“How has Alastair put up with you for the past six years?” Lu was still grinning as she pulled up the thick down comforter and burrowed beneath it.
Joey reclined on top of the silky plum-colored duvet and said, “He’s infinitely patient. Plus, it’s easy to tell with him when I need to shut the hell up. I try not to wear on his nerves any more than necessary.”
She studied Joey for a while before saying, “It’s weird, your whole relationship. The fact that he, well, made you, as you said. And that you obviously have to do whatever he tells you.”
“It is weird, but not in the way you mean. It’s weird because he gives me so much freedom, treats me as an equal. Everything in me tells me that I should be groveling at Alastair’s feet, but never once has he treated me with anything less than respect.”
“That’s what it feels like? That you’re somehow less than him?”
“Absolutely,” Joey said. “That’s what it’s like for all vampires, especially in the first few years after they’re made.”
“But it sounds like Alastair never felt that way about his maker.”
“Apparently not. But Allie’s atypical in many ways thanks to that whole hybrid thing. Being part angel had some unusual effects on the way his vampire side manifested in him. As I’m sure you noticed.”
“I thought he was human. Up until he bit me.”
“Exactly. He feels human – he’s warm, he breathes, his heart beats. Go figure,” he shrugged.
“So can he even be called a vampire, if his heart’s still beating?”
“Aside from his physiology, he has all the other hallmarks of a vampire. First and foremost, blood is the only thing that sustains him, he can’t live without it. And his response to blood is pure vampire – the craving, the desire, it’s all there. Then of course there are the fangs, the strength and speed, that super fab burning in the sun thing. In my book, that all means he’s first and foremost a vampire.”
Lu remembered with a wave of embarrassment the intense desire she’d felt as she was bitten, and closed her eyes for a moment as she felt herself blushing.
Joey saw the color rise in Lu’s cheeks and halted his natural response to extend his fangs at the sight of blood under her skin. He watched her closely, more closely than she could possibly realize, taking in her individual long dark eyelashes and the way her pupils contracted when she opened her eyes.
He noticed everything about her -- the dozens of shades of brown and honey and auburn that comprised her hair color. Her clean, warm, totally distinct scent. The faint scattering of freckles across her nose. The fact that the blue of her eyes, which he saw perfectly in the soft light, was the exact color of a cloudless summer sky he remembered from a lifetime ago. God she’s beautiful, he thought.
For the first time ever, Joey felt a little pang of jealously toward Alastair. And that feeling was immediately rewarded with an overpowering wave of guilt.
He would do anything for Alastair, he would die for him without a moment’s hesitation. He loved him, the way you love a brother and a father and a best friend. So he hated himself for feeling jealous that Lu was with Alastair.
Joey saw all of this and felt all of this in a mere instant, and then he too pressed his eyes shut, willing away the envy and the guilt and the intense longing to reach out and touch the pretty, fiery girl mere inches from him.
Lu looked closely at Joey. He was incredibly expressive, and for just a moment sadness clouded his features. But then he opened his extraordinary beach glass-green eyes and his ever-present smile returned. Lu wondered how much of his cheerfulness was a mask, how much pain he routinely covered up.
She’s watching me the same way I was watching her, he thought. Well, not exactly the same way.
Her brow wrinkled in concern and he knew his face had given something away. He rolled off the bed, saying lightly, “Are you hungry? I could go downstairs and raid Bryn’s fridge for you.”
“Alastair’s going to be ok, Joey,” she said, misinterpreting his expression.
Joey stood facing away from her and said lightly, “I know. Even if Bryn can’t get his memories back, it’s still going to be ok. I can tell Allie everything he’s told me about his life, fill in some of his past for him.” He turned toward her, a cheerful, composed expression on his face. “So, fridge raid?”
“No thanks,” she said. “I just want to rest. You should too, it’s been an exhausting day.”
Joey interlaced his fingers and ran his hands over his short hair as if he was pushing it back from his face, then rested his hands on the crown of his head as he admitted, “It’s been an exhausting four days. I haven’t slept at all since Alastair went missing.”
“You haven’t?”
“Nope. I looked for him all night every night, and days were spent pacing in the motel waiting for sunset so I could resume my search. God I hated that helpless feeling of being trapped indoors by the sun.”
“You must have been so worried,” Lu said gently.
“It was terrible when I didn’t feel anything from him at first. I thought he was dead but I didn’t want to believe it,” Joey said. “Then I felt him in agony, which I now know was his hand catching fire. That was truly nightmarish, but at least I knew he was still alive.”
“You felt that? I thought you said all you got were blips.”
“Alastair hates showing weakness, so I didn’t want to tell him that I’d felt how scared and vulnerable he was when he was burning.” Joey shook his head. “It was just overwhelming. It hurt far more than being burned usually does for some reason, and believe me, that’s already excruciating. It was as if all the pain receptors in his brain had been stripped bare or something.
“I couldn’t even go to him,” Joey continued, perching on the edge of the bed. “I couldn’t pinpoint a direction. It just crashed down on me from all sides, not only the pain but his fear, his confusion, the jumble of his thoughts. And I have never felt fear from him. I actually curled up on the floor of the motel room and started screaming, it was that overwhelming.”
“My God,” Lu murmured.
After a minute he said, “Actually that was a good thing, I guess, not being able to sense a direction. Because if I’d known where he was, I wouldn’t have even thought about it. I would have gone running right out into the sun to get to him, and then -- well, then I really wouldn’t have been able to help him.”
“You would do that? Let yourself burn to death trying to save him?” Lu stared at him in disbelief.
“I wouldn’t really have had a choice,” Joey said quietly, looking down at his hands. “I just would have tried to run to him on pure instinct.”
“That’s horrifying.”
He shrugged and said, “It’s usually a good thing to be able to find each other. I did eventually find Alastair because of our bond. Thank God. If I hadn’t gotten there when I did, I hate to think what would have happened when the werewolves showed up at your house.”
“I don’t even want to think about that.” Lu was quiet for a while before asking, “Didn’t it attract a lot of attention when you were screaming in your motel room?”
Joey nodded. “Sure. But once I got myself under control I took care of it.”
“How?”
“I compelled the manager that came to my room. I made her think she’d heard the TV and convinced her to let me off with a mild warning about keeping the volume down.”
She stared at him. “You can do that?”
“Well yeah,” he told her. “Compelling is a vampire essential. Alastair and I use it every time we feed, so the human doesn’t remember what happened.”
Lu raised an eyebrow. “And the fang marks on the neck aren’t a clue?”
Joey grinned. “Leaving a bite mark would just be stupid. It’d be like leaving a note saying ‘vampires are real, come hunt us!’ It’s just asking for trouble.”
“So then how do you feed?”
“With a little nick from one tooth, just enough to sta
rt the blood flowing. A few long draws and I’m done. Then it’s a quick lick because my saliva stops the bleeding and helps heal the wound, and a mind wipe, and off they go.”
“If that’s how vampires feed, why do you hunt them?” she asked. “I mean, it’s not great, but I expected much worse.”
“That’s how Alastair and I feed. Other vampires kill without a thought, the way humans slaughter livestock. They don’t need to kill, but most of the time they do because they see absolutely no reason not to.”
A little chill ran through her and she fell silent again. But after a minute she said, “Doesn’t that mind wipe thing you’re talking about sound like what happened to Alastair? Like maybe someone compelled him to forget his past?”
“Yeah, but Allie can’t be compelled. No supernatural being can.”
“Well, something happened to him,” Lu said.
“A spell happened to him. Bloody powerful one.” They turned to the voice in the doorway. An exhausted looking Bryn held an unconscious Alastair in his arms.
“Is he ok?” Lu asked, her voice rising in alarm. Joey darted across the room and took hold of Alastair just as Bryn began to waver, carrying him to the bed and setting him down gently.
“He’s asleep,” Bryn said, sinking into a chair by the door that Lu was pretty sure hadn’t been there a moment ago. “That was incredibly taxing for both of us. I had to borrow rather heavily from his energy, just given the nature of what I was trying to do.”
“What did you find out?” Joey asked as he tugged off Alastair’s boots and pulled the covers over him.
“I didn’t look very deeply, I won’t do so until he and I are both well-rested. I just saw enough to know that his memories are still there but blocked by a spell, as if a wall has been put up in front of them. We’ll go further tomorrow.” Bryn got to his feet then with a deep sigh and stretched his back. “Right, I’m off to bed. G’night all, pleasant dreams.” He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.
Lu was kind of surprised that Bryn hadn’t disappeared in a puff of smoke. It seemed more his style.
Chapter Twelve
They slept well into the next day, Lu warm and comfortable next to Alastair in the big cozy bed, Joey strewn across the long purple couch on the other side of the room.
Alastair woke first, and it took him a moment to get his bearings. The room was perfectly dark, the light blocked by heavy, lined silk drapes.
But the sun was up outside. He could feel it.
His senses felt sharper today, his mind clearer. Every day the fog he’d found himself in seemed to lift a little, though his memories showed no sign of returning.
Lu was right beside him, clearly visible in the darkness, and he wrapped his arms around her. Her body felt warm against his as she snuggled into him, still deep in sleep, and he ran his cheek against her silky hair, letting himself enjoy the moment.
And then he remembered with shame how wonderful it had felt to bite her, to drink from her. It terrified him that it had happened without conscious thought, as if biting her came as naturally to him as breathing.
He now knew that he had to remain vigilant around her, that he could never let himself fully relax when she was nearby. And he knew he could never again let himself get that hungry around her -- not ever. He understood that he was a danger to her, even more than his enemies were. Wanting to keep her with him was selfish, because it would mean continuing to endanger her.
But he couldn’t bear the thought of being without her. He needed her.
Alastair pulled back a little and watched her tranquil expression as she slept. Lu was beautiful, though she had no idea that she was. And she was so much more than that, too. She was an amazing person, so strong and brave. So kind and compassionate. She was everything he could want. Far more than he deserved.
And he was falling in love with her.
As much as he would have liked to stay curled up in bed with Lu, after just a few moments he carefully untangled himself from her and rolled out of bed. He needed to find Bryn, to try again to regain his memories. In his current state Alastair knew he was vulnerable, and making himself stronger was a way to keep Lu safe. He pushed his thick dark hair back from his face with both interlaced hands, then pulled on his boots.
He slipped out of the room silently and meandered down the long hallway. He had no idea where anything was, but through trial and error eventually he came to Bryn’s room.
The door was open, and Alastair stepped into the warm red interior. The curtains were drawn in here as well, the bed neatly made, a huge bouquet of stargazer lilies on a side table filling the room with their sweet fragrance.
Alastair sank down onto a little wine-colored couch, part of a seating arrangement in one corner clustered around a big coffee table. There were no windows at this end of the room, no threat of light seeping in at the edges of the heavy curtains, so it felt more secure to Alastair. He rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes, and his thoughts returned to the night before.
Bryn had been kind, as gentle as possible. But still, the experience of having someone rooting around in his mind had been terrifying. More than once Alastair felt he’d go crazy, like he was right on the brink of a breakdown. He would have leapt up and tried to run from this invasion, but Bryn had done something to immobilize him, leaving him utterly defenseless. He knew the warlock had done this for Alastair’s own safety, to eliminate the risk of damage to his mind, but that didn’t lessen his natural fear response at feeling so totally helpless and vulnerable.
“Good morning, sunshine,” a cheerful voice called out. Alastair sat up and opened his eyes as Bryn breezed into the room. “Or more accurately, good afternoon,” the warlock amended.
Bryn was dressed in an expensive black suit, pale grey shirt and tie, his hair neatly slicked back. He set a briefcase on an end table.
“Wow, I almost didn’t recognize you,” Alastair told him.
“Ach yeah, the monkey suit’s not exactly my style. But I had a business meeting this afternoon, and it’s always best to look the part.” Bryn was unknotting his tie as he spoke, and tossed it over the back of a chair along with the suit jacket.
Alastair wondered what type of business a warlock might be involved in, but kept silent.
Bryn unbuttoned the neck of his shirt and detached a pair of silver cufflinks from his wrists, dropping them into a glass bowl with a clatter. He then crossed the room and sat down across from Alastair as he rolled his sleeves back and asked, “So how do you feel today, mate?”
“I feel ok. I’d be lying if I said I was looking forward to another session of that mind probe, though.”
Bryn sat back comfortably in his overstuffed chair. “That makes two of us, though I’m sure it’s infinitely worse for you.”
“It’s difficult for you, too?”
“It’s exhausting,” the warlock told him. “All magic is, to some extent or another, since it draws energy directly from the person using it. Plus, this task requires an extraordinary amount of concentration, which is also taxing. It’s like trying to extract a single needle from a huge jumble of other needles that are all heaped in a big precarious pile. And if any of the other needles are disturbed, the results could be -- well, rather detrimental.” He knit his brows and added, “Hmm, rather odd analogy, that.”
“I appreciate you doing this for me,” Alastair told him.
“I’m glad for the opportunity to help,” Bryn said. “You don’t remember, but you’ve saved my life on at least four separate occasions. It feels good to help you for a change…if what I’m doing is actually helping.”
“You don’t think it is?”
“I just don’t know if the potential risk is worth the benefit. Granted, it must be awful not to know anything about yourself, your past, the people around you. But then, not everything in your past is necessarily worth remembering, Allie. In some ways, not having the burden of memory might be a blessing.”
“Becau
se I’ve done things I should be ashamed of?”
Bryn looked down at his slender hands. “It’s not as though either of our histories, yours or mine, has been bloodless. But ever since you got your vampire nature under control, you’ve been a crusader against evil. You’ve found your own redemption by saving hundreds of human lives. I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of.”
The warlock reached for a steaming cup of coffee that hadn’t been there a moment ago and took a sip before continuing. “What I was actually referring to was all that’s been done to you over the last couple centuries. You’ve endured torture, sometimes for decades at a time, that might be well worth forgetting.”
“I’m that old?”
“You were turned two hundred and twelve years ago, when you were seventeen.”
“That’s a hell of a lot to forget,” Alastair muttered. Then he asked, “This torture you’re referring to, was that done by my maker?”
“Yes, by Augustine. Surely Joey’s told you about him?” Bryn asked.
“Only a little. He thinks Augustine did this to me.” Alastair tapped his temple once with the tip of his finger.
“That would of course be my guess too. He’s spent two centuries trying to control you, so he’s the logical culprit. But on his own he would never have been able to accomplish something like this. If this was his doing then he’s found himself an extremely powerful ally. And I’d very much like to know who that person is.”
“Then again, it sounds like I have a long list of enemies, and that may include a few witches or warlocks. Maybe one of them did this to me without instruction from my maker.”
“Any warlock acting on his own wouldn’t bother to bespell you, Allie,” Bryn told him. “You’re far too rare and valuable a commodity to trifle with.”
“What does that mean?”
“If a warlock came after you himself, he wouldn’t waste time casting an elaborate spell like this one. He’d simply incapacitate you and drain your blood.” Bryn took another sip of coffee.
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