Читать книгу Blood Ties Bundle: Blood Ties Book One: The Turning / Blood Ties Book Two: Possession / Blood Ties Book Three: Ashes to Ashes / Blood Ties Book Four: All Souls' Night - Jennifer Armintrout, Jennifer Armintrout - Страница 12

June 23, 1924

Cyrus’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 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!”

“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 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.

A pang of sadness washed over me as I realized I no longer had a home to clean. Or clothes. Or major appliances.

How had my life suddenly become so complicated? How would I survive as a vampire? How long has it been since he’s flipped his mattress?

I eyed the goldfish bowl on Nathan’s bedside table as I wrestled the heavy mattress off the box springs. I’d read somewhere that goldfish had a memory span of three seconds. Every three seconds, that poor fish had to come to grips with a new and frightening reality. I could definitely identify with that.

I lifted the bowl, pressed my face against the cool glass and counted to three. “Surprise.”

I sighed as I set the container back in its place. It didn’t seem to phase the little orange guy. He just kept on swimming. Another three seconds passed as I wrestled the mattress over and back onto the box springs. Panting and sweating, I looked to the fishbowl. No reaction.

Fish were survivors.

I opened the closet doors to look for clean sheets, on the off chance he owned some. There were assorted bare hangers and a few shirts that hadn’t been worn in so long that the shoulders were dusty. Three mismatched tennis shoes huddled together in the corner next to a dried-out, curled-up object that resembled a dead mouse.

I found a set of sheets on the top shelf and pulled them down. Something heavy and sharp came down with them and landed on my foot. I said a few choice words and leaned over to pick up the offending object. It was a small picture frame, weighty for its size. The picture was yellow and faded.

A pretty young woman beamed at me from the photograph. She wore a simple white blouse and a long tartan skirt. She clutched a bouquet of wild flowers tightly to her chest. A young man in a plain-looking suit stood next to her. The couple posed on the stone steps of a small country church. I squinted at the man. He bore a remarkable resemblance to…

I flipped the frame over and carefully removed the photograph. There were no names, but someone had recorded the date. June 23, 1924.

I stared at the picture. Nathan, just twenty years old, stared back.

“Carrie? Sorry I took so long, but you wouldn’t believe how that woman can talk about her cats.”

I put the photograph back into the frame, replaced it on the top shelf and slammed the closet doors shut.

“Wow, this place looks great,” Nathan called from the living room, veritable appreciation in his voice. He came into the bedroom and laughed when he saw me. “You’re making the bed, too? Do I have to pay you?”

“And I flipped the mattress. That’ll be twenty bucks.” I eyed the shopping bags he held. “Or whatever’s in that Victoria’s Secret bag.”

He laughed, a tight, embarrassed sound, and dumped the bags on the bed. “I didn’t know what size you are, so if these don’t fit, we’ll return them.”

Nathan had thought of everything. There were sweaters and T-shirts in safe, neutral colors from Old Navy, jeans, and pretty silk panties courtesy of Victoria’s Secret. “I saved some of your clothes from the fire, but they were so full of smoke, I didn’t think they’d ever come clean.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Nathan, you didn’t have to do this. I—”

I didn’t realize I was crying until my voice grew too thick to speak.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just thought you could use some stuff.” He cleared his throat and handed me another bag. “If I give you this, do you promise to stop?”

I snorted through my tears. “I’ll try. When did you buy all these things?”

“When I got back from the fire. You were gone and I was pissed off, so I went shopping.”

“You went shopping because you were mad at me?” I took the bag from his hands. “Remind me to stay on your bad side.”

He chuckled at that. “Must be some lingering feminine influence from a past life. If you ever catch me watching The View, go ahead and kill me. I just figured you might come back, and I wanted to make you feel really guilty.”

“Don’t worry, I do,” I said, reaching into the bag. It was plastic, stamped with the logo of a local grocery chain. I froze when my fingers closed on a familiar object. “Nathan…what?”

With trembling hands, I pulled out the small framed photo of me and my parents on graduation day. It had been on my dresser when I’d last seen it. “Oh, thank you.”

Appalled at the sight of my fresh tears, he backed away. “Whoa, whoa. I thought you were going to stop doing that.”

“I’m sorry. Nobody’s ever done anything so nice for me.” It wasn’t a lie. I’d been raised to believe that nothing came easy, nothing was free, and the only person I could depend on was myself. I reached into the bag again. “Is this my…this is my diploma.”

“I figured you might want to keep it, for nostalgic purposes.” He scuffed his shoes on the carpet. “You know, this fire might be the perfect way to break ties with your former life. People die in fires all the time.”

Former life. My photo album. My journals. Everything I’d valued as irreplaceable was gone. My father used to say our society puts too much value on the past. I wished I could scream his words back at him now. My past was all that was left of you. Now that it’s gone, so are you.

“Let’s not talk about this right now, okay?” I said as I dabbed my eyes on the back of my hand. Before Nathan could protest, my stomach growled loudly.

A look of concern crossed his face. “How long has it been since you’ve fed?”

I cringed at the memory of the dead girl. “Cyrus offered, but I couldn’t…feed. Not the way he did.”

Nathan’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He headed to the kitchen, and I followed.

“So, did you get The Sanguinarius back?” I watched as he pulled a bag of blood from the refrigerator and poured it into the teapot on the stove.

He shook his head. “I didn’t have time to look for it.”

Surprisingly, I found myself savoring the metallic smell of the warming blood. “But you had time to look for my diploma, and the picture of my parents?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he poured me a mug and left the rest on the stove. “I had priorities.”

Why was I a priority? Nathan had only known me a handful of days. “Your priority should have been getting the book.”

He turned to the sink and began halfheartedly washing the dishes. “The book can be replaced. Memories can’t. I know if I lost all those pictures I have of Ziggy…See, one time, when he was eleven, I took him to Disney World. We could only go out at night, of course, but we went in December, so the sun set earlier—”

“I hope you don’t think I’m going to sleep with you just because you’re being nice,” I blurted.

There was a crash and Nathan hissed. When he pulled his hand from the water, he was bleeding. He looked from his torn thumb to me, his gaze murderous. “What the hell, Carrie?”

The logic I’d used to work the accusation up to a full-fledged fear in my head suddenly seemed incredibly silly. Still, I soldiered on. “Well, you bought me clothes, you rescued my diploma from a burning building at the expense of your precious book, you’re feeding me…what am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe you’re supposed to think I’m an idiot for doing all that shit for someone who clearly doesn’t appreciate it!” He stuck his thumb in his mouth and sucked away the blood, his face contorting into the freakish features he’d displayed the night we’d first met.

I cringed, fervently hoping he didn’t notice. “People don’t just do things for other people without wanting something in return. Sorry if that offends you, but it’s a fact.”

“Is it?” He watched me for a moment with an expression of bitter amusement. “How on earth did you get so jaded?”

“Hey, you’ve lived on earth longer than I have, buddy. You can come up with a better answer than I can.” I took a swallow of blood.

Nathan chuckled and turned back to his dishes. After a long pause, he spoke without looking at me. “You can stay here as long as you need to. I don’t mind. But don’t think I expect anything because of what happened downstairs. It was just one of those weird things we can forget about.”

“Thanks,” I said softly. I managed to drink more blood without dwelling on the repulsive things I’d seen that night, like Cyrus’s choice of cocktail olive replacement. Unfortunately, all that was left to dwell on was Nathan’s comment. I didn’t consider myself the hottest tamale in the enchilada, but almost kissing me was something he could just forget? I couldn’t help but be insulted.

He continued. “And I’m sorry about what I said. And I shouldn’t have fought with you. We don’t know each other very well, but what I do know of you, I like. I want you to make good choices so we don’t have to be enemies.”

“Nathan, I’m not like him. That’s what I found out tonight.”

“Good.” He didn’t look up.

I stood next to him so he couldn’t avoid me. “He didn’t have anything I wanted. I’m not interested in that kind of life.”

When he looked at me, his gaze burned through me. “And what kind of life is that, Carrie?”

“A life without consequences.” I turned away and went to sit at the kitchen table. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve made a decision. I won’t spend my life trying to prove myself to some shadowy organization because they think they can choose whether I live or die. The only person with power over my life is me.”

“I respect that. But it doesn’t change anything.”

I sighed. He would never bend, and I knew it. We were five days from being mortal enemies, and I’d come to rely on him as a friend. An incredibly touchy, downright rude friend, but the only one I had.

I didn’t want to think about it tonight.

Nathan finished the dishes without further conversation. When the last one rested in the drying rack, he washed his hands and wiped them on the dish towel. I handed him my mug with a sheepish smile, and he made a face in good-natured annoyance as he dropped it in the empty sink. “Feel like a drink? A real one, this time?”

“I could definitely use one.” I followed him to the living room where he ordered me to sit.

He pulled a large book from one of the shelves and opened it. It was hollow, the pages carved out to form a niche for a gleaming metal flask.

“Here I thought you were a bookworm, and you’re really just an alcoholic.” I yawned. “So the shop is just a clever front for a bootlegging operation, right?”

He handed me the flask. “Scotch. Aged thirty years. I only hide the good stuff.” He motioned for me to drink. “Ziggy helps himself to the liquor cabinet and replaces what he takes with water. He thinks I haven’t noticed.”

I took a cautious sip. It was smooth and warmed me almost as much as the blood I’d drunk.

My thoughts strayed to the mystery woman in the picture. Obviously, it was a wedding photo. But Nathan didn’t wear a ring. He didn’t even have a tan line from one. Now, that’s a stupid thought, I scolded myself. He can’t go out in the sun.

There had to be some way to bring up the subject, an innocent question I could ask that would lead him to spill the whole tale.

He sat on the couch next to me, and his thigh brushed mine. I didn’t move away. Neither did he.

“Do you ever get lonely?” It seemed the best way to get the conversation started.

It was also intensely personal, judging from the look on Nathan’s face. He took the flask and swallowed deeply. “Nah. Ziggy’s here, and when he’s not, I like being alone.”

“I meant, does immortality get lonely?” I reached for the flask, deciding the best way to kill the sour aftertaste was with another shot of the stuff.

“Well, after the first decade or so, time seems to fly by. I have to admit, it gets boring every now and then. And yeah, lonely, I guess. Especially when I read about someone having his hundred and eighth birthday, or something like that. It drives home the fact I’m really, really old. I’m just not getting any older.” He gave a little laugh and looked over at me. “I’m not making sense, am I?”

“You are,” I assured him. “Though it might be because I’m slightly tipsy.”

He smiled sadly. “It’s hard to believe one day I’ll be the only person left who remembers what it was like to be alive in my time. Sure, people will remember the major things. They’ve got them written down in history books. But only I’ll be left to remember the price of eggs and milk in 1953. I’ll be the only one who remembers what Mrs. Campbell’s blackberry jam tastes like, or that Mrs. Campbell ever existed.”

I had no idea how old my sire was. Had Cyrus endured too many years of that kind of solitude? Is that what made him so desperate for a companion? My heart ached at the thought, and the tender emotion surprised me. “So it stands to reason you’d want to find someone to be with when the people you love die.”

He nodded. “I suppose. But I haven’t felt that way for a while. Maybe because Ziggy’s so young I feel like I have some time before I have to think about it again.”

I could tell from his tone that this was as close as I was going to get to the bottom of this particular subject. “So, where are you from?”

“All over.” He took another sip of Scotch. “I was born in Scotland, lived there until…” His voice trailed off for a second. “I went to Brazil in 1937. That’s where I was turned.”

“Oh?” I wasn’t sure how I should respond.

“From there, I moved to London, then Canada when the war broke out—”

“You were a draft dodger?” I interrupted.

“No.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “The Second World War. Eventually, I ended up here.”

“That’s a lot of moving.” I wondered if I would have to move that much. The idea didn’t hold any appeal.

He sighed. “That’s what happens. If you live too long in one place, never getting any older, people get suspicious. Believe me, it’s a real pain in the ass getting a new birth certificate and social security card.”

I mimicked a redneck drawl. “Especially when you’re obviously not from round these here parts.”

He chuckled, then did a pretty fair imitation of a Midwestern accent. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I was born in Gary, Indiana, in 1971.”

“Seriously, though, how do you do it?” I took another swig of Scotch.

He leaned back, resting his long arm behind me on the back of the couch. “It’s not hard, especially in a town like this. There are a lot of illegals running around, so there are plenty of connections for forged documents. It’s all about networking. Once you’ve got the birth certificate and the social security card, you go down to the Secretary of State office and say, ‘I’m here to apply for a driver’s license, please.’”

He’d finished the last part of the statement with his ridiculously good Midwestern twang. I frowned. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” He half lifted his arm.

“The voice. I like your accent.”

Nathan looked at me as if he’d never seen me before. His eyes searched my face but provided me no clue to what was going on in his head.

“In the bookstore tonight…if I had kissed you, would you have let me?” His voice sounded deeper than usual and rough from the alcohol.

My mouth went dry. I had some more Scotch, but it didn’t help. “I don’t know.”

“Would you let me now?”

A feeble noise escaped my throat.

He took it as a protest. “No expectations. Just a kiss.”

I nodded.

His lips were soft but cold. He brushed them lightly over mine, and butterflies the size of B-52s took up residence under my rib cage. I closed my eyes. I felt dizzy, either from the Scotch or the scent of Nathan that surrounded me. Probably both.

I opened my mouth under his. The tip of his tongue slipped past my lips, and I put my arms around him, one hand resting against the soft hair at the back of his neck. Excitement tickled my stomach every time I inhaled.

Without warning, Nathan pulled away. I opened my eyes in time to see him slump sideways and fall to the floor.

Dahlia glanced over his motionless body with a surprised expression that gave way to a satisfied smile. She shrugged her round shoulders. “Just as good, I guess.”

Before I could ask her what she meant, she clapped her hands and disappeared.