by PG Forte
“Very clever,” Conrad replied dryly. “Although I’m sure you flatter me far too much with the comparison to any hero, fictional or not.” He shook his head. “I don’t need you to be looking after my reputation for me, Georgia; or my stature in the community, or the reputation of my House—or whatever else it is you think I might be placing in danger by my actions. I assure you, I’m more than capable of handling all such matters on my own. And I’ll thank you to allow me to continue to do so.”
“You do me wrong to judge me so harshly,” she replied as she shook her head sadly. “And it’s not just your reputation you put at risk, Conrad. There’s also the matter of your heart. This would not be the first time you’ve been mistaken in someone.”
Conrad could not help but laugh. “Georgia, you of all people should know better than to talk such nonsense at me. My heart? Would I not still have to have one for it to be at risk? And that ship, as you and I both know, has most definitely sailed.”
Chapter Eight
Present Day
“I doubt it’s anything we need to worry about,” Damian insisted, when Julie brought up the subject of her suspicions the following evening. He shook his head at her protests, looking tired and as close to haggard as Marc had ever seen him. “I know I said we shouldn’t put anything past anyone, chica, and I’m not for an instant suggesting we tell either of them anything about what you’re really doing here, but I really cannot see either Armand or Drew being party to a plot to abduct Conrad.” He shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s impossible, mind you, but I do think the odds are against it.”
They were gathered in the kitchen once again, even though none of them seemed to have much of an appetite and even Marc was having a hard time working up any enthusiasm for bagged blood.
“It would be an extremely foolish thing for either of them to attempt such a thing,” Damian continued. “Drew, in particular, has very keen instincts toward self-preservation and I know Conrad has always considered Armand to be extremely trustworthy…at least in small matters.” He paused, then shrugged again. “Not that he’s never been mistaken about people, but all the same, his opinion should carry some weight with you. As for Drew’s remarks about not being in Conrad’s confidence, I have to agree with Marc. The number of people Conrad admits into his confidence has always been very small, perhaps regrettably so.”
Marc nodded. “That’s what I told her.” It was nice to have his viewpoint validated, he supposed, but nicer still would have been the feeling that they’d made some progress.
“But, what about the park, Damian?” Julie asked. “Do you know why Conrad avoids it? Would he have really gone there without telling you?”
“Never mind that,” Marc said. “I have a better question. If Conrad was going to tell someone where he was going, why would it be Brennan, of all people?”
Damian sighed. “If that’s truly where he was headed, he would definitely not have told me. Not only would I have been likely to follow him, had I known that was his intended destination, I most certainly would have objected more strenuously than I did to the idea of his going there unaccompanied.” His eyes grew dark. “What was he thinking?” he muttered, seemingly to himself. “He must have suspected he’d be walking into a trap.” Sighing, he lapsed into silence.
“And Brennan?” Marc prodded when the silence threatened to continue indefinitely.
“Perhaps Conrad intended to leave me a clue,” Damian replied, his voice grim. “In the event that he didn’t return, he might have assumed I’d think to question the guards. Perhaps I should have thought of that myself, weeks ago.”
Julie left off chewing her lip to suggest, “Well, if it’s that important, maybe we should forget the rest of the clubs and check out the park instead?”
Damian sighed. “Perhaps. But it’s a very big area to cover.”
Julie nodded. “I know. A thousand acres, right?”
“More like eleven hundred. Besides, even if that’s where he was headed, it’s unlikely he’s still there and even less likely you’d be able to pick up any traces of him after all this time.” He lapsed back into thought. The twins waited. Finally, he roused himself. “No. It’s far too large a haystack. We shall continue to seek our needle elsewhere.”
“You do know the old joke about the drunk who looks for his lost car keys under the streetlight because it’s brighter there than it is where he lost them, don’t you?” Marc asked dryly. “The size of the haystack doesn’t really matter, Damian. If our needle’s not in it, we can look all we want and we’ll still never find it there.”
Damian smiled. “True enough, but consider the larger picture for a moment, Marc. I, for one, would be very surprised to learn that our unknown adversary is working alone. For one person to have overpowered Conrad without any assistance…that’s practically unthinkable. He must have had accomplices.”
Marc nodded. “Okay. I get it now. So, it’s not just one needle we’re looking for; it could be several?”
“Exactly. And, while Conrad is obviously being kept well hidden, his abductors are far more likely to be still in plain sight.”
“Gotcha,” Marc said as he got to his feet. “Lotta needles, not so much hay. So, I guess it’s back to the clubs, then.”
Julie said nothing—at least not until they were heading out the front door. Then she turned to Marc, her expression grim. “Back to the clubs?” she repeated in hopeless tones. “I don’t think so, bro. I think you mean back to the drawing board, don’t you?”
Three days and almost a dozen clubs later, they were no closer to finding Conrad than they’d been at the beginning and Julie was feeling even more discouraged. “I don’t even know where to start anymore,” she complained as she scanned the crowd in this latest establishment: Sangria!
Marc sighed. “Well, that’s been the problem all along, hasn’t it? We don’t know enough about anything—Damian was sure right about that. I feel as though we’ve been living in a cave all these years.”
Julie glanced around. “You know, this isn’t at all what I expected. Do you feel that way too?”
Marc’s eyebrows rose. “What are you talking about, Jules? This place is virtually identical to every other club we’ve been to in the last three days. What part’s unexpected?”
Julie shook her head. “I don’t mean the clubs. I mean…oh, just everything. The house, the other vamps. Even Damian. All the stuff he’s been telling us about and warning us about…”
“Yeah.” Marc grimaced. “It’s been educational, I’ll say that for it.”
“I guess.”
Growing up, Julie had always known she and Marc weren’t like the other kids, but thanks to Conrad and Damian, she’d never felt badly because of it. She’d always felt loved, always felt wanted, always felt special. Like being vampire was the next best thing to…well, to being a princess, maybe, or something even better.
Though neither Conrad nor Damian had ever made an issue of it, their commitment to giving the twins as normal a childhood as possible had always been obvious. Still, Julie had never really thought about what that must have entailed, all the trouble they must have gone to in order to make that happen. Years of sacrifice, moving from town to town, hiding their true natures, isolating themselves from other vampires, that couldn’t have been fun for either of them, yet they’d never once complained. They were a family, the four of them, and wherever they’d been together had been home. Now…
“I feel like I don’t even know who they are anymore,” she sighed, frowning as she noticed anew how the sound system had been manipulated so that the faint beat of all the human hearts in the room could still be heard clearly beneath the music and the noise. “And, omigod, I wish they’d quit doing that thing with the music. It’s distracting as hell.”
“I think that’s the general idea.” Marc gestured at the crowded dance floor. “Look at them, Jules. How many of them do you think are here tonight hoping to track down the clues they need in order to solve urgent, li
fe-and-death mysteries? Face it. These places don’t exist for the benefit of people like you and me. I think everyone else in here is looking to be distracted. Or fed. Maybe both.”
“Maybe.” Julie thought Marc sounded a bit distracted himself. She studied her brother’s profile. His gaze, as he glanced around the room, seemed a little too intense. Sure, maybe it had to do with their urgent, life-or-death search, or maybe it was simple hunger. “You know, if you’d eat something before you left the house each night, I bet you’d feel a lot better,” she suggested, helpfully.
“Oh, like you do?” Marc shook his head. “You do know you’re gonna bleed that poor guy dry, if you don’t give it a rest soon, don’t you? Better watch it, Jules. Conrad’s gonna be mad as hell when he finds out what you’re up to.”
Still flushed and satisfied from her latest encounter with Brennan, Julie smiled smugly. “Oh, please, why should Conrad care how I get my kicks? Besides, it’s not like I’m the only one. Brennan’s got plenty of other regulars too, you know. Although he did say, this evening, that I was his favorite.”
“Regulars?” Marc stared at her in dismay. “You know what? I think I’m really starting to agree with you about Damian. Despite all this information he claims to be giving us, I feel like there’s still a whole lot being left unsaid. Like why Conrad would ever stand for something like this repeat feeding going on right under his nose. You know how he’s always stressed the idea that we should get variety in our diets, never feed from the same person too often. After all those years of getting on our cases, like he always did, I can’t believe he just lets everyone else get away with doing whatever the hell they want.”
Julie frowned. “What are you talking about? I don’t remember him ever making that big a deal of it. I mean, sure, when we were just learning about our limits and still working on not leaving marks and how to make people forget they’d been bitten, but certainly not since then.”
“Oh, yes, he did too make a big deal of it. Always. Every single time he took me out with him he mentioned it. How I could hurt someone if I got carried away and accidentally took too much blood from them. How getting attached could lead to all sorts of emotional entanglements. How I should never feed from someone I was dating or get involved sexually with anyone I was feeding from, no matter how tempting.”
“What?” Startled, Julie stared at her brother. “Oh, c’mon, you’re making that up. You must be. Conrad never said anything like that to me and…wait a minute, are you saying you’ve never—” The look of surprise on Marc’s face had her shutting her mouth with a snap. He’d never combined sex and feeding? Well, hell, no wonder he’s cranky so much of the time.
She was pretty sure even if she had been given that advice she wouldn’t have taken it—it was far too much fun the other way. “How can you be my twin?” she asked, trying to pass her dismay off as a joke. “We’re so…different.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not,” Marc replied, turning away to scan the crowd again. “You never think of that before? I mean, how would we even know, right? It’s not like we look that much alike. And, like I’ve said all along, we only have their word for any of it. Maybe it’s all been a lie. Wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest.”
Julie bit her lip. Marc was the only biological family she’d ever had and, right now, he was sounding like he couldn’t care less. Like he wouldn’t be surprised—or even particularly unhappy—to learn they weren’t related.
“You know, I think it might be a good idea if we split up for a bit,” she said, wanting to put some space between them. Not wanting him to see how hurt, rejected, abandoned and stunned she was feeling. “We can cover twice as much ground that way and get on to the next place that much more quickly.”
Marc shrugged. “Whatever,” he said without much interest, and without even a single glance in her direction. “Just don’t get too distracted while you’re out there on your own. We’re not here to socialize, you know.”
“Oh, why don’t you just go distract yourself,” she muttered as she headed into the crowd.
“Yeah, that’s just perfect,” Marc muttered to himself, watching out of the corner of his eye as his sister stormed away from him, only to get immediately intercepted and asked to dance. “Good job, Jules. Way to stay on task.” This whole process was getting them nowhere. He didn’t care what Damian had to say about it, this was the last night he was doing this. Period. There has to be a better way. Maybe we should have hit the park, after all. We could hardly do worse.
“So, you finally lost her, huh?” a husky female voice murmured from somewhere close behind him. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“What’s that?” Marc turned, eyes widening as he came face to face with the unknown woman who’d addressed him. She was small but stunning, with dark eyes that seemed to look at him with an odd mixture of pity, amusement and naked greed.
“Your girlfriend,” his new friend said, with a nod in Julie’s direction. “I’ve seen you two around the last couple of nights. I was wondering how long it would take her to shake loose. Bad idea, bringing her to a place like this, you know. If you were looking to hold onto her, that is. But maybe you’re not?”
“I’m not,” Marc replied. “I mean, no, we’re not together. She’s my sister.”
“Your sister?” The woman’s eyebrows rose. “Well, that’s something different, isn’t it?”
“Not really.” What was different was her—all lush round curves and dusky skin topped by a long, twisted fall of dreadlocked hair that reached almost to her waist. If she had been anywhere in his vicinity these last few nights, he was absolutely certain he could not have failed to notice. “Where did you say you saw me?” She had to be lying about that. He didn’t like the idea, but it was the only explanation that made sense. It was either that, or Julie was right about his recent distractibility level—which would be even worse.
The unknown woman waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, around. You know, here and there. Everywhere, really. You’ve been cutting quite a swath, haven’t you?”
“Here and there?” Marc shook his head. “Nope. Not possible. You couldn’t have.”
“Excuse me?” A faint flush colored the lady’s cheeks. “Are you accusing me of lying?”
“You’re saying you’ve seen me in multiple locations and I never noticed you—not even once?”
She looked away, her full, red lips pursing into a pout. “Well, that…that’s not a very flattering thing to tell a girl.”
Marc smiled ruefully. “Does it help to know that I’m horrified to think I could have been in the same city as you, never mind the same room, for three entire days and never even have known it? I must have been unconscious the whole time.”
“Maybe I’m just shy,” she murmured, almond eyes dancing as she slanted him a mischievous look. “Maybe I’m just so timid I didn’t want you to see me before I was ready to talk to you. And, yes, by the way, that does help. Thank you. Not at all a bad save.”
“You’re welcome,” Marc replied, returning the smile. “So, tell me, why was it a bad idea to bring my sister here?”
His new friend shrugged, the movement doing interesting things to her curves. Marc had to struggle to pay attention to the words coming from those ruby lips…rather than the lips themselves. “It’s a question of numbers, really. I mean, look around you. How many females do you see? Other than the humans, that is. If you just looked at the vampire population, you’d think San Francisco hadn’t changed at all since the Gold Rush days. The male-to-female ratio is totally skewed.”
“I guess that’s true, huh?” Marc had noticed there were more men than women, but the fact hadn’t really registered until now. Given the way he’d grown up, it hadn’t seemed all that strange. Now, he suddenly wondered if it wasn’t just the case with his particular family, but more widespread. If that was the way of it, it kind of sucked. “Is it like that all over?” he asked, earning himself another look of surprise.
“Well, yes, for the m
ost part. Not that I’m complaining, of course. Personally, I put it down to the fact that most men don’t seem to care all that much about keeping their partners around for the long haul.” She peered at him curiously. “You’re very new, aren’t you? I like that. I find new blood so refreshing. Don’t you agree?”
Marc smiled. After three straight nights of pumping strangers for information, what was really refreshing was finally having the shoe on the other foot—even if it was only for a little while. “Why, I really couldn’t say, could I? Being as I’m so new and all.”
She laughed at that. “Touché. Where are you from, sugar?”
Grateful for Damian’s suggestion, Marc shrugged. “I’m afraid I can’t really say. My sire is trying to be mysterious. He doesn’t want me talking about it. My name’s Marc, by the way, what’s yours?”
“Elise,” she answered, after a moment’s hesitation. “Your sire, huh? Oh, I hear that. Poor baby, say no more. Mine could be a royal prick at times too.”
“Could be?”
“Mm-hm.” Elise drew a finger across her throat. “The idiot managed to get himself decapitated in a freak car accident a couple of months ago. Wedged his ’Vette under a tractor-trailer but good. He was stuck there for hours before anyone could get to him. Bled out onto the highway. I do miss him, though. He was a sorry sonofabitch while he was alive, but his death left the nest in a terrible state. Things just haven’t been the same since.”
Marc felt his eyebrows rise. “I hear it can be pretty stressful for a nest to lose its sire like that.”
Elise grimaced. “Yes, it’s been…quite a challenge.” She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment and then asked. “So, whose House do you belong to, or can’t you tell me that, either?”