In the Dark (35 page)

He could hear her footsteps along the path, running too quickly through the dark for a bare-footed human. And that's when it struck him, when all the pieces fell into place and he realized what he'd just done.

“
Mon Dieu
.” Another shudder of fear ran through him—so strong, he thought for an instant the earth had moved. He was a dead man. If Conrad ever found out what he'd done…no, he was worse than dead, much, much worse. Conrad must
never
know.

As silently as possible, Armand crept back to his apartment. He locked the door to the sitting room, and the one to his bedroom as well, and crawled into bed. He pulled the covers over his head and then, he did something he'd not done in over fifteen years. For the first time since becoming a vampire, he prayed for mercy and his soul's salvation.

Chapter Nineteen

Present Day

It was the whisper of voices outside the front door that first caught Armand's attention. If there was one thing he'd noticed about Damian's twins, it was that they rarely did anything quietly. Like sire, like spawn he supposed, because Damian was equally difficult to ignore, no matter how much you might want to. He was the kind of guy who could turn something as mundane as watching his hair dry into a major production. Not that he didn't have nice hair, Armand supposed he did have to give him that.

All the same, if any of those three had suddenly taken to sneaking around in the dead of night trying to avoid detection, it could not be for anything good. Curious, Armand slipped out of his room and into the hallway, keeping tight to the wall so that the curve of the stairs and the shadows beneath them would hide him from the view of anyone coming in the front door.

The second thing that struck him was the stench. A bitter, brackish smell of blood and burning wafted in the moment the door was pushed open. It seemed to be coming from the unwieldy, blanket-wrapped bundle in Damian's arms. Whatever it was, raised the hairs on the back of Armand's neck, set all his teeth on edge and drew a long, low, rumbling and completely unintentional growl from his throat.

Startled, Damian turned swiftly toward the sound. His eyes, glittering with feral intent as they pierced the shadows beneath the stairs, held a challenge Armand could not resist. Without thinking, he took a step forward.

That's when he saw what the blanket held.

That's when he lost his mind and his temper.

“What have you done?” he demanded, advancing on Damian, arms reaching for Conrad. “Give him to me.”

Damian half-turned and thrust the too-still form at Marc. “Upstairs,” he growled, at the startled young man. “Quickly, now.”

Marc's arms tightened automatically around his burden, but his eyes were wide with something that looked a great deal like fright. “Damian, no,” he said, his voice tight. “I don't think I should. I—”

“Do it,” Damian ordered as he turned back to face Armand.

Marc took a hesitant step sideways, toward the stairs and Armand moved swiftly to cut him off.

“Stay out of this, Armand,” Damian warned, keeping himself between them, his face set in savage lines. “This doesn't concern you.”

“The hell it doesn't,” Armand snarled, furious with fear over what the two of them were planning or had already done to Conrad.
The three of them
, he corrected, realizing he'd lost track of where Julie was. That was bad. But it couldn't be helped. “Let me see him. Now.”

“Not happening.”

“Mine,” Armand insisted, trying again to move toward Marc.

“No.” Taking a quick step forward, Damian shortened the distance between them. “Mine first.” Sparks flew between them. For a moment it seemed as though the air itself must surely ignite. Damian shook his head. “Let it go now. You don't want this fight.”

No, I sure don't
. Armand's heart pounded in his ears. Damian was older, stronger, and obviously a lot more ruthless than anyone had been giving him credit for. But tonight…Armand recoiled from what he sensed in him tonight. He'd been bled, weakened, torn.
He's been in one fight already
.
I can take him…maybe.
And those marks on his neck—
Conrad did that
. Armand shivered with rage as the realization hit.
He fought Conrad tonight—ganging up on him, three to one
. “I will
kill
you.”

For one split second, Damian looked shocked. Then he laughed. His face, when he smiled, was bitter and beautiful. “
Si
. I keep hearing that tonight.” Dropping the defensive stance, he stood erect and opened his arms. “Very well, then. Come. Do your worst.”

“No!” Julie came suddenly out of nowhere, thrusting herself between them, pushing at each of them in turn. “You can't do this! Stop it. Both of you.” Armand stared at her in surprise. Whose side was she on, anyway? “We're not hurting him, you idiot!” she yelled, getting right up into his face. Her own fangs, delicate little points that in no way frightened him, showed briefly when her mouth opened. She pushed at his chest, forcing him to take a step back. “What's wrong with you? Don't you get it? We
found
him this way. We
saved
him. We're just trying to get him home. And you—” Abruptly, she turned her back on Armand and her fury on Damian. “Can't you see he's just worried? Stop being so paranoid. He's trying to help.”

Damian grabbed Julie's arm. “Stay out of this, child,” he said as he tried to pull her behind him. “You don't understand. I won't have you getting hurt.”

“No.” Squirming out of his grasp, Julie put herself between them again. “
You
don't understand. Now, stop it. No more fighting.”

“Get out of there, Jules!” Marc ordered. “They're not kidding around. Get the hell out of the way.”

A sob broke from Julie's throat as she turned on her brother. “You're just like them now, aren't you, Marc? I thought we were different, but you're not anymore. You're all just the same, all of you, acting like…like monsters. I hate you! You…you vampires!”

Weak laughter greeted her pronouncement. “She's right.”

Relieved, Armand turned toward the sound. “Conrad?”

 

“She's right,” Conrad repeated, though it hurt to admit it. Tonight they'd all lived up to their sordid reputations—at least in part. Glancing up at Marc, he smiled sadly. “It's all right, Marc. You can put me down now.”

The guilty, furtive look in the boy's eyes left Conrad with little doubt that he, too, was in agreement with his sister's assessment, which was no more than could be expected, just one of many reasons Conrad had not wanted either one of the twins exposed to this sort of thing. They'd both inherited their mother's eyes. He'd seen such eyes grow wide with loathing once. It had been enough.

Still, despite all the dissension, it was good to be home. It was good to be back in his own front hall, standing on his own two feet. He smiled at the concerned faces around him, faces he'd feared he'd never see again. “Listen to the girl, all of you. She's the only one of you talking any sense tonight.” Then he opened his arms. “Julie?”

She ran to his embrace. “I can't stand this. They're gonna hurt themselves. Make them stop.”

“I will,” he promised. “You have my word. I'll make sure they behave.” Holding her close, whispering for her ears alone, he said, “You remind me a lot of your mother tonight, my dear. She would have been very proud of you, I think.”

He kissed her forehead. “Thank you for caring so much,” he said as he set her away from him. He turned to Armand. “You too,
mon cher
, and much as I appreciate the sentiment, I assure you, there will be no need for you to kill anyone on my behalf tonight.”

Casting one last wary look in Damian's direction, Armand moved to Conrad's side. “You're really all right then?”

Conrad smiled. “I will be—now.” Drawing Armand close, he kissed his cheek, draped his arm across the younger man's shoulders. And kept it there. Partly for support, it was true, but mostly to keep Armand from getting any closer to Julie. Just in case. Her resemblance to her mother seemed so strikingly obvious to him. Could Armand really have not noticed it? “I see you've already met my two youngest,” he murmured, adding a subtle warning to his tone as he added, “They're both very special to me, Armand. Treat them well.”

“
Yours
?” Armand cast a startled glance at Damian. “But you said
you
sired them?”

Conrad's mouth dropped open. “You said what?”

A small smile glimmered on Damian's lips. He appeared completely engrossed in the study of his nails. “Oh, well, I suppose it's possible I
may
have given that impression.”

Armand snorted. “May have?”

“Why would you do such a thing?” Conrad demanded in outrage.

Damian's gaze mocked him. “It amused me, of course. Why else? And, as you weren't around to dispute it…I thought, oh, well, why not?”

You know why not.
Is there no end to your recklessness?

Clearly unconcerned with Conrad's outrage, Damian tossed back his hair. Blood glistened in the fresh gashes along his neck. Conrad shuddered in revulsion. “Go and clean your neck,” he ordered, his voice harsh with pain. “Then come see me. I want to talk to you.”

Damian's face froze. He glared coldly at Conrad. Then, without a word, he turned and disappeared down the hallway, toward the back of the house.

A strangled sound burst from Julie's mouth. “Excuse me,” she murmured as she fled for the front door. “I need some air.”

Armand made a move as though to follow her. Conrad tightened his grasp on his shoulders. “Stay,” he murmured, glancing quickly at Marc who was staring unhappily after his sister, as well. “Marc, would you happen to know if there's any more blood in the refrigerator?”

“I think there is.” Looking surprised, Marc refocused his attention. “Did you want me to get you some?”

“Please. As much as we have. Bring it to my room—you know where that is, yes? Good.” He turned to Armand. “And you,
mon cher
, would you accompany me there?”

“
Mais oui
,” Armand replied automatically, but Conrad didn't miss the way his eyes kept straying back toward the front door. “Of course I will.”

 

Julie ran down the drive, not stopping until she reached the gate. “Brennan?” she called softly. “Are you still here?”

“Julie?” His voice came to her through the fog. “Hey, I was just leaving.”

Reorienting on the sound, she leapt at him and threw herself against his chest, practically sobbing in relief when Brennan's arms closed around her. “Listen, sweetheart, it's been kind of a long day. Do you think maybe we can do this another time? 'Cause, right now, if it's all the same to you, I just wanna kick back, park my happy ass on my couch with some junk food, maybe watch TV for a couple of hours, then fall asleep. I think you might have been right about me needing to relax.”

“Just hold me a minute,” she mumbled into his chest, trying hard not to cry. “Please?”

“Hey, what's all this?” Brennan's hands closed on her arms. Holding her away from him, he backed her up until her face was illuminated by the street lamp. “Are you all right?”

Julie shook her head. “Not really.”

Brennan sighed. “Look, if this is something to do with your family…you gotta know I'm not gonna be much help with that, right?”

Julie blinked back tears. “I know. I wouldn't expect you to. It's got nothing to do with that. I just…I don't want to be around them right now. I want…something more normal. More human. Can't I please stay with you tonight? An evening of junk food and television is sounding really good right now.”

“It is, huh?” A small smile curved Brennan's lips. “Well, okay, if you're down for sharing a six-pack and a coupla sandwiches, you're on.”

Then he kissed her. Long, slow, sexy, sweet. Human. Julie let herself relax. She let herself remember how to breathe, and how it felt to not be so tense and worried and frightened and upset all the time. It had only been a week since she'd had that, but it seemed so much longer. She really missed it.

When he let her go, she smiled at him. It was a shaky smile, that was true, but at least she wasn't tearing up anymore. “You wouldn't happen to have any ice cream at your place,” she asked hopefully. “Would you?”

“A vampire who eats ice cream?” Brennan threw an arm around her shoulders and laughed. “Wow. I think I've heard just about everything now. Sure, I think I can scrounge up some ice cream for you.” He smiled and kissed her again. “C'mon, let's go be normal.”

 

“Thank you, my dear.” Conrad said reached for one of the PVC pouches from the tray Marc had deposited on the table beside his armchair. He bit into it hastily. His ravenous body had already assimilated all the blood he'd consumed during the drive back to the house and was clamoring for more.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Grandfa—” Marc began, shutting up abruptly, his expression guilt-ridden.

Armand, who'd been eyeing Conrad worriedly from the second armchair, glanced sharply at Marc. “Grandfather. That's what you were about to say, wasn't it? That's how you referred to him the night you arrived. It's why I thought—” Turning his head, he transferred his gaze back to Conrad. “I don't understand. If he's not Damian's, why does he call you that?”

“It's a joke, Armand.” Conrad smiled reassurance at Marc. “Just a private joke between the two of us. Isn't that so, Marc?”

Marc nodded quickly. “Of course. I can't really remember how it started.”

“Nor I.” Conrad shrugged. “But, no doubt that's what gave Damian the idea to claim paternity. Isn't that right?”