In the Dark (2 page)

Marc gave a strangled gasp as their uncle strode toward them, his arms held wide, his long black hair streaming out behind him. He was wearing an open, floor-length, red- and black-patterned kimono over gauzy black pants—and a sly smile that suggested he knew exactly the kind of impression he was creating and was loving every scandalous second. Gold rings glittered on his fingers, his ears and both nipples. The crowd parted deferentially to let him pass.

“Stop staring,” Julie whispered urgently to her brother. “It's not like we didn't know.” Damian had never kept his sexual orientation a secret, but even so, they'd never seen him quite like this before. Tonight, he wasn't just out of the closet, he'd brought the whole closet out with him.

Before Marc had a chance to resist, Damian swept him up in a big hug and kissed him loudly on both cheeks. “Ah,
mi amor
,” he crooned, pinching his cheek as he let him go. “It's been too long.”

Next, Damian turned his attentions on Julie. As his arms closed tightly around her she found herself transported back to her childhood. This was the Damian she remembered. Big, warm, comforting. The uncle who'd read her bedtime stories and tucked her in at night. Who'd wiped away her tears when she fell and skinned her knees—never once pointing out that the scrapes had sometimes healed before the tears even started.

Julie returned his embrace. She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Nice threads, Uncle Damian,” she whispered in his ear. “I like this whole ‘Queen of the Damned' look you've got going on.”

Damian threw back his head and roared with laughter. “That's my baby girl.” Pressing an enthusiastic kiss on Julie's forehead, he smiled at her approvingly. “I knew I could count on you,
chica
.” Then he drew back and looked at them both.
“Now,
mis niños
, let me look at you. How was the train? Did you have a good trip? You must be famished.” He waved a hand at the surrounding crowd and suggested. “Why don't you go find yourselves something to eat?”

“Where's Conrad?” Marc asked, ignoring the pleasantries, startling Julie with his abruptness. His gaze scanned the room. “He's not here. Where is he?”

“Oh, who knows where he's gone!” Damian heaved a long-suffering sigh. “That man. Always running here, flitting there—who can keep track?
Entre nous
? Given all the places he tries to be in at one time, I'm almost afraid the big silly has begun to
believe
he can turn into a bat.”

“Has Conrad left town?” a male voice inquired. Julie stared at the new vampire with interest. He was slim with auburn hair; not quite as tall as Damian. He had a delicious cleft chin and an unsettling inquisitive gleam in his hazel eyes. “I hadn't heard.”

A shadow passed through Damian's eyes, something dark and dangerous, and then it was gone. He smiled at the newcomer. “My dear,
dear
Armand, I'm sure
your
guess is…oh, well, let's see…probably
almost
as good as my own,
n'est pas
? But, wherever he's gone, I'm sure he'll be back to delight us all again very soon.”

“What do you mean you don't know?” Marc demanded, the tone of his voice practically turning the words into an accusation. “I thought you said Grandfather wanted to see us? Isn't that why we're here? Why would he leave town if he knew we were coming? And…what on earth are you wearing, anyway?”

Julie stared at her brother, perplexed. What was wrong with him? It wasn't like Marc to be so confrontational. It wasn't like either of them, come to think of it. At almost forty years old, they both still found it nearly impossible to act counter to the expressed wishes of the two men who'd raised them. Especially Conrad. Her pondering was cut short when her attention was snared by a soft, amused chuckle.

“Grandfather?” A disbelieving smile had curled Armand's lips. His gaze flicked curiously over them all. “Are you referring to Conrad? I'm sure he must love being called that! But, come, Damian, you must introduce me. Are these yours?”

Once again, Julie caught sight of that dark gleam in Damian's eyes. He flashed a look at both twins, warning them to silence, before turning back to Armand with another saccharine smile. “Why, yes, Armand, indeed they are. And now you know all my little secrets. But, aren't they just
too
precious? This is Julie and her brother, Marc. Marc's a little cranky at the moment. He gets that way when he isn't fed.”

“Who doesn't?” Armand sent a cursory, disinterested nod in Marc's direction before bowing low over Julie's hand. “
Mademoiselle.
Enchanté
.”

Julie shivered in delight as he pressed his lips to her hand and the warmth of his kiss traveled all the way up her arm. “Likewise.”

Armand's eyes met hers and he smiled in gentle amusement. Then he turned his quizzical gaze on Damian. “I must admit,
mon ami
, you've caught me off guard. I didn't think your tastes ran in quite this…direction?”

“Oh, Armand.” Damian raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed theatrically. “You disappoint me. Can you not see that they're twins? How could I break up such a pretty set? It would have been…
gauche
.”

Relieved laughter burst from Armand's lips. “Of course. My apologies. I should have guessed it was something like that.” He eyed Julie one more time, a little more intensely than before, then he gave her hand a final squeeze and let go. “
Tres bon
. I'll leave you three to your reunion,” he said as he bowed once again. “
Au revoir
.”

Damian watched as Armand disappeared back into the dancing crowd, then he turned his attention back to the twins. “Watch yourself around that one,” he advised Julie sternly. “Don't get too close.” He regarded them thoughtfully for a moment, then suggested, “In fact, I think it might be best if you two were to wait for me in the kitchen until I'm done here. It's down at the end of the hallway, toward the back of the house. Go eat. We'll talk later.”

Disappointed, Julie was turning to leave when Marc shook his head. “No. We'll talk now. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on. Where's Conrad?”

“Marcus,” Damian's voice, though pitched low, held a note of warning. “You will do as I tell you. Conrad always said you two couldn't handle this environment yet. This is no time for you to be proving him right.”

Julie held her breath as the two men stared at each other, each refusing to back down. Finally, Damian sighed. “I have no time for this,” he grumbled as he shook his head. He looked to be about equal parts aggravated, worried and quietly proud. He turned away abruptly, so suddenly that his robe flared out around him. Clapping his hands to be heard above the music he called, “Out! Out!
Vayamos!
Party's over! Everyone go home!”

A chorus of disappointed groans and half-hearted protests rose from the crowd but Damian stood firm. Smiling serenely, he repeated the order. “Out! Everybody. Now.” The authority in his voice was such that even Julie found herself once again turning to leave. She saw Marc begin to do the same until Damian reached back and grabbed hold of their wrists. “
Not
you two.”

The disgruntled guests filed slowly out through the doorways. Armand was among the last to leave. The parting glance he shot in Damian's direction was filled with seething animosity. Julie stiffened in alarm, but Damian appeared not to notice.

Finally they were alone. Damian sighed as he let go of their wrists. Reaching for the tiny strings that fastened his kimono he drew the garment around himself and secured it in place. “Now, then,” he said as he threw an arm around each of their shoulders and propelled them from the room. “Let's go down to the kitchen and have something to eat while we talk, shall we?” Drawing them both even closer, he pressed a kiss against the side of each of their heads. “I baked cookies. Who wants chocolate chip?”

 

“This is so great.” Julie beamed at Damian as he slid a plate of freshly baked cookies onto the pristine surface of the antique kitchen table. She looked and sounded far more enthusiastic than Marc thought
anything
about the evening warranted. “I can't believe you made us cookies. It's been years!”

“More like decades,” Marc grumbled, resisting the force of habit that almost had him reaching for one. What was the use, after all? When they were children, Damian had made it a point to bake some kind of treat whenever the twins had a play date. It was for the sake of the other children, mostly, but also so that Marc and Julie would feel more comfortable, would know what to expect and how to behave on those rare occasions they were allowed to accept an invitation to play at someone else's house.

But what was meant to be a comfort had backfired in his case. It had only made him feel
more
different from the other children, rather than less. The fact that they
could
eat “normal” food had finally convinced the then thirteen-year-old Marc to try and wean himself from his dependence on blood. After five days, he'd collapsed in the middle of a routine fencing lesson and a distraught Conrad had gone ballistic and had to be talked out of completely disassembling the kitchen. From that point on , there'd been a ban placed on any further attempts at cooking and any foodstuffs other than blood were strictly forbidden from even being brought into the house. It was a line drawn in the sand—very deep, very definite, very distinct. A line Damian had never once dared to cross. Until now. Which only made his actions tonight seem even more alarming.

“Does Conrad know about this?”

Damian's mouth tightened. A faint frown creased his brow as he finished doling out snacks, taking clear PVC bags filled with blood from the refrigerator and tossing them down in the center of the table. “No, Marc,” he said at last, after seating himself across from the twins. “He doesn't. Conrad is…well, he's missing, actually.” His voice faltering, he paused, as though to regroup. “That's why you're here. That's the reason I sent for you. I need you two to help me find him.”

So that's why
, Marc thought, feeling oddly vindicated, even as the cold thrill of adrenaline iced his veins. He'd
known
something was wrong, right from the start. The moment he'd stepped foot inside this house tonight he'd sensed the tension. The fear running beneath Damian's seemingly carefree demeanor had set all his nerves on edge.

“I don't understand,” Julie said, sounding mystified. “You said earlier that he was just out of town. How could he be missing, Damian? Where would he go?”

Damian spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “I don't know, child. He wouldn't say, exactly. All I know is that he had some…some minor business that he thought needed his personal attention. It shouldn't have taken him more than a couple of hours to resolve things, at least that's the impression he gave me. That was almost three weeks ago. I haven't heard from him since.”

Three weeks? For almost a minute, both twins just stared, shocked into silence by his admission. “But—when you called—when I talked to you on the phone the other day, you told me he wanted to see us,” Marc protested. “You're saying that was a
lie
?”

Damian shrugged. “I didn't want to alarm you. I thought it was better if you didn't know too much ahead of time. Just in case.”

“But, Damian, that—” Julie's words stumbled over each other on their way out of her mouth. “I mean, what if he's… He can't be… He's not…”

“Dead?” Damian smiled sadly. “No,
chica.
He's not dead. Not yet.” Eyes burning with conviction, he leaned into the table, his closed fist pressed to the center of his chest. “I would
know
if that were the case. If he were dead, I'd feel it—
here
.” He shrugged and then added, “As would you, I'm sure. We'd all feel it, if that were to happen. The entire nest would erupt into chaos such as you cannot imagine. But, that's not even the worst that could happen, might still happen, if my suspicions are correct.”

Marc started in surprise. What could be worse than losing Conrad? “What suspicions are those?”

Damian sighed. “From what little he would tell me, I have reason to suspect Conrad was lured away by someone who had knowledge of a very personal nature, someone who knew about a particular weakness that could be exploited. Since he hasn't been killed, I believe it's likely he's being held somewhere, most probably without food, until he's weak enough to be overcome by someone who wouldn't be able to do so otherwise.”

No food? Just the memory of his own hunger—raw, unreasoning, screaming for sustenance—brought Marc rushing to his feet. “For three weeks? And what the hell have you been doing all that time? Besides throwing parties and baking cookies and lying to everyone and dressing up like a—”

“Marc!” Julie glared at him. “That's enough. Stop it!”

“It's a reasonable question,” Damian murmured, seemingly unaffected by Marc's outburst. If anything, he appeared almost amused by it, his smile taking on a faintly ironic tilt. “Given how little either of you really understand about us—how we live, what we are.”

Vampire
. The word whispered in Marc's mind and, as usual, he fought to deny it. He knew they weren't like other people. He'd always known that. But did that automatically make them monsters? Did it make them demons? Did it make them…something less than human?
How often in the past had he tried to argue that point, until Julie would groan in frustration, clap her hands over her ears and refuse to hear any more.

“I always said it was a mistake to keep you two so sheltered from the world you'd eventually have to re-enter.” Damian shook his head, his amusement deserting him. “And, now… Ah, it's impossible.” Shoving back his chair, he got to his feet and began to pace. “There's too much you two don't know, so much you
need
to know, and now, even if I
had
the time to explain it to you—which I don't—I still don't know how much he would want me to say.”