In the Dark (24 page)

Wow
. She almost breathed the last bit aloud and for a moment she feared she had, because Armand's eyes opened suddenly and met hers in the mirror. Her cheeks coloring, she fumbled for the doorknob. “Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your workout. I was just looking for Marc.”

“Wait.” Armand turned from the bar. “Don't go yet.” Pretending not to hear, Julie closed the door, intent on making her escape. He must have flown across the room, however, because she hadn't taken more than two steps when the door opened again. “I wanted to ask you something,” Armand said, following her out into the hall. “How did you know about Brennan?”

“What about Brennan?” Instantly on the defensive, Julie spun around to face him. Why shouldn't she be with him? Damian had said she could. Besides, Brennan was hers. That's all there was to it. No one was going to take him away from her…except maybe Conrad.

“How did you know he was being bled too often?”

The question caught her off guard. “That is
not
my fault—it's all the rest of you guys.
I'm
the one trying to get him to pace himself.”

“I know,” Armand replied hurriedly. “I know. You are. But, still…it's not the kind of thing everyone would notice. I mean, obviously it's not, since no one has. You and your brother did. How come?”

Julie shrugged. “I guess we were paying attention.” Then her eyes narrowed. “And, speaking of which, how did
you
know about me and Brennan, anyway? Have you been spying on me?”

“No!” Armand's face turned crimson. “Of course I wasn't…spying. It was no such thing.”

“You have. You've been
spying
on me! No wonder Damian told me not to trust you.”

“Oh, like he should talk,” Armand snapped. “And I was
not
spying. It's just a habit with me, that's all. When I was in charge of running the household, it was my job to keep track of what everyone was doing. Sometimes I just…I just notice things, that's all.”

“You used to be in charge of this place?” Julie gazed at him with increased interest. “You didn't tell me that. When?”

“Before Damian came back,” he replied sounding more than a little bitter. “What I like to refer to as the good old days.”

“How much before?”

Armand sighed. “I guess…about forty or fifty years ago. Why?”

“No reason. Do you miss it?”

Armand snorted derisively. “Miss what? Being Conrad's favorite? Why wouldn't I? I certainly don't miss all the work that went with the job though, that's for sure. I don't think I ever slept in those days. Day or night, there was always something that needed doing. You know how you hear the humans joke about how they missed out on the sixties because of all the drugs they took? Well, with me, it was all the work I was doing. I've never worked so hard in my life and I pretty much sleepwalked through the entire decade as a result.” He smiled and added, “Don't ever let anyone tell you vampires can't suffer from sleep deprivation because it's just not true. I can't think of anything else that would account for all the mistakes I was making toward the end.”

“Yeah, so, the sixties—what was that like?” Julie asked, trying to sound as offhand as possible as she added, “I mean, San Francisco, and everything…I guess that was
the place
to be back then, huh?”

“You could say that, I suppose.” He looked at her curiously. “Why? Where were you in the sixties?”

“I'm not supposed to talk about my past,” she said edging away from him to glance into the next room. Part of her was wishing Marc would turn up already. Part of her hoped Armand would keep talking. Maybe he could tell her something about her mother.

“What do you mean you're not supposed to talk about it,” Armand asked. “How come?”

“I don't know why, exactly,” Julie said, moving down the hall toward the next door. “It's just what I've always been told.”

“Oh.” Armand's voice went cold. “Damian, I suppose? That figures.”

“You don't like him very much, do you?” She opened the door to yet another room. Still no Marc.

Armand trailed after her. “I wouldn't say that.” She glanced back, shot him a skeptical look and he shrugged. “Okay, so maybe I would say that. He's just…
Je ne sais quoi
. Shallow. Irritating. Pompous. Arrogant. A show-off.”

“He's not like that at all,” Julie responded hotly. Her anger at the injustice, at the mere idea of anyone thinking so little of Damian, made her forget that her goal was to elicit information, not start fights. “He's just…” The words failed her. It was impossible. How could she describe Damian without betraying their relationship, their history, without saying anything at all about her childhood?

Armand watched her, amusement—and something that looked uncomfortably like understanding—gleaming in his eyes. “I'm sorry. I suppose I shouldn't be talking to you about him like this, should I? I forget he's your sire. But you
did
ask.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. It's just that Damian's one of the best people I know. It pisses me off to hear you talk about him like that.”

“Fair enough.” Armand inclined his head and they continued walking, both of them glancing into empty rooms now. “I guess there must be something I'm not seeing there, since both you and Conrad hold him in such high regard. Perhaps it's just jealousy on my part. Although, I'm sure even you won't try and pretend he's actually made Conrad happy since he's been back?”

The bitterness underlying Armand's words surprised her. It had never occurred to Julie to wonder very much about Conrad's happiness—especially not in connection with Damian—so she had no idea how to answer the question. “Was he happier before? You know, back in the ‘good old days'?”

“I always thought so.” Armand shrugged. “He seemed to be. He was…different then, a little more carefree. Perhaps I'm mistaken in thinking the change in his temperament has something to do with Damian. It could have been…a lot of other things, I suppose.”

Julie eyed him curiously. Could her mother's death be one of those things? She wished she could just ask him outright, but that couldn't happen.

She pushed open the next door and instantly knew she'd made a mistake and somehow blundered into someone's private quarters. The small sitting room was sleek and spare, its navy and white decor accentuated by framed black-and-white dance prints. “This is your place, isn't it?” she asked taking a quick breath, filling her lungs with his scent, hoping he wouldn't notice.

Armand's eyes twinkled. “It is. Won't you come in? Perhaps we'll find your brother here. He could always be hiding under the bed, I suppose.”

“My, you are funny.” She was turning away when a slight movement caught her eye. A delicate stained-glass wind chime hung from the ceiling in the center of the room. Little iridescent glass doves, in all shades of white and blue, and tiny, rainbow-colored peace signs revolved on the faint air currents, as though dancing to inaudible, ghostly music. It was the only thing in the room that spoke to Armand's more whimsical side and Julie would have bet anything he hadn't picked it out himself. “That's really pretty,” she said, almost mesmerized by the sparkling glass.

“
Oui
.” He sighed, his voice sounding suddenly much softer, much younger than before. “Very pretty. Given to me by a lady who was herself very pretty. So, it fits, does it not?”

There was a hint of real regret in his tone, maybe more than a hint. An unguarded tenderness shone in his eyes. Julie laid her hand on his arm. “I'm so sorry.”

Armand glanced at her in surprise. “For what reason?”

“You looked so sad just now. I assumed you were speaking of someone you'd…lost.”

“And you would like to help me become less sad, yes?” Smiling wickedly once again, Armand gestured toward the room, inviting her inside. “I, too, would like this.”

Julie rolled her eyes. “Nice try,” she said as she shut the door. Remembering the pictures on his wall, she asked, “So are you a dancer?” She eyed his apparel—white T-shirt, black tights, toe shoes. He certainly looked the part. “Or is that a stupid question?”

Armand glanced down at himself. “Not stupid. I'm a vampire now. Everything else is in the past. But, yes, in my previous life, I was a
danseur
with the Royal Winnipeg Ballet. I suppose I still could call myself one, if I wanted, but it seems a little silly. Don't you think so? After all, it's not like I can make a career of it anymore.” He smiled, but, once again, Julie was sure she could detect a certain sadness lurking just beneath the pride. “I bet I know what you're thinking now.”

He did? “And what's that?”

“You're thinking, perhaps, that the time to have thought of these things was before I was turned, yes?”

Julie shook her head. “No, not at all.” It had never even occurred to her. Being vampire was all she'd ever known. Never having had a choice in the matter herself, she often forgot that wasn't always the case.

“It's ironic, isn't it? I'm so much better now than I ever was when I was still alive and yet the world can never know.”

Alive
. Julie's eyes widened as the word caught her ear. She'd never considered herself to be anything
but
alive. Was it really that different for all the others? It had to be, didn't it? “Do you miss it? Being alive, I mean?”

The sadness left Armand's eyes. His smile held a tinge of malice now, as he shook his head. “
Ah, non, Mademoiselle
, you can hardly expect me to continue to bare my soul to you, in this fashion, when you will show me nothing of your own.”

“Can't. Not won't.” Although, if she were really being honest with herself, even if she could have told him more about her past, she wasn't altogether certain she'd be comfortable doing so. Not with him. Or maybe not just yet.

Armand inclined his head. “I stand corrected. But, if you can't talk about your past, what about the present? Can you not at least tell me what you and your brother are doing here in San Francisco, and why you're so anxious tonight? He's a big boy, perhaps he wanted a night out by himself? The two of you are not conjoined. Must you do everything together?”

Frowning, Julie angled her chin at him. “No, of course we don't. As it happens, we're just here on a little visit, that's all, and I'm
not
anxious. It's just that we were supposed to hit some clubs tonight and Marc's the one who usually complains about me making him late—not the other way around.”

“Ah, I see.” Armand smiled slyly. “So, it must be the
clubs
you two are here to visit, then. Is that it? Tell me, who, or what do you expect to find there? How do you even know where to go? You've never been here before…have you?”

She shook her head. “Nope. First time on the West Coast.”

“Strange,” Armand mused, his eyes narrowing. “Because you seem so familiar.”

“Really?” She leaned her back against the wall, trying hard to look only mildly curious. “Familiar how?”

Armand moved closer, still eyeing her thoughtfully. “I don't know. It's just a feeling I get sometimes. I feel like I know you, or maybe that I've seen you somewhere before. However, since I haven't been
off
the West Coast in several decades, I don't suppose that's very likely, is it?”

“It's not even possible,” Julie said, shaking her head and wishing she didn't have this wall at her back. “Besides, I'm sure I'd remember if I'd met you before and I don't. So you must be mistaken.”

“I'm gratified you consider me to be that memorable,” Armand teased, moving even closer—close enough to plant his palm against the wall beside her head. “And, since it appears we may never locate your brother, why don't you let me accompany you out tonight instead? I know some clubs as well. We could go dancing, perhaps?”

“Oh, n-no, I-I couldn't do that,” Julie stammered. The mere mention of dancing had her feeling suddenly almost as nervous as she had the night before. Or maybe it wasn't the dancing that was making her nervous?

“And why not?” Armand smiled disarmingly. “Is Damian keeping you on so short a leash? Despite his distrust of me, we are all of the same bloodline, are we not? He must know I would never think of harming one of Conrad's kin. What could possibly be the problem with my showing my beautiful country cousin around town? Surely, not even Damian could object to something like that?” His gaze held hers until Julie's breath stalled. She felt herself on the verge of falling headlong into his hazel eyes. She could feel his will at work, urging her to give in to his wishes, and she struggled against the coercion. She was Vampire, damn it. Top of the food chain. And she would
not
be manipulated as though she were anyone's prey.

“Well, if you two don't make the prettiest picture I have ever seen,” a droll voice exclaimed behind her. “Why is it there's
never
a camera around when you need one?”

Damian
. Julie sighed, too relieved to even be shocked by the fact she hadn't sensed his approach.
Thank goodness he's here.
Still, as Armand reluctantly straightened away from her, she couldn't help but be aware of a vague sense of disappointment. She really hadn't needed to be rescued quite so promptly. She'd been handling things okay, hadn't she? Sort of?

“Oh, dear,” Damian drawled, smiling at them with false sweetness. “I do hope I haven't interrupted anything too terribly intimate?”

“Not at all,” Armand said dryly. “I'm sure you'd never dream of doing anything so inconsiderate.”

Damian batted his eyes and smiled wider. “Well, I might
dream
of it, Armand, but acting on one's dreams, now that is a very different thing altogether. Wouldn't you agree?”