The Turning-Blood Ties 1 (13 page)

“I might,” he said finally. “I’m not generally regarded as someone to be trusted.”

I looked over the rapidly purpling body on the table. “No kidding?”

He knelt at my side. “Search your heart, Carrie. I have faith you’ll make the right choice.”

Some choice. I could live only if I pledged my allegiance to the Movement, or I could live to be Cyrus’s little wifey. Either way, I was a slave. A prisoner. A prostitute.

“I’ve made my decision. Us meeting, that was an accident. I’m not fated to be your companion, or whatever the heck you’re looking for.”

“Tell me, Doctor, do you follow many of your patients to the morgue?” he asked with a knowing smile. “You followed me. You wanted me.”

“You were dead. That’s not my bag. Sorry.”

He reached out his hands again, but I dodged them.

“If that’s what you believe, I can’t change your mind,” he said, gesturing to the door. I stood and headed for it, but Cyrus called after me.

“Dahlia is useful. She’s only alive because she amuses me. Not because I love her. And she doesn’t love me.” His voice was quiet and sad.

“I’m sorry if you’re unhappy.” And I was. I could feel his desperation, his hurt, his anger. But I could also feel the cool edge of manipulation. He was confident I would cave in. He continued, and his sorrow sounded genuine. “I only want to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection, Cyrus. I need time to think.” I walked away. “If I go through that door, will the guards stop me?”

Cyrus shook his head. “Will you return?”

I thought of Nathan and his undying loyalty to the Movement. Would I ever become so indoctrinated to their rhetoric? Was I even susceptible to such brainwashing? “I don’t

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know. Maybe.”

His sorrow instantly changed to anger. “I’m your sire, Carrie. You belong to me.”

So this was the true nature of his game. He would coerce me into staying.

“I don’t belong to anyone.” The words gave me courage as I spoke them. “I don’t belong to my job, I don’t belong to a man, I don’t belong to the Movement, and I sure as hell don’t belong to you. I have five days left to make a decision. If I choose to return to you, I will. But I’m not stupid, Cyrus. You didn’t make me on purpose. You didn’t make me out of love. You meant to kill me in the morgue. I was an accident. And I don’t owe you anything.”

I walked out the door and didn’t look back.

Seven

June 23, 1924

C yrus’s word was good. No guards accosted me as I left the house. My head swam with a tremendous mix of emotions. The rage came from Cyrus. I could still hear his screams of fury and the crash of things breaking inside the house as I crossed the lawn.

My sadness weighed heavy on me as my feet hit the sidewalk. I didn’t know what I’d expected to find in Cyrus. A mentor? A friend? An ally against the shadowy threat of the Movement, which demanded I live for them or not live at all?

What I’d found was another dead end. Cyrus would rule me as surely as the Movement would, and that wasn’t something I could accept. My whole life, I’d been ruled by one thing or another. First, my father, who’d been so busy planning my future career, I’d wondered how he’d found time for his own.

“You’re my job, Carrie. It’s my duty to see you do well in life.”

How disappointed he’d be in me now. But then, I’d been just as bad as him, pushing aside adolescent dreams of romance for study and determination, until medicine consumed my life and any relationship that wasn’t a calculated career move seemed like a waste of time. I’d let so many trivial things get in the way of my own happiness that I couldn’t remember what the things that might have made me happy were anymore. My body grew numb as I walked back to Nathan’s apartment. I hadn’t left a note, but I’m sure the hastily riffled-through faxes would give him a hint as to where I’d been. Tension coiled like electricity in the air as I crossed the street. The windows of the apartment were dark, but the shop’s easel sign was on the sidewalk. I steeled myself against the unavoidable stench of incense and headed down the stairs to the bookshop. There was no need for the precaution. The air was clear and no peaceful music soothed me as I entered the room and leaned against the counter. I heard muffled cursing, followed by the distinctive thud of books hitting the floor.

“Need some help?” I called.

Swearing followed a startling bang. Nathan emerged from the shelves, one hand pressed against the top of his head.

“You’re back,” he said flatly, wincing as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Sorry. I had some stuff I needed to do.” I couldn’t tell him, I decided. If he asked, I wouldn’t lie, but it would be suicide to volunteer the information. He didn’t say anything. He went behind the shelves again and continued doing whatever I

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had interrupted.

I followed him. He slammed the books into their places on the shelf and walked past me to the other end of the shop, where he fussed with a display of tarot cards that didn’t look as though it needed rearranging.

“So, are you going to talk to me or what?” I asked quietly as he fanned out an open deck as if they were a row of magazines on a coffee table.

“I’m sorry. I’m being rude. How was your evening? Did you have a nice time with your sire while I rummaged through your burning apartment?” The sarcasm in his voice was like a slap in the face.

My temper rose. “You went to that apartment all by yourself. I didn’t ask you to go. All you wanted was your precious book!”

“This isn’t about the fucking book!” He slammed his fists on the table. A sealed deck of cards bounced onto the floor. “How long did you wait before you went snooping through my stuff to find his address? Did you give any thought to what you were going to do? No!

After everything I told you, after what you lived through at his hands, you went after him unprotected. He could have killed you!”

“But he didn’t. I can handle myself,” I said.

“You don’t know what he’s like!” Nathan yelled as he put a display of candles in order. I hoped he broke every damned one of them. “And you do?”

“Yes!” He turned to face me, a handful of orange candles still in his hand. “He’s capable of things you can’t imagine. Things you wouldn’t want to know.”

“He’s a killer. It’s in our blood to be killers. It says so in your freaking vampire bible!”

“Is it in our blood to torture? To maim? Is it in his blood to prey on the weak and exploit kids like Ziggy? Because I’ve got the same blood in my veins that he does, and I’ve never had the urge to rape and murder a sixteen-year-old girl!”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Cyrus was definitely evil. In the short time I’d known him I’d heard him refer to humans as pets and seen him casually feast on a corpse as though it were a fine cut of beef. But I knew myself, and I would never have been so attracted to someone capable of such a heinous act. “He couldn’t have done that.”

“Are you so sure? Because it was on the last order. I’ve got a newspaper clipping about her disappearance upstairs. He was awfully proud of her. Apparently, the fun for him is in killing the girls as he’s violating them. He likes to watch them die while he’s inside them.”

Nathan’s description of the obscene act made my stomach churn. I covered my mouth with my hand. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

“No, you want to experience it for yourself.” He exhaled noisily. “But you go ahead and do what you want.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“Hey, I really don’t care. Apparently, nothing I say is going to matter.” He went back to his candles.

His calm fed my growing anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means no matter what I say, you’re going to do what you damn well please.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” I shuffled the artfully arranged cards into a single pile on the tabletop.

“The only words out of your mouth are ‘don’t do that, Carrie,’ and ‘it’s dangerous, Carrie’ and ‘I’ll kill you, Carrie,’ but you never tell me why!”

“I dispense information on a need-to-know basis!”

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“You sound like my goddamned father!” I shouted, stamping my foot. Nathan made an exasperated sound and threw his hands up in the air. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“If I ask questions, you get all evasive. You don’t want to share anything about your life, but you seem to want me to just blindly trust that you know what’s best for me.” I pointed at him. “How do I know you’re not just as dangerous as Cyrus?”

He stepped so close to me that our shoes touched. “Oh, believe me, I’m the most dangerous thing in this room right now.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, and you’re about to see just how dangerous.”

I tilted my head so I could look him in the eye. “Is that a threat?”

“You tell me.” His breath was cold on my face.

We glared at each other in silence, tension dancing between us like a ballerina with a broken leg. I don’t think I’d ever been more infuriated. He turned away, but neither of us had spent our anger. This was merely the eye of the storm.

He faced me again, his arms folded across his chest. “Fine. Prove to me you can take care of yourself.”

I hesitated. “What?”

“Attack me.”

“You’re not serious.” I laughed.

“The hell I’m not!” He stepped back and braced himself for a fight. “I’m angry at you. You’re angry at me, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m not about to indulge in mindless violence with a vampire.”

“Would it be better if I was a human?” He rolled his eyes. “This will work out some of that aggression. And you can prove to me that you can stand up to Cyrus. It’s a win-win situation. Besides, right now, I’d really like to kick your ass.”

“Kick my—” My mouth dropped open as I sputtered in resentment. “Oh, I’m going to put the hurt on you so bad!”

I charged him with no specific plan of attack. My shoulder collided with his midsection. He tumbled backward, and I fell to the floor on top of him. We upended the table on the way down, tarot cards fluttering around us as we struggled. My flying hair and our flailing limbs obscured my vision. I swung at him blindly. Pain reverberated down my arm as my fist connected with his jaw. Nathan pinned one arm behind me and rolled me onto my back. The hard floorboards bit into my knuckles, and I arched my back to relieve the pressure. Unfortunately, this motion pushed my breasts against his chest, and it was more than a little arousing. I used my free hand to yank his hair, pulling as hard as I could. He grabbed my wrist, squeezing brutally, and I released my grip. He forced my arm above my head and held it to the floor.

The anger between us dissipated, abandoning us with only the raw, primal sound of our heavy breathing. I stopped struggling the same time Nathan loosened his grip. Painfully aware of how close our bodies were, I looked into his eyes. He pressed his hips against mine. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one affected.

“You suck at fighting,” he rasped. He leaned forward, his mouth a millimeter from mine. I

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closed my eyes and tried to stop my body from trembling. His breath teased my lips, and I shivered.

The bells above the shop door chimed. Nathan sprang to his feet, using a book from the nearest table as a shield to hide his obvious state of arousal. I rose clumsily beside him and hoped I didn’t look too flushed.

The customer who entered was about fifty years old and had long, graying hair. She looked us over with knowing brown eyes. “I’ve come at a bad time. I’ll be back later.”

She gave the overturned table and scattered merchandise a pointed glance before turning toward the door.

“No, no.” Nathan reached down to right the table. “What can I help you with tonight, Deb?”

The woman looked from him to me with an expression of uncertainty. I coughed and smiled, trying—quite unsuccessfully—to hide the guilt written all over my face. At Nathan’s urging, the customer rattled off a long list of ingredients she needed to make a protection charm. He directed her to the herb pantry at the back of the shop and promised he’d be with her in a moment.

“Deb is a regular,” he explained, almost apologetically. “You might as well go upstairs.”

“Not to my apartment?” I asked hopefully.

He stared at the ground. “Yeah, I was meaning to tell you about that.”

“It’s completely gone.” I could tell by the look on his face. He couldn’t meet my eyes. “I’m sorry, Carrie.”

I went to Nathan’s apartment, my head still spinning. What had I been thinking? I’d met this man just over a week ago, and now I was rolling around on the floor with him. And after his tall, dark and surly act. Had I really become the wilting Southern-belle type, just waiting for a big, brooding Rhett Butler to come and dominate me?

I wandered around, absentmindedly picking up clothes strewn around the living room. Once the dirty laundry was folded, I moved on to the coffee table. I straightened the hopeless pile of books and papers. Not too thoroughly, lest I be accused of snooping again. Thinking of everything he’d said downstairs only made my blood boil, so I gathered stray dishes and dropped them unceremoniously into a sink full of soapy water. I meant to wash them, until the coffee mugs turned the water a soft pink and I lost my stomach for the task.

My manic cleaning spree continued through the house. In the past nine days, I had become homeless, hunted and, soon, unemployed. I probably had enough money in my bank account for a few months’ rent and utilities, but the point seemed moot since I didn’t have an apartment anymore.

Did the Voluntary Vampire Extinction Movement pay a salary?

Nathan had offered blood, shelter and protection. The least I could do was tidy up the place. Because he’s not getting anything else. My behavior downstairs might have raised some of his expectations. I’d have to nip that situation in the bud. Moving to his bedroom, I stripped the sheets from the bed and threw them into the corner that appeared to be his dirty-laundry hamper. Vampire or not, it appeared men just couldn’t clean up after themselves.