“It just feels wrong.” Augusta’s voice was small.
“If you think about it, Gus, it’ll start to feel really right.”
Someone knocked at the door.
“Has Jared been back here?” Tristan asked.
“No. I haven’t seen him since he came to tell you about … her.” Augusta looked at Dawn with a dubious frown. “Branek hasn’t been here, either.”
Tristan stalked to the door and pulled it open. Branek leaned against the frame. A woman with red lips and caramel-blonde hair tumbling down her back stood beside him.
“Tristan!” the woman cried, throwing herself into his arms. Dawn felt a pang in her chest. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
He held her at a distance and looked irritated. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” She frowned and stepped away from him. Dawn’s jealousy burned, but she kept silent and aloof, protecting herself.
“What are you doing here?” Tristan demanded. He shoved Branek’s chest. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Branek looked around in feigned confusion. “This is where we were supposed to meet, isn’t it?”
“Cut the shit. You know what I’m talking about. You raping son of a bitch, you motherfucker.”
A smug grin crept onto Branek’s face. “What did you expect? I do bad things.”
“I know. So do I. And I’m going to fucking kill you, I swear to god.”
“Such a temper. Aren’t you glad I gave her my blood? Did you want her to die?”
“I didn’t want you to touch her!” Tristan roared, a vein popping out in his forehead.
“She was your fucking toy,” Branek growled fiercely. “And I mean that literally. Since when did you ever care about a disposable piece of junk? Did you think you were in love? What the fuck are you doing? This isn’t you—this isn’t us! Get your goddamn head on straight!”
“Oh, it is, Branek. It really fucking is.”
Tristan threw himself at Branek in a blind rage. Dawn leapt out of the way with a gasp, witnessing his vampiric strength for the first time. It was in the preternatural ease with which he slammed Branek against the wall. The mirror behind them broke. Augusta shouted something, but no one listened. Teeth bared, eyes wild, Tristan yanked Branek to the side, nearly knocking the TV off the dresser. Branek fell to the floor and Tristan kicked him several times. He jerked him up by the shirtfront, lifting him clear off the floor, and smashed his forehead into Branek’s nose once, twice. Blood smeared both their faces. They left streaks of it on the furniture as they rolled and crashed around the room, everyone else moving swiftly to stay out of their way. Tristan was murderous.
At last Augusta inserted herself between them and managed to stop the fight. “You’re making too much noise!” she cried. “Someone’s going to come up here!”
“Like I give a fuck,” Tristan snarled.
She shoved his shoulder angrily but he barely reacted. “Well, I do. So knock it off.”
Though his jaw hung at an angle that surely indicated it was broken, Branek laughed with his lips pressed together, eyes dancing. “Oh, god, Tristan, I can’t believe you. This is— Oh, god. It was fun. Really.”
“You need to leave, Branek. Get the fuck out of my sight.”
Even with his broken jaw, Branek managed to grin at Dawn on his way out, teeth white against his bloody skin. She shrank away from him in disgust. He went without a parting quip, and the room was quiet in his absence.
Unthinkingly, Dawn started to move toward Tristan for comfort, but the red-lipped woman had come up behind him and slid a hand over his shoulder. He cringed ever so slightly at the touch, but the woman didn’t move away. She looked at Dawn with a mean gleam in her eyes.
“What,” she asked in a husky voice, “was that about?”
“Nothing,” Tristan said sharply. But he didn’t move away from her.
“It wasn’t nothing. I know when you’re lying, Tristan.”
He was silent for a few moments, thinking. His heavy breath gradually softened, but the anger in his eyes remained. He stared at Dawn with defiance, as cold and hard as she’d ever seen him. And then everyone was looking at her, and she cringed beneath their brutal eyes. She was in awe of them, and afraid. Branek had made her like them, yet she didn’t belong. She had felt more comfortable as an unnoticed, unneeded observer. To be the focus of their attention was unnerving.
“I’ll tell you what is was about,” Tristan said in a low, dangerous tone. “I fucked around with a human and it pissed everyone off, because they thought I was emotionally involved. And I was really convincing, wasn’t I, Dawn? Branek certainly thought so. Honestly, though, did you believe I ever wanted anything but to fuck you? That it was anything other than a game I love to play?”
Dawn stared at him, speechless. Her eyes had gone wide and she was afraid she’d start to cry. But why? She had wished for something more from him, but she’d always known, deep down, he had nothing but his body to give her.
“You can leave now,” he suggested. “I don’t need you anymore.”
“Tristan—” she said in spite of herself.
There was acid in his voice. “Go. Get out of here.”
Without another second’s hesitation, she turned toward the door, face flushing red. She had lost him, she knew, if she’d ever had him at all. She staggered clumsily out of the room and down the hall. Her chest was heaving and her throat was raw by the time she found the stairs and stumbled down them to the exit door. Numbness crept over her, eating up a crushing hurt. She welcomed it because she was too afraid to feel. Too afraid to admit she needed Tristan and he wasn’t going to be there for her.
“Dawn—”
She half turned and saw him coming out the door after her. “Don’t!” she shouted hoarsely. “You wanted me to go. Well, I’m gone.”
But she stopped walking and studied him with a cagey glare, trying to decipher some sort of signal in his eyes. She’d have loved to see some hint of emotion, something that told her he despaired their separation, but there was nothing. He was a void, so cold it was almost surprising to recall the intimate moments they’d spent in each other’s arms. A burst of fury burned up the numbness inside her.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said softly.
“Like what?” she asked, her voice hard, but too high.
“We don’t have to be enemies.”
“Well, we are. You made that pretty fucking clear. It turns out we were never anything but.”
“I’m fucked up,” he said. He made as if to move toward her, then stopped short. “I really am. More than you can imagine.”
She shook her head wearily. “I don’t care, Tristan. I just don’t fucking care.”
His face steeled. “Maybe you’re still wondering about vampire powers, since you are one now. I never told you we can hear a creature’s heartbeat. We can sense excitement, or fear. With you they were often the same thing. At least if I was in the room. But I wouldn’t have needed any special powers to know how you felt with me on top of you.”
“Stop it.”
“If you think I hurt you—”
“That doesn’t even begin to describe it,” she said, eyes flashing. “If anything, you’ve done me a favor. So thanks. Thanks a lot. And goodbye.”
Dawn turned from him and walked away before she could no longer bring herself to do so.
~
Her eyes haunted him, wide and blue-green behind her lenses, no makeup. Wounded. Disappointed. Dismissive.
Maybe he’d ruined her, just like he’d known he would. She’d had opportunities to escape him during that fucking road trip. He’d done nothing to keep her quiet, and she hadn’t even tried to make herself heard. He was a shitty captor, it turned out, and she was a shitty prisoner.
Taking her to those cafés had felt like a dare—so much could have gone wrong out there in the open. Even leaving her alone in the rooms had been risky. He’d told himself if she screamed and begged help from any
nearby stranger, he would do nothing to stop her. It would have been a relief to have her gone. He would be absolved. And then he could stop thinking about her, stop wanting to fuck her all the time.
But he’d chased after her anyway that one time she’d tried to run. He’d lied to himself. He couldn’t let her go and he didn’t know why.
At first it hadn’t taken any effort at all for Tristan to keep himself aloof from her. Now it took all he had.
He shouldn’t have let her go with such harsh words. He was a fucking asshole, but it wasn’t too late to chase after her and make things right. But he didn’t, and he wasn’t sure why. His gut was twisted up in knots.
“What the hell was that?” Augusta asked as Tristan came back to the room.
“I don’t know,” he said tonelessly.
Nola looked hurt. “Why did you go after her?”
“I don’t know,” he repeated, glaring at her. He sank to the edge of the bed, avoiding Fallon’s outstretched feet, and scratched at his jaw. “I think … Gus, do you hate it? Do you hate what we’ve become? There’ve been times I couldn’t stand to be around any of you. At times I couldn’t stand myself. We’ve been evil, and we couldn’t see our sickness because we were living in it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come on, you know what I mean. The things we’ve done to people. Things I don’t want to remember. Things I can’t even say out loud.”
His words made her blink rapidly. “It’s a little late for remorse, isn’t it?”
“No,” Fallon interjected nobly. “It isn’t.”
Tristan shot him a withering glare. “Look at us now,” he continued. “We don’t have any money. We don’t have anything, not jobs or friends. Barely a will of our own. We’ve lived off the map. We don’t exist, as far as most of the world is concerned. We’ve relied on Loftus, and now what? He tried to fucking kill us. We can’t ever go back to the way things were.”
“We can start our own life,” Augusta said tentatively. “On our own terms.”
“Yeah. If we knew how.”
“What are you saying, Tristan?” Nola asked, coming to stand before him.
He looked up at her and his smile held a tinge of fond regret. “It’s time to move on. We had our fun, but it’s over now.”
Her expression turned cold, but hurt shimmered in her dark eyes. “It’s that easy for you?”
“The opposite, actually. Sorry, Nola. I think we both knew it wouldn’t last forever.”
For another moment she just stared at him, hundreds of replies visible in her eyes. But she said none of them. Her tight, pained face softened, and she leaned down to kiss his forehead. And then she left. And that was it. She didn’t even slam the door in anger.
“Tristan,” Augusta said with concern. “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not fucking all right, but it doesn’t matter.” He rose swiftly to his feet and gestured at Fallon. “Untie him. We need to talk, the three of us.” Augusta set to work on the ropes and Tristan said, “Tell me about the caverns, Fallon. In detail.”
“Loftus kept my mother there,” Fallon began. “Delphine.”
“Why?”
Fallon sat up and rubbed his wrists, casting an annoyed glance at Augusta. “There was a car crash. She would have died, but he decided to make her into a vampire. Her body didn’t make it through the change, though. She was neither alive nor dead, neither vampire nor human. To keep her that way until he could figure out how to revive her, he put her deep inside the earth. He kept her alive with the blood of humans, usually the ones you four had already used. And alchemical magic.”
“Thanks to you.”
“Yes.”
“And then he figured out human blood was only good enough to sustain her,” Tristan guessed. “It wouldn’t revive her. Only vampire blood would do that.” Fallon nodded. “What’s he doing now? What’s that red light?”
“He wants power,” Fallon said. “That’s what the light is, nothing but a manifestation of power. Your blood gave Delphine incredible strength. Loftus wants it for himself. It’s like … an amplifier. Drinking her blood makes him stronger.”
Tristan closed his eyes for a moment as voices spun in his head. We could destroy cities. We could start wars just to bathe in the blood of soldiers. You have not yet served your purpose. You are weak, and I am ashamed to have made you a vampire. Malicious silver eyes bore into him. Everyone suffers loss, and it is no shame if you perpetuate it among humans. You simply lick the blood from your teeth and laugh at how good it feels.
The need for blood and violence crept into him, insidious. He filled his chest with a deep breath. “So how do we stop him?” he asked cheerfully.
Fallon lifted his shoulders. “Kill him. You vampires are vulnerable to wood, are you not? Drink his blood. Of course, it won’t be that simple. He’ll fight you.”
“Of course.” Tristan looked at Augusta and they both smiled toothily. “I’m feeling quite thirsty all of a sudden.”
She put her hands on her hips and flipped her electric hair. “And I think I might like a taste of freedom.”
“Well, Fallon, you’ve been the model of piety,” Tristan said, feeling strangely light and eager. “Are you going to help us stop hell on earth from becoming a reality?”
“That’s overstating the matter a little. I suppose you could never manage it without me, though,” Fallon muttered dryly.
Tristan opened the door and found Jared pacing in the hall. He was much less rakish and confident than when he’d come with a careless warning about what Branek was doing to Dawn. His green eyes were glassy and rimmed in red. His brown hair hung in damp strings across his forehead. Tristan didn’t see Leila, though he knew she couldn’t be far.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
Jared bared his teeth in a nervous grimace as he spoke. “I don’t know. I think … I need help. I don’t know how to make a vampire. Loftus never showed me. Can you show me?”
“Where’s the girl?”
“In the car. I had to knock her out. She fights me, sometimes. She would have tried to get away. But I can’t let her.”
“I’m not going to show you how to make her a vampire. Take her back home, Jared,” Tristan ordered. “Then walk away.”
“What?” Jared looked shocked. “How could I walk away? I love her.”
“If you really loved her, it’d be easy. You’d know it was the best thing for her.”
Tristan frowned as he spoke, realizing how true that was. He recalled the harsh words he’d used to send Dawn away from him. That hadn’t been easy at all, but at the time it had seemed necessary. She’d be safer on her own, he’d reasoned almost thoughtlessly. Though he’d never bitten her and never forced himself on her, he’d done nothing but hurt her. Much of the time he was angry for feeling so vulnerable to her, but of course that didn’t excuse his behavior.
He flashed back to see her crumpled on the pavement outside the church in Mineral Springs, Branek fleeing in a torrent of taunting laughter. Tristan had carried Dawn to the car and driven her to the motel room. He’d gotten a cup of hot chocolate for when she came to. He’d seemed to remember that was something humans found comforting.
Then another time, coming to her apartment, finding the door standing open … She was unconscious on the floor again, and again Branek was to blame. Even now Tristan couldn’t fully comprehend the level of wrath he’d felt, or the disturbing way he’d despaired to see her hurt. Those were the times she’d needed him. The times she’d been broken.
A sudden wave of nausea made him sway. He caught the doorframe. What had he done?
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jared hissed.
“Come with us,” Augusta implored, taking a cautious step toward him. “We need your help—”
“No! I’ll figure this out on my own.”
Jared turned from them and fled down the hall to the stairwell. Tristan held an arm out in front of Augusta a
s she started after him.
“Let him go,” he said. “I’ll deal with him later.”
They left the hotel, Tristan leading the way down a ragged part of Sahara as they walked toward their old home. The world was different now, somehow. It was … exciting. But not in the way he’d always felt excited: miserably, on the run from anything that didn’t make his teeth clench in rage, nothing to do but make the city bleed. He’d always been caught in this endless fall, scared of nothing but his own reflection and that blasted burning sun.
This was the excitement of breaking free of your personal demons, or at least wanting to, for the first time. Everything in the world turned strange when you stopped feeling sick and crawled up out of your hole. When you woke up from dreams of death, or no dreams at all.
It was even stranger, Tristan thought, how alive a vampire could feel, when everyone knew he was undead. How awake he could feel when he never slept.
Waking wouldn’t come easily to him. It had seemed it would, back in the room, but the uncomfortable, suffocating truth descended on him as they reached Loftus’s house almost an hour later. He was not in charge of himself. He was never meant to have a say in anything that mattered. Loftus’s machinations were the map of his life. After all this time he felt the pull in his blood, the compulsion to obey.
“I want to do this alone,” he said abruptly.
Augusta frowned. “What?”
“Stay nearby. Just … just in case. But I need to face him by myself.”
“Martyr,” Fallon accused. But he and Augusta walked off toward the house, leaving Tristan to cross the lawn on his own.
White-haired and dressed in black, Loftus waited on the grass, back toward a copse of fruitless mulberry trees. His mercury eyes shone with a preternatural gleam. His smile was like brittle chips of ice in the sharp turn of his jaw.
Tristan could feel power pulsing against his skin, thicker than air. It was daunting. It was … nauseating. The sulfuric scent was nearly unbearable. Redness began to flare and waver around him like demonic northern lights. It pulsed like the beat of a sluggish but steady heart.
“Tristan,” Loftus said with the barest hint of surprise in his voice.
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