Ashes to Ashes-Blood Ties 3 (37 page)

Anne
. That bitch had sold them out. When he got his hands on her, he'd rip her black little heart right out of her chest.

"I have had time to think." Bella returned with a bag full of blood. He didn't know where it came from, and he didn't care. She held it to his mouth and he tore into it, not caring that some of the contents probably ran down his chin and stained his shirt. Only when he'd drunk half of it did he consider it might have been drugged. He jerked away, the remains of his meal sloshing onto his lap.

Bella shrieked and jumped back. "You should have drunk all of it!"

"Why?" He struggled against his shackles. "Are you in on this? What do they have planned?"

"I did not know. Not before Anne brought us here." Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I was never involved in this in any way. Until we were brought here, I knew only what you knew. You must believe me."

She flung her arms around his neck despite his bloody clothes. He wished he could put his arms around her. It had been too long since he'd been able to. "I believe you, baby. But tell me what's going on."

"It was a setup," she sobbed against his shoulder. "The cabin, the car accident. The Movement got there before the Oracle's people could collect us, but when we went with Anne… She is not on our side.

"I woke in the car. You were drugged. When we arrived here, they took me to a medical facility. I do not know what they did to me. When I woke again, they did not argue when I asked to be brought to you."

"They treated you okay?" That didn't bode well for her, somehow. "What about the baby?

Is it okay?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "That is what they want." If ever there was a moment he could imagine busting iron chains, now should be it. Max roared, his face shifting as he struggled against the shackles.

"Calm yourself," Bella soothed, laying a hand on his brow. With a heavy sigh, she withdrew. "I think perhaps it is time to tell you something very few of your kind know." He swallowed thickly. "Is it anything I want to know?"

"It is something you must know, now." She hesitated for a moment, then, with a deep breath, plunged in. "You know of the division between werewolves and lupins?" It wasn't the question he expected. "Yeah. It's something the Movement teaches. Werewolves are into the earth spirituality, and using magic to control their change, while lupins figured out a way to do it medically, and think they're all better than you."

"No," Bella said with a note of sadness in her voice "They have been lying to you for years."

The Movement lied?" It should have come as more of a surprise to him, but lately it was hard to disbelieve any nasty thing someone had to say about them. "Is that so?" His vision

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had cleared enough that he made out her emphatic nod. "The real cause for our division is… Perhaps I should start from the beginning.

"You recall what I told you about the blood debt that can never be repaid? The curse that is branded on my body?"

"Sure." Max searched the corners of his still-foggy brain. "Something about all werewolves being descended from Pontius Pilate and that's why you're all cursed, right?"

"The division between werewolves and lupins started there, though both factions kept it quiet until lately. When the children of Pontius Pilate, and their children, became aware of their affliction, naturally, they hid it. It was a superstitious time, and they were surrounded by godly people. Some of them returned to Rome, where their animal state was worshipped as a gift from the gods, an allusion to Romulus and Remus, who founded the city.

"But the ones who stayed behind in the land of the Hebrews learned quickly to control their change. They lived their lives as quietly as possible, though some began to piece together the reason for their curse. It took generations. In time, the gospel of the carpenter messiah was preached even in Rome. The werewolves there were persecuted as were followers of the old gods. I pity them, in spite of their later alliance. They were if not divinity, then royalty in the Roman Empire. They fled, their numbers now rivaling Rome's most populous legion, to their roots in the Holy Land.

"Though their brother wolves welcomed them with open arms, it was not long before the failing out occurred. You see, the werewolves in Jerusalem now understood the nature of their curse. This knowledge was not accepted by the Roman wolves. Already bitter at the rise of Christianity, which had stolen their prosperity in Rome, they were not about to die to repay the blood of a Hebrew carpenter. "What happened next is not entirely clear. There are too many versions of the story to say that the one I tell you is the absolute truth, but it was taught to me as a child and it is the version I know best. There was a Roman noblewoman, Julia, living in Jerusalem. Her husband had been a prefect there, and when he died she had become stranded, without money enough to return to Rome. How she continued to survive was a great debate, but it was said that men could be seen entering her house during the night, and she always had enough coin to pay for bread. She never left her house, not by day or by night, but she sent many letters and entertained guests from far-off lands.

"Somehow, she became aware of the werewolves in the city and their situation. She sent for three of the Roman expatriates, Titus, Cicero and Lucius, and held a dinner in their honor. After the rest of the guests had left, she met with the wolves in private, and here is where the story of the lupins and werewolves becomes a tale of feud. After the meeting with Julia, the werewolves were never the same. They were cursed with an insatiable blood hunger They transformed at will, no longer enslaved by the full moon. You see, Julia was a vampire, and out of boredom or for her own evil ends, she turned them. They were the first lupins."

"Oh, fuck," Max whispered, almost unaware he'd spoken. Bella didn't admonish him for interrupting. "Of the three, Titus was the least pleased with his change. He had begun to accept the blood debt we inherited from Pontius Pilate, and had secretly been studying the gospels with another pack of werewolves. When he revealed his new nature to them, they shunned him. Word spread quickly through the

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Jerusalem faction. They grew mistrustful of all Roman wolves and declared war on them. The Roman wolves scattered again, but they vowed to destroy the werewolves. One by one, they were turned, either by Cicero or Lucius. Titus disappeared, though a rumor surfaces every now and then that he runs a monastic sanctuary for lupins who have changed their ways and wish to repay the blood debt."

"By killing other lupins." It was all becoming too clear. Horrifyingly clear. Bella nodded.

"And Julia? The noblewoman who started it all?" Max asked, dreading the answer.

"Why do you think the Movement did not share this information with you? She is the Oracle, whom you helped hold captive all those years." There was no mocking in her tone, but Max still felt like a fool.

"Sons of bitches. They knew all along what the lupins were and they never told us? Why?"

"I do not know. When the Order of the Brethren formed, they attempted to apply their code to lupins. The lupins were… not pleased. That is why the Brethren turned to the werewolves, instead. They offered help in exterminating lupins as long as werewolves—"

"Kept their mouths shut and killed some vampires, and lupins, which should have paid the blood debt." It seemed all too clear now. But why had they kept the Oracle? She'd made powerful predictions, but they were often too abstract to really understand until after the foretold event had taken place.

As if reading his mind, Bella said, "The Oracle was an insurance policy. We knew we could not win the fight if they had her on their side. After the Movement captured her, they kept us under their control with the constant threat of her release."

"Wonderful. I'm glad it worked out so well for them." Max yanked at his restraints. "So, lupins are half werewolf, half vampire. Stands to reason that our baby—"

"Is a natural-born lupin," she answered sadly. "The only one of its kind."

"Which is why the Oracle wants her."
Just great
. He'd never wanted kids until he found out he was going to get one whether he wanted it or not, and now she was going to be taken from him.

"Her?" Bella asked, her amusement audible. "I thought you said it looked like a shrimp."

"It did. I just… " He hung his head. "We've got to get out of here." She looked away. "They told me, after they brought me here… you are to be an example."

"And example of what? The most stupid vampire on earth?" He flopped back on the cot, wincing as the cuffs bit into his wrists.

"They have some Movement holdouts as prisoners. They are going to… torture you, and kill you. To frighten them into changing sides." Bella sobbed openly now. It made him feel a little better to know she was upset at the prospect of his imminent death, even if he couldn't be. He was, stupidly, more worried about her. "Well, I always did want to go out in a
Braveheart
kind of way. I'll just have to think of something cool to yell before they cut my head off."

His attempt at humor failed to lighten the mood, and he swore. "Come over here, Bella. If I'm gonna die, I at least want to spend my last hours with you." She rolled her chair to his side. Groping blindly, he found her hand. Their fingers entwined as she lay her head on his chest.

"Don't count me out yet, baby," he murmured reassuringly. "We're all coming out of this one alive."

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He just hoped it wasn't a lie.

When we turned in for the morning, all three of us agreed: I would go to the Soul Eater's mansion at dusk.

With all the nervous tension coiling in my stomach, I couldn't sleep. It didn't help that my bed was barely large enough to sleep one person comfortably, let alone both Cyrus and me.

"If you don't stop tossing around, I'm going to tie you down," he warned sleepily. "And not in a sexy way."

I burrowed my face against his cold chest. "I'm sorry. I can't sleep."

"Really? If you hadn't said so I might not have noticed." He pulled me closer and I wriggled to face away from him. His arm relaxed where it lay over my stomach, and I thought he'd fallen asleep again when he spoke. "Carrie, don't go."

"What?" I half sat up.

"Don't go," he repeated. "Let's pack up right now, steal the van and just drive."

"You know we can't." But my heart shouted,
Go
! I would listen to my mind this time, I decided firmly. So many decisions I'd made lately based on my feelings had turned out horribly wrong.

"We can! We won't have to face my father. We'll find someplace nice—well, maybe not nice, but a place to stay, nonetheless—and we'll hide until all of this nonsense is over," he insisted, his tone pleading.

I wanted to give in to him. The look of utter desperation on his face nearly overwhelmed me. Then I thought of Nathan in the next room. I imagined him waking to find I'd gone, and realizing he had to fight his sire alone.

"I can't lose you, Carrie. I just can't." Cyrus pulled me tight to him, his fingers digging into my back. Had he always been this fragile, even when he was a monster?

"You won't lose me," I soothed, freeing a hand to stroke his hair. "But if we don't go after your father, who will? Nathan? Is he going to sneak into the mansion? Is he going to rescue Bella and Max?"

There was no way he'd be capable of it. Resisting his sire's will alone was a dicey proposition. But to expect him to pull it off and free Max and Bella was ridiculous wishful thinking.

"I'm not going to leave Nathan behind." I repeated "You won't lose me." Then I realized I'd never even imagined I might lose him, or Nathan.

Suddenly, I understood too well where Cyrus was coming from.

We were mostly silent as we prepared for the night. Nathan dug out his old Movement uniform for himself and a matching set for Cyrus. I thought of making a joke about the Doublemint twins, but figured it would go over like a lead balloon. I dressed for comfort—I was going to be invisible anyway, I argued when they objected to my decidedly non-blacked-out attire—and armed myself simply. A few stakes and a couple vials of holy water were the weapons I hoped I wouldn't need. If all went according to plan, I would get into the mansion, poke around until I found what I was after, and slip back out without a fight.

Of course, when had things ever gone according to plan? The gods of physical humor

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seemed inclined to watch me try to fight as often as possible. Nathan, on the other hand, had a pile of weapons beside him as he sat in the armchair inspecting his crossbow.

"Is that all you're taking?" I asked sarcastically, dropping onto the couch. He smiled wryly. "Where's Cyrus?"

"Showering and changing into his spiffy new Movement attire." Nathan raised an eyebrow.

"He says if he's going to die again, he's going to die clean." I surreptitiously sniffed my armpit. I didn't want to be the one who died with B.O.

"No one is going to die," Nathan assured me in the gruff, detached way he always spoke when his hands and eyes were otherwise occupied. "This is probably the easiest thing we've ever done, on account of your unexpected talent tor the occult."

"I told you, that was Dahlia's blood doing it. Let's hope she doesn't pick up on the trick while I'm in there." I looked around the apartment. All the furniture was visible. "Where's the stone?"

"It's in the shop, on the table when you first come through the door, so don't walk into it." He set the crossbow aside with a heavy exhalation. "I want you to be extremely careful tonight."

How like him, to turn an inconsequential moment into a too-serious-for-comfort pep talk. I put on my brave face for him. "You know I will be. When have I ever marched into danger recklessly before?"