Blurred Memories (21 page)

“
Jen,” Daniel finished in a
tired voice. “Which is how she escaped. Great.”

“
There’s still time,” Kate
said urgently. “We can catch them before they get to the
breach.”

Blake stilled, his fingers
trembling on the buttons of his shirt. “I told you, he’s gone,” he
murmured, at the same time as Daniel said at the other end of the
line, “He already went through. I can’t feel him anymore. It’s like
what he said happened to him when Blake was taken.”

“
Gone,” Blake repeated. His
hand dropped to his thigh and scratched the tattoo.

Kate hung up the phone
without another word and went to him, wrapping her arms around him
and holding him as tightly as she could.

“
He’ll be back,” she
whispered. “He’ll come back for us.”

She meant each and every
word, but seeing Blake so distraught still had an effect on her. As
much as she understood
why
Marc had done it, she also wished
he hadn’t. Marc could take care of himself—she knew that—but more
danger lurked on the other side of the breach than she even wanted
to imagine. She had no idea how to calm Blake, how to stop him from
trembling against her, when she was so close to shaking
herself.

* * * *

Blake’s world was whirling,
everything too blurry for him to distinguish, like he was caught in
a tornado. He tried to cling to reality, but there was nothing for
him to hold on to, nothing but this truth:

Marc was gone.

Marc, or his
Master?

It didn’t matter. He was
gone. He had abandoned Blake. And as Blake tried to understand why,
more and more reasons kept being added to the list. He had done
everything wrong. He had broken more rules than he would ever have
thought possible. It was a wonder Marc hadn’t left earlier. A
wonder that he hadn’t disciplined Blake long before now.

Had it been a test, maybe?
Had he let Blake do as he pleased to see exactly how badly he would
behave? If it had been a test, Blake had undoubtedly failed. And
that was why Marc was gone.

Why he wouldn’t be
back.

Would he?

“
Come on, Blake. You’re
hurting yourself again. Stop it.”

A hand curled around his
wrist and pulled his fingers away from his thigh. He looked down,
and blinked when he saw the blood that covered the tingling skin
and obscured his tattoo. The same blood stained his fingers. Kate’s
hand was clean, though. Clean and tight over his wrist, holding him
safe. His Master was gone, but she was there.

Was she part of the test?
Was their Master watching, somehow? He always seemed to know
everything that happened in Blake’s cell. Would the punishment be
even worse if Blake listened to her or let her touch
him?

Instinctively, he scrambled
away from where she was sitting on the floor next to him. She
looked pained, but she had to understand that he was only moving
back to protect her. Surely, she could understand as much. She had
been hurt often enough for being kind to him to
remember…

He blinked, and for a brief
moment, he could see the flaws in his own thinking, could see he
wasn’t making much sense at all, not about Kate, and certainly not
about Marc. Every time the tattoo tingled, his mind lost its
clarity, and illusions and nightmares tried to take him over again.
He opened his mouth, but already his awareness was fading in light
of the overwhelming certitude that things were wrong, completely
and utterly wrong, and there would be blood and tears and pain to
pay for the wrongness of it all. There always was.

He rose to his feet and
started moving away from her again, but a noise behind him drew his
attention, and he turned at once, eyes open wide and lips ready to
beg for his Master’s forgiveness, for Marc’s return. But the man he
expected to see wasn’t there, and instead, it was another man
standing by the door. Another vampire. Another of Marc’s Childer.
If Blake breathed in deeply, he could smell just a hint of their
Sire on him.

As he backed into the corner
and away from Kate—safely away, where he wouldn’t risk touching her
and earn both of them punishment in reply—Blake tried to remember
the name of the other vampire. It took him a few moments before he
did. Daniel. That was his name, yes. Blake had vague memories of
him from when he had still had a heartbeat; memories of Daniel not
liking him much, and Blake returning this dislike wholeheartedly.
Memories, also, of talking with Marc about Daniel.

“
I’ll always be your Sire,”
Marc had said, so why was he gone? Would he come back? And what if
he did? What would happen next? Would he be back for Blake or would
he return to hurt him again? Would it be worse than before? Would
the past seem like a walk in a park compared to what his Master was
planning?

The answer to that was
simple and illuminating. Blake needed help. He needed protection.
He needed someone who would intervene for him before Marc. And who
better for that than Marc’s Childe? A man who had soldiers and
mages under his command?

Making an effort to
concentrate on what Daniel and Kate were saying again, Blake caught
the end of a sentence.

“—
mind staying with him for
a minute?” she was saying. “I want to get some blood and see if
feeding will help him.”

Good. Very good. She was
stepping out. That meant he would be alone with Daniel. Better if
they were alone. Better if she didn’t see. She always cried when
she saw Blake—

Pushing the memory away,
Blake clutched at his shirt, and when his hands trembled too much
to allow him to undo the buttons, he simply tore it off before
getting rid of his t-shirt, too.

“
What are you doing?”
Daniel asked immediately. His voice held a thread of disapproval,
and by pure instinct Blake dropped to his knees. He couldn’t have
disapproval. He needed protection. He needed to be good. He needed
to show Daniel just how good he was, so that Daniel would tell
their Sire, and Marc wouldn’t hurt Blake too much when he
returned.

If he returned.

Panic tried to sink in
again, but Blake held it at bay as he advanced toward Daniel, head
bowed, until his forehead was touching the floor in front of
Daniel’s feet.

“
I will be good,” he said
as quietly as he could, knowing that by simply speaking he was
breaking the rules but needing to say something. “Will you tell him
I will be good? I will do everything he says. Be a good boy. I
promise.”

Without daring to look up at
his face, Blake reached toward the fastenings of Daniel’s pants.
Family. They were both Marc’s Childer, surely it was alright to
show him—

“
Blake! Stop it! What on
earth do you think you’re doing?”

Hands dropping instantly at
the shout so that he could cover his head with his arms, Blake
waited for the blows to start falling. There would be even more of
them for his attempt at protecting himself, but he couldn’t help
the defensive response.

“
What’s going on
here?”

If anything, Kate’s return
made Blake want to hide even more. Daniel didn’t want him; would he
punish her for Blake’s mistake? Would he take her away, and leave
Blake all alone once more? As alone as he had been after they had
shut him in that box, left in there for days, and only let out to
confront his guilt and pain every time he laid eyes on
Kate.

Until Marc had come for him.
Until he had taken Blake away.

And Marc had come when Blake
had called him. It was easy to call. The thread was always like a
shining beacon in Blake’s mind, all he needed was to take hold of
it and pull, tug, cry out for help, and his Sire would
hear.

He would hear, but would he
come? He had gone to Jen before. He had abandoned Blake and only
returned after years had passed, after he had figured out that she
was a traitor. This time, Marc had known when he had gone to her.
This time, he was a traitor, too. Would he ever return?

The first tentative touch of
a hand on his bare back made him start shaking, and once again he
expected the pain to start. But the warm hand remained gentle, and
stroked him calmly, gently, in the same rhythm as the quiet words
that fell on him like feathers and snowflakes.

They were words Marc had
repeated to him too many times to count, and maybe because they
were so familiar, they were easy to listen to, easy to accept, even
if it was Kate voicing them. Even if she was in just as much danger
as Blake.

“
You’re safe,” she
repeated, over and over. “I promise, Blake, nothing will happen to
you. You’re safe.”

But he wasn’t safe. No one
was. Not him, not Kate, and especially not Marc.

He finally tried tugging on
the bloodline, tried calling Marc back to them. Doing so he
realized the link only existed in his memory. His body shook even
harder.

Chapter 18

Going through the portal was
a curious and rather unpleasant sensation, like being doused in icy
water without getting wet. It became even more unsettling when
Marc’s vision adjusted and he found himself standing in full
sunlight. He gasped and looked around him for shade, already
bracing himself for burning pain, but Jen rested a hand on his
shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

“
You’re not going to burn,”
she said in a wary voice. “The sun is different here. It doesn’t
bother the demons, either. See?”

Marc looked in the direction
she pointed, squinting in the uncomfortably bright light. They
stood in a rocky clearing, surrounded by tall mounds of rocks.
There was a way out straight ahead, and a small group of demons
guarded it.

“
Is the glamour still in
effect?” Marc asked Simon urgently.

At his side, Simon was
pressing a hand to his stomach as though he were queasy. “It should
be,” he said, his complexion taking a distinct green
tinge.

“
Should?” Jen repeated,
nonplussed, but Simon didn’t seem to hear.

“
Are we sure humans can
live here?” His voice shook slightly. “I don’t feel so
good.”

“
The nausea’s normal,” Jen
said. “It’ll pass in a few minutes. Now, are you certain your magic
trick is still working?”

Sick or not, Simon glared at
her. “Why don’t you try talking louder?” he asked. “If the
glamour’s down, you’ll find out really fast.”

Marc’s gaze rushed to the
group of demons. A couple of them were lying down, propped against
rocks, clearly sleeping. Others were sitting in the dirt in a rough
circle, in turns throwing what looked like small rocks; had they
been humans, Marc would have said they were playing dice. None of
them so much as glanced toward the breach, Marc, Jen, and Simon.
Just the same, Marc kept his sword in hand.

“
What about the spell to
stop them from tracking me?” Jen insisted. “That didn’t break when
we came through, did it?”

Simon now looked insulted.
“No, it did not.” He turned his nose up at her. “I know what I’m
doing and I did my job. Now do yours. Which way?”

Knowing Jen like he did,
Marc knew she wouldn’t appreciate being talked to like this, and he
intervened before she could flash her fangs at Simon.

“
Do we have to go by them?”
he asked, indicating the demons. “Glamour or not, I’d rather go
another way if I can.”

She sniffed and gave a short
nod. “There’s a trail. That’s how I escaped. Demons are too clumsy
to make it through. This way.”

She led them to the right,
where flat rocks formed a sort of staircase—albeit a treacherous
one. She began climbing first, Simon following close behind her by
observing where she positioned her feet. Marc was last, the sword
now sheathed at his side but ready to be drawn at a moment’s
notice. He divided his attention between his companions and the
demons, making sure that the demons still hadn’t noticed them. He
couldn’t help but wonder, yet again, if he had made a
mistake.

Coming through the breach to
free the prisoners was the right thing to do; of that much, he was
sure. But should he have brought more fighters? Simon couldn’t
fight; his only weapons were his magic and the bag of supplies that
bounced against his leg with each step. Jen was a good fighter, and
that was why Marc had given her a sword. But he remembered all too
well the last time she had drawn her sword against him.

Simon came close to falling
on the slippery rocks about halfway up, but Marc steadied him from
behind, and they eventually reached the top without any more
incidents. From there, they could see the terrain on all sides. Far
in the distance, the sun was setting toward a range of jagged
mountain peaks.

The sun was bigger than the
sun Marc remembered from his human days, its color a light orange
that felt odd. To the left of the mountain range, the terrain
seemed flat all the way to the horizon, with little to break it up
other than boulders and some isolated shrubs. The place looked as
desolate as a desert on Earth.

Something inside Marc
yearned to go back home, back to where his stomach didn’t feel like
it was caught in his throat and he didn’t have to squint against
the brightness of the sky and the air didn’t taste as stale as old
water. After all this time, he would have thought he would enjoy
standing in the sun without risk, but the rays barely felt warm on
his skin. It was an altogether unpleasant feeling.