of her neck, massaging the muscles with tense desperation.

“No. It’s possible they’re from Mexico,” he said. She stiffened but remained silent. Her fingers shook as she grabbed the railing to climb the few steps to his front door. He hesitated, and finally continued, “The death of Sutton’s master destabilized the situation. It’s possible a South American clan wants to expand northward and views Sutton as weak enough to be vulnerable.”

She
blinked rapidly in the misty sunlight and stumbled again on the threshold. “We have to kill them. Now. All of them. This whole situation is for crap. It can’t wait anymore. We don’t have a choice.”

“
No. That would only escalate into more bloodshed. If we destroy Sutton’s clan, it’ll only encourage other vampires to fill the void.”

“Then we kill them, too!
” She whirled around, her eyes silver and wild. “There must be men who can kill a vampire, not just talk them to death. There must be
someone
who can help me and Father Donatello.”

“I’m trying to help you
both.”

“Right!” she snapped.
“You took away my weapons, that was a lot of help, wasn’t it? And you’re trying to make a deal with the devil. Are you sure you didn’t have something to do with Father Donatello’s disappearance?” Her voice rose higher. “Maybe you thought you could blackmail me into good behavior. That’s it, isn’t it? You thought I’d sit back and do nothing if you told me it would save his life. You thought I’d obey like a nice little girl if Father Donatello were held hostage to ensure my compliance.”

He
threw open the door and thrust her forward. She brushed past him, her elbow “accidentally”
hitting him in the solar plexus.

When
he was able to catch his breath, he followed her. “You know I didn’t.”

S
he looked away from him, a mulish set to her jaw. He clasped her hand and held it until she looked at him. The disdain in her eyes tightened the already-stripped screws on his temper.

“
I had nothing to do with Father Donatello’s disappearance! You know that. You’ve been with me for two days.” Her hand twisted within his, the flesh cold with fear as she tried to pull away.

H
is gaze fell to the scars on her neck. “Are you sure you killed the vampires in Mexico?”

“Yes
, I’m positive.” She nodded, prying at his fingers with her free hand.

“
Do you think their clan might want revenge, then?” he asked.

Finally t
earing herself out of his grip, she ran into the living room ahead of him. “No! And I’m not afraid of them, or any vampire. But even you must see now—we need to destroy all of them!”

“
You are
afraid. What really happened to you?”

“Nothing!
I told you everything! It’s all in the past—over. Done.”

“But—”

“No one’s after me for revenge or anything else. Anyway, if a vampire really wanted to kill me, I’d be dead by now. You know that. And besides, I’d know if they were hunting me.” She rubbed her hands against her hips before plunging them into her pockets. In a voice low with despair, she whispered, “Why won’t you give me back my whips?”

Kethan stared into her tortured, wild eyes, knowing she no longer saw him.
Her gaze was focused inward on something impossible to imagine: the horrors of her past.

Gently cradling
her against him, he put his arms around her shoulders and hugged her until the stiff resistance in her body trickled away with her tears. She crumpled and buried her face against his jacket. After the muffled rasp of a strangled cry, she tensed again and tried to thrust him away, however, he maintained his embrace until she stopped struggling. A long minute later, she gave up and gingerly rested her cheek against his neck, her forearms braced against his chest like a fragile shield of bone and sinew.

“Tell me what happened,
” he said.

“I don’t need confession.”
Her voice was barely audible, muffled by his collar, although he felt the warm breath of her words tremble past his throat.

“We all need
the relief of confession.”

She glanced up at him, her lashes dark
and beaded with tears. “I already told you everything. Everything that’s important. It was…stupid.
I
was stupid.”

“You’re not stupid
, just human like the rest of us.”

“Human.
” She laughed, the sound bitter and raw. “Isn’t ‘human’ just a nice synonym for ‘idiot’?”

Ignoring her remark
, Kethan led her to the loveseat and made her sit next to him, his arm draped over her bowed shoulders. She felt so slight, so small, her body unbelievably fragile. Her shoulders curved inward even more as if the weight of his arm were too much to bear.

She shivered and clutched her
forearms, her gaze fixed on the empty fireplace. When she remained silent, he moved his arm to the back of the seat, although he kept his hand on her shoulder. She needed the reassurance and support of human touch, and he refused to abandon her to her terrifying memories.

“It
was stupid,” she repeated. She licked her lips as if unsure how to start. “I-um, I told you my parents were archeologists?”

He nodded.

“They were thrilled to find a new dig site in Mexico. I remember how excited they were when they left. I was about twelve…well, that’s not important.” She waved a shaky hand. “Anyway, they talked about nothing else except this opportunity—their big chance. I remember those exact words, ‘this is our big chance.’ So they packed up and sent me to live with my grandmother.”

She straightened a little and rubbed
the back of her left hand. “That was fine—okay. I was in school so they couldn’t drag me with them. And they wrote for a while, but it was hard for them, I could tell. They were probably in a very remote camp, and it couldn’t have been easy to get letters carried to a town where they could get mailed. So of course, the letters tapered off.”

The excuses she gave for her parents’
callous behavior couldn’t excuse the pain they caused—were still causing to—her.

It made it difficult for Kethan to listen without breaking into a rant about irresponsibility and selfishness
. He clenched his jaw and managed to ask, “Do you remember where they went?”

Glancing at him, her e
yes looked startled as if she’d forgotten his presence. “They were on an expedition involving Toltecs. I remember that much. Gran helped me write a report on the Toltecs for school. She said my mom and dad were chasing after them and that’s why they were gone, because they were in the middle of Mexico, digging up Toltec ruins.”

“
I’m sorry.” He rubbed her shoulder. When she remained silent, staring sightlessly at the television’s blank screen, he asked, “Did you go looking for them? Is that how you got that scar on your neck?”

“
What? Yes—no, not exactly. That had nothing to do with my parents. I made a mistake.” She tried to push him away as if he embodied yet another mistake she didn’t want to make. “Then Gran died from a heart attack. I was almost nineteen. I told you this already.” She tried to laugh. “Anyway, I tried to find my parents. I got as far as Mexico City and that was that. This young couple, Carol and Carlos, asked me to join them for dinner. I was alone in a strange place and I was glad for their company. They seemed so nice, so normal. You know how it is. Anyway, they got me my first beer, said it would make me an adult, and damn if it didn’t. I grew up fast in Mexico City. Learned a lot. Like the fact that vampires exist and they make promises only to break them.” She swallowed. “They promised me a way out over and over again until I learned not to trust them…or anyone.”

A cold breeze r
ifled the hairs on the back of his neck. “Are they the ones you killed?”

“I had to!
They—they hurt me. I was dying. I had to kill them before they killed me. First Carol, then Carlos—I had to kill both of them. So even if I die now, I won’t become a vampire.
Their blood is ash in my mouth
,” she quoted the vampire expression for finality as if she knew it well. Too well.

“I’m sorry
—”