Darkness & Discovery (The Bespelled Trilogy #2)

by A. L. Larsen

  Augustine sliced into his finger and swore vividly, dropping the knife with a clatter. And Alastair was at his side in an instant, taking Augustine’s hand and pressing a clean towel to the wound as he asked, “You ok?”

  “Oh God,” Augustine murmured, pulling his hand away and turning his back on Alastair. “Don’t be nice to me. I can’t bear it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I hate myself for what I did to you,” Augustine said quietly. “And I hate that it actually worked. You’ve forgotten how much you despise me, and I feel guilty as hell about it, Alastair.”

  “As if you’re capable of guilt,” Joey muttered, pulling the pan off the stove.

  “Look, I need to get back to Bryn. He’s been unsupervised for almost half an hour. So can we save the discussion about my alleged lack of remorse for later?” Augustine asked, pulling the towel off his hand. The cut had healed completely, and he washed his hands quickly as Joey sliced another tomato and assembled the sandwich expertly.

  We all cued up to climb the back staircase to Bryn’s third floor bedroom, and Augustine said, “Be forewarned. We’re going to find one of two people up there. Either manic Bryn, destroying everything in a blind rage, or depressed Bryn, slumped in bed and crying. I don’t know which is worse, actually.”

  An agonized cry reverberated through the house just then, and every window shattered outward like an explosion had gone off. Everyone in our group flinched and ducked, except for Augustine, who merely sighed. Apparently, he was used to it. Almost immediately, solid glass replaced all the broken windows, some sort of automatic repair spell undoing the damage. “Some combination of the two, that’s actually the worst. Damn it,” Augustine muttered, and hurried up the stairs ahead of us.

  Bryn sat on the floor in the very center of his bedroom, dressed in ripped flannel pajamas, hugging his knees to his chest. The space around him was clear in a perfect circle, as if a whirlwind had swept out the center of the room. And pushed up against every wall was unidentifiable detritus five feet high, smashed and mangled bits of things that at one time may have been furniture.

  “Aw, Brynnie,” Augustine said softly, dropping to his knees beside the warlock. “Did you tear apart your entire mattress? We’re going to have to move you to one of the guestrooms now. Which you told me not to let you do, because you didn’t want to destroy those rooms as well.”

  “Thought you left,” Bryn rasped, his Welsh accent thick. “Thought you went home and left me here.”

  “No, love,” Augustine said gently, scooping the warlock up in his arms. “I wouldn’t do that. I was just trying to make you some food. And you know what a terrible cook I am, so it took longer than I intended.”

  “Told you I didn’t want to eat anything,” Bryn murmured as Augustine carried him out the door on the far side of the bedroom.

  “I know. But I want you to try anyway. And your friends are here, Bryn. I’m going to tuck you into one of the guestrooms, and then they’ll say hi. Ok?”

  “I haven’t got any friends,” Bryn mumbled. “None except for Allie and Joey and Luna, and they’re off in the wilds of Oregon somewhere.”

  “They’re here, love,” Augustine said as he carried Bryn into the plum-colored bedroom we’d stayed in last time we were here.

  “Did you call them?”

  “No. You know they would never take my call.” Augustine pulled back the duvet and gingerly set Bryn down on the mattress before covering him up.

  “Your own fault, that,” Bryn muttered.

  “I know, love. Everything always is,” Augustine told him softly. “Now look, here’s Joey. And he made you a sandwich. How about if you take a little bite?”

  Joey sat on the edge of the mattress with the plate in his lap. “Hi Bryn. You really should try the sandwich. It’s not nearly as disgusting as the one Gus was trying to make.”

  Alastair went around to the far side of the bed and pulled off his boots, then climbed on top of the covers and slung an arm over his friend. “Hey, mate,” Allie said. “Can’t say I’m a big fan of the redecorating you’ve done in your bedroom.”

  Bryn sighed and said, his voice thin, “I’ve always liked this room. Shame I’m going to do the same thing in here.”

  I sat down on the mattress beside Joey and got my first good look at Bryn. His normally slightly olive skin was alarmingly pale, dark circles under his brown eyes, his cheeks hollow and his dark brown hair a spiked and matted mess. He caught sight of me then and said, “Hello, Luna. Oh God, you’re wearing Elizabeth’s necklace. You lot really have no idea how to stay out of trouble.”

  “Who’s Elizabeth?” I asked, my hand reaching automatically for the silver and opal pendant around my neck.

  And Bryn frowned and said, “She’s Alastair’s wife.”

  Chapter Four

  Ok, I had to have heard that wrong.

  There was no way Bryn said what I thought he did. No way Alastair could have a wife.

  Could he?

  I looked at Alastair, who was utterly stunned, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide as satellite dishes. Beside me, Joey muttered, “Oh my God,” under his breath. And then he cleared his throat and said a little too cheerfully, “Here, Bryn. Try the sandwich. It’s a BLT. We had to tell Gus what the L and T stood for.”

  He passed the plate to Augustine, who tore off a little piece of bacon and offered it to Bryn. The warlock accepted it with his long, slender fingers and actually put it in his mouth. Augustine sagged visibly with relief.

  After just a few bites Bryn said he was full and rolled onto his side, his back to Augustine. Alastair draped an arm protectively over his friend’s shoulders as Bryn rested his head against Alastair’s chest, and the warlock sighed quietly and tried to doze. Augustine got up and went downstairs, and once he was gone, Joey curled up at the foot of the bed like a cat, obviously exhausted, and let his eyes slide shut.

  I stood up, and Alastair looked at me with heartbreak in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he whispered.

  I nodded and whispered back, “I know. Get some rest. We’ll talk later.” Then I went to the kitchen to find Augustine.

  He was putting food back into the refrigerator – including cans and boxes that belonged in the cupboard. He knew the moment I entered the room, of course, and asked without turning around, “How’s Alastair been?”

  “Good. He’s healed completely after having nearly all his blood drained. Speaking of which, we haven’t seen or heard anything from Margaret, have you?”

  “No, and I’ve been looking for her, because she may try something again,” Augustine said. “Her little revenge fantasy didn’t really pan out, and Meg’s no quitter.” A few days ago, Alastair had been abducted by his sister Margaret, who had intended to murder him in front of Augustine. She was a vampire as well, deeply evil and jealous of their mutual maker’s obsession with her brother. “So, what brings you to San Francisco? Are you finally on Jin’s trail?”

  “We will be soon. We left Ashland abruptly because the Order showed up.”

  “The Order! How on earth did they find him there, of all places?”

  I shrugged and said, “Well, you found him there. How hard could it be?”

  Augustine grinned a little at that. “I was following him. And I had a lot of men at my disposal at that point.” He rolled back the sleeves of his pajama top as he added, “So you’re right that it wasn’t that hard for me. But who knows how the Order found him.”

  “They were questioning the werewolf pack you’d hired.”

  “Ah. So, like everything else, it’s my fault. I must have attracted too much attention when I was in Ashland, and they caught wind of it.”

  “Are they really bad news?”

  “Of all Alastair’s numerous enemies, they’re by far the most deadly. They’re incredibly strong, thanks to their angel blood, and highly trained. And they work as a unit, making it even more difficult to defeat them.”

  “Why are they after
Allie?”

  “The Order decided long ago that it’s their divine calling to kill all vampires. And Alastair’s at the top of their hit list because of his strength and uniqueness, and the fact that he’s a vampire with knowledge of the world of the nephilim.” He’d been gathering pots and pans and dishes as he spoke, piling them beside the sink.

  “Ah.”

  “So, I know you’re dying to ask about Elizabeth. And I’ll tell you what little I know, on one condition.”

  “What’s that?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Help me with these dishes. Please? If Bryn happens to come down here and sees the kitchen like this, he’ll be so upset. And the last thing I want to do is to upset him.”

  I grabbed a few dishes and brought them to the sink. He was holding a pot under running water, and I said, “Let me guess. You have no clue how to wash dishes.”

  He smiled at that. “When exactly would I ever have washed dishes in the past?”

  I rolled my eyes and opened the dishwasher, and began rinsing plates before loading them into it, scraping off several untouched meals in the process. “Ok,” I said. “I’m helping. Start talking.”

  “It’s a pretty short story, actually. At least the part I know. One of the times Alastair ran away from me, he met a pretty human girl named Elizabeth. They met in Chicago around 1920, had a whirlwind romance and were married. Elizabeth envied Alastair’s immortality, and begged him repeatedly to turn her. He, of course, wouldn’t hear of it. He hates vampires, makes it his life’s mission to kill them, after all, so why would he do that to the woman he loved?” Augustine said.

  “But she found someone else to do it, to change her,” he continued. “And Alastair was furious. He told her their marriage ended the day she died and was reborn as a vampire. He refused to accept her. This drove her into a fury, and Elizabeth attacked him. He fought back, of course. The two became mortal enemies after that. They’ve been playing a game of cat and mouse for decades, each trying to end the other. Though it’s never been clear to me which is the cat, and which is the mouse.”

  “It wasn’t you, was it? You weren’t the one to turn Elizabeth, were you?”

  “God no. I know you think I’m responsible for every heinous act throughout the course of history…and ok, many have, in fact, been my fault. But I didn’t do that. Why would I? I wanted Elizabeth to live out a mortal lifespan, and then I wanted her to die. Just like you. I hardly wanted her hanging around for centuries.”

  “So…are they actually still married?”

  “No. Alastair had the marriage annulled decades ago. But I don’t think Elizabeth ever accepted that. Apparently she still refers to him as her husband.”

  “Where was she, last you heard?”

  “Somewhere in the southwest. Killing Alastair isn’t the only goal of Elizabeth’s. She’s also incredibly power hungry, and is forever working on some scheme or another to make herself stronger, richer, more invincible.”

  I dumped detergent into the washer and shut the door. And I asked as I hit the on button, “So what’s the deal with the necklace? Why did Allie have it with him?”

  “That’s what he gave her when they were married, instead of a ring. When she attacked him, he tore it from her neck. And now he keeps it as a reminder.”

  “A reminder of her?”

  “No. He keeps it as a reminder never to fall in love again.”

  “Oh.”

  I turned toward the double sink and stopped up one side, and let hot water fill it as I squirted in some dishwashing liquid and Augustine said, “So, you’re welcome.”

  “For what?”

  “As far as I can tell, that’s the one positive that came from wiping Alastair’s memories. Forgetting his past opened him up to finding love again. And he found you.”

  “You can’t really take credit for that.”

  “I can take credit for everything,” he said with a grin as he picked up a sponge and began wiping down the granite counters.

  “I’ve never understood why you’re ok with me,” I said. “If you felt like killing me, you could have done it a million times by now. And yet, you tolerate me in Alastair’s life.”

  “I more than tolerate it. I encourage it. I want Alastair to be happy. I’m glad he has you, just like I’m glad I gave him Joey. This way, I know he’s ok. He has people looking out for him, taking care of him. Even if he hates me and doesn’t want to be with me, at least he won’t be lonely.” He said that so quietly and turned his back to me, going to work on a counter across the room.

  “I thought forcing him to turn Joey was an attempt to control Alastair, another way of manipulating him.”

  “I’m sure he sees it that way. They both do. And it’s worth having them hate me for it. Forcing him to turn Joey gave Alastair a best friend and constant companion. That’s what I wanted.”

  “But you tried to kill Joey when you were bespelling Alastair.”

  “Well yes, for several reasons. Joey was meant to be a short-term solution, a companion during Alastair’s latest break from me. He wasn’t meant to replace me forever. After Alastair’s memories were wiped, I had intended to step in and take Joey’s place at Alastair’s side. And of course, I couldn’t have Joey going to Alastair and filling in all the memories I’d gone to so much trouble to erase.”

  “Latest break from you. Is that what you call it when Alastair escapes?” Augustine had kept his creation prisoner on and off for decades, subjecting him to untold torture in an effort to tame him and break his will. That tactic had failed miserably, of course, and he had wiped Alastair’s memory to make him forget all of that.

  Augustine turned toward me and leaned against the counter. “You and Joey were in one of my prisons for a few days. How likely would it have been to ever find a way to escape?”

  “It…would have been impossible.”

  “Exactly. Alastair isn’t some great escape artist. He doesn’t somehow bust out of every prison I’ve ever put him in. After a while, I just become too discouraged to continue my efforts. I need a break from it. He does, too. It takes quite a mental and physical toll on him, and if it goes on indefinitely, I run the risk of shattering him. So after a while, I always let him go. And then I recapture him when I’m ready to begin again.”

  “You say that so calmly. So rationally. But what you’re talking about is torturing someone to try to force them to love you. Which is absolutely insane,” I said, staring at him.

  “Oh, I don’t expect him to love me. That would be insane.”

  “Then what are you trying to accomplish?”

  “Just simple obedience and loyalty. That’s all. I want from Alastair what every other vampire gets automatically from every one of their progeny. Since he’s such an anomaly, he and I were denied our maker bond. So I’ve had to…improvise.”

  “Why is that so important to you? Who cares if he’s obedient? What possible difference could it make?”

  “If he learns to obey me, then I can order him to never leave me,” Augustine said quietly.

  “Is that what you want? A lap dog that stays by your side?”

  “Not a lap dog. I want Alastair as he is, unbroken and spirited, but loyal to me. Never mind that I could sire a hundred more vampires, a thousand, and they’d all obey me, they’d all stay with me. That’s not good enough. They wouldn’t be good enough. Because none of them would be him.”

  “So, are you going to keep trying? Are you planning to take him prisoner again and spend another decade or two hurting him, making him hate you all over again, just to once again fail to bend him to your will? If you are then let me know, so I can stake you before you have the chance to hurt him anymore.”

  He grinned, just a little, but it was a sad smile, not a mocking one. “You can’t kill me, Lu. You don’t stand a chance. And for the record, I’m trying to learn to leave Alastair alone. I’m trying to move on, which isn’t easy after two centuries of obsession. It’s so hard, seeing him. I suppose it must be like…
like an alcoholic walking into a bar – he’s my addiction. But I’m trying so hard to let him be. I really am.”

  “I want to believe you. I just never know when you’re telling the truth.”

  He crossed the kitchen to me and stuck one of his long, graceful hands in the suds I’d made in the sink, swirling the bubbles around. “I know. I’m used to no one believing me.”

  I stared at his profile for a long moment. One of the most jarring things about Augustine was that he looked so incredibly sweet and innocent. He looked like…well, what I’d imagine an angel to look like, his long pale blonde hair, big blue eyes and sweet smile adding to the illusion. I blurted, “How can you do it? How can you make yourself torture the person that means more to you than anyone else? How the hell can you hurt Alastair?”

  “By being a vampire, Lu,” he said simply. “All vampires are dark at our core. Even Alastair, even Joey. Maybe especially those two, given how much they love the hunt, how much they love killing others of their kind.”

  “They don’t love it. They do it because they have to,” I said vehemently.

  “Think so?” Augustine shrugged as he played with the suds in the sink. “If you say so. I’ll only speak for myself then. It is absolutely, without a doubt, in my nature to kill. It’s what I am. I’m currently choosing to access my humanity, to resist the killer in me. It’s a conscious choice. But the killer isn’t gone. He’s just leashed, temporarily. That part of me, the vampire part, never really goes away.”

  His voice was low, quiet, as he said all of this. “So now,” he continued, “I feel bad about the things I’ve done. But if I want to stop feeling bad, it’s so simple. All I have to do is flip a switch and my humanity is shut off. I do that from time to time, when the anguish and guilt become too much. And at those times, when my humanity isn’t around to hold my vampire nature in check? Torture and death and destruction, they’re not only ok. They’re fun.”