Fallen Embers (32 page)

“Let me go!”

“No,” Christian snarled back at her. “Now you listen to me! You don't need to kill her. You
can't
kill her! She's special, I tell you. She's the key to everything. Her blood can save us. If you doom her, you doom yourself as well!”

Georgia scrabbled at the gravel as she sought to free herself, and sobbed in helpless fury. “Oh, Christian, please. Enough with this nonsense. You know better! She
has
to be infected. She ingested your blood.”

Armand gasped. “What? No! That can't be true. You're lying. Y-you must be.”

But suddenly, Conrad was there, shoving the others away, and then lifting her to her feet. “Hold him,” he barked. Out of the corner of her eye, Georgia saw Damian wrestle Christian into submission. Too weak to even protest, she sank against Conrad's chest feeling treacherously safe for the first time in what felt like forever.

Conrad peered curiously at her. “What ails you?” he asked in that deceptively gentle voice that made her want to weep. “Are you injured?”

“It's the blood plague,” Armand answered. “Her whole family's infected. Or they were. They're all dead now.”

Conrad's concerned expression gave way to a look of horror. He met her gaze and begged, “
Ciccia
? What is he saying? Tell me this isn't so.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I'm sorry, my love. I should have told you.” Summoning the last of her strength, she gave it one last try. “But, please, Conrad, listen to me. Christian had no part in this. It was all my doing. You must spare him. He's not ill—I swear he's not ill! Only wait and see.”

“He's not ill because he's a carrier,” Armand insisted, interrupting once again. “It's in his notes—all the history, the experiments. I can prove it.”

A low moan slipped from Georgia's lips as the last of her hope gave way. It was over. They had lost. She closed her eyes and knew no more.

While everyone's attention was focused elsewhere, Julie slipped quietly away. Hawk was still rolling about on the ground, writhing in pain. She knelt beside him. “Take it easy,” she said, gently lifting his hands away from his face.

“How bad is it?” he groaned, his words barely intelligible due to the torn muscles and lacerated flesh, the blood and gore that filled his mouth.

Julie bit her lip. Deep gashes stretched across his face, still oozing venom and blood. He was lucky not to have lost an eye. But “lucky” was a relative term. “Could be worse?”

“Hurts like a sonofabitch.”

“I'll bet.” Tears filled her eyes as she recalled Hawk's earlier remarks about being more than just a pretty face. His face sure wasn't pretty now, that was for certain. She blinked furiously, and tried to smile—doing her best to hide her reaction. Judging from Hawk's response, she wasn't even slightly successful.

“Aw, shit. It's gonna leave scars, isn't it?”

“I don't know.” Based on everything she'd ever been told about
Invitus
, everything she'd seen, or knew to be true, the only honest answer would have been
yes
, but she just couldn't say it. Somewhere deep inside, she couldn't accept it, either. And what was it Christian had tried to say to her earlier this evening? Something about…how special she was, how she'd healed the cuts on his neck. What if he were right? What if it was just that simple? “Hold still a minute. Let me see what I can do.”

Chapter Eighteen

“I don't understand,” Conrad growled at Armand. “Explain yourself! Where is this information coming from? How do you know any of this?”

“I've been to England,” Armand replied. “I went to her house to get proof. I knew something was wrong. The way they were acting, the things they said—none of it made any sense. I'm sorry. I should have told you when I left, but I didn't think you'd believe me.”

Julie paused in the act of cleaning Hawk's face. She glanced up in surprise. So Armand hadn't left because he didn't care about her anymore; he'd left because he cared too much, because he was worried and didn't want to stand by and do nothing. She suddenly wanted to take back every mean thing she'd ever said to him about his annoying tendency to act like a stalker.

“Holy shit,” Hawk murmured. “Girl, I don't know what you did, but that feels
amazing
.”

Julie stared at him in surprise. “Well…good. It sure looks a lot better.” It looked perfect. Given how crazy everyone was acting right now, best not to mention that fact. “Come on, let's get you on your feet.” If she could get him out of here before anyone had a chance to notice what she'd done, it would probably be a good thing. Unfortunately, this time around, luck was not on her side.

“Look!” Christian shouted. He pointed at Hawk. “What did I tell you? She healed him, just like she did me.” Eyes gleaming with excitement, he turned to Georgia. “Do you see that? Now will you believe me? He should have been scarred!”

Suddenly, everyone was staring at them. Hawk shrank back a step, muttering, “Ohhh, not good. Not good at all. What the fuck just happened?” Julie edged in front of him, as though she could shield him from view—a task that would have required a stepladder to be properly effective.

Damian's face had gone dead white. He uttered a heartfelt, “
Ay,
Dios mio
.” As his gaze flew to Conrad's face, the two men shared a wordless look. The kind of look, or so Julie imagined, that two warriors might share just before heading into battle.

“Who else is at home?” Conrad asked quietly.

Damian paused to think. “No one, I believe, as luck would have it. Apart from the servants of course, but I can deal with them. Perhaps we should take this conversation elsewhere?”

“Agreed.” Conrad hefted Georgia into his arms. He glared at Christian. “Come with me.” He turned toward the stairs, but stopped again, almost immediately, and pivoted to skewer Hawk with a piercing gaze. “You. You're not of this House. What brings you here tonight?”

Hawk pointed at Julie. “Marc ordered me to keep an eye on his sister while he was out of town. Told me to make sure she was safe.”

Conrad's eyebrows rose. “I see. And did he specifically order you to come
here
? To intrude on
my
property, assault
my
people?”

“Hey, I didn't assault no one. I was the assaultee.”

Conrad waited.

Finally Hawk shrugged and answered, “No, okay? He didn't say to do any of that. But, fuck, man, what was I s'posed to do? Letting his sister get her face chewed off sure doesn't count as ‘keeping her safe' in my book. You know?”

“Yes. I do know.” Conrad stared at him a moment longer, then sighed. “I believe I am in your debt. Now tell me, how much of what has happened here tonight have you understood?”

“Tonight?” Hawk shrugged—an exaggerated motion in keeping with the clownish look of blank confusion that appeared on his face. “Oh, hey, don't ask me. I don't know nuthin' about nuthin'. I mean, whoa—what? Did something happen here? For reals? See? I've forgotten already.”

An angry growl rose from Conrad's throat as he took a step toward him. “Do not attempt to play games with me!” Even with his arms full, he managed to appear menacing. “Answer my question—now!”

Hawk paled and shook his head. “N-n-nothing—I swear! I was just following orders. I haven't understood a goddamn thing all night. I promise.”

“Interesting.” Conrad's eyes narrowed. He studied Hawk for a moment longer. “Tell me, do you always do exactly as Marc tells you to do?”

Hawk's eyes widened. “Of course. He's my sire.”

“Of course,” Conrad repeated the two words over and over again, beneath his breath. “Of course. Of course he does. Clearly, I shall have to begin taking tips from Marc. Very well.” He turned to Damian. “Check him over,
por favor
, and if you're satisfied he's healed, you may send him home.”

Damian frowned. “But, Conrad…”

“No more arguing, Damian, please. I'm confident we can depend upon Marc to deal with him appropriately. Unlike some of us, he seems to have his people well in hand.”

Damian nodded stiffly. “Yes,
querido
. Of course.”

“Conrad?” Armand put out a hand to stop him. “Wait. Before you go…”

But Conrad shook his head. “Not now, Armand. Whatever it is, I'll deal with it later.” He glanced around at all the anxious faces staring back at him. “But, perhaps, if the rest of you will kindly wait for me in my study…” He paused, his gaze going once again to the woman in his arms. A look of pain crossed his face and he could not keep his voice steady as he finished. “I will be with you all shortly.”

Julie stared after Conrad, feeling more confused than ever before in her life. She was only vaguely aware of Damian questioning Hawk in his sternest tones. It seemed as though everyone else was on the same page, speaking the same language, following the same script—everyone but her. She still didn't understand exactly what had happened, but she was pretty sure she'd done something stupid, and had nearly died for it. In fact, if it weren't for her two unlikely saviors, Hawk and Armand…

Armand. Happiness expanded in her chest, like an unexpected blossom on a stubbornly improbable vine, pushing up through a crack in a city pavement, bursting into glorious bloom—and all in the middle of winter. Armand was back. He'd come back
for her
! What did any of the rest of it matter?

She turned to him impulsively, and felt her joy diminish. He was staring worriedly at her, something else she didn't understand, and didn't much care for. “Armand…you saved me.”

“Did I?” He took hold of her shoulders and stared intently at her. “Please,
chérie.
Please tell me it wasn't true what they said. Christian never bit you, did he?”

“No.” At least…she didn't think he had. She shook her head. “I would have noticed, right?”

“I should never have left you here,” Armand said with a groan. “I should have taken you with me. If only I'd realized the extent of the danger.” He fixed her again with a baleful glare. “Did
you
bite
him
?”

The remembered taste of Christian's blood filled her mouth. She licked her lips without thinking.

Armand groaned again. He closed his eyes and swore beneath his breath. “
Nom de dieu de putain de bordel de merde de saloperie de connard d'enculé de ta mere
.”

“Stop already!” Julie couldn't help but laugh. She was pretty sure that was every curse word she'd ever learned in French—and then some—all strung together. “What kind of swearing is that? No, all right? I didn't bite him either. Jeez!” At least…she didn't think she had. She certainly wouldn't be doing so again, that was for sure.

“You're certain?”

Julie clamped her mouth shut. Hope had filled Armand's eyes. Hope and something that looked very much like love. There was no way in hell she was saying anything that might shut that down. “I don't understand,” she said instead. “Why is everyone acting so crazy?”

Apparently that had been the correct response. Armand sighed with relief and hugged her hard. Any harder, and her ribs might have cracked. She could barely even breathe. It felt…nice, even though it prevented her from saying anything at all when Armand whispered, “Oh,
chérie
. Never scare me like that again.”

Then again, maybe he wasn't really expecting an answer.

Conrad laid Georgia on her bed as gently as possible, still she groaned in pain as he slipped his arms out from beneath her. He pulled a chair up to the bed and sat beside her. “Tell me how this happened,” he begged, although what he really meant was,
tell me it's not true
.

“It was my fault,” Christian replied. “That night in Florence, when she asked for your help, I didn't trust that you would save her. I had already been talking to others who said they could help, who claimed there was an easier way to kill Rupert—a better way.”

“The alchemists who created the disease,” Conrad guessed.

Christian nodded. “I suppose. Or others to whom they'd passed on the knowledge. I didn't realize it at the time, but they infected me.”

“And you, in turn, infected her.” Conrad gazed reproachfully at Georgia. “And all this time, you knew and never said anything?”

She shook her head weakly, but didn't speak. It was Christian who continued. “Neither of us knew at first. There were no symptoms! The fact that it was already in my blood when I was turned inoculated me, and every time she drank from me, it strengthened her, it kept the disease at bay. It was only when she turned the others—when they all fell sick—that's when we realized something had gone wrong.”

Conrad sighed. “So what Armand said is true? The rest are dead?” Georgia sobbed and buried her face in her pillow. Conrad stroked her hair, knowing there was nothing he could say or do to comfort her. To be forced to kill your own loved ones—was there any greater tragedy?

“We still didn't know for certain,” Christian continued. “It took decades to figure it out. Everything I've just told you was pieced together over time. I've studied and learned and experimented—that's how I know I'm right about this. About Julie.”

Conrad snarled. Were he any less terrified, he might easily have killed Christian on the spot for even mentioning the girl. But the fear that held him in its grip, prohibited any movement. He was frozen, save for the blood that flowed like ice in his veins, the heart that shattered anew with every beat. “What about Julie?”

“She can save us. I have proof. You must let me show it to you!”

Conrad shook his head impatiently. “I care nothing for your proof!” That was not what concerned him at the moment. “The disease. Does she have it?”

For an instant, Christian didn't answer and Conrad held his breath. He'd tasted death so many times over the centuries, been on the brink time and again, but it had never seemed so bitter or so close.

Finally, Christian shook his head. “No. No, she doesn't. I can prove that too.”