Bring Me to Life (8 page)

“Yeah,” Gregori said as he and his brothers moved into the room. “She’s one hot little piece of work. Too bad she died when Felix sent me to save her ass last year.”

Vincent knew he was going to be sick. “She died?”

Caleb, the middle brother, nodded. “Yeah, she dropped out on me, too, when I tried two years ago.” He matched Vincent in height, but his frame, while still warriorlike, was slimmer than Vincent’s and Gregori’s. His hair was always above his shoulders, but shaggy around the edges.

This was not good. Vincent swallowed back the bile rising in his throat as he looked at the youngest, Derrick. The man was a good two inches shorter than Gregori, but his body was thick, like a brick wall. His dark hair dusted his shoulders, but the top was tied back with a strap of leather. All three men wore the same garb Vincent had on. Fatigues, combat boots, and a black shirt with enough holsters and sheaths filled with various weapons attached to their bodies that the four of them could be considered an army.

Derrick winced. “Three years ago and I didn’t make it past day two before she, um, didn’t make it.”

Vincent rubbed at the colossal knot forming at the base of his neck. His next question came out in a savage snarl, “Did any of you have sex with her?”

The Argent brothers all moved back from him at once. “Not that stupid,” Gregori said, just as Caleb said, “Are you kidding? I found her at your grave. It would have been a suicidal act of lust.” Derrick put up his hands. “We knew she’d been yours. We might have our dumb moments, but we’re not that stupid.”

He studied all of them for a few minutes before he decided they were telling him the truth. Even if they weren’t, it was better for his limited amount of sanity to believe them. “All right, let me have a look at those files.”

Gregori handed him the clear cellophane-like material. Vincent sat down on the corner of the bed and watched the last three events that led up to Bryna’s death.

With Derrick she’d been caught by a vampire named Draven. He was using the vampire’s power of enthrall to force her into luring Derrick out into the open for the slaughter, but she was able to ignore it because of the vampire mark on her throat. Bryna opened a vein before she’d ever been able to make the call, and a powerful demon had been right there to cart her soul off to Oblivion.

With Caleb it was the same vampire again, only this time Bryna hadn’t been able to end herself before making the call. The vampire anticipated the move and blocked the suicide, but he hadn’t been able to stop her from warning Caleb as he arrived to pull her ass out of hell. The vampire slaughtered her before Caleb had been able to fight off the horde surrounding her, and once again, a powerful demon had been there to take her to Oblivion.

With Gregori, it was the same damn vampire. Draven blocked every attempt Bryna made to keep Gregori alive, to the point the large man was being beaten to a pulp by the horde. Bryna pulsed, taking out enough vampires to give Gregori a chance to have Felix recall him. Gregori was going down fast, and Bryna used the last bit of energy she had to pulse a second time, sending Draven to Oblivion. The powerful demon had been right there to drag her down with Draven.

Two things struck him. One was he recognized Draven as the vampire who had delivered the death blow that killed him. The second was so obvious he knew he’d be sending Felix into Oblivion for not showing him sooner. By like oh, maybe one hundred and ninety years. What he’d believed about Bryna wasn’t only gut-wrenchingly false, but only compounded the suffering she’d endured to the point Vincent wasn’t sure his assumption was forgivable. Ever.

The clear film fell to the floor as he dropped his head into his hands. What was the point of letting him believe she’d betrayed him? He’d talked to Felix about it and the damn bastard only shrugged and told him he needed to figure it out on his own. He’d been young enough and stupid enough to think if she’d really loved him the vampire’s thrall wouldn’t work on her. He’d seen women and men fight past it to save the people they loved. It was one of those things he depended on in his line of work. Only a few times the vampire had been stronger than the victim.

Draven had to be a powerful vampire. There was some way he’d been anticipating her moves and orchestrating his actions to counteract hers.

“The room’s shaking,” Gregori said. His powerful arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall.

Vincent nearly came up off the bed after him. “Don’t push your luck. I need all of you out of here, but stay close. I might need you to defeat this Draven fucker.”

The three brothers all exchanged looks and then shrugged. “Sure,” Caleb said. “Any idea where we can find a little pleasant entertainment?”

Vincent snorted at him. Of course they’d be thinking about recreational sex if he didn’t need them right away, but…Ah, forget it. Let them have their fun. He didn’t need them sticking their noses into him fucking up the best thing that ever happened to him to the point he’d never be able to fix it. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find what you’re looking for in the yellow pages. Just get the fuck out of here while you do it. She’ll be out of the shower soon.”

Gregori’s brows went up, and it looked like he was going to object to being kicked out, thought better of it, and nodded. “You know how to get a hold of us if you need us. Keep her alive this time. She’s too pretty to die.”

Gregori made it out the door before Vincent was able to catch him. He watched them walk off into the rain for a moment before he closed the door and swallowed hard. He turned to stare at the bathroom door like it would somehow make everything magically better.

He took a few seconds to fix his dilapidated clothing. Being dead had its perks, along with a few tricks he’d learned over the years. One was how to get his clothes dry, mended, and his body cleaned without having to go through the process of showering and changing. He’d already abandoned his cloak and weapons on the chair beside the door. His sword was propped up in a corner. He had nothing left to do besides take up pacing the length of the room as he waited for her.

It felt like an eternity before the bathroom door opened. She appeared with damp hair and dry baggy clothes. He was sure those sweat pants were familiar, and he remembered the shirt being the one she’d stolen from his drawer so she’d be able to wear it at home when her Uncle Ron had a week when he wasn’t allowing them to see each other.

The vibrancy of her emerald eyes had faded. Her shoulders were hunched over, and her arms were wrapped protectively around herself.

“Hi,” she mumbled.

He let out a slow breath and met her gaze. “We need to talk. Will you sit down?”

She studied him for a moment before she nodded once and moved to perch on the end of one of the beds in the room. “What are we talking about?”

He crouched down in front of her and reached up and took both of her hands into his. He forced a calm into his voice he wasn’t feeling. “I need to know how you think you killed me.”

Her mouth opened, and then shut before she turned her head with her eyes closed. “The pulse. I couldn’t control it. It killed everything in that clearing but me,” she whispered.

His jaw started a slow ticking. It looked like there was one vampire who’d developed the ability to block it. It didn’t matter. He’d find a way to send that son of a bitch into Oblivion. Right now, he had more important things to deal with.

“Look at me, sunshine.”

She hesitated for a moment before she looked at him.

“A rod iron bar killed me. It’s what caused the scar. The pulse turns what it kills into ash.”

*

Bryna stopped breathing. “I’m sorry.” Her mind went reeling. “But don’t you hate me for killing Vincent?”

He let her go and rubbed at the back of his neck. He sat down on the floor across from her and worked the muscles of his jaw before he looked at her again. “What I saw when I got there”—he looked down and picked at the lint in the carpet before he growled low and his eyes met hers again—“I thought what I was seeing was real.”

Bryna scrambled off the bed and into the bathroom. She crashed down in front of the toilet, dragged her hair away from her face and emptied the meager contents of her stomach. Even when there was nothing left, she heaved and coughed and then heaved again until she was sure her stomach was going to expel itself from her body.

Vincent’s gentle hand stroked down her back as the other one took up the task of holding her hair back. He murmured soft words until she was able to get herself settled down. Then his strong hands were around her waist, helping her up and to the sink so she could brush her teeth before he directed her back into the main part of the room and didn’t let her go until she was settled back on the edge of the bed.

Her body trembled viciously, and she refused to look at him. “I killed you.”

“No,” he said with much anger. “I was killed by a vampire named Draven. He smashed my skull in while another one tormented you.”

She shook her head. No. It was better to believe she’d killed him than to know he’d believed she’d betrayed him. “Wraith—”

“Do not call me that. I am Vincent. The fucking idiot who—”

“Don’t!” she yelled as she hopped back on the bed. “Don’t you dare let me believe anything different than what I think happened. Don’t you dare!”

“You’re killing yourself for a lie!” he roared at her.

She went up on her knees. “But the alternative is that you think I betrayed you! I love you. I’d never do anything to hurt you. I needed you too much!”

“I know,” he said, his voice raw. He crouched down at the end of the bed. “I know. I should have known that all along. A vampire’s thrall would have been too powerful for a fifteen-year-old to beat. I’m sorry. I—”

“Shut up!” she screamed. She scrambled backward until her back was pressed up against the headboard. Her life was one disgusting mess after another since his death. The men, the booze, the drugs, and everything else she’d used to try to destroy herself. Even if she’d gotten the pulse right, he’d have been dead anyway. “You died on me, and you think it’s because I handed you to a vampire!” Her hand slammed down on the night table next to the bed, and she picked up the only thing not nailed down. The alarm clock. She drew it back. Then he was on the bed next to her, confiscating it before she could throw it at him.

“Give that back, you son of a bitch!”

“No,” he said in an infuriatingly calm tone as he tossed it onto the other bed. “You’d hurt yourself later for hitting me with it.”

“How could you think I’d willingly hand you over to a vampire?”

He sat back on his heels in front of her. His shoulders drooped. “Because I am a bastard. That night was so confusing, and I woke up dead from the ordeal.” He was quiet for a moment. “They were all dead? You killed them?”

“I don’t know.” She was honest. “After I pulsed the only thing I saw was you lying on the ground. I tried to wake you up, but I couldn’t.” She was heading for a major breakdown, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop it. Everything came out between ragged sobs. “There were piles of ash everywhere. You were just—” She couldn’t say the word. “I don’t know how I called my uncle. Then the place was crawling with police and questions. I told them there were vampires. I spent three years in and out of the psychiatric ward until I realized if I just agreed with the police’s assessment of what happened, they’d stop saying I was crazy.”

“I didn’t trust you,” he said in an even tone.

Her heart was going to explode. It was beating so fast, and she couldn’t catch her breath. “You did. I killed you. Please, let that be true.”

His burnt sienna eyes went sad as he shook his head. “No. It wasn’t the pulse. You still had a body to bury.”

She couldn’t decide which was worse. Thinking all this time that she’d killed him or finding out that he’d hated her for all this time because he hadn’t trusted her. Then she flew at him, ready to do as much damage as she could.

*

Vincent let her pound on his chest for a moment before he caught her wrists and pinned her down to the bed. This was killing him. He could take the blame for his part in her torment, but he wouldn’t take it all. He’d find a way to help her out the other side of this, and he’d endure whatever punishment she deemed he deserved for his distrust. It wouldn’t lessen the torture he was going to inflict on the vampire responsible, and he knew it had to be Draven. The attack had purpose. They’d lived in a small town that hadn’t had a vampire problem before that night or after.

Bryna struggled to make him let her go. “You fucking jerk! Let me go! Let me go!” Her voice cracked, and she bucked up before she bit him.

Vincent let her go and moved out of the way as she came up swinging. She kneeled in the middle of the bed shaking with rage. Her face was flushed and scary as she looked at him just before she collapsed in a fit of hysterical sobs.

He hesitated for moment, not sure he’d be welcomed before he climbed up on the bed next to her and pulled her into his arms. Her fist thumped against his chest before she curled in against him and sobbed with angry bitterness.

*

Bryna had never cried so hard in her life. She wasn’t sure when she’d actually stopped sobbing and just lay stretched out across Vincent’s lap on the middle of the motel bed. She hadn’t killed him after all. The pulse had probably saved her wretched life, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that either.

She wanted to hate Vincent for not trusting her, she really did, but she couldn’t. If she’d come across him hanging all over another girl and giggly with a beer can in his hands she’d have probably come to the same conclusion he had. Not only that, but he’d come. No matter what he thought about what she’d been doing, he’d fought to the death to get her out of there.

Was she angry with him?

Hell yes!

Was she going to torture him for it?

She shifted on his lap and looked up at his horribly scarred face. His hand still stroked down her hair, and she could see the self-loathing misery in him. She knew it well. It had consumed her life for the last ten years.