In the Dark

by Melody Taylor

  “Cain.”

  Not a voice Sebastian had expected to hear. Ears still sharpened for the sounds of others, Sebastian turned to face Alec.

  “Alec,” he replied, politely, but wondering why Ian’s brother had come here. Searching out the pack himself? Or searching for Sebastian?

  Alec closed the short distance between them, his face dark and serious. “I’m begging you, Cain,” he said, voice low. “If you have any care for Ian’s fate, let me take her. We can leave, you’ll never see us again, Specter will follow us and leave you in peace –”

  Sebastian stared at him. Alec stopped speaking and stood, fists balled, waiting for Sebastian to make more of an answer.

  “Would you be willing to take Ian’s new child with you?” Sebastian asked.

  Alec’s jaw tightened, but he nodded.

  The uncertainty of that response didn’t sit well with Sebastian. Should Alec take Ian and her new child away with him, Sebastian had no doubt Alec would handle poorly the dual responsibility of protecting them and allowing Ian her own say in how she taught her child.

  As for Specter following Alec and Ian and leaving Sebastian in peace, he almost laughed aloud. Specter wanted Ian, that much was obvious, but the pack leader did not deal lightly with those he named traitor. He would halt his hunt for Ian long enough to lay the matter of his wayward lieutenant to rest. And when Specter resumed his search, Sebastian did not trust in Alec’s ability to protect not only himself, but two wards. Kent had been Alec’s teacher, and Kent had failed to keep even himself safe.

  “No,” Sebastian said simply.

  Alec stared. “No?”

  Sebastian considered explaining himself – then merely shrugged. He had seen both Alec’s temper and his mistrust, and did not feel like dealing with either. His fruitless search followed by the jarring vision had left him short tempered and uncertain of himself, and all too willing to draw his sword simply for the familiarity of it. “That is my answer. Good evening, Alec.”

  He started to turn away, but Alec’s sudden shift in posture stopped him. It was subtle, very subtle. A straightening of his spine, his right hand twitching once as if it wanted to reach across himself to draw a blade. Sebastian paused, turning back to face Alec, his own hand moved to his sword’s hilt.

  But Alec carried no blade. He dropped the posture the moment Sebastian began to turn. Sebastian watched him, took in his glare, his attempt to appear outraged but not dangerous.

  “I would not, were I you,” Sebastian said quietly. Alec’s fists tightened, but he made no other move. Sebastian held the other’s eyes long enough to feel that his warning was understood, then turned and left.

  “This isn’t the last of this, Cain,” Alec muttered behind him, almost quiet enough that Sebastian didn’t hear. The sound of footsteps told him Alec had left also, taking the opposite route. Sebastian walked on without looking back.

  Dawn neared. His temper shortened by the moment. The memories and emotions thundering inside him refused to let him focus. Remaining here would not help any of those situations. Empty handed, Sebastian made his way back to the Vector. Perhaps tomorrow would offer him a better opportunity.

  IAN

  I woke up the next night hungry again. My stomach ached without cramping, though, so that was an improvement. Still, the emptiness in my belly reminded me of not only feeding Amanda, but also my crying bout the night before.

  And the other thing.

  I stretched in bed and sighed. Gypsy perked up and butted her head against my hand.

  I had tried to kill someone last night.

  Well, not tried to kill. It just sort of happened. Not that that helped.

  I seriously considered not getting up. Then it occurred to me that no one would feed Amanda if I didn’t. And in order to feed Amanda, I needed to eat. And if I didn’t eat, I might very well turn into some crazed ravenous beast with absolutely no control over herself at all, and that would be twenty times worse than feeding while in my right mind and capable of caring if I killed anyone.

  Getting up still sounded like an awful lot of work. But the arguments against staying in bed to mope all night stayed the same, and finally I got up. It was every bit as draining as I had expected. I fed my cat. Changed my clothes. Went out into the apartment to face the world.

  Partway down the hall, I heard the dull sound of metal crashing against metal, then Josephine’s voice letting out a short, sharp battle cry. I listened for a minute, then continued down the hall to the living room. At least I knew where they were.

  In the living room, I thunked down in a chair to wait. I could only faintly hear the sounds of fighting coming from the practice room. Mostly there was just silence. I sat in the silence, alone, and bit my knuckle.

  The lonely quiet made it too easy to circle back to my problems. There were a lot of them, but the most immediate also hurt the worst.

  I had almost killed a man. Out of nothing but plain hunger.

  Killed someone.

  And now Amanda was losing her shit. I didn’t blame her. I was kind of losing it myself. My momentum died again as I sat in the chair. I felt . . . heavy. Like getting up from this spot would take more effort than it was really worth. Like I might not ever move again.

  I found myself thinking of Gary, biting into him, shaking him – the memory morphed into myself being bitten, Emily’s double sitting on me and holding me down while she drained the life out of me. Smashing my face against the pavement when I struggled. I started shaking, unable to escape the picture in my head. It kept happening. I was there again, underneath her, pinned down and dying. That was what I had done to someone else.

  After I didn’t know how long, the memory finally cleared, leaving me shaky and staring around the apartment, trying to verify that I was safe.

  A small noise caught my attention in the hall.

  I looked up in time to see Amanda turning away, heading back towards her room. I thought about calling after her, then realized. She had seen me and that was why she’d turned away. She didn’t want to be in the same room with me.

  If at all possible, I sank even lower.

  “Ian,” a voice said.

  I looked up as Sebastian and Josephine came into the room. They both looked slightly mussed from their workout, neither of them sweating or looking seriously disheveled. I nodded at both of them, hoping I seemed casual.

  “You are hungry?” Sebastian said.

  I was. But going out to try and feed sounded like so much work. And undeserved. I liked feeding. There was a sexual, drug-like quality to the blood, even when my donor wasn’t high. Too much so, obviously. Why should I go and enjoy myself, take a chance on hurting another person? How hard would it be to stop feeding before I hurt someone tonight? I doubted Amanda would want to feed tonight anyway.

  I shook my head. “No,” I lied. “I think I’m okay for tonight. Thanks.”

  While Josephine tilted her head at me, concerned, Sebastian simply nodded.

  “Get up. If you have no appetite, you will practice.”

  “Practice?” That sounded even worse than feeding.

  “Yes,” he said. And stood there. In front of my chair. Arms crossed. Staring at me. He wasn’t going to go away. He wasn’t going to let me wallow in self-pity. He wasn’t going to try to convince me to please get up and go do something. He said I would practice now. That meant I had to go practice.

  I looked at him staring at me for a long second, then sighed and heaved myself up out of my chair. Sebastian held one arm out towards the practice room, letting me go first. So he could herd me down the hall if I faltered, I was sure. Head down, I went.

  Inside the practice room, Sebastian shut the door. I turned to face him, trying to come up with a protest that would let me off the hook. Something that would convince him I didn’t want to play fight right now.

  In a flash he came at me, grabbing my shoulder and rolling to kick me up and over him. I flailed, which didn’t help one bit, then lost all the breat
h I’d had in me in one hard gasp as I slammed onto the mats. Sebastian popped to his feet.

  “Get up,” he told me.

  I laid there, gasping.

  “Get up,” Sebastian said again. When I still didn’t, he grabbed me by the shoulders and hauled me to my feet. Before I could do more than get my balance, he slammed into me again, this time throwing me backwards. I hit the mats and my teeth clacked together.

  “Get up,” he said again.

  Giving him a dirty glare, I shoved myself up to my feet. He came at me again, hard, and I used the block he’d tried to show me. He broke right through it, slamming into my gut so hard I gasped again. I sat, hard. My tailbone protested the abuse with a sharp pain.

  “Get up.”

  This time my glare wasn’t dirty, it was filthy. Why the hell was he picking on me like this? I shoved myself up and this time, I went for him as I stood. He grabbed my arm and threw me easily, using my own weight against me. I skidded to the floor and didn’t wait for him to tell me to get up before I did, rushing at him again.

  I hit the floor. I got up. I threw myself at him. He tossed me aside like a rag. I hauled myself up and launched myself at him.

  Again. Again. Again.

  Every time I hit the floor, anger surged through me a little harder. And hunger. The two twined around each other, feeding each other, until I didn’t know if I was angry because I was hungry or hungry because I was angry. Still Sebastian pushed me. Blocking me, throwing me, ordering me to get up when I hesitated.

  A distant corner of my mind heard a deep, angry snarl. A real, growling dog kind of sound. It scared me a little. But Sebastian was there, gathering himself to pounce on me, and I rushed him.

  This time I burst past his block, somehow finding the force to sweep his hands aside. It wasn’t easy. I felt my bicep strain and pull. But I did it. And when I did I lunged, mouth open, going for his throat. I didn’t even realize I was going to do that until I did.

  His hand caught me under the jaw, stopping me cold. I tried to smack his hand away, tried to make his elbow fold. I wanted blood, goddammit, and I wanted his. It didn’t work. He held me still, inches from his face, my fangs bared, struggling.

  “Calm down,” he said.

  It didn’t penetrate. I struggled against him, clawing his arm.

  He gave me a small shake. “Ian.”

  My name sort of got through. I blinked.

  “Ian. Calm down. Bring it back. You are in control.”

  I knew what he was saying. I knew what the words meant. A small part of me, a rational part of me, woke up and realized what I was doing. I was trying to go for Sebastian’s throat. And if I got my teeth into him, I was going to murder him.

  I still wanted to. My hunger roared inside me, my anger at him for treating me so mercilessly burned. But the small, rational voice in the back of my head told me how awful I would feel if that actually happened. How he was my friend and I shouldn’t be snarling at him like this.

  “Ian. You are in control,” he said again.

  I turned my face away from him, still angry, still hungry, but now also ashamed. Ashamed and frightened.

  He let go of my jaw. I staggered a step or two, face still averted.

  “You are the master of your own rage,” he told me. “You are the master of your own hunger. It does not rise with a mind of its own. You control it.”

  I turned back to him, hands spread to either side and a filthy glare on my face. “I control it?” I growled. “I control that? That’s not even me!”

  He pushed his face back into mine, his blue eyes snapping. “It is you,” he said. “The hunger seems like it has its own will, it does not feel like you, but I tell you now, Ian, it is you and you control it. Or not. If you will not master the animal, if you refuse to accept that it is a part of yourself, you will lose yourself to it.”

  I turned my face away from his. “I already have,” I muttered.

  He grabbed my jaw in one heavy, strong hand and turned my face back to his. I tried to resist. My effort was ridiculous. He was so much stronger. “Ian, the man you attacked is still alive. You stopped yourself. Your sister, whatever else has happened to her, is here. You have all of eternity to make your peace with her.”

  “Or all of eternity to watch her hate me,” I said back.

  “Ian, listen to me. Your sister is terrified, she is confused, she is angry. You can make it up to her. If it takes years or decades or centuries, you can make it up to her. You have the time. Do not ever take that for granted. You have the time.” He stopped suddenly. Released my face to put his hand over his own. I thought he was just frustrated with me, covering his eyes in a “I can’t believe how dense you are” gesture.

  Then I saw the tears.

  Seriously. Tears.

  He stepped back and turned away from me. Hiding his face.

  All my rage and fear vanished like it had never been. “Sebastian?” I asked quietly.

  In a sudden move, he spun and lunged at me. Before I could do more than flinch, he had my shoulders in a grip that hurt, shaking me while red tears streamed down his face. All I could do was stare.

  “Don’t call me that!” Just as suddenly, he dropped me, leaving me staggering a little. He backed away from me, his blue eyes bright and flashing, looking at something behind me that probably didn’t exist outside his own head. He said something else, a murmur, in a language I did not understand or even recognize.

  I watched him. My cool, calm, violent protector losing his shit in front of me. I didn’t know what to do. Would he break my arm if I tried to touch him? Clam up if I spoke? I waited a beat, unsure, then decided I had to do something.

  “Hey,” I said softly. I stepped towards him, one hand out. I saw genuine surprise on his face as he registered me. Only for an instant. In the next second, his expression slammed shut. He turned away from me, shuttered and closed off.

  “Leave me,” he said in his usual stern tone.

  I bit my lip. Thought about it.

  “No,” I said.

  His shoulders bunched.

  “Ian,” he said in a warning voice.

  “No,” I said again. “I’m not leaving. You just lost it, totally lost it, and I’m not leaving.” I set a hand on his back. The muscles there were rigid, like stone. I felt the barest hint of a flinch when I touched him.

  He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. I stayed where I was, one hand on his back, uncertain that he wouldn’t hurt me.

  “Who died?” I asked, very, very quietly.

  His back tightened more, if that was possible.

  I waited. And waited. I didn’t think he was going to answer me.

  Then, “Sarah,” he said. So softly I wasn’t sure I’d heard him.

  When he didn’t say anything else, I hesitated. Was that a sister? His mother? A lover?

  “You loved her,” I said, going for the obvious.

  “More than my own life,” he said back softly.

  Lover, probably.

  But then that plaid scrap jumped back into my memory, and I knew. Unmarried Scottish women didn’t wear plaid. They wore the plaid of their husband’s clan.

  His wife.

  His wife. The idea of him married blew my mind.

  “Did you . . . ?” I trailed off, not wanting to finish that question. Hoping he wouldn’t slice my fool head off for even starting it.

  “The hunger.” His voice had gone so quiet I almost couldn’t hear him. “He made me and he left . . . he left me with her.”

  Even with incomplete fragments, the picture started snapping together in my head. I felt Sebastian’s shoulders jerk a little. He was crying. Not just a few tears down his cheeks, but actual sobbing.

  Slowly, so I didn’t startle or threaten him, I put my arms around him. He let me, though he just stood where he was. I gently pulled his head to my shoulder and held him while he cried. I expected huge, gulping sobs releasing so much pent up pain and misery for the first time in probably five hun
dred years, but he cried very quietly. He didn’t seem able to stop, but he controlled it enough to be subtle.

  All I could do was hold him. If I’d ever done anything more unexpected in my life, I couldn’t think of it. This man could kill me with hardly a thought. Had killed who knew how many others as easily as that. But right now he cried blood all down the front of my shirt and let me hold him.

  The tears took a long time to wind down. I’d sort of expected him to regain control of himself and push me away after a few seconds. Instead he sobbed almost silently on and on, probably letting loose centuries of this.

  After a while he stood up, wiping his eyes and turning away from me. I caught a hint of embarrassment from the cant of his shoulders. My eyebrows puckered. “What happened?” I asked quietly.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Sebastian, what happened?” I said again, a little louder. He sighed a little, but still didn’t answer. I tried again. “Your father made you and then ran away, left you alone with your human wife. You didn’t know what was going on when you started to feed from her, so you didn’t know how to stop and she died. That was your first night as a vampire. Am I close?”

  A shudder passed through him.

  I sighed. “That’s horrible. I can’t even fathom how horrible. You must miss her so bad.”

  “Not a night goes by that I do not miss her,” he murmured, almost to himself.

  I knew what that felt like.

  “So now you know,” Sebastian went on. He looked at me, and I didn’t know what I saw in his eyes. They were flat, but intense. Nervous? “I’ve never spoken of it before now.”

  Five hundred years without saying anything? No wonder he fell apart like that. I’d have gone a little crazy too with something so heavy weighing me down.

  He shrugged one shoulder and looked away from me. I set a hand on his back again. “Thank you for telling me.”

  He shrugged again, somewhat uneasy, somewhat resigned. He hadn’t necessarily meant for the story to come out. I was just shocked it hadn’t come out sooner.