All Just Glass (15 page)

“Do you know how I’m going to make it through this hunt?”

She paused and kissed his cheek before saying, “I don’t care how. I just hope you
do
.”

As she returned to the kitchen, he stretched out on the couch. He tried to watch her start the stew she had promised, but his eyelids began to droop. He knew it was a lie, an illusion, but he
felt
safe, and his body responded accordingly, pulling him down into a deep, peaceful sleep.

A
S DUSK FELL
, Sarah opened her eyes.

She had been dreaming—or remembering.…

There had been a girl, a beautiful lady, with honey blond hair and dove white skin. She stood beside a sable horse, one hand on the leather of the saddle, and one hand out like a queen giving a serf permission to rise.

Then a different image. Nikolas, averting his eyes, turning his face away and asking in a very small voice, “Do you forgive me?”

Sarah shoved herself to her feet. Once again, it took too long for her to remember where she was.
Who
she was. She was Sarah Vida, and she was in Nikolas’s house, and those dreams hadn’t been her past.

She nearly ran into Kristopher as she stumbled into the hallway. He caught her arm to steady her.

Those were his memories. She had healed him but had not had any energy left to shield her mind before they had fallen asleep in rooms divided only by a single wall.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She meant to say,
Fine
. She meant to say
anything
except for what she said. “Was Christine really so beautiful?”

She wasn’t talking about the bloodbond who lived with them now, but the girl of the same name who the twins had loved when they were younger. Kristopher had pursued her despite the difference in their stations, and in the end she had rejected and publicly humiliated him. Nikolas, in a fury, had struck her and killed her.

They had both been human then. More than a hundred years later, the mere mention of Christine still had the power to affect both brothers strongly; just sharing the dead girl’s name had contributed to the modern-day Christine’s situation.

Kristopher’s eyes widened and she felt him try futilely to shield his thoughts from her. “She … you …” Though she tried to turn her mind away, Sarah couldn’t help feeling his distress. Of all the memories he had, the ones of that girl were the last thing he wanted to share. A century and a half later, his feelings about her were still ambivalent. He had loved her; he hadn’t really known her. And in the end it had killed her.

“Yes.” The answer came from Nikolas, who approached from the stairwell. He must have felt Sarah wake. Perhaps he even knew what she had dreamed, and had chosen to intervene.

“At least, she seemed to be. It’s hard to know what she would have looked like through different eyes.”

“Do you regret what happened?”

This time, Nikolas looked horrified. “Christine Brunswick was used to having everything she wanted, and she was thrilled to have two desperately infatuated young men tripping over themselves to impress her and answer her every whim. She loved to tease, in private, even though in public she put on her high airs and was too good to even look at us. She was a coquette. She was a spoiled brat. But she didn’t deserve to die.”

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “I shouldn’t even have brought her up. I’m not used to dreaming someone else’s memories.”

“At least the smile is nice to see,” Kristopher observed with a forced light tone as he tried to shift the conversation. “What’s it for?”

Sarah had been trying to suppress the expression, which didn’t seem appropriate for the conversation, but since Kristopher had noticed it, she had obviously failed. She admitted, “I forget sometimes that you two were born more than a century ago. And then I hear Nikolas use the word ‘coquette.’ ”

A cry from downstairs made Sarah spin about, tensing for a fight before her mind recognized the noise as a happy sound.

“Our Christine has a guest,” Nikolas said with a wry smile Sarah didn’t understand until the three of them reached the living room, where Christine was laughing over a photo album with Heather.

Heather’s smile and laughter instantly disappeared as she saw the three vampires. She snapped the album shut, and several
loose photos from the back tumbled to the ground. She swiped them up quickly, shoved them back into place and then rose to her feet.

She spoke to Sarah. “Robert asked me to bring some of Christine’s belongings to her, after you sent me off with him. That’s why I’m here.”

Only after the bloodbond delivered the rapid defense did Sarah realize she had always thought of Heather as an extension of Kaleo. Heather must have anticipated that and known that one of Kaleo’s agents would not necessarily be welcome in this house.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Sarah said. “And thank you for helping Robert and Christine.”

Heather visibly relaxed and then let out a sigh. “If you’re up, then I’m here later than I meant to be. I should get home.” She turned and grasped one of Christine’s hands before saying earnestly, “It’ll be okay, I promise.” She nodded to Sarah, Nikolas and Kristopher and then went through the front door as if she were fleeing.

“What was that about?” Kristopher asked.

“Robert gave her some photos and other sentimental stuff,” Christine said, the mention of her brother making her expression warm. “And she brought some of her own pictures, and stayed to talk awhile.”

“About what?” Sarah asked, wary. It was nice to see Christine forming attachments to people other than Nikolas, but Sarah wasn’t sure how much of a role model Kaleo’s favorite, most dependant bloodbond should be.

“About
life,
” Christine replied sharply. “About what it’s
like to be in this world. I know she’s old as heck, but she seems like she could be a friend, and knowing she’s been around this long and is happy makes me a little less scared about my future.”

Happy
, with Kaleo.

Christine’s retort to what she must have seen on all their faces was again swift. “Yes, she’s
happy.
” She started gathering up her own collection of pictures, as well as a handful of camera memory cards. She noticed a photo on the ground and paused before putting it aside.

Sarah glanced at the photo with idle curiosity. Christine didn’t seem distressed by the image, but Sarah found it more than a little disturbing.

The photo was old and scuffed and had hardly been high quality in the first place, but enough details were visible for Sarah to get the gist. The woman at the center was kneeling on the floor, one hand tenderly twined in the hair of a man she was kissing. Someone else was kneeling behind the woman; she was leaning trustingly back against him while his lips were locked onto her throat, over her pulse. With them was another woman, who was feeding at the victim’s free wrist.

Sarah shuddered. Christine said defensively, “There’s nothing wrong with donating blood. I mean, I wouldn’t mind, if it were someone I cared about.”

The implied offer made Sarah realize for the first time that the hunger was back. She had fed on powerful blood, but then she had spent most of the energy healing herself and Kristopher.

Nikolas saved her from needing to respond to Christine by
reaching between them to pluck the picture from the table. He frowned at it before he told the human girl, “There’s nothing wrong with donating, but don’t let Heather convince you there aren’t any dangers, either. You’re safe because you wear my marks, but that doesn’t mean all of my kind are always … kind.” He stared at the photograph, a dark but thoughtful expression on his face.

“Who is she?” Kristopher asked.

“You were with Nissa when Jerome started bringing her to our circuit,” Nikolas answered. He glanced at Sarah and then explained, “Jerome is an ally, but not someone I would call a friend. He likes to play with his prey, manipulating their emotions and making them completely dependent on him. Heather can be pretty … needy,” he said, obviously trying to be gentle for Christine’s sake, “but part of that is having been bonded to Kaleo for centuries. This girl was probably one of the worst addicts I have ever seen, and she was still completely human.”

“Did you ever—” Sarah broke off, realizing she didn’t want to know.

“I never fed on her,” Nikolas answered. “And I haven’t seen her in decades, so Jerome either tired of her or she gave her throat to the wrong person. Or both.” He looked at the photo again and then put it into his pocket. “I’m going to catch up with Heather and return this.”

He disappeared.

Nikolas’s description had obviously unsettled Christine a bit, but she shrugged at his disappearance and said, “Heather made it pretty clear that we’re the lucky ones. Kaleo—” She choked out the word and swallowed before continuing. “She
says he treats her well, and protects her. I know not everyone has it so easy.” She looked directly at Sarah as she said, “Heather agrees that you’ll be one of the good ones. You risked yourself to save her. It made an impression.”

Sarah had the sense to control her first response and try to swallow the compliment. It was nice that someone thought she would be a good person even as a vampire, but she wasn’t sure Heather’s judgment was exactly sound.

“Unfortunately, many of our kind don’t make much of an effort to take care of the bonds other than their own,” Kristopher said when Sarah struggled to think of a reply. “I have a feeling you’ll never be that type. It’s something you and Nissa have in common.”

The memory that flashed through his mind—and Sarah’s—in that moment was of Nissa’s horrified reaction the first time she killed. The human she had fed on had abused his hosts’ hospitality at a bash in Kaleo’s circuit. Specifically, he had insulted Nissa, with Kaleo, Nikolas and Kristopher looking on. He never would have survived the night, but that didn’t change Nissa’s reaction when she realized she had taken too much.

Kristopher ripped his mind away from the memory—or tried. He couldn’t turn away from the memory of Nissa refusing to feed for weeks, or of Nikolas’s expression when Kristopher told him he was leaving for a while.

Kristopher stepped back, averting his gaze from Sarah’s.

Oblivious to the images running through both of their minds, Christine announced, “I’m going to head to bed. My body can’t seem to decide if it wants to be nocturnal or not lately.”

They both watched her walk away, and they both wanted to
call her back to act as a buffer between them. There were too many dark thoughts on Kristopher’s mind that he couldn’t stop and couldn’t hide.

If he had just stepped in at that party and stopped Nissa, she never would have punished herself that way. No one in the room had paused to consider how Nissa would react to taking a human life, least of all him. He didn’t want to make the same mistake with Sarah. But what would be the mistake? She had been a Vida; she had been a killer most of her life. Who was he to judge?

Is that really how he sees me?
Sarah wondered.

Suddenly, Kristopher’s thoughts focused, as he made what he felt to be a significant decision.

Enough of this
, he thought.
There are better things in this life
.

Sarah’s instinctive reaction was unease, and she almost spoke to distract him, before he said, “I have an idea. It’s Saturday. In a couple hours, dozens of curtains will be going up in the city.” He said “the city” as if Sarah should know which one he meant. “Our people are safe. We’ve done all we can do for now. So let’s go out.”

Sarah blinked at him in confusion. What did anything he was saying have to do with
anything
that had occurred so far that morning? “Out … where?”

“To a show,” Kristopher said. “Maybe a musical—something light, anyway. What would you like to see?”

She almost said,
I have never been to a musical in my life. I have no idea what I would like to see
. Then the absurdity of the suggestion caught her, and without her will she said, “Are you
insane
?”

A
DIA RETURNED TO
the Makeshift near dusk. The sun set early that time of year, and heavy clouds had rolled in during the day, leaving the world far darker than it should have been at not even five in the evening. The bookstore was still open, bustling with humans who probably didn’t have a clue what kinds of creatures inhabited the place after dark. Unfortunately, Jerome was not present.

He might not have been awake yet, but she was impatient. Sitting on the hood of her car, she dialed the number he had given her. If he didn’t pick up, she could leave a message asking him if he wanted to get dinner. She was sure he would oblige once he woke.

As the phone rang, she watched a family with three young
children spill out of the closing bookstore. The youngest was waving a book with a blue monster on the cover above his head triumphantly. To Adia, it seemed like a strange sight. She was used to visiting diners and cafés late at night, when her prey was about and there were no children with pom-poms on their knit hats.

When she had been in high school, she had complained about spending time doing “stupid human things” that had nothing to do with her real work. Dominique had given long lectures on discipline and perseverance, while Adia had limped, exhausted, through the school day. There had been no excuses, not for failed fights and not for failed tests.

Never excuses.

She had graduated high school with a grade point average of 3.8.

She had also graduated with a long scar down her back, from her shoulder blade to her hip, gained in a fight in a rundown lot. A vampire had thrown her on top of a mess of junk, then grabbed her arm to pull her up; he had dragged her across a jagged piece of scrap metal.

She had won the fight, eventually. She had bandaged herself, grateful that her kind couldn’t get tetanus or hepatitis. And she had never told her mother.