In the Dark (18 page)

“The taste of my blood? Eww. Are you saying that freak could have fed from my
mother
?” Julie looked sick at the thought. “That's…really disgusting, D.”

Marc had to admit she had a point. He wasn't too happy thinking about it either, and he hadn't even seen the guy. “Even if it was a case of mistaken identity, why attack her now, all these years later? How does that connect to Conrad's disappearance? Or doesn't it?”

“Who can say?” Damian shrugged again, but something furtive flickered in his eyes.

Marc pounced on it. “There's something else, isn't there? Something you're still not telling us—what?”

For a moment Damian hesitated, then he spread his hands wide. “I don't really know, but I don't believe in coincidences, Marc, and so I think this must be related. Especially since that was the
business
Conrad was on when he disappeared. He'd gotten some information pertaining to the two of you, or possibly your mother. It had something to do either with the events surrounding her death or with your birth. I don't know what, exactly, so please don't ask. It was hard enough getting that much information from him.”

“So it's our fault he's missing.” Julie looked at him in dismay. “That's what you're saying, isn't it, Damian? Conrad's in trouble because of us.”

Damian shook his head. “No, child, of course I'm not saying that. Are you in any way culpable for events that occurred before you were even alive? Or for the circumstances surrounding your own birth? Besides, even if that were the case, it's Conrad's prerogative to take responsibility in any situation that involves his children. He's your sire, and if there's a threat to your safety, it's his right to deal with it as he deems best.” He stopped and shrugged once again. “I just wish, in this instance, he would have agreed to take me with him, or given me at least
some
idea of where he was going, or with whom he was meeting. It would have made this all so much simpler.”

“We're not children anymore, Damian,” Marc pointed out. “I don't know what kind of trouble we could be in. I mean, what did we do? We don't even know anybody here. But if we
were
in trouble, shouldn't we be the ones to clean up our own mess?”

“If you were human, perhaps you might be expected to deal with things on your own, Marc, but you're not. You're vampire, whether you admit to it or not, and that's not our way.”

“Well, I don't care whose way it is,” Julie said, her voice quavering just a little. “I'm with Marc. We're the ones who should be dealing with this…even if we don't want to. So, okay, tomorrow I'll go back to
Sangria!
and, and try to find the freak again and…and find out what he knows.”

Damian smiled. “
Querida
, it's not like I'm sending you into the lion's den yourself. Marc will be with you, and he'll protect you, just as he did tonight. Everything will be fine.”

“Like I did tonight?” Marc laughed bitterly. “Yeah, that'll make her feel better. I didn't do shit tonight. Julie dealt with him all on her own.” The thought still galled him.

“You,
chica
?” Damian looked at Julie in surprise. “You didn't tell me that part. What did you do to him?”

Julie shrugged and stuck out one stiletto-shod foot. “He's not very smart. When he went for my throat, I went for his instep. And his nuts. Just like you taught me.”

“
Buenísimo
,
muchacha
,” Damian crooned, sweeping across the room and hugging her tight. “It's as I've always said. A good pair of spiked heels on the feet of the right woman is a great equalizer.”

“It was scary, though,” Julie murmured. Her face was buried against Damian's chest, but Marc could still hear the quaver in her voice. It drove him nuts. “And I really don't want to see him again.”

“Well, you don't have to,” he told her. “I'll go by myself, if it bothers you that much. I mean, hell, it's not like I need you to ID him for me. How many scar-faced vampires can there be in the world?”

“Oh, no, you don't,” she replied, twisting away from Damian to scowl at him. “You don't go anywhere yourself. Conrad's already missing. I'm not gonna lose you too. Forget it.”

“Shh,” Damian soothed, pulling her back into his embrace. “No worries, baby girl. It will all work out.” Over her head he met Marc's eyes and mouthed,
You'll go alone?

Marc nodded. Damn straight he'd go alone. He just hoped he remembered to get what information he could from the bastard
before
he broke his jaw and beat him to a pulp. “Well, I'm exhausted,” he lied as he reached for the doorknob. “I'm going to bed. I'll see you both tonight.” Then he closed the door behind him, turned away from the bedrooms and headed downstairs.

Morning was fast approaching, but right now there was something Marc needed even more than sleep. And, for once, he was not going to find it in the refrigerator. He sniffed the air hopefully, wondering if there was anyone still on duty—other than Brennan, because he was not going to go
there
, either. Feeding in the same place his sister had been might seem like a giant step away from twincest as far as the rest of the vampire nation was concerned, but for him it was still a step too close.

As he crossed the foyer, on his way toward the front door, he nearly barreled into Drew, who was exiting one of the salons and, apparently, heading in the same direction.

“Well met again,” Drew said in greeting. “Are you on your way out?”

“Hungry,” Marc replied shortly, not caring if Drew thought him rude. “Going out for a bite.” He was far too worked up by the events of the night for idle chitchat .

Drew's eyebrows rose. “An excellent idea. Do you mind if I join you?”

Surprise stopped Marc in his tracks. If he'd had to guess, he'd have pegged Drew as a solitary hunter. So, why was he seeking company now? A social event had not been part of Marc's agenda for the evening, but it took him only a moment to change his mind about that. After all, if the opportunity arose, why not take the chance to kill two or three birds at once, rather than one at a time?

“Don't mind at all,” Marc answered, and if his voice was a trifle grim, Drew seemed not to notice. “I was thinking of taking a run in the park, maybe seeing what kind of game I could scare up while I'm there.”

Drew's teeth flashed in a wolfish grin. “A man after my own heart. How refreshing. Very well, then. Avaunt!”

 

“Can I ask you something, Uncle Damian?” Julie asked after Marc had left and she and Damian were alone.

Damian eyed her curiously. It had been a long time since she'd called him that—other than to tease. “Of course, child. Anything. What is it you want to know?”

“It's just…what you said before, to Armand, about…about what happened to your shoulder. Did you mean it? Or was that just something else you said to distract him?”

Damian smiled sadly. “Do you mean, did Conrad really do this to me? Yes,
chica
, I'm sorry to say he did. But it was a very long time ago and best forgotten.”

“But how did you get it? I mean, why hasn't it healed? 'Cause that's what we do, right? Isn't that one of the things that makes us different—we don't age, we don't get hurt, we heal instantly. Even when we bite people, the wounds heal right away. There's never a mark—unless we're clumsy or rushed, or, or, well, you know. B-but both you and the guy in the club tonight have these…these scars. I don't understand.”

Damian sighed. “No, I don't suppose you do. It's not something we like to talk about, you see. But…well, you know that we all produce two basic types of venom. There's the kind we release when we're feeding, of course. And there's that which is produced when we're fighting with someone, or feel ourselves attacked. While the second kind is more caustic and creates far less pleasurable sensations, our bodies naturally heal from such wounds in a very, very short time. However, there are some vampires, known as the
Lamia Invitus
, who are capable of producing a…a much more intense form of venom. It's practically a different variety altogether, with very extreme properties and, in certain situations, when they're dying, for instance, or murderously angry, or, or…oh, I don't know…if they're just feeling…particularly insane, I suppose, driven temporarily mad by jealousy or…something along those lines, it…it causes the scarring you've observed.”

“So you're saying Conrad is…is one of them?” Julie asked, looking startled. “Since when?”

Damian shrugged. “Since always. That's how he was made. That's what he is.”

“Then…how did he get that way?”

“It's complicated,” Damian replied cautiously. His stomach heaved as he considered how furious Conrad would be if he said too much. “I don't really know all the details. No one does anymore. Conrad made sure of that. I know it has something to do with the way in which he was turned and, Julie, I must warn you, do not bring the subject up with him. Please,
chica
. He does not like to talk about it.”

“So you're saying he…he bit you?”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, yes.”

“Did it hurt?”

Damian bit back a bitter laugh.
Did it hurt? Like the fires of hell.
“Oh, absolutely. Although I think it may have been my pride that felt it the most. Or…well, almost. I was very vain, you see.” He paused and smiled mockingly, spreading his arms wide, inviting her to smile in response. “Well, I mean, look at me, darling, how could I not be, after all?”

Julie nodded absently, but it was clear her thoughts were elsewhere. “I guess I never thought of you two in that way before. I mean, I didn't realize that you and Conrad were…you know.”

“Were lovers?” Damian supplied, amused by this sudden show of reticence. “There's no reason you should have, I suppose. We were once, but that was long ago. We haven't been together in that way in quite some time, not for many years before you were born.”

“What went wrong? I mean, how did it happen? If he loved you…how could he…how could he
do
something like that? Why would he hurt you?”

“My, what a lot of questions!” Laughing uneasily, Damian got up from the bed and once again began to pace the floor. “Many things happened,
chica
. Too many to mention, spread out over the course of far too many years. Why, I can't even remember most of it now. Living forever…it's not always as easy as you think it's going to be. And loving forever is even more complicated.” He shrugged. “Things happen, you know? I suppose it's inevitable. People begin to feel neglected or wronged in some fashion, they get mad, they make mistakes. One day…I suppose I made a bigger mistake than usual. I did something Conrad considered unforgivable and, in return, he did this. At the time, oh, my poor ego, I was devastated. I couldn't imagine a greater tragedy. I left that very day, vowing never to return. Not that it mattered to Conrad, I'm sure, since he was already swearing he wouldn't have me back under any circumstances anyway.” He sighed. “For a very long time it seemed that neither of us would ever budge from those positions. Then, one day…well, you and your brother came along. And everything changed.”

“How?” Julie asked, her voice barely a whisper. “What did we do?”

Damian shrugged. “You were born. That's really all it took. Conrad may be many things, my darling girl, but stupidly delusional isn't usually one of them. When your mother died and left him with the responsibility of caring for the two of you, he knew he couldn't manage on his own. He needed someone to help him. I don't know why, but he chose me. I like to think it's because I was the most maternal person he could think of. Whatever the case, that's why I came back, to help raise you two.”

“I'm glad you did.” Julie rose from the bed and threw herself into his arms. “I love you, Uncle Damian. I can't imagine growing up without you.”

“I love you too,
niña
,” he whispered as he held her tenderly. “I love you very, very much.”

 

After sending Julie off to bed, Damian removed his shirt and stared at himself in the mirror, turning slightly so he could glance over his shoulder at his back, where most of the damage had been done. The black lines that had once formed the outer edges of the Quintano crest were still partially visible, if you knew what to look for. The rest of the tattoo had been obliterated.

A hot rush of shame rose in his gorge. He reached his hand around and fingered the scars, remembering the shock and the pain of his wounding, the agony of betrayal. Even after all this time, the marks and the memories were still just as vivid. He could still recall the hurt, the anger, the fear. The sheer disbelief. Perhaps that, most of all.

Fool that he was, he had never once considered Conrad capable of such enormous cruelty—
not toward me. Never toward me!
Afterwards…it hadn't seemed possible they could get past what had happened, not with a permanent reminder of that one event poisoning everything. And so he'd left. At the time, it had seemed like the only sensible thing to do, the only choice open to him, the wisest, safest course to take.

For the next hundred years, he'd taken great care to steer clear of Conrad, to make certain their paths never crossed again. But he'd never forgotten and he'd never really gotten over it, either. Not even now. Not even after all these years.

 

 

“Why do I feel like I know you from somewhere?” Armand muttered, standing in the shadows beneath the stairs, watching as Julie tiptoed across the entranceway floor, on her way to the front door. “Why does this all seem so…familiar?”

She pulled the door open and slipped from the house. Armand shook his head. “Not my problem,” he reminded himself, feeling devoutly grateful for such small favors. He'd only had to look once at the girl to know she was trouble. But that was nothing to him. Let the others worry about her, if they wanted to. Of course, there really wasn't anyone around
to
worry, at this point, was there? The brother had already gone out himself, and as for Damian… “Tough shit. If he can't control the girl, that's his lookout.”