In the Dark (15 page)

 

 

“You do realize it can't last, don't you?” Georgia said as she came to stand beside Conrad, who was once again standing on the second-floor landing, watching Desert Rose depart after a weekend that was over too soon.

Conrad's hand clenched in the fabric of the drape. Damn it, he'd expected to be alone. He'd wanted to be alone. “What are you doing up at this time of day?” he asked, doing his best to keep his voice level. He continued to gaze out the window, squinting into what was entirely too much daylight, even with the colored glass and the providential shade cast by the trees that surrounded the house. Anything was better than turning to look at the woman beside him. “You should still be sleeping.”

“I could say the same to you,” she answered, and he did turn then, to shoot a warning glance in her direction. Georgia smiled and bowed her head. “But, of course, I wouldn't dream of doing so, my liege.”

“I should hope not.” He and Georgia had a very long, very complicated history, but in spite of that, or maybe because of it, there were only so many liberties he could allow her to take. Questioning his actions or his motives in so personal a matter as this definitely came close to crossing the line and they both knew it. “And, yes, Georgia, I am fully aware that this…indulgence, shall we say, cannot last indefinitely. But that's my business.”

“Unless you turn her. Then it could last centuries and affect us all.”

“Not an issue,” Conrad answered flatly. “That's one mistake I'll not be repeating.” Georgia said nothing, but her silence screamed of skepticism. Conrad found himself snarling at her. “If you're planning to tell me you've heard me say
that
before…”

“Never,” she promised, forestalling him. “I quite realize that it's not my place to say any such thing.”

“Glad you realize it,” he muttered, letting the curtain fall back into place. Ignoring the words they both knew she'd left unspoken:
even if it's true
.

There was a marble bench against the wall opposite the landing. Conrad went over and sat on it. He knew Georgia would follow him wherever he went and he did not wish to continue this conversation in his room. He could count on her to be reasonably discreet in public. In private—he'd never get her to shut up.

Just as he knew she would, Georgia came and sat beside him. She rested her head companionably on his shoulder. After a moment, she slipped her hand into his. “I do think you'd be wise to tell her the truth about us.”

Conrad sighed.
Tell her the truth and lose the chance to play at being an ordinary man? No, not yet.
“Ah, Georgia, she's so very young. Do you remember what that was like?
Can
you remember being that young, that innocent, that…free? It's so long ago. I think I've forgotten most of it.”

“Forgotten what it's like to be young? You?”

“To be young, to be human, to be alive; sometimes I don't think I remember any of it anymore. Being with her…helps.”

Georgia shook her head. “When I was that young…yes, I do still remember, Conrad. And, I have to tell you, I envy you your forgetfulness. There's really no such thing as
the good old days
, not to my way of thinking. I think that's true for a lot of us.”

“Perhaps,” Conrad admitted. “You could be right about that.”

They sat together quietly for a while longer until Georgia again broke the silence. “I understand Armand has been spending quite a lot of time with your little friend as well.”

Conrad nodded. “Yes, he has. He's been a great help in keeping things under control.”

“Has he?” Georgia gazed at him curiously. “What is his interest in this, do you suppose? How does he feel about the girl, or do you even know?”

“I'm sure he feels just as you do.” A smile curved Conrad's lips as he thought about it. “I'm sure you both think I'm letting her influence me far too much.” He shook his head. “I like to indulge the people I care about, Georgia, you know that. It makes me happy to be able to do so. And I do not intend to stop it now just because you think I should.”
Is it that she finds it unseemly because I am extending this courtesy to someone who's human? Or to someone who's not of my nest
?
Or is it simply because the recipient, this time, is someone other than she herself?
He didn't know the answer. He wasn't sure he cared. It could be any of them—or something altogether different. Whatever it was, it was not important. “Besides,” he added in a warning voice. “I'm still the one making the decisions here, am I not? This is something I want. I have made up my mind and I will not have my decisions second-guessed. Not by anyone.”

Georgia shook her head. “I'm not trying to second-guess you, Conrad. But, please do remember you were my friend long before you were my sire. I would hate to see you made unhappy again. There are many who would say you go too far by indulging the girl to the extent that you do.”

“Are there? And shall I concern myself with their opinions of me? I think not.”

“There are some whose opinions might still concern you, I think. Or that should concern you, at any rate. This little dalliance…it could lead you into grief.”

Turning to face her, Conrad smiled coldly. “What's wrong? Are you afraid I'm going to do something foolish? Or are you hoping for it?”

Georgia hesitated, eyeing him narrowly, cautiously weighing her options. “I think you already are being foolish,” she said at last. “And, if I may be so bold, I think you're engaged in a very dangerous pastime. She's human, Conrad. She's delicate, easily damaged and, ultimately, nothing more than a temporary source of nourishment. You claim to care about her and yet you encourage her to run loose in this house full of hunters, refusing to even arm her with the knowledge of what she's up against. You flaunt her at us, trusting us all to ignore the prey in our midst, to control our natures—”

“Enough.” Conrad tightened his grip on Georgia's hand and let the power rise within him.

Georgia shuddered and tried to pull away, but it was too late for that. “Conrad, please…”

“You're wrong. I don't trust you, Georgia, or the others, either. I haven't for a very long time.”

When he was turned, all those centuries ago, his sire made certain that the man in him was thoroughly broken. A beast had been formed from the shattered pieces. One who only looked human. Georgia knew this as well as anyone could. But, sometimes, he supposed, a little reminder was in order. He kept his voice soft. He kept his touch light as he stroked her face, her hair, her neck. And he felt grimly pleased by the fear that rose in her eyes, at the trembling of her lips as she begged, “Please don't.”

“It's
myself
I trust. I trust in my own authority as master of this House. I trust in my ability to control each and every one of you. The girl is safe here, Georgia, because I will it. And so she shall remain for however long I wish her to. You do understand that, don't you?”

“Yes,” she whispered with a shaky nod. “I understand.”

“Good.”

He let her go then, though he kept hold of her hand. She slumped a little against the bench, breathing hard, refusing to meet his eyes. “As I said,” she murmured at last. “A very dangerous pastime.”

“Perhaps. But the danger is not to me.”

Swallowing hard, she glanced nervously down to where their hands were still joined. When she continued speaking, it was with obvious reluctance. “That remains to be seen, I think. You didn't answer my question earlier. What do you imagine Armand's feelings are—toward the girl, I mean. Or have you never even stopped to ask yourself that?”

“Stop testing my patience in this fashion.” Scowling now, Conrad pulled his hand free of hers. “Are you seeking to make me lose my temper with you? I will, if you keep this up. Armand does not have any feelings for the girl.”

Honesty, and the look of disbelief she gave him, forced him to add, “Not any that matter. Armand is more devoted to me than I think you realize. He would never go against my wishes.” Of that last part, at least, Conrad was certain. It would take someone very foolish, very arrogant or altogether reckless to dare cross him in any but the very smallest of matters. Armand, he was sure, was too smart, too reasonable, too even-tempered to ever take such a risk. He was safe this time. They all were.

“He seems very fond of her.”

Conrad nodded. “I'm sure he is. I'm sure she's fond of him, as well. Why should they not be? They're both young. They're both attractive. What of it? I assure you, that's as far as it will ever go.”

“Oh, dear,” Georgia mused. “I wonder, now…where have I heard that exact sentiment expressed before?” Conrad couldn't help but be amused by the puzzled expression her face assumed as she pretended to think about it. She'd been a very fine actress, in her time. “Oh, yes, now I've got it. There was a young king, with whom I was once very well acquainted. I believe his name was…Arthur.”

“Very clever,” Conrad replied dryly. “Although I'm sure you flatter me far too much with the comparison to any hero, fictional or not.” He shook his head. “I don't need you to be looking after my reputation for me, Georgia; or my stature in the community, or the reputation of my House—or whatever else it is you think I might be placing in danger by my actions. I assure you, I'm more than capable of handling all such matters on my own. And I'll thank you to allow me to continue to do so.”

“You do me wrong to judge me so harshly,” she replied as she shook her head sadly. “And it's not just your reputation you put at risk, Conrad. There's also the matter of your heart. This would not be the first time you've been mistaken in someone.”

Conrad could not help but laugh. “Georgia, you of all people should know better than to talk such nonsense at me. My heart? Would I not still have to have one for it to be at risk? And that ship, as you and I both know, has most definitely sailed.”

Chapter Eight

Present Day

“I doubt it's anything we need to worry about,” Damian insisted, when Julie brought up the subject of her suspicions the following evening. He shook his head at her protests, looking tired and as close to haggard as Marc had ever seen him. “I know I said we shouldn't put anything past anyone,
chica
, and I'm not for an instant suggesting we tell either of them anything about what you're really doing here, but I really cannot see either Armand or Drew being party to a plot to abduct Conrad.” He shrugged. “I'm not saying it's impossible, mind you, but I do think the odds are against it.”

They were gathered in the kitchen once again, even though none of them seemed to have much of an appetite and even Marc was having a hard time working up any enthusiasm for bagged blood.

“It would be an extremely foolish thing for either of them to attempt such a thing,” Damian continued. “Drew, in particular, has very keen instincts toward self-preservation and I know Conrad has always considered Armand to be extremely trustworthy…at least in small matters.” He paused, then shrugged again. “Not that he's never been mistaken about people, but all the same, his opinion should carry some weight with you. As for Drew's remarks about not being in Conrad's confidence, I have to agree with Marc. The number of people Conrad admits into his confidence has always been very small, perhaps regrettably so.”

Marc nodded. “That's what I told her.” It was nice to have his viewpoint validated, he supposed, but nicer still would have been the feeling that they'd made some progress.

“But, what about the park, Damian?” Julie asked. “Do
you
know why Conrad avoids it? Would he have really gone there without telling you?”

“Never mind that,” Marc said. “I have a better question. If Conrad was going to tell someone where he was going, why would it be Brennan, of all people?”

Damian sighed. “If that's truly where he was headed, he would definitely
not
have told me. Not only would I have been likely to follow him, had I known that was his intended destination, I most certainly would have objected more strenuously than I did to the idea of his going there unaccompanied.” His eyes grew dark. “What was he thinking?” he muttered, seemingly to himself. “He must have suspected he'd be walking into a trap.” Sighing, he lapsed into silence.

“And Brennan?” Marc prodded when the silence threatened to continue indefinitely.

“Perhaps Conrad intended to leave me a clue,” Damian replied, his voice grim. “In the event that he didn't return, he might have assumed I'd think to question the guards. Perhaps I should have thought of that myself, weeks ago.”

Julie left off chewing her lip to suggest, “Well, if it's that important, maybe we should forget the rest of the clubs and check out the park instead?”

Damian sighed. “Perhaps. But it's a very big area to cover.”

Julie nodded. “I know. A thousand acres, right?”

“More like eleven hundred. Besides, even if that's where he was headed, it's unlikely he's still there and even less likely you'd be able to pick up any traces of him after all this time.” He lapsed back into thought. The twins waited. Finally, he roused himself. “No. It's far too large a haystack. We shall continue to seek our needle elsewhere.”

“You do know the old joke about the drunk who looks for his lost car keys under the streetlight because it's brighter there than it is where he lost them, don't you?” Marc asked dryly. “The size of the haystack doesn't really matter, Damian. If our needle's not in it, we can look all we want and we'll still never find it there.”

Damian smiled. “True enough, but consider the larger picture for a moment, Marc. I, for one, would be very surprised to learn that our unknown adversary is working alone. For one person to have overpowered Conrad without any assistance…that's practically unthinkable. He must have had accomplices.”