Ashes to Ashes-Blood Ties 3 (19 page)

"Is she okay?" It was an unnecessary question. If something had happened to Bella, I'd have been able to hear Max screaming over the phone.

"She's fine. It was nowhere near as bad as the last time. Well, for her, that is." Nathan went to the cupboard over the sink and pulled down a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream. "I'm going to make coffee. And I'm going to put a lot of alcohol in it. You want some?"

"Yeah, I could use some." I dropped into one of the kitchen chairs and plunged my fingers

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through my hair. It was only 2:00 a.m., but we'd spent the whole night inside and my internal clock was screwed. Even my scalp felt tired. "Well, we were expecting the Oracle to make another attack on them. They had to know it was coming, too. They're smart."

"Yeah, but Max isn't thinking logically. He wants to turn around and come back." Nathan slipped a filter into the coffeemaker and reached into the refrigerator for the can of coffee.

"I almost wonder… "

"Wonder what?" Usually, if Nathan had a hunch, he was right. He smiled and shook his head. "Nothing. I'm tired. My brain is misfiring." Once the coffeemaker was merrily dripping away, he headed toward the living room. I grabbed his arm as he passed. "I can't face all those books without liquid fortification. Sit with me a minute, take a break."

Reluctantly, he took the other chair. "Bella did have more information for us. The Oracle is going to a place called Danvers. And she sent a care package to the Soul Eater. Bella thinks the Oracle sent him her heart."

"Why would she do something like that?" Truthfully, I was surprised she even had it. It seemed someone at the Movement would have taken it from her, in case she ever got loose.
Right now would have been fine
. But it wasn't the first time the Movement had dropped the ball. "Well, let's look at a map of Massachusetts, see if she picked Boston for a reason."

"You're right. That's the logical place to start." He exhaled noisily. "But you should call Cyrus, find out if he knows anything."

"He probably won't, but Dahlia will know. She's still working for the Soul Eater." I bit my lip, feeling somehow like Judas for what I was about to say. "I'm worried. That he might be… "

"A double agent?" Nathan tried to imitate a Sean Connery as James Bond accent and failed, Scottish though they both might be. "I'm sure this will come as no surprise to you, but I've considered it. Unfortunately, he's the only source we have." I rested my chin on my hands. "Has your life ever been, you know, boring?"

"You mean, have I always been on the side of good battling against the greatest evils known to vampire-kind?" He gave me a lazy grin. "No. I think that all came about when this bossy woman stepped into my shop about four months ago."

"And nearly had her head chopped off by your juvenile-delinquent son." Though I'd said it in jest, I wished I could unsay it. Not because I thought Nathan would take offense to my poking fun at Ziggy, but because we rarely, if ever, spoke of him. The pain was still too fresh.

Nathan laughed softly, lost in memory. I reached across the table to take his hand, but he stood and went to check on the coffee, which was doing fine on its own.

"Sorry," I offered lamely.

He shook his head. "Don't be. You're trying to acclimate me to talking about him. It's for my own good. There are times I forget he's gone, and talking about it, especially here… "

"Makes it more real." I knew exactly how he felt. When I'd first gotten the call about my parents' accident, I could have run across my college campus screaming, "My parents are dead, my parents are dead." But once I'd gone home for the funeral, I'd clammed up. For good.

I didn't want that to be the case with Nathan. "You can't just hold on to things forever.

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You tried that before. Look what it got you."

"I know." He stared at the liquid dripping into the carafe. We waited a long time in silence until the coffee was done. Then he poured out two mugs and spiked them both with the liquor. "Blood?"

"Please." I watched as he poured a little blood into each mug, and waited for him to bring them to the table. "Muddy pink. Just the way I like it." He smiled. "Do you know how many times Ziggy accidentally drank human blood?" I had to remember to smile encouragingly, lest Nathan clam up again. Gross, though.

"I used to trick him, too. You'd be amazed at how much corn syrup and red food coloring look like blood when you mix them together." Nathan got that faraway look on his face again. "Carrie, am I betraying him?"

That wasn't the question I expected. "How do you mean?" He looked down at his mug. "Shouldn't I want to kill him? For what he did to Ziggy? A part of me is ashamed for not wanting retribution. But isn't it better, at least in the long run, that I don't feel that responsibility?"

"You're not betraying him." I took his hands in mine. "It hasn't been that long. I'm actually impressed that you've gotten beyond blaming yourself. It's much healthier that way. And besides… "

How much should I tell him? That Ziggy had actually grown to like Cyrus? That he'd respected him and trusted him in small ways? That it had been me who'd unwittingly killed him, regardless of whose fangs had been involved?

There was no way Nathan was ready to hear that. "Ziggy wasn't a vengeful kind of person. And he would understand that you're just doing what has to be done." Nathan nodded. "Well, I'm not doing what needs to be done now, am I? I'm having coffee with you."

He stood and made a shooing motion toward the living room. "So, what are your theories about this heart business? You'd be the foremost expert in losing one."

"You have no idea." I stood and kissed him. His mouth tasted like the coffee, sweet and coppery.

When I pulled back, he smiled. "You're not going to lure me away from research with sex. I like books too much."

I rolled my eyes, then collected my mug and followed him to the living room. How did he always see the ulterior motives behind my cunning actions? "Well, I suppose the Soul Eater could consume the Oracle's soul by eating the heart, couldn't he?"

"But why would the Oracle send it to him then?" Nathan groaned as he settled onto the couch. "God, this is uncomfortable."

My back protested as I sank into the armchair. "Well, if she didn't know he was going to eat her soul—"

Nathan gave me a withering look to point out my stupidity. Of course the Oracle would know what the Soul Eater intended to do with her heart. She could see into the future.

"What about this sword Cyrus mentioned?" I moved on quickly to avoid the inevitable taunting. "Maybe it's a metaphor, and her heart has something to do with it?" Nathan took a sip from his mug. "Could be. We won't know until you talk to Cyrus. Do you think he's awake?"

I looked at the clock. "I don't know. He works third shift, so he's probably not even

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home."

"If he is, I won't lose too much sleep over disturbing his. Why don't you call him?" I went to the kitchen and dialed Cyrus's number. After two rings, the answering machine picked up.

"Hi Cyrus, it's me. Carrie." I winced at how lame I sounded. "Listen, we got more news about what the Oracle is up to. I could really use your connection to Dahlia right now. But be careful with her, okay? I mean, I don't want her to know that you're looking for the information, because she'll know that I know that she's working for the Soul Eater." I hesitated a minute before I hung up the phone. It's a shame they didn't make answering machines with a "never mind, erase that" feature.

"And maybe after that, you two can go to the soda fountain and get a milk shake," Nathan said without looking up from his book.

I wished I had something to throw at him.

We spent the rest of the night thumbing through texts. I'd become a bit fed up with this hurry-up-and-wait scenario. The sun came up just about the time my eyes were too tired to keep reading. "I'm sorry, but I have to go to bed." Nathan closed the book he'd been thumbing through, and rubbed his eyes. "I'm right behind you."

As we climbed into bed, I'd never been more appreciative of the too-soft mattress and worn sheets. "You can go ahead and let me sleep through tomorrow night." He flopped against the pillows with a loud groan. "No way. If I'm going to suffer through another night like this, so are you."

I snuggled against him, rubbing my face against his T-shirt. It was thoroughly bizarre, going to sleep with him like a normal couple. We'd spent so long trying to maintain our independence from each other that the only way we'd ever wound up sleeping in the same spot was if we got naked and sweaty together. Sleeping beside each other, with no sex involved, clothed in sleepwear, seemed more intimate than lying together in a naked tangle of limbs.

He must have sensed part of my thoughts through the blood tie, because he chuckled.

"Don't get used to this. Now that I can finally have you without the inevitable guilt that I'm using you, you're not going to leave this bed for days." It took me a minute to decipher his words in his sleep-thickened accent. "You felt guilty about using me?"
I'd known he felt guilty
,

"Oh, aye. I'm a Catholic. We feel guilty all the time." He reached up and clicked off the bedside lamp, muttered something, then fell onto the pillows and was instantly asleep.

Though Nathan had no trouble sleeping through the day, I hovered stubbornly on the edge of unconsciousness, trying to stay alert for Cyrus's call. Every noise or creak of the apartment woke me, and once I even stumbled from bed before realizing that the phone I heard ring had just been a dream.

Finally, because I feared my tense state was disturbing Nathan's rest, I wrapped up in his bathrobe and padded to the living room.

The day was overcast, so I chanced a peek through the blinds. The startling brightness of late afternoon seared my retinas, and I blinked away blood tears. From the living room I could see the roof of Cyrus's house, if I craned my neck, but I couldn't see anything in

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detail. There was no sense going blind when I wouldn't learn anything new. I glanced at the clock above the dinette table. Four-thirty, Why hadn't he called back?

I decided I would phone every half hour, until I got an answer. At sundown, if I still hadn't heard from him, I would go investigate. All I ever got were busy signals. By the time Nathan woke, at six, I was already dressed and pacing the floor, waiting to be absolutely certain it was safe to go out.

"You're afraid Dahlia changed him," Nathan said over the rim of his breakfast mug. I knew he'd picked that up through the blood tie. "He said he doesn't want to be a vampire again, and he's got a good reason not to be. But something's wrong, and I can't help but jump to conclusions."

"Maybe not." Nathan set his blood aside and came to stand behind me as I dialed the phone again. His big, strong hands kneaded my shoulders as I listened to the insistent busy tone.

"He could have a human girlfriend, or boyfriend, he's staying with. He might be grocery shopping or having lunch or doing any of the million things humans do every day. You remember those, don't you?" Nathan punctuated his question with a kiss on my neck, then added cheerfully, "Maybe he got arrested."

I knew Nathan was just trying to help, but I couldn't shake the feeling something was very, deeply wrong. I shrugged off his hands and stuck my arm behind the blinds to check the burn factor.
Getting lower
.

"Something is wrong. When he was in the desert, I could feel him sometimes. I don't know how it works or why it does, but I just have this… It's not the blood tie anymore, but it's intuition. I'm still connected to him, and I know something isn't right."

"Do you want me to go with you?" All the humor had left Nathan's tone. I shook my head. "You should stay here, in case he calls. And if something has happened, if he's changed… I don't think he'll hurt me, but he would hurt you." I tried the phone twice more before realizing I'd actually have to go to his house. I kissed Nathan goodbye, took the stake he gave me "just in case," and headed out the door in a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up to protect my face from the last rays of sun that gilded the clouds.

Cyrus didn't answer the buzzer rigged up near the back door, but a sliver of light showed through one of the basement windows. I forced the door—not a difficult feat even for someone without enhanced vampire strength—and clattered down the stairs in a rush. What I saw at the bottom stopped me in my tracks. Cyrus's apartment door, open a crack. I swallowed my fear and stepped forward, knocking timidly. The door creaked and swayed a little, and I choked as I called, "Is anybody in there?" No answer. I gave the door a push. It opened wider. At least a body wasn't blocking it. The bathroom light was on, illuminating a wedge of the main room. The cupboards on the far wall hung open, their shelves bare. The dishes and nonperishable food were scattered on the floor. The cushions were thrown from the couch. A high-pitched, three-tone whine sounded from somewhere, followed by a muffled, "If you would like to make a call, please hang up and dial again" announcement. I spotted a loop of coiled phone cord poking out from beneath one shredded pillow on the unfolded sofa bed. I grabbed it and reeled in the phone and very broken answering machine.

My message.

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A sob clawed its way up my throat as my brain reconstructed the events that must have led to the destruction around me. Of course, Dahlia would have heard the message. And of course, she would have flown into a rage and wrecked the place. But had she taken Cyrus with her when she'd gone? Had he staggered to the hospital or called the police for help?