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 13

A Bargain

I knelt beside Nathan’s unconscious body and rolled him onto his back. He was breathing, but just barely.

“Open your eyes!” I shouted into his face. I hoped whatever Dahlia had done was only temporary. “Nathan, open your damn eyes!” His eyelids opened a fraction and a slow smile formed on his lips. I sighed in relief.

“Marianne?” he whispered. His eyes closed again and his body went limp. As if someone had flicked a switch, my relief turned to immediate dread. I called his name again, but he didn’t respond.

Looking frantically around the room, I spotted the cell phone on the table. Ziggy.

My hands shook as I punched up the speed dial. Ziggy’s number was the only one listed. Once the call was sent, all I could do was wait.

I’d never felt so helpless in my entire life. I tried to summon the impartiality and calm I’d had when working on a patient, but I couldn’t. Not when the patient in question was someone I knew.

I sat by Nathan’s side, unable to offer anything but my presence. Was he still breathing? Did he look a little blue in the face? I was checking his pulse rate against the cell phone’s clock when Ziggy’s call came through.

“What?” was the unceremonious greeting I got when I pushed the connect button.

“It’s Carrie. I’m at your place.” I glanced down at the unconscious body beside me, not sure how to deliver the bad news. “Listen, where are you?”

“Just about to leave the hospital. It’s a good thing I wasn’t mortally wounded. I could have died six times before they bothered to help me. What do you need?”

“Nathan’s hurt.” I figured saying it really fast, like ripping off a Band-Aid, would make it easier. “Dahlia sort of poofed in here and zapped him, then poofed out again.”

“Shit!” He was so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

I could only imagine the looks he was getting as he stood in the E.R. lobby swearing at the top of his lungs. “Calm down. Can you get here, fast?”

There was no answer but a dial tone. I swore and tossed the phone across the floor. If he’d stayed on the line he might have been able to tell me how to help Nathan. Now all I could do was wait for him. Again.

I didn’t want to just sit there and watch Nathan die, but it appeared I had little choice. His breaths grew more shallow, and his chest jerked with every inhalation. I hadn’t been paying much attention to my own breathing, but it suddenly seemed stifled. In fact, the air in the little apartment had become hazy.

With smoke.

“What is it with her and fire?” I wheezed. Jumping to my feet, I grabbed Nathan from under his arms and struggled to drag him. Nathan hadn’t included lack of oxygen as a potential cause of undead fatality, so I assumed smoke inhalation wouldn’t kill us, either. But even with increased vampire strength, I had no hope of getting him down the stairs if I couldn’t breathe. At least, not without dropping him and breaking his neck in the process.

I searched for an escape from the acrid smoke and I finally decided on the bathroom. The tiny, windowless room had an exhaust fan, so I flipped the switch and wet a towel to shove under the crack in the door. It kept the smoke out, but unless Ziggy hurried, Nathan and I would burn to death.

No sooner than the thought crossed my mind, I heard the front door slam open.

“We’re in here!” I called, realizing too late that the heavy footsteps clomping toward the door could belong to a fireman and not Ziggy. Though I wouldn’t turn down the help, I couldn’t come up with a convincing enough lie to keep Nathan out of an ambulance. If he lived to make it to the hospital, I doubted they’d be able to help him. He’d wind up in the morgue like John Doe had, only more dead.

Luckily, it was Ziggy who called through the door, already choking on the smoke. “Are you guys, uh, decent in there?”

“Of course,” I snapped. “He’s unconscious.”

Ziggy pushed the door open, coughing. He pulled the collar of his T-shirt over his nose. “That fucking pyromaniac bitch set the bookshop on fire. I beat the trucks here, but they’re coming. We need to get him out.”

“It’s only a couple hours till dawn. Where are we gonna go?”

Ziggy stooped and lifted Nathan by the arms. “My van. Get his legs.”

I complied, and we shuffled toward the door, Nathan hanging between us like a jump rope.

Ziggy hacked against his shoulder. “This reminds me of the scene in Return of the Jedi where the Ewoks take Han and Luke and Chewie prisoner and tie them to those big sticks.”

“Conserve your oxygen. I can’t carry you both out.”

The night air had turned freezing. The phrase “too cold to snow” sprung to mind. I slid on the sidewalk and collided painfully with the brick wall of the building. Ziggy eased Nathan to the ground and opened the back of the van.

I peered over the iron railing to look down at the bookstore. The glass in the door had been broken, and foul-smelling smoke poured out. My mind raced with thoughts of the building burning to the ground and where we’d go to wait out daylight. We didn’t have time to gather Nathan’s things. His goldfish. His wedding picture.

I thought of how Nathan had rescued my diploma and the photo of my parents from my burning apartment. Those were still upstairs, too. But the sirens of approaching fire engines squashed any notion of knickknack heroism.

“Get him in the back,” Ziggy urged, picking Nathan up by the shoulders. With a count of three, we swung him into the van and slammed the door.

“Click it or ticket,” Ziggy reminded me, pointing to the seat belt as I climbed into the passenger seat.

As the fire trucks rounded the block, he started the engine and guided the van down the street at an inconspicuous pace.

“What did she do to him?” he asked, jerking his thumb toward the heavy tarp curtain that sectioned off the back of the van.

“I don’t know. He just fell over. Bam.” I threw my hands up in despair.

“I don’t get it.” Ziggy eyed me suspiciously. “Dahlia showing up in his living room isn’t the kind of thing Nate would miss.”

I shifted in my seat. “He was preoccupied.”

“Ah.” He at least had the courtesy not to reach back and high-five Nathan’s motionless hand.

“So what do we do now?” I asked, looking fearfully at the lightening sky. “Can we fix him?”

“Not if we don’t know what it is she did to him.” He kept his eyes on the road. “Do you know where to find Dahlia?”

I did. Behind the divider, Nathan moaned in pain. I closed my eyes. “Turn right at the next light.”

I found my way back to Cyrus’s mansion with little trouble. The wrought-iron gate was shut. “Let me out here.”

“Does the guy I think lives here live here?” Ziggy asked as he put the van in Park. “You want me to wait?”

I pushed the heavy door open and stepped onto the curb. “Yeah. If I’m not back before sunup, get someplace safe.”

“Why, it’s not like he can come out and get me or anything.”

Casting my gaze up the lawn, I saw five of Cyrus’s bodyguards filing out the door. “No, but he’s got those guys.”

“Holy shit.” Ziggy’s jaw dropped as he watched them through the driver’s-side window. “You’re not really going up there, are you?”

“I have to,” I said, sounding braver than I felt. As I turned away from the van, the strangest urge came over me to look at Nathan one more time. I forced it away.

Here goes nothing. I kicked the iron gate open and headed up the driveway. The guards didn’t move, letting me come to them. But once I got near enough, I was ready.

Two of the goons came toward me with arms outstretched. I stood still until they got close enough to seize me.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

Lunging forward, I drove the heel of my right hand as hard as I could into the first guard’s nose. There was a sickening crunch sound followed by a rush of blood that cascaded down his lips as he doubled over. While he clutched his face, I brought my knee up forcefully into his crotch. He howled in agony and fell to the ground.

The second one tried to grab me from behind. His hands closed on my arms and I flipped him forward, over my head. Then I twisted his arms in opposite directions until I heard bones snap.

I had no time to regroup before the third guard came at me. I dropped down and swung my leg in a wide arc, sweeping his feet from beneath him. As soon as he stumbled to the grass, I wrung his leg and popped the knee out of joint.

The other two guards stood frozen in shock. The scent of blood from the first guard’s injuries stung my nostrils. My face shifted and I snarled at them.

“Either come down here so I can kill you, or go get Cyrus!”

But my request proved unnecessary. Cyrus stepped from the doorway, clapping his hands.

“Wonderful,” he said like a proud parent. “A little predictable. Not enough blood, but overall a fine debut. I can’t wait to see what kind of a killer you’ll become.” He motioned to the two uninjured bodyguards, then to the three who lay groaning on the lawn. Two more came out and helped the injured back inside.

“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not here for an evaluation,” I said, my features morphing back to normal. “I’m looking for Dahlia.”

“I thought I’d see you again tonight. Please, come in.” He gestured to the door and I followed him cautiously.

The foyer was pitch-black. The only guide I had was the soft slap of his bare feet hitting the marble floor.

I felt empowered by the battle outside, and weird fantasies of carnage ran through my head. I realized that if I made my move now, I could kill Cyrus before he knew what was happening. I took a few silent steps closer.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

His words jarred me. “Do what?”

His laughter filled the darkness and sent a chill up my spine. “You’ve just gravely injured three of my employees. I’m sure you think you’re a real hero, but they were human. Fighting a vampire is another thing entirely, and I can assure you I’d come out on top.” He turned, and though there was no discernible light source in the room, his eyes glittered. “But I can promise you, you’d enjoy it.”

Moron. Of course he’d heard my thoughts through the blood tie. As charged up as I was, he probably sensed my adrenaline from across town.

I heard the clank of metal on metal and the scrape of a door as it opened. Light spilled through the wide double doors and we entered what appeared to be a study.

A fire burned in the massive stone fireplace and a Persian carpet dominated the floor. Cyrus moved around the room and lit a pair of Tiffany lamps with a pull of their chains.

“Very art deco.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you like it. Please, sit down.”

I sank into the leather couch in front of the fire. “I didn’t say I liked it.”

He laughed and sat next to me. Too close. He put one arm companionably around my shoulder and stroked my neck with his long fingernails, tracing my scar. My pulse quickened, but not from fear.

Get it together, Carrie. You managed to resist him before. Stay focused.

“Don’t you love this carpet?” he asked, pointing to the ornate rug beneath us. “When they weave these, they always put one intentional mistake in. Do you know why?”

I didn’t answer.

“Because only Allah can make perfection.” He sighed softly. “I’ve studied this one over and over, and I’ve never been able to find the imperfection.”

“What’s your point?”

“The rug reminds me of you. You would be perfect, were it not for one minor flaw.” He tickled my ear with a long talon and I shivered.

“What’s that?” I asked.

He leaned in, his icy breath hissing in my ear. “Your humanity.”

Drawing back, he tented his fingers in front of his chest. “Have you given any more thought to my offer?”

“I have.” I wasn’t lying.

“And?”

“And I’m still undecided. But I’m not going to give up my humanity, even if I choose you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s wrong. Killing for pleasure is wrong.” I fixed him with a cold stare. “I heard what you did to that little girl.”

“Which one?” He winked at me. “I wonder, have you even bothered to seek out others of our kind to ask them what they think of your idealistic Movement? There’s a war coming. Do you honestly think you’re on the winning side?”

“I’m not going to be on the side that gets off on murder. That’s all that matters to me.”

His face became solemn. “Carrie, you’re making yourself a martyr when I could make you a queen.”

His distress seemed real. The look in his eyes was enough to make me promise I would reconsider. I wiped a bloody tear from his cheek and a smile touched his lips.

“Stay with me, Carrie,” he whispered against my palm.

I quickly moved my hand away from his face. My fingers burned from our contact, and I shuddered with rage. “I’m here for Dahlia.”

“What on earth would you want with Dahlia? Aside from that deplorable fire incident, for which she’s been thoroughly punished, anything she’s done, she’s done under my orders. If you want to punish someone, then by all means, punish me.” A wicked grin lit his face.

I didn’t give him the pleasure of a reaction. “You sent Dahlia to kill me?”

Rage contorted his face. “What?”

“I’m sorry, did I stutter? She tried to kill me. And I don’t appreciate it.”

His frown deepened, this time in confusion. “If she’d tried to kill you, you’d be dead by now. She’s very good at what she does.”

“Well, she missed.” I stood and crossed to the floor-length windows. The curtains were not yet drawn, so he wasn’t concerned about daylight any time soon. I’d never actually watched a sunrise, so I had no idea how long they took. Or, more important, at what point it would kill me. I’ve got to get back to Nathan.

“Ah, you’ve met Mr.—what is he going by these days? Grant?”

I silently cursed myself. I hadn’t meant to think of him in Cyrus’s presence.

There was no point in lying. “Yes.”

“And I presume he’s told you about our past…involvement?” Cyrus fought to control his anger as he spoke, but I still felt it through the blood tie. “No wonder you’re on this…pro-human bent.”

I held firm, despite the volatile emotions invading my mind. “He told me he was sent to execute you. He told me you have the same blood.”

“We do. I didn’t sire him, but I was there when my sire turned him. We’re hardly on brotherly terms now.” Cyrus stood and paced the room. “So Nolen is dead, is he? I’m glad to hear it, even if I didn’t do it myself.”

Nolen? “He’s not dead. But I need Dahlia to reverse whatever she did to him.”

Cyrus laughed as though I’d told a clever joke. He pulled two cigars out of a mahogany humidor and offered one to me. I refused. “I want him dead, Carrie. Why on earth would I help him?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” My reply sounded embarrassingly weak to my ears.

“But, Carrie, didn’t you just accuse me of killing for pleasure?” He lit the cigar and took a few puffs.

I tried not to gag as the sickly sweet smoke assailed my nostrils. “Change my opinion. Give me Dahlia.”

He moved toward me. I sensed what he was about to do and braced myself.

He reached out too fast for me to step aside, his cigar dropping to the expensive carpet. One arm wound around my waist and brought me up tight against his chest. He pulled my hair, jerking my head back sharply.

“I want to make something clear so we don’t have any further misunderstandings. I don’t care what your opinion of me is. At the end of the day, it’s still my blood in your veins. I own you.”

“No!” My instincts told me to get free, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I feared him.

He leaned forward, nuzzling my throat with his lips. The cigar still burned at our feet. It gave me something to focus on besides the feeling of his tongue against my skin.

“Your carpet is going to catch fire.”

I stepped back, and to my surprise, he let me go. I didn’t know if I’d have had the will to fight him. Without even looking at it, he ground out the cigar with the ball of his bare foot.

Swallowing hard, I looked him in the eye. “If you let Nathan die, the Movement will send someone else, someone stronger. They’ll hunt you down like a dog. And I don’t want that to happen.”

“Don’t you?” A menacing joy spread across his face. It did nothing to calm my nerves.

“No, I don’t.” My mouth went suddenly dry at the realization I meant what I said. “You’re my sire.”

He shrugged as if it were out of his hands. “Well, we can’t have Nolen coming after me. You saw what he managed the last time. And I don’t like fighting. It’s ungentlemanly. Can you think of anything that could entice me to take such an ugly risk?”

Of course I could. I just didn’t want to offer it to him. “Just say it, Cyrus.”

He closed his eyes as if savoring a delicious meal. “I love the sound of my name on your lips. It’s like music.”

“I don’t have time for this, just say it!” My vehemence startled me.

He clucked his tongue. “You have no appreciation for the dramatic. Fine. Promise you’ll return to me, to stay, and I will help your precious ‘Nathan.’”

I stuck out my hand in an attempt to appear confident. Instead of shaking it, he drew my fingers to his mouth and kissed the tip of each one. He might as well have set my hand on fire, for the scorching feeling that raced down my arm.

“Then it’s settled.” He strode to the doors and threw them open. “Dahlia!” His enraged call echoed through the dark foyer. Within moments, the room beyond the door flooded with light.

“You wanted me?” I heard her purr over the click of shoes on the marble floor. Then she screamed.

His hand tightly gripping her red curls, Cyrus yanked Dahlia into the room. She was dressed much the same as she had been the night I’d met her, in a tight black shirt and long skirt. The only difference I saw now was an abundance of jewelry, rings and necklaces all bearing silver pentagrams. Cyrus threw her to the floor, and she scrambled away as he kicked at her.

Normally I would have turned my head from such violence, but it was hard to feel pity for her after what she’d done. Especially since she’d intended to kill me.

She didn’t beg for mercy when he grabbed her again and pulled her head back, exposing her throat. His face changed and he bared his fangs.

Dahlia didn’t recoil, but I did. That face summoned the memory of glass piercing my skull, the slippery pools of human organs under my knees, and the sensation of being powerless in the grasp of a killer. I covered my mouth to stifle a gasp.

Cyrus’s eyes flickered over my face for an instant. His grotesque face actually registered some emotion then, and I thought it was regret. He didn’t like that he’d scared me.

He dropped Dahlia and let his features shift back to normal. “You tried to kill her!”

Now she did whimper, as though she knew her lies would prove useless. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? You’re lucky this turned out so well for me, you sniveling bitch. Else I’d hand you over to the Fangs when they arrive.” He stalked a circle around her as he spoke.

“No!” She reached for him, clinging to his leg. “I killed that bookstore guy for you! You should be happy.”

He pulled away from her grasp as if he’d been touched by a leper. “You’re not allowed to kill whenever you please! How can you expect me to turn you when you have no self-control?”

Her face paled. “What do you want me to do? I’ll do whatever I have to. Just tell me what you want me to do!”

Cyrus rocked back on his heels, feigning consideration. “If there was a way to reverse what you did to him, what would it take?”

“An antidote,” she said as she wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“And where would I find this antidote?” he asked patiently.

Tears shone on her face. “In my room.”

“Why don’t you go and get it, then?” He dismissed her as easily as telling a child to run along and play.

“Thank you,” I whispered when she had gone.

“This is not a gift, Carrie. Don’t mistake it as such.”

“It’s not a gift, but it’s the decent thing to do. Even if you are being paid for it.” I glared at him, hoping to make him feel the true weight of my words.

He crossed to me and cupped my cheek in his palm. “Poor little girl. Is the Big Bad Wolf taking advantage of you?”

I tried to turn my face away, but he grasped my chin and forced my lips to his. I opened my mouth beneath his, my blood both searing hot and prickling cold as it coursed through my veins. His excitement fed my own. His sharp claws raked my back through my shirt, tracing the column of my spine. I couldn’t get enough of his tongue against mine, his breath against my lips.

He drew away, leaving me panting and flushed while he was as unaffected as someone who’d just received a dental exam. But when he lifted his hand to brush back a strand of his long, nearly white hair, his hands shook. “Believe that all you want, Carrie. But when you needed help, you didn’t call the Movement first. I wasn’t a last resort. I was a choice.”

My body shook with the violence of the truth.

We glared at each other in antagonistic silence until Dahlia entered. She cleared her throat at the doorway and shot me a murderous glance. “I’ve got your fucking antidote.” Cyrus reached out a hand to take the vial from her and she practically threw it at him. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and turned away. “Now, be a good girl and move your things to one of the servant’s rooms. Carrie will need the guest suite.”

I expected an outburst, but all she did was watch Cyrus. The full realization of his words—that I was usurping her place—hadn’t yet dawned on her. I didn’t want to be around when she made the connection.

Returning to my side, Cyrus slipped the vial into the palm of my hand. I stared hard at it. This was the price of my freedom. I could smash it on the floor and never have to come back.

“But you won’t.” He arched a knowing brow at my thought. “Your word means too much. You’ll take this to Nolen, see him safely recovered and return to me tomorrow night after sunset.”

“How do I know this won’t do him more harm?” I called to Dahlia. I don’t think she even saw me, though she looked right at me.

Cyrus drew my attention back. “It won’t. She knows what will happen if she’s lied.”

She broke then, her back shaking with muted sobs as she covered her face with one hand. I’d never seen anyone cry so gracefully, and I’d seen plenty of tears in my life. But Cyrus didn’t seem to notice. He kissed my forehead and gave me a push toward the door. “Go now, the sun will be up soon.”

He didn’t follow me. I hesitated as I passed Dahlia. I don’t know if I meant to offer comfort or rub salt in her wounds, but when she looked up with hate-filled eyes, I kept walking.

The foyer blazed with light as bulbs crackled and shattered with the force of Dahlia’s anger.

“Sunset,” Cyrus called after me. “Don’t make me come get you.”