Blood Born (43 page)

The responses came fast and furious. “… I am.” “Yes, you moron!” followed by canned laughter. “Yeah, that’s the way …” “… forever.”

“Fine, then,” he muttered. “What am I supposed to do?” He wanted someone to tell him what was going on, he wanted not to be guessing anymore. He wanted and needed a few concrete answers. He hadn’t gotten many of those lately.

This time the response wasn’t as easy as the others had been. The channels changed quickly, wildly, before stopping long enough for one word to be heard. “… you …” Again, channels flew past before stopping for a second. “Must …” Jimmy stood very still, he waited patiently as whatever was speaking to him continued to search for the right word. “… believe.” “… accept …” and finally one word that was louder than the rest. It seemed to resonate through him, to touch his gut and his bones.
“Ask!”

The television went silent and dark. Jimmy could still see the strange light that had tormented him lately, but now it felt more peaceful, stronger. And somehow, his. A word that had been just out of reach—a
name
he had never heard before—popped into his head, and he knew that name was a very important part of the puzzle.

He took a deep breath and said a quick prayer that he was making the right decision. “Please,” he said softly, “help me. Whoever you are, wherever you’re coming from, I invite you into my world.” Was he wrong? Were these the right words? He was feeling his way, as if he was putting a puzzle together in the dark. Was he inviting in something wrong, something that didn’t belong here? No, what was coming was meant to be, was in some way a part of him. He squared his shoulders. “If you’re a good spirit, someone sent to help, then please, come. Come, Rurik.”

The light grew brighter, colors swirled through the bright light. Blue, red, green, even a coppery brown. Then the light kind of exploded; he threw up his arm to shield his eyes but he was a little late, and the flash momentarily blinded him.

When he could see again, he blinked hard, then blinked some more. Holy shit! He could barely breathe. Where the lights had been, there was now a man, kneeling on one knee, his head down: a big, flesh-and-blood man, wearing something plain and brown, but with a big sword strapped to his back. Long dark hair fell forward, hiding the man’s face. Jimmy’s heart was pounding so hard he could actually hear it, actually feel it, the blood throbbing through his body. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it.

The man lifted his head, revealing his face. It was a face that reminded Jimmy a little of pictures of his grandfather as a younger man: the nose, the mouth, the
dark eyes. These dark eyes were leveled at Jimmy. The man—the soldier, Rurik—effortlessly rose to his full height, which had to be a good six-foot-four.

And he spoke, with a touch of what sounded like a Russian accent. “We are running out of time. We need more.”

    Sorin glared at the young vamp, not believing what he’d just heard. They stood in the room where Jonas was being held, ignoring the tracker as he ran from map to map, from notes to laptop, and then back to the map. Poor Jonas was stretched to his limit.

“Tell me again,” Sorin said, his command directed to the fledgling. God, was he surrounded by idiots? Was this what Regina gave him to work with? If this was the best the rebels had, they were doomed.

“Loman and Freda said they didn’t want to do this anymore, they think we’re going to lose, and they left. They”—he swallowed hard—“They both deserted. Freda said something about France. They wanted me to tell you, and I didn’t want to tell you, but … but … but I’m not a deserter.”

The last thing he needed was word about this getting out, Sorin thought furiously. Freda and Loman had both been with the revolution from the outset. They weren’t among the best, but he’d thought they were at least
dedicated
. If the others heard that they had bailed, it wouldn’t be good for morale.

“Where were the three of you when this happened?” Maybe there was something the fledgling wasn’t telling … or didn’t know.

“Jonas said there was a conduit nearby. Like, really close. He yelled out and we heard him. The three of us were just outside the door, so we …”

Sorin turned to Jonas, who was more frantic than usual tonight. “Is this true?”

“Maybe I was wrong,” Jonas said, not looking toward Sorin but continuing his work. “There was
something
very near, an energy I couldn’t quite read. I thought conduit, but then it was gone and it was too late for me to call them back, and since I’m locked in this room, a prisoner among my own kind doing the work of half a dozen trackers, there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot I could do,” he finished bitterly.

The man had a right to be bitter. And what choice did Sorin have but to believe him? They’d never spoken of it, but Jonas had actually covered up Phillip Stargel’s survival. Sorin hadn’t even asked, it had just been done. With a glance Jonas had made it clear that he understood … and that he wouldn’t tell. If Jonas had told Regina that a New York conduit still lived Sorin would be, at the very least, ousted; at worst, dust. As it was, a black pin had been stuck in the map, marking the place of Phillip’s “death.” Because Jonas had kept that secret, there was an uneasy bond of trust between them, at least for now.

Sorin turned to the young soldier again. “So the three of you went looking for a nonexistent conduit.” He wasn’t sure he believed that, but for now it would do.

“Yeah. We looked for a while, and then Loman said he was bored, and Freda said this revolution wasn’t going the way she’d thought it would, and they started talking about France and … that was it.”

“And you didn’t go with them,” Sorin said.

The soldier fiddled with his earlobe. “They, uh, didn’t ask me.” He quickly caught himself. “And like I said, I’m no deserter.”

Distracted as he was by the bad news, Sorin couldn’t help but notice Jonas’s sudden stillness. He’d been running back and forth all night, talking to himself, making notes. Now he stood still and silent in the middle of the small room.

“What’s wrong?” Sorin snapped. “Do you need to feed?” Maybe he’d simply run out of steam and needed nourishment.

Jonas shook his head, then walked to his box of pins. He dug through, chose one, then walked slowly to the map of the United States. Without hesitation he stuck a white pin, the first on the map, into Texas.

“It’s begun,” Jonas said. “A warrior has arrived.”

Chloe couldn’t stop shaking. She’d tried. She’d attempted to force herself to quit trembling from head to toe, to take total control of her body, but it didn’t work.

Knowing what she did, she shouldn’t be surprised that they’d been jumped by three vampires, but accepting that a battle was coming and watching as vampires intent on killing her leapt out of the night with scary-ass teeth bared were worlds apart. Yes, Luca had protected her. And yes, the attacking vampires had eventually gone to dust, which sounded so neat and clean but really wasn’t. Unfortunately, the transformation from headless to dust wasn’t immediate.

There had been a too-long moment of grossness, as well as severed heads that continued to see and tried to talk for a split second, which was about a split second plus a million years too long. And whatever magic or biology that had made the vampires’ blood conveniently disappear along with the bodies did
not
extend to the blood that had soaked Luca when he’d pulled their heads off. He’d been covered in it, his shirt and face and hair, even his jeans. So much blood … Just what she needed to make the day complete; the sight of the man she was sleeping with, the man she’d trusted her
life to, soaked in the blood of vampires who’d tried to kill her.

At least they had clothes in the van, so as soon as they’d found a secluded spot after leaving the posh neighborhood that would forever have a place in Chloe’s nightmares, Luca had pulled to the side of the road, changed his clothes, and done his best with what he had to clean his face and hands.

It was near sunrise when they checked into a hotel, chosen because it had an underground garage and sat at the intersection of two major roads, making for an easier escape if they had to make one. In the light of the lobby Chloe could see specks of blood Luca had missed in his hasty clean-up, but the desk clerk didn’t seem to notice. It was a glamouring thing, she knew. Luca made sure the hotel employee didn’t see anything that would alarm him.

She
remained alarmed, however, whenever she looked at Luca and saw a streak of red in his dark hair, or that smudge of blood under his jaw.

They didn’t have a suite this time, just a room with a big bed, a television, and one uncomfortable-looking chair. The heavy curtains, which they could pull over the window, was the best thing about the room. Not that it mattered; they wouldn’t be here long. Tomorrow they’d have to move again, and then the next day … again. She wasn’t going to bother to unpack this time.

Temporary or not, she was grateful for the four walls around her, glad for the comfort of this home away from home.

Which brought another thought to the forefront of her mind. “Can they come in here?” she asked. “Without invitation, I mean?”

“I’ll protect you.”

She took that as a firm “yes.”

“You couldn’t just lie and tell me we’d be safe here for a while,” she grumbled.

“Of course not.” He sounded remote, as if something was on his mind. Well, that wasn’t surprising, but Chloe felt shut out, and unreasonably hurt.

They both headed for the small bathroom, driven by the same urge. Luca needed to get the remaining blood off his skin, out of his hair. Chloe wanted to wash the stink of Ahron’s airless home from her skin and the memory of the attack from her mind.

As she quickly peeled off her clothes, Chloe worked up her courage and asked, “Are you going to make me forget what happened?”
Please?
Yesterday, or even just hours ago, she wouldn’t have asked, she would have simply gone into his arms. This new distance she felt in him was intimidating, as if she trespassed on some private ground.

Luca, stripping off his clothes much faster than she could, didn’t look directly at her. “No,” he said tersely as he reached into the shower and turned on the water.

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t need to be relaxed. You need to remember that you aren’t safe.”

“I’m safe with you.” Wasn’t she? After all, he’d taken care of three vampires in order to save her. He’d killed two and sent the other one running home with his mind muddled and his tail between his legs, figuratively speaking.

“Not really.”

She swallowed an impulse to cry and, using sheer willpower, pulled herself under control. Had she done something wrong? If he’d already gotten tired of her, it had come on fast, because before the attack he’d been holding her hand. Now he acted as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. What had happened?

She stepped into the shower; Luca was right behind her. She turned her back on him and lifted her face to the water, willing herself to not think about anything.
For a moment, it worked; for a long, wonderful moment they stood there, sharing the strong, hot spray of water that could wash away some of what had happened. Blood, sweat, dust … but not memories. She glanced down, watching the swirl of pink water as the remaining blood was washed away, staring as all that was left of the vampires who had tried to kill her disappeared down the drain.

If only she could go back in time and forget all that she knew! In just a few short days, her world had been turned completely upside down. Vampires, conduits, warriors … in many ways she wanted to be blissfully ignorant again, with no worries beyond making rent and preparing for her parents’ upcoming visit. She hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t asked to be bonded to some super vampire. Then again, Luca hadn’t asked for it either, and he kept risking his life for her, kept putting himself between her and everything that threatened her. If it weren’t for vampire rebels and Immortal Warriors, they never would’ve met. But going back would mean she’d never met him, and knowing Luca, being a part of his life, was worth any risk she could think of.

Besides, she thought, shaking herself back to reality, time travel wasn’t an option … as far as she knew. Wouldn’t that be a trip? What else existed in the world that she didn’t know about? If there were vampires, and warriors who lived in another world just waiting to step into this one, what else existed just beyond her knowing? She didn’t want to find out, not right now. Whatever was wrong between her and Luca, she wanted to put it right.

She turned around, reached up, and touched Luca’s face. The female vampire had scratched him, leaving long, deep, ragged furrows in his cheek, but all the evidence was gone now. She’d watched it heal before her
eyes, closing up, his perfect skin reknitting. After a short while even the scar had faded away and his face was as smooth now as it had been before.

“When this is over, if we both survive, will you make me forget you the way others forget?” she asked sadly.

“If I can.”

She wasn’t surprised by his answer. In all honesty, she’d like to forget the terror, but she didn’t want to forget him. Which would she choose, to feel safe again, or to have Luca? It went against her common sense, but given the choice, she wanted Luca. She had never supposed he’d stay with her her entire life, but at least she wanted to remember him, to keep the memory of him in her mind as well as her heart.

“You don’t belong in my life and I don’t belong in yours,” he said.

“So when this is all over, if we survive and the vampires don’t change everything, I’ll forget all about you, and you’ll forget me …”

“I won’t forget you.” His words were sharper than was necessary. “Ever.”

“Because of the bonding.” She’d known he was reluctant to bond with her, but had she truly realized how much it would cost him? She knew she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

“It doesn’t make any sense at all to care for a human,” he growled. Water ran down his face, across his finely sculpted lips. It looked as if the last of the blood had finally washed away. No pink rivulets ran down his body; it had all washed down the drain, gone but not forgotten. Never forgotten. “You don’t live long enough to warrant the investment.”