Fallen Embers (10 page)

He should have noticed that sooner. He should have guessed something was wrong. But, then again, he shouldn't have had to guess. If something was troubling her, she should have told him. As her friend, he had a right to know these things. As her sire, he had a responsibility to the nest as a whole. It fell to him to maintain order, to minimize the potential for violence or drama—or anything else that might cause problems or bring them unwanted attention.

“In any case, Armand, this is no longer your concern. I will look into the matter myself.” He smiled briefly. “As I've said, I would never force you to stay in a situation that was making you uncomfortable, but are you certain you wish to go? I shall miss you, you know.”

Armand nodded unhappily. “I shall miss you as well. I shall miss…many things here.”

“Indeed.” Most of all, Armand would miss Julie—Conrad was fairly certain that's what he meant. “Now that I've had a moment to consider the subject, I believe you're doing the right thing. It's for the best.”

If theirs was just a mild infatuation, then time and distance should put an end to it. And if not? Well, then Conrad would deal with that eventuality too when the time came. “How long will you be away?”

“I'm not sure yet. It depends on several things.”

It depended on Julie, Conrad thought once again. But, though he would never say it, it also depended on him. He could call Armand back whenever he wanted him. Did Armand even realize that that was the case? “Obviously, you'll keep in touch. Yes?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. Then I guess there's really nothing left to say but
bon voyage
.”

Conrad got to his feet, eager to get this next part over with as quickly as possible. Already he could feel the weight of separation pulling at his heart. He hated long goodbyes; they merely prolonged the agony of parting. If the separation was to be temporary, the sooner it began, the sooner it would be over. If it turned out to be permanent, then no amount of lingering could ever be enough.

Armand stood too and Conrad wrapped him in a tight embrace. He had not been exaggerating. He would miss Armand very much. His house would feel uncomfortably empty without Armand's bright presence, and every night would seem just a little more cold.

“
Bon chance,
mon cher
,” Conrad whispered in Armand's ear. “Hurry back.”

Damian lay sprawled across the bed, reading a magazine and buffing his nails when Conrad returned to his bedroom after seeing Armand out. He looked up expectantly. “Well, that took long enough. What was it this time?”

Conrad sighed. “Armand. He wanted permission to go away.”

Damian frowned. “What do you mean, away? Away where?”

“I have no idea. I'm not sure he knows that himself yet. I gather he's been unhappy with how his relationship with Julie has been progressing. Or not progressing, I suppose. He seems to think she's become involved with Christian. Did you know about this?”

“With Christian?” Damian shook his head. “No, of course not. Armand must be mistaken. You refused his request just the same, I hope?”

Conrad scowled. “On what grounds? Must I remind you yet
again
that I do not make slaves of my family?”

He might wish to, from time to time—now, for instance. For it certainly did not please him that Armand was leaving. But, no, that was one impulse Conrad would
not
give in to.

“Oh, please.” Damian got out of bed and began searching for his clothes. “We're not talking about slavery. We're talking about insuring Julie's well-being. It's an entirely different subject.”

Having located his discarded pajama pants, Damian quickly slipped them on. “I may not like her involvement with Armand, but I'm at least
mostly
confident that he cares for her. As for Christian, who knows what he's up to? Why is he hanging around our girl anyway? Why isn't he dancing attendance on Georgia, like he's always done in the past?”

“From what Armand just told me, I gather that he and Georgia are no longer intimate with one another.”

“What?” Damian turned to stare open-mouthed at Conrad. “Since when? It's the first I've heard of it.”

“Indeed. It was a surprise to me as well. I should have thought Georgia would have told me herself.”

“Well, since she hasn't, you must go and talk to her. At once!”

Conrad snarled quietly. “Are you quite finished?”

“I don't understand. Why aren't you dealing with this?”

“I'll deal with it tomorrow. It's unlikely to be a pleasant conversation, you know. It won't hurt either of us to wait a while longer.”

“But what if Armand leaves
tonight
?”

“What of it? I shall miss him, of course. But, as this has nothing to do with him, why should he not leave tonight?”

“What do you mean, nothing to do with him? It has everything to do with Armand! You can't allow him to leave now! What are you thinking?”

“What are
you
thinking?” Conrad asked as Damian headed toward the door. “I most certainly can allow it. In fact, I…” Conrad blinked in surprise. “A moment, please. I was not finished speaking. Where exactly do you think you're going anyway?”

Damian paused reluctantly with his hand on the doorknob. “To stop Armand, of course! Someone must. I'll appeal to his sense of chivalry, I'm sure he has some. And, if that doesn't work, I'll simply tell him you've changed your mind.”

“You will do no such thing. Besides, I am not at all convinced his leaving is a bad idea. Perhaps he and Julie
should
put some distance between them.”

“Under any other circumstances, I'd be inclined to agree with you. But what about Christian?”

“What about him?”

“If he has designs on Julie, he's a threat. No, he's more than a threat, if that's the case. He's a disaster. You must stop him. Immediately.”

Conrad sighed. “Calm yourself. There is no need for these hysterics. Julie is not a fool. Give her some credit. Besides, why should she be in danger here, with both of us watching over her?”

“An excellent point. However, I still think you should deal with it now,
before
it becomes a problem.”

Conrad clenched his teeth. Apparently, he did
not always like it when Damian issued orders after all. At the moment, he was finding it unbearably tiresome. “In case you've forgotten, I had other activities in mind for this evening.”

“Did you?” Damian crossed his arms over his chest and returned Conrad's glare. “How very unfortunate. For, as it happens, I find myself completely unable to give my full attention to
anything else
until this matter is resolved.”

“Damian,” Conrad growled in warning. “I am not amused.”

“Nor am I.”

Conrad studied his lover in silence. Was it too much to hope this was all just a game? Perhaps Damian was intentionally baiting him, hoping Conrad would take up the challenge and forcibly seduce him. If only he could believe that. For a moment longer, Conrad hesitated, battling the beast, who didn't care if it was a game or not, who wanted nothing more than to force the issue either way, to annihilate Damian's resistance, to reduce him to a sniveling wretched heap, cowering on the floor at Conrad's feet, begging for the chance to give him whatever he wanted—but for entirely the wrong reasons.

“Conrad, please. I—”

“Enough!” Conrad snarled as he reached the end of his patience. “That's enough. You will
never
learn when to stop, will you?”

“Apparently not.” Even at the distance of several feet Conrad had no trouble picking up the frightened pattering of Damian's heart. Even so, he held his ground. Conrad didn't know whether he wanted to applaud his lover's bravery or curse him for his stupidity. Probably both.

Still snarling, Conrad closed the distance between them. He grabbed Damian by the neck and took his lips in a hard, punishing kiss, one that left them both somewhat breathless. “Very well. Since it seems that nothing else will satisfy you, I will talk to Georgia. But when I return, I'll expect to find you in a much more amenable mood.
Much
more amenable. Is that understood?”

“
Si señor
.” Damian stroked the lapel of Conrad's robe with a touch that straddled the line between placating and flirtatious. “Of course. That is…assuming that, upon your return, you can convince me that all is well and that my fears are groundless. ¿
Si?
”

“Yes. Of course. Assuming
that
.”

“And…
querido
, are you quite sure you do not also wish to reconsider your position
vis a vis
Armand? I really don't see why he needs to leave tonight. Can't you just—”

“Damian.” This time, Conrad meant to ensure that his warning was heeded. He let his guard down a little, just enough to allow a hint of the beast's savage anger to bleed through. “Don't push your luck.”

Nighthawk poked his head into the doorway of Marc's private suite. “You wanted to see me, boss?”

“Yeah. C'mon in.” Marc motioned for the other man to join him. “And close the door. I need to talk to you about something.”

The slight jump in his lieutenant's heart rate was audible as he approached the table where Marc was packing a few changes of clothing into an overnight bag. “Everything go okay at the club tonight?” Nighthawk asked cautiously. “You didn't have any trouble, did you?”

“Nope, it went fine. Everybody behaved. How'd things go here?”

“Good. Same as always.” Nighthawk gestured at the bag Marc was packing. “You going somewhere?”

“Just a little trip out of town. No big deal. Probably be gone for a few days though.”

“A'ight. That's cool. Want me to round up a car?”

Marc paused. How exactly did Nighthawk intend to do that? His lieutenant was undoubtedly resourceful, but not overly concerned with legalities—as witnessed by last year's still-unsolved string of assaults on the city's homeless population. At some point, Marc might need to address that issue. Right now, however, it seemed like a subject best left for another day. He shook his head. “Nope. Already got it covered.”

“Suit yourself. So, when do we leave?”

“That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.” This next part of the conversation was why Marc had wanted the door closed. He zipped up his bag, and then turned to face the other man. “
We
aren't going anywhere. I need you to stay home and keep an eye on things here for me while I'm gone.”

“What? Whoa. Hold on a minute.” Nighthawk shook his head vehemently. “Back up. I'm not staying here. It's my job to keep an eye on
you
. How'm I s'posed to have your back if you leave me behind?”

“Relax, all right? I'm not expecting trouble. It's just a little road trip.”

“Of course you're not
expecting
trouble. That's exactly when it happens. If you expect it, then you can prepare for it. And if you're prepared for it, then it's not even trouble anymore. It's…exercise.”

Marc smiled. “Which is why I want you here. So you can anticipate all the trouble that could happen, and make sure it doesn't. Besides, your job is to do what I tell you. I know you've got my back and I appreciate that, but I need to know you can also follow orders.”

Nighthawk shook his head. “Marc. Dude. I'm not even fronting here. We need you, man; you know that. You can't just go off by yourself.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm not going by myself.”

“You're not? So who're you gonna…? Oh, hell no.” Nighthawk stared at Marc aghast. “You're
not
taking Heather? Shit, man, that's fucked up. I know the chick thinks she's all bad-ass, especially since you named her your second lieutenant and all, but what good is she gonna be to you in a fight? You're gonna be so distracted worrying about her, you'll probably both end up dead.”

Marc nodded. “As it happens, I agree with you. But I'm not taking Heather, either. So I'll want you to keep an extra close eye on her while I'm gone. Because she's not going to be any more happy about being left behind than you are.”

Marc wasn't lying. He really
didn't
anticipate trouble. But the best way to hurt him was to strike at those he loved—that had already been proven. Heather was especially vulnerable in that respect, but so was Nighthawk. Not that Marc planned on telling him so. As was the case with so much in Marc's life these days, the less anyone knew about what he was thinking or feeling, doing or planning, the better for everyone.

“And you think putting
me
in charge is gonna make her feel better? Dude, the girl hates me.”

Marc nodded. “Yeah, she does. But what do you expect? You can't really blame her, can you?”

Going feral was enough to drive even the most peace-loving vampire to violence, which was why losing one's sire was often a death sentence. Marc doubted Nighthawk had ever been much of a pacifist to start with. Still, he'd done his best. He'd tried to hold things together and to take care of the other ferals in his own way, but his judgment was questionable, his patience nonexistent, and he'd frequently used his fists to make his point.

Most of the former ferals, who'd been equally lost, equally at wit's end, and equally savage, had forgiven him for any lapses. But Heather had never really been like the others. The fact that Nighthawk had probably saved her life just wasn't enough to make up for the rest of what he'd put her through. Marc couldn't really fault her for that; if he thought too hard about some of the mistakes Nighthawk had made he'd be angry too. In the interest of doing what was best for his little family, he tried his damnedest to put it from his mind. If he was serious about giving Nighthawk a second chance, he had to stop raking up the coals of his past mistakes. It was time to let those embers die.