The Turning-Blood Ties 1 (25 page)

“Please. I’ll do anything you want. Just get him out of there.” He reached through the bars as if to draw me back. “If anything happens to him…Carrie, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

I sighed wearily and went back to the gate. “Nothing is going to happen to him. I’ve made sure of that.”

Without my permission, my eyes flitted over the dark windows of Cyrus’s bedroom. I remembered my promise to be with him at dawn, and an unexpected shiver of desire raced up my spine. I turned back to Nathan, hoping he couldn’t sense my distress. “The problem is, this place is like Fort Knox. I don’t know how we’re going to get him out.”

Nathan stared up at the mansion, rubbing his hands as if he was trying to warm them.

“You’re dead. Aren’t they supposed to be cold?”

His gaze never moved from the looming edifice. “I’m thinking.”

“Tell me how that works out for you.” As I watched him study the house, I found myself wanting to touch him. Not from sexual attraction, although I knew at least one of us still felt it. This was an urge borne of homesickness. Seeing him made me feel as if I’d been on a long trip in a violent foreign country.

“Why did you kick him out?” I asked quietly, and his eyes darted sharply back to me.

“I didn’t kick him out. He left.”

“He said you kicked him out.”

“I reacted badly. There was some yelling. A lot of yelling. But I never told him to leave.”

Nathan’s voice was thick with emotion. “And I damn sure wouldn’t have let him go if I knew he was coming here.”

“I’m sorry you had to find out that way. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.” But no matter what I said, it wouldn’t erase his regret. “He’s afraid you hate him.”

“That’s stupid of him!”

“Is it?” I planted my hands on my hips. “In case you didn’t notice, he was pretty embarrassed that you walked in on him like that. And all he got from you was judgment and the angry face!”

For a moment, it appeared my words had penetrated his thick skull. Then he shook his head, swore and took a step back. “Why am I even talking to you? I should be jabbing a stake through this fence right now, after you ran off like that.”

I’d almost forgotten my letter. “Ziggy gave you my message?”

“Yeah.” His voice was cold and impersonal.

“And?” I wrapped my fingers around the icy metal, hoping he’d touch my hand. It was a foolish hope. “What the fuck do you want me to say, Carrie? You made your decision.”

“Then why are you talking to me?”

He clenched his fists around the bars and gave the gate a hard shove. Then he kicked it and swore again. I looked frantically toward the house, sure that at any moment I’d see guards streaming down the lawn. But Nathan continued to rage. With a final, violent kick to the stone wall, he spun away from me. I took that as my cue. “Are you finished?”

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He limped back to the gate and nodded.

“Fine. Then why are you talking to me?” I phrased the question in a softer voice than I had before.

“Because you’re the only way I’m going to get Ziggy out of there alive.” When I didn’t respond, he reached into his back pocket. “Listen, I’ll cut you a deal—”

“I don’t need money,” I said quickly.

He gave me a melancholy smile. “Yeah, I see your boyfriend has a nice setup here.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I reached for the folded paper that he passed through the bars.

“What’s this?”

“Information. I’m paying you for Ziggy. Do whatever you want with them.”

I scanned the paper. “Nathan, these are battle plans.”

“Do whatever you want with them,” he repeated. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t be here on the thirtieth.”

I frowned at the page. “January thirtieth?”

Nathan snorted. “Hasn’t he told you anything?”

“No. There hasn’t really been time.”

He laughed humorlessly. “I’ll bet.”

“Not because of that.” I couldn’t meet his eyes. “We haven’t. Yet.”

He shrugged. “I really don’t care. Look over those plans. You can find out what you need to from your sire. In the meantime, start thinking of how you can get Ziggy safely out of there. How can I contact you if I need to?”

“I have no idea. Maybe through Clarence. He goes out every day. Food shopping.” I just hoped he’d relay the messages he received. He’d obviously helped me this time, since Nathan had shown up, but we hadn’t exactly become fast friends.

“The guy who delivered your message? The one who lives with and works for Cyrus?”

Nathan looked at me with disbelief. “How about if I want to talk to you, I’ll be right here, after sunset. Make it a habit to check every night.”

“If I can get away.” It was sort of an agreement.

He turned then, as if he was going to leave, and I called his name. The sound was desperate, almost pathetic as it passed my lips. I wanted to tell him why I stood on this side of the fence. I wanted him to know that the only reason he lived was because of the choice I’d made.

Instead, I just stared, my mouth frozen open in shock at my sudden exclamation. He stared back, his expression hard as some indiscernible war raged behind his eyes.

“Keep him safe, Carrie,” he said. Then he turned and walked quickly away. I went back to the house, numb from the temperature outside and the mood of our chilly encounter. Telling him what I’d done wouldn’t have accomplished anything. Nathan would have rushed into battle as if I were some princess trapped in a tower by an evil magician. Then I’d be in the awkward position of explaining that this damsel hadn’t exactly decided to be rescued.

As for the evil magician, he stormed past the princess without a word when they crossed paths in the hallway outside their chambers.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I called after him, greeted only by the sound of his slamming door.

Ziggy was already awake when I entered my quarters. Clothed in the pants he arrived in

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the night before, he leaned greedily over a bowl of cereal as Clarence looked on.

“Hey. Did you see Nate?” Ziggy’s voice was light, though I could sense the desperate hope there.

I cast a wary glance at Clarence. It seemed awfully imprudent of Ziggy to speak so freely in front of a guy we barely knew. “Y-yes.”

With a frown, Ziggy jerked his thumb toward Clarence. “Don’t worry about him. He knows how to keep a secret, don’t you, Clarence?”

“Like a dead man,” Clarence confirmed, but I still felt a little uneasy about what he knew.

“What did he say?” Ziggy lifted the bowl from the marble-topped end table, and Clarence used the opportunity to wipe a condensation ring from the spot where it had rested. I chose my words carefully. “He wants you to go home.”

Ziggy slurped the milk from his spoon and glared at the coaster Clarence had placed on the table. “Is he still pissed at me?”

“He never was pissed.” I dropped beside him on the sofa. “Nathan loves you.”

As unobtrusive as a ghost passing by, Clarence decanted a glass of blood and pressed it into my hand. I thanked him, but my attention was still on Ziggy. “Do you want to go home?”

“Hmm…stay here with the crazy, sadistic vampire, or go home?” He paused. “To the cold, emotionally shut-off vampire who’ll freak out if I ever bring another guy home.”

“I don’t think he will. He was just surprised. And I get the distinct impression he’s not so pleased that you’ve grown up. He would have acted the same if he’d caught you with a girl.” At least, I hoped he would have. Different generation or not, times changed and Nathan should have adapted. And he shouldn’t have cared in the first place. Ziggy mustered enough false enthusiasm to say, “Great. When do I leave?”

Clarence coughed softly. “It’s not as simple as that.” Ziggy and I stared at the butler in silence. How could he possibly know the details of my conversation with Nathan? Were there spies?

As if sensing my distrust, Clarence shook his head. “But maybe you don’t want an old man’s help.”

He moved to collect the dishes, but Ziggy stopped him by placing a hand on his arm.

“What do you know?”

Clarence gave me a frigid glare.

“What? Do you want me to leave?” I folded my arms across my chest stubbornly. “This is my room, you know.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Clarence explained, a little condescendingly. “I want you to stop acting as if I’m going to turn sides all of a sudden.”

“I’m sorry, but how am I supposed to trust someone who’s worked for Cyrus all this time? You are on his payroll,” I pointed out.

Clarence seemed to roll this around in his mind for a moment. “I trust you a little bit, and you’re a vampire.”

Considering his stance on vampires, that was a pretty bold statement. Pulling Nathan’s plans from my pocket, I motioned for Clarence to come closer. “Apparently, there’s going to be some kind of attack here on January thirtieth.”

I realized I’d been so caught up in my new vampirehood that I hadn’t noticed Christmas had come and gone. I supposed it had saved me from a particularly miserable holiday. I

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couldn’t imagine snuggling up in front of the tree and listening to Bing Crosby records with Cyrus of all people.

I swallowed the knot of loneliness that formed in my throat and forced a stoic expression.

“Do you know anything about this, Clarence?”

“I don’t know about any attack, but January thirtieth is the Vampire New Year.”

“Vampire New Year?” Ziggy’s question echoed my own. Clarence nodded, his face growing more serious, a feat I’d thought impossible. “Every damn year. And they always throw a big, disgusting party.”

“What happens at the party?”

“A lot of people die.” Clarence removed Ziggy’s empty cereal bowl and placed it on the rolling service cart. “All except two of the pets will go on the ingredients list. The two Cyrus leaves off are the guests of honor.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Ziggy interjected, his voice hoarse.

“Unless you’ve been his guest of honor before,” I pointed out, and his expression grew dark. “Clarence, how does Cyrus pick these guests?”

“I don’t know. He just gives me the list. I’m not invited to the party. But I do know that only one of them comes back. He turns them. Sometimes his daddy does it if he’s feeling up to it. I’m not sure what happens to the other one. If I were you, I’d get your young man out of here before then.”

I had plenty of questions, but Clarence had apparently reached his talking quota for the day. I’d have to get my answers from Cyrus.

Cyrus had either forgotten to lock the door or hadn’t expected anyone to interrupt him, but when I burst into his study, the look on his face was murderous.

“You weren’t invited into this room,” he snarled, glancing sharply up from the book in his lap.

I took in his uncharacteristically casual appearance, noting that he wore a black eye patch.

“Where was that yesterday when you needed it?”

With an annoyed sigh, he closed the book. “For your information, I’m wearing this because I didn’t take an eye from your friend, and I simply don’t have the energy to seek a replacement tonight.”

“Too tired for me?” Alternating stabs of disappointment and relief sliced through me.

“No, but I’m rapidly becoming tired of you. Is there any reason for this visit?” He folded his hands across his lap.

“Yeah. I’ve got a question.”

“Well, are you sure you wish to ask, or would you prefer to sneak around in my mind while I sleep tomorrow?”

“Are you still upset over that?” I walked slowly toward him. Taking the book from him, I insinuated myself into its place. “If I had known it would make you so mad, I wouldn’t have done it.”

“Why do I have difficulty believing that?” But he smiled, anyway, pulling me against his chest. His skin seemed colder than usual.

I sat up. “You haven’t fed.”

Only then did I notice the dark circle beneath his visible eye, and the tired, pinched look of his face. He was weak, and it alarmed me.

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With a shrug that came off more theatrical than carefree, he urged me to lean back against him. “I wasn’t in the mood.”

“Was it because of me?” The question came out before my mind could consent. It seemed to take him off guard, as well. Maybe if he’d been feeling better he would have lied to me, but he nodded wearily. “There are things in my past that…put me off my appetite when I dwell on them.”

He nuzzled my neck as though seeking comfort, and I couldn’t deny him. I stroked his hair and tried to quiet my pounding heart. The contact was more emotionally intimate than any of the times he’d touched me before. I suddenly couldn’t remember why I’d been angry with him.

It felt right, holding him like this. As if someone finally needed me. Not because I was going to save their life. Not because I was going to fulfill some long-held parental expectation. Cyrus needed me because I was me.

“You wanted to ask me something?” His words were heavy with sleep. Did I? The question drifted lazily to the surface of my consciousness. “Right. What’s up with Vampire New Year?”

He let out a low rumble of laughter. “Where did you hear about that?”

“Around.”

To my relief, he didn’t question further. “Vampire New Year is a tradition created by my father. You’ll enjoy it, if you let yourself.”

Cyrus gently moved me from his lap and stood, then walked to an intercom box beside the door. “Send for Clarence. Tell him I’ve changed my mind about breakfast.”

Static crackled, followed by a “Yes, sir.”

Cyrus smiled at me, but it was clear he’d wasted much of his energy getting to the door. I made a move to help him, but he refused me. “So you want to know about the New Year?”

I did, but his weakened state worried me. “You fed from Ziggy. Why are you having such a hard time?”