Blurred Memories (10 page)

“
Simon,” Kate interrupted
in a restrained voice. “Just tell us.”

Simon’s flash of irritation
at having been cut off was directed entirely at Kate. His mouth
settled on a pout, and Blake figured if they wanted an answer, he
would have to ask himself.

“
What does it
mean?”

Focusing on Blake, Simon sat
up straight and said gravely, “A sword never kills anybody; it is a
tool in the killer's hand.”

The words echoed with a
strange familiarity in Blake’s mind. He could almost hear himself
saying the quote, with a different inflection, and just one
different word.
Anyone
instead of
anybody
. The
meaning was the same, though, and it resonated inside Blake, cast
light on what he had been—what he wanted to be again.

He wasn’t a soldier. He
wasn’t like Kate, or Daniel, or even Marc. They all fought for
others, to protect weaker people who couldn’t protect themselves,
because it was the right thing to do. Blake could understand that,
he could even admire it, but that wasn’t who he was at the
core.

He was a hunter. A killer.
And he had been even before he had become a vampire. For as long as
he could recall, killing demons had been what he wanted to do. He
had found more reasons to fight after he had met Kate, but the
thought had first come to him when he had been nothing but a child.
A child who had lost everything and everyone to the demons’ hands,
and had waited for hours in the trunk of a car for the killing to
stop and for someone to find him. In the end, he had needed to get
out and find his way back to society on his own.

The thought had been there
still, as he became a teenager; he had learned to protect himself
the best he could, always with the idea at the back of his mind
that everything he learned might some day help him against demons.
As a young man, he had wanted little more than revenge and had
decided that the best way to get that was to get fangs
first.

He had looked for a long
time for the vampire he wouldn’t mind calling his Sire, and he had
found more than he hoped for in Marc: he had found a family again.
For a long time, he had thought it would be just the two of them,
and he had been fine with that. But then Kate had entered their
lives, and she had carved a place for herself in Blake’s heart,
right next to Marc. She was family, too.

It was one reason why it had
hurt so much to see her being tortured in his place: he had lost
one family already when they had given their lives to protect him,
but at least it had been their choice. Kate—the woman or women who
had been made to look like Kate—had had no such choice. And even at
the worst moments, when Blake had been ready to take his own life
if only given the chance, he had still thought of Marc as his
family.

He still did now; still
loved them both more than he could express.

He always would.

That part of him hadn’t
changed, and discovering that, Blake realized something else: his
thirst for revenge was still there, deeper than ever. There was
only one way to satisfy it: kill demons. He was scared, yes, like
that child had been scared, slipping out of that trunk, like that
young man had been scared, searching for the right vampire, but he
had pushed past the fear then, and he would do the same now. He
would reclaim his place in his family.

He shifted on the bench,
sitting up straighter. Just moments earlier, he had been too scared
to think. Now, he was almost eager to get to the breach—eager to
start fighting again. He wouldn’t falter anymore. He promised
himself that much.

When he stepped out of the
truck and slipped the harness of his scabbard over his shoulders,
he no longer felt like he was retracing steps that led to disaster.
This was a new night, and it would be a
good
night.

“
You’re sure you’re okay
with this?” Kate asked, bumping lightly against his arm.

Blake offered her a thin
smile. He had expected Marc to ask the question first. Then again,
Marc had taken a step back since the previous morning, as though
waiting to see what Blake would do next. Even now, he stood close
to them but remained silent. The way he observed Blake’s every
movement kept Blake on edge more than he liked to admit, which was
why he had volunteered for this, as he now reminded
Kate.

“
I’m fine,” he added when
his wordless answer didn’t appear to convince her. He hated having
to repeat those words over and over, but he didn’t have anything
better to offer. “You know I like to see how magic is
done.”

At the mention of magic,
Simon appeared at Kate’s side, his leather bag in his arms,
excitement all too clear on his expression.

“
Let’s go,” Daniel called
out as the last of the fighters jumped out of the truck. “Simon,
cloak us.”

A sense of familiarity
rolled over Blake once more. How many times had he walked toward
demon territory with Marc and Kate at his side, under the cover of
Simon’s magic?

As they made their way
toward the breach, Blake found himself reaching for the sword’s
hilt over his shoulder every few minutes. He wanted to call himself
an idiot for it; why did he need to check that the sword was still
there when he could feel the weight of it on his shoulders? It was
even worse because every time he made that compulsive movement,
Kate and Marc both looked at him with the same worry in their
eyes.

Knowing he had a weapon or
knowing his lovers were concerned did not change the fact that he
had
to be sure he could get to his sword. If he didn’t
check, if the smallest doubt rose in his mind, he wouldn’t be able
to keep moving. It became even more important once the breach
appeared in the distance, a shimmering shape in the middle of a
dilapidated parking lot.

As they neared the breach,
Blake caught himself breathing fast, and started calling himself an
idiot again. He didn’t
need
to breathe. What was wrong with
him? And why had he taken his sword in hand?

Daniel motioned for the
group to stop before turning a wary look toward Blake. “Did you see
something?” he asked, and from his tone it was obvious that he
already knew the answer. He hadn’t objected to Blake’s presence on
the mission, at least not where Blake could have heard him, but he
had seemed more than glad when Blake had decided to stand guard
over Simon while he worked.

“
I thought I saw something
move,” Blake said, uncomfortable now as more eyes turned to him.
“It was nothing.”

He met Marc’s gaze and could
tell that Marc knew he was lying. He didn’t call Blake on it,
though, and instead pointed to a building to the right of where
they stood.

“
Simon? Will you be close
enough for your spell if you get on the roof there?”

Simon looked up, thought for
a few seconds, his eyes darting back and forth between the roof and
the breach, before he finally nodded. “That should work, yes. Will
the rest of you stay down here?”

“
Yes,” Daniel said. He
pointed at two soldiers. “Go check it out.”

The two men saluted briefly
before running to the building. It was too late for Blake to insist
that he could check the building himself on his way up, too late to
do anything but stand there—exposed—while Daniel directed everyone
to stand in a semi-circle around the breach while staying as much
under cover as possible. Soon, only Kate and Marc remained with
Blake and Simon. The worry in their gazes was stronger than
ever.

“
We could go up there with
you,” Kate suggested, and she sounded almost guilty for offering.
“Do you—”

Before she could finish, the
two soldiers returned and gave the all clear.

“
Let’s go,” Blake told
Simon. “Stay close.” He threw a wink at Kate. “See you in a bit.
Keep an eye on Marc for me.”

Marc played the game and
huffed, but when Blake raised an eyebrow at him, he gave a short
nod—yes, he would keep her safe. Nodding back, Blake started for
the door-less entrance of the building. Even knowing that no demon
hid in the darkened space that had once been a store, Blake found
himself wary of shadows and tensing at every little noise. He led
the way up escalators that had long ago ceased to function and
through a back door that opened onto a staircase. Simon followed so
quietly that his heartbeat, slightly faster than usual, was the
loudest noise Blake could hear.

When they reached the roof,
Blake stopped Simon with a gesture and took a few moments to look
around them. The surface of the roof seemed uneven, and in places
it looked as though the support underneath might have caved
in.

“
This way,” Blake said, and
led Simon along an indirect path that circumvented the spots that
seemed less than secure. “How long is it going to take
you?”

They reached the far end of
the roof, as close to the breach as they could get. Simon knelt
down immediately and started pulling supplies from his
bag.

“
A few minutes to mix
everything together,” he said almost absently. “I’m not sure how
long it’ll take after that since I don’t know what I’m looking for
exactly.”

Blake slid his sword back
into the scabbard and stood next to Simon, his arms crossed over
his chest as he looked down at the magical preparations with a
small measure of discomfort. Once, he had been fascinated by magic
and had enjoyed watching Simon or other mages at work. After all
the magic that had been inflicted on him in the demon dimension,
however, the mere thought of it was sending shivers down his spine.
It was one reason why he had volunteered to be Simon’s bodyguard
tonight. He wanted to get used to being around magic again and
break down one more barrier in his mind.

It all seemed innocuous
enough at the moment: some fragrant herbs and powders, one jar with
something viscous but sweet-smelling; Kate had likened it to
cooking, and Blake could definitely see the similarity. Still, the
goose bumps down his arms wouldn’t subside, and he had to turn
away.

He looked over the low wall
that surrounded the roof, consciously avoiding looking in the
direction of the breach, and searched for Kate and Marc instead. He
found them across the rubble-filled street. Kate waved at him. When
Blake raised a hand to reply in kind, he realized that he had been
scratching at his thigh. He glared at his fingers as though they
were at fault, waved back, then pulled away from the edge to try to
get a grip on himself. Why was every step so damn
difficult?

“
Blake? There’s…there’s
something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long
time.”

Blake threw an impatient
glance at Simon. “Is this really the time?” he said, his annoyance
with himself transpiring through his words. “Do your spell so we
can get out of here.”

He tried not to look
directly at the breach, but he knew it was there, right in the
corner of his eye; he could practically
feel
it, its energy
thrumming through him like blood once had. Was it only an effect of
his imagination or had something changed in him, maybe, when he had
gone through?

“
I never get to talk to you
alone,” Simon said almost mutinously. “They’re always
hovering.”

It was true, and it
frustrated Blake as much as it seemed to annoy Simon, but it really
didn’t matter at that moment. Blake would have berated Simon, but
when he glanced down at him, Simon was working on his spell, mixing
his supplies in a small wooden bowl. Blake held his tongue and
resumed his watch.

His fingers twitched when he
looked toward the breach, and he struggled to stop himself from
scratching his thigh again. He closed his hand into a fist and
turned away to observe Simon’s preparations. Combined together, the
herbs smelled different, the scent more acrid, almost bitter enough
to taste at the back of his tongue. The smell conjured less than
pleasant memories. His throat closed, and it was all he could do
not to gag. He looked away again, up at the sky, open and filled
with stars. Calm slowly returned, and Blake could only be glad that
neither Kate nor Marc was there to see him shake. If he was lucky,
Simon wouldn’t notice either.

He glanced back and
immediately met Simon’s eyes. He
had
noticed, although he
didn’t say anything.

Simon was silent for a
little while, focused again on his work, but soon he paused and
looked up at Blake again. “I just wanted you to know I
tried.”

Blake could hear Simon’s
throat work when he swallowed hard.

“
Tried what?” Blake asked,
more harshly than he meant to.

Simon practically squeaked.
He hunched his shoulders, and when he continued, he addressed his
bowl rather than Blake. “To…to get you back. To open…open the
breach again. So we could get you back. But I couldn’t do it. I
mean, I came close. I had it almost figured out. But almost wasn’t
good enough, I guess. And you…you came back before I could open it.
I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

Blake’s vision narrowed
until all he could see anymore was the paste in Simon’s bowl. It
almost looked like blood, thickened, hardening, but still
red.

For a long time—years, even
decades—Blake had hoped, when his mind had allowed him a few
moments of near-clarity, that someone would come for him. He had
hoped, and even would have prayed if he had still believed in God,
that his cell door would open, and a liberator would walk
in.