THIRTY‑TWO

BARE CONCRETE WALLS MET MY VISION WHEN my eyes opened, then a dark head bent over mine.

“All right, Kitten?”

Bones’s face, streaked with soot. A heavy scent of smoke hung in the room, in fact. Immediately, I looked at my hands. They rested over my stomach, pale and innocent. Maybe I’d imagined what happened.

I sat up so fast, my head banged into Bones’s. Mencheres stood a few feet away in the small room that I recognized as a vampire holding cell.

“Easy, luv,” Bones said, smoothing his hands down my arms.

I hoped I’d passed out after setting off those detonations and everything after it had been a terrible dream. “My mother? Rodney?”

“She’s safe. He’s gone.” Bones’s voice was a rasp.

Rodney’s death had been real, which meant the fire was real, too. The fire. Coming from me.

I didn’t want to believe it, but I remembered–oh, I remembered!–the exhilaration of letting all my hate and anger surge out of me, then watching it somehow transform into the form of fire.

“I’m pyrokinetic.”

I said it out loud, watching Bones’s face, hoping somehow, he’d offer another explanation for what had happened. He didn’t.

“It seems so.”

“But how?” I asked, swinging my legs off the cot only to have them flop like limp rags. There went my idea of pacing. My whole body felt exhausted. “You told me a vampire’s individual powers don’t emerge for decades–and I thought they were directly related to their sire’s powers, too. But you’re not a pyro, Bones, unless you’ve been hiding something from me.”

“I haven’t been hiding anything from you, and even if your human years were added to the equation, I’ve never seen a vampire, Master or otherwise, manifest powers like you did so soon after changing.”

Bones sounded frustrated. I shot a glance over to Mencheres, meeting the other vampire’s cool, charcoal gaze. There was no surprise or confusion in Mencheres’s eyes–and all of a sudden, I knew why.

“You bastard,” I whispered.

At first Bones thought I’d been talking to him, but then he followed my gaze to the dark‑haired vampire, who hadn’t spoken.

“He’s known all along.” My voice started to rise, as did my anger. “He knew Gregor didn’t see me in a vision and decide he had to have me because I was a half‑breed, or because he was in love with me. He knew Gregor saw me as a vampire, lighting things up around me like a Roman candle. That’s why Gregor’s wanted me, so he could control the power through me. But that’s what Mencheres wanted, too. That’s the other reason why Mencheres took me from Gregor and locked him up all these years. He wanted my power on his side. That’s what all of this has been about!”

Bones didn’t ask Mencheres if it was true. His brown eyes turned green as he stared at the man he’d known for over 220 years.

“I should kill you for this.” It was almost a growl.

Nothing changed in Mencheres’s expression. Glass was more emotive. “Perhaps you will. My visions of the future only went up to this morning, so I assume I’ll be dead soon. Now that you’re co‑ruler of my line, and Cat is as she’s meant to be, my people will be protected when I’m gone.”

His impenetrable mask dropped, leaving defiance and resolve flowing over Mencheres’s features.

“Yes, I took Cat from Gregor twelve years ago in order to have her power for my people instead of his. More than that, it was I who gave you the tip that sent you to that bar in Ohio the night you first met her, Bones. Do you find that too manipulative? I don’t. Thousands of people in my line rely on me to protect them, which has to mean more to me than your feeling of betrayal right now. If you survive as long as I have, you’ll learn that being cold and manipulative is necessary, even with those you love.”

Bones snorted in a manner as bitter as I felt. “You claim to love me? It’s obvious I am nothing more than a pawn to you.”

Mencheres’s dark gaze didn’t waver. “I’ve always loved you. Like a son, in fact.”

Bones walked over to Mencheres. He was still wearing the same outfit from earlier, making Bones covered in blood, soot, and dirt…and a few remaining silver knives.

Mencheres didn’t move or blink, nor did a hint of his tremendous power leak out, even when Bones pulled out a knife.

“Are you so certain of yourself?” Bones said, tracing the tip of the knife on Mencheres’s chest. “So convinced you could stop me, before I twisted this blade through your heart?”

I wanted to jump up and stand between them. Not out of concern for Mencheres, but because if Bones attacked and Mencheres decided to defend himself, that knife might end up in Bones’s heart. But my legs still wouldn’t work.

“I could stop you, but I won’t.” Mencheres’s voice was very weary. “If you must do this to avenge what I did, then do it. I’ve already lived more than long enough as it is.”

“Bones,” I whispered, not really knowing if I was urging him to drop the knife–or use it.

Bones’s hand tightened on the knife. Mencheres still didn’t move. I waited, feeling like I was holding my breath even though I didn’t breathe anymore.

His hand flashed and the knife buried back in its slot on his belt. “I deserved death from you once, Mencheres, yet you let me live. Now I’m letting you live, so we’re squared. But lie to me, or use me or her again, and that will change.”

Bones stepped back. I thought Mencheres sagged a little, in relief or in surprise, I wasn’t sure. Then Bones sat next to me, placing a hand on my still‑useless leg.

“No more secrets. How does she have this power? She’s too young, and she didn’t inherit it from me, so how is it possible?”

Mencheres ran a hand through his long dark hair before answering. “Vampires drink human blood to absorb the life from mortals that vampires no longer have. She doesn’t drink mortal blood, however, because she isn’t really dead.”

My mouth dropped. Bones didn’t react. “Go on.”

“Her heart beats when her emotions run high,” Mencheres continued. “Proof that life still clings in her. Because of this life, her body rejects human blood, since she doesn’t need the life in it. But what her body does need to exist is power. Just as a dying human absorbs the power in vampire blood to change over, she, being perpetually near death, absorbs undead power every time she feeds from other vampires.”

But I’d only fed from Bones–no, wait. Vlad.

I’d fed from Vlad, and he was pyrokinetic. Was it truly possible I’d absorbed Vlad’s power over fire from drinking his blood? It had to be. Nothing else could explain the fireworks shooting from my hands, and I’d already noticed that every time I fed from Bones, I grew stronger. Far stronger than any new vampire should be.

I gulped. “Does Gregor know how I have this power?”

“Gregor’s visions aren’t as strong or as frequent as mine. All he saw was your power. He didn’t know its source. He probably thought you needed time to grow into it, or he would have changed you into a vampire at sixteen.”

Knowing Gregor, I believed that. It also explained why Gregor hadn’t been afraid of me using any of these borrowed abilities on him before. He didn’t think I’d get them so soon.

“Are these powers permanent? Or will they, you know, fade, if I don’t drink from vampires with special gifts anymore?”

Mencheres glanced away. “I don’t know,” he said. “I told you; I can’t see the future anymore. About you…or anyone else.”

Since there was nothing more that could be done about my “condition,” as I thought of it, I went to see my mother. She’d been through worse than hell in the past two weeks. In order to get over my body’s refusal to move, however, I drank from Bones, noting with a sense of unease how quickly it made me feel better. I’d been so proud of my progress, but turns out, none of my progress had really been mine. I’d gone from being a half‑breed to being a mostly dead power leech. I felt like a fraud as a vampire, or more accurately, an even bigger freak.

When we didn’t go upstairs to see my mother, but continued down a narrow hall under the basement, I was surprised to discover she was in the equivalent of a vampire holding cell.

“Why?” I asked. “Isn’t she over her bloodlust for humans yet?”

“It’s for her protection,” Bones replied in a clipped tone. “She’s tried to harm herself. Repeatedly.”

Oh no. I tried to brace myself as Bones nodded to the guard outside a steel door, and we were let in.

My mother sat in the corner of the small room. From the looks of her, she hadn’t showered or changed clothes, either. Her long brown hair was streaked with blood and dirt, as was the rest of her. She didn’t even glance up to see who’d entered the room.

“Mom,” I said softly. “It’s Catherine.”

That picked her head up. I gasped to see brightly glowing green eyes fixed on me and the hint of fangs under her lip as she spoke.

“If you ever loved me, tell me you’re here to kill me, because I cannot live like this.”

My hands fisted while pain seared its way into my heart. “I’m so sorry for what happened,” I began, never feeling more helpless, “but you can–”

“Can what?” her voice lashed out. “Live as a murderer? I killed people, Catherine! I ripped into their throats and murdered them while they fought to get away. I can’t live with that!”

It was only my rage that kept me from bursting into tears. That bastard Gregor put people in with my mother after he’d changed her, knowing what would happen. No new vampire could keep from drinking someone to death while in the first craze of blood hunger. If Bones hadn’t already been dead, I’d have killed him myself several times over when caught in the grips of my own hunger.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I tried desperately.

She looked away in disgust. “You don’t understand.”

“I do.”

Bones’s measured tone made my mother look up. “I understand exactly,” he went on. “Ian changed me against my will, drinking me to death while I tried to fight him off. Then I awoke in a burial ground with a young man in my arms, the poor lad’s throat chewed open and the most wonderful taste in my mouth. That happened six more times until I controlled my hunger enough not to kill, and believe me, Justina, I hated myself more each time. Yet I survived, and you will, too.”

“I don’t want to survive,” she shot back, standing now. “It’s my choice, and I refuse to live this way!”

“Rodney believed in you.” My voice choked at the memory of my lost friend. “He said if we could get you back, you’d make it. No matter what had happened to you.”

“Rodney’s dead, ” she replied, pink tears glittering in her eyes.

Before I could blink, Bones hauled my mother up by her shirt, her feet dangling several inches off the ground.

“Rodney was six years old when I found him, orphaned and starving in the streets of Poland. I raised him, loved him, then helped turn him into a ghoul–all a century before you were even born. He died saving you, so you will not disrespect his sacrifice by killing yourself. I don’t care if you hate what you are every bloody day for the rest of your life, you’re going to live because Rodney’s earned that. Do you understand me?”

Bones gave her a shake, then dropped her. She staggered as she fell, but I couldn’t bring myself to reprimand Bones. The pain in his voice had been too raw, too deep.

The door opened, and Spade came in. He looked as haggard as I felt, his normally teasing tiger‑colored gaze bleak and hard.

“Gregor’s alive, and he’s decided to accept your challenge. He’ll be here tomorrow night.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. Why now? Why so soon after this last devastating blow?

Of course, that was probably why Gregor had done it, hoping to capitalize on Bones’s grief over losing his friend. Or maybe Gregor’s ego couldn’t stand the fact that soon, everyone would know Bones had snatched my mother out from under him in addition to keeping his wife. Gregor’s greatest weakness is his pride, Vlad had said. Maybe Gregor’s pride couldn’t handle the repeated blows it had been dealt.

“Tomorrow, then,” Bones agreed.

“What’s the challenge?” my mother asked.

“A fight to the death,” Bones replied shortly.

My mother was still sprawled on the floor, but a different look grew in her glowing, pink‑tinged eyes. Anger replaced her previous self‑loathing and despair.

“Kill Gregor. If you do, I’ll live like this no matter how much I hate it,” she growled.

“I’ll kill him,” Bones replied in that same unflinching tone.

A spasm of fear gripped me. Tomorrow night, either Bones would make good on that vow–or he’d be dead.

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 437