Nathan looked up, true concern on his face. “I had no idea this bothered you so much.”
“Well, it does.” I shook my head. “All of it does.”
He returned to my side, this time a little more cautious. “Don’t let him get to you. You’re putting a lot of importance on what he thinks of you.”
“I know.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “And I know that has to worry you. ’Cause of what happened before.”
“What do you mean?” Bless his heart, he honestly didn’t understand.
“When I left and went to Cyrus.” I looked away from the hurt in Nathan’s eyes. “I wouldn’t blame you if you thought I’d do it again.”
His expression darkened. He seemed truly wounded that I would think he would think I was capable of that kind of betrayal twice. “Don’t ask me to mistrust you. Carrie, you went to him because you were saving my life. I have no doubt that if you were put in that situation again, you’d do the same thing. It’s one of the reasons I—”
My heart leaped up like a puppy begging for table scraps. It must have shown on my face, because he quickly cleared his throat and looked away.
“Well, that I trust you, anyway.” He turned away and headed toward the door. “I’m going to get some blood. Want any?”
I patted my stomach a little too enthusiastically and injected syrupy cheer into my words. “Nope, made a pig of myself already.”
“Okay,” he answered, in a tone that clearly conveyed my cheerful act wasn’t working. The door clicked shut behind him and I slumped on the bed.
It’s not that I wished him to think I was going to go tearing back to Cyrus at any moment. I wanted Nathan to trust me. But another part of me wanted to protect him from myself. He was clinging to the belief I’d only gone to Cyrus before because Nathan’s life was on the line. The truth was, I’d have ended up there, anyway.
Now, Cyrus was human. There wasn’t anything left of the monster he had been. I’d been afraid of him then, but oddly in love with the bit of humanity I’d glimpsed beneath his surface. Now that he was all humanity, I couldn’t trust myself where he was concerned, and I certainly didn’t want Nathan to.
“Why do you want to go with me?” Bella asked.
Max ground his teeth. First Nathan wanted to keep him from heading east, now Bella? “Because you can’t take care of yourself.”
“I have the same assassin training as you,” she pointed out.
“Is this national See How High Max Harrison’s Blood Pressure Will Go day?” He slammed a wadded T-shirt into his duffel bag and turned back to his dresser. It helped him avoid the sight of Bella lounging on his bed. “If the Oracle gets inside your head again, do you think you’ll be able to take care of it on your own?”
He jumped at the touch of her warm hands on his shoulders, unexpected, as he hadn’t heard her leave the bed. “Stop worrying about something you cannot anticipate or change.”
He didn’t want to take comfort in her touch, but the sick, needy child in him forced his hand up to cover one of hers. “You’re really going to exploit that whole I-can’t-say-no-to-you thing, aren’t you?”
Gently, she turned him to face her. Instead of answering, she rose on tiptoe and brushed her lips across the corner of his mouth.
“Don’t.” He pulled her hands away and forced them down.
She smiled, her practiced, seductive smile. “I thought you said you could not tell me no.”
“I can on this.” He swallowed to wet his suddenly dry throat, and turned away. “I can when it’s for my own good.”
When she moved, his suffering body felt the distance. He heard her flop down on his bed and sigh. “So, you will follow me to Boston and put yourself in danger, but you will not touch me?”
“Nothing personal. I just can’t separate my emotions from my dick where you’re concerned.” He ducked the pillow she hurled at him.
“Do not be crude!” Her outrage couldn’t cover her laughter, but even that had to fade, leaving nothing but uncomfortable silence. “Do you love me?”
Max grabbed a few more shirts and another pair of jeans and returned to the bed to cram them into his bag. He couldn’t look at her, and waited as long as possible to respond. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
“I told you that you did.” Was that smug satisfaction in her voice?
“I said maybe.” He sounded a bit more gruff than he’d intended, and it helped rebuild a little of the wall he’d let crumble where she was concerned. “So, what’s the plan?”
“We will have to take your car.” She shrugged. “As for everything else, I have no plan.”
Max zipped his bag shut forcefully. “Let’s go to Marcus’s library and go online. We’ll find directions and get driving.”
“At night only.” She raised her hands helplessly at his sharp glance. “I do not know how to drive. My people…we do not use cars.”
No, you just hang out the passenger window with your tongue waving in the wind. Proud of his restraint for only thinking his latest dog joke instead of speaking it, he folded his arms across his chest. “Fine, we’ll have to stay somewhere during daylight hours.” Max eyed the cigar box on his nightstand. It held about two thousand dollars in cash. That would be enough to buy her food, bribe someone for extra blood if he ran out, and put them up. “Are you still packed?”
“I do not travel with much.” A strange expression crossed her face, something between sadness and anger. She shook it off with a laugh. “I do not have much.”
For some bizarre reason, he wanted to ask her why that was, why she didn’t have a closet stuffed with clothes and enough makeup to whore up a whole brothel—not that she needed it—but he couldn’t form the words. She’d made it clear to him they were separate entities and would remain so just about forever. That kind of distance didn’t invite the free exchange of personal information.
Not that Max was interested in that touchy-feely crap, anyway. They had a job to do, and it would be a lot easier if they both ignored the fact they’d made the dirty bad fun.
An unwanted image of her flushed, sweat-dampened face contorted in a grimace of pleasure filled his mind. He could almost taste the salt on her skin, feel her hips pushing up beneath him—
“I’d like to leave at sundown. After we talk to Nathan and Carrie,” he blurted, to clear the vision from his mind. The last thing he needed was a sudden, reckless spate of sexual hallucinations.
“Yes, I am interested to hear how Cyrus has fared since I saw him last.” Bella said these words as if Cyrus was a friend who’d recently moved out of town, not a soulless killing machine.
Max had never actually felt his eyes bug out before, and he hoped he would never feel it again. “Why the hell do you care?”
She frowned at him, as if he was the one being weird and irrational. “Because I have thought of him and worried about him. Is that so wrong?”
“Um, yeah,” Max exploded. “He’s a murderer!”
“Former murderer,” she pointed out, rolling her eyes. “You sound very much like Nathan.”
Max scowled at her. “Usually, that comment would get you decked. Luckily for you—”
“You do not hit women?” she finished for him.
He shook his head. “No. I was going to say, ‘Luckily for you, I’m on Nathan’s side on this one.’ Ever compare me to him again and I’ll pop you one.”
“You are much too hard on him.” She unzipped the duffel bag and pulled out two T-shirts. “These look horrible on you.”
“They do not.” He stuffed them back in. “And Nathan is too hard on himself. I love the guy—not in a gay way or anything—and I hate to see him mired down in guilt. I mean, you were there for that ritual thing. He managed to get over killing his wife. What’s left?”
Bella’s shocked laugh illustrated her disbelief. “Nathan is by no means over his wife’s death. He accepts that she forgives him, and allows her spirit to rest, but he holds himself responsible. And her death is not
the only burden he bears.”
“Yeah, I know, everyone has emotional scars.” Max snorted. “Thanks for that, Oprah.”
Bella didn’t react to the barb. “Everyone has scars. It is how we heal them that matters. Nathan has worked to heal himself, and you would mock him?”
Not knowing how to respond, Max watched her walk toward the door. She paused, one hand on the door frame, and turned just slightly, not quite facing him. “Do not mock him for achieving what you cannot.”
Before he could think up a smart-assed reply, she turned the corner and was gone.
Seven:
Homecoming
“I think we should go back to Grand Rapids.”
Nathan’s voice dragged me, unwilling, from my sleep. We’d stayed up most of the day doing, well, what we usually did when we were alone with a convenient horizontal surface, and I was exhausted. I knew it was long past sundown, but my body protested the intrusion of consciousness. I muttered a groggy “What?” and struggled to stay awake for the answer.
He touched the side of my face, lifting a strand of my mussed hair and smoothing it against the pillow. “We would be just as safe there as here. And we’d have more research material at our disposal. Not to mention there’s the store to run and I’ve got inventory scheduled for next week—”
“Stop,” I mumbled. “Stop talking.”
He paused. “What do you think?”
“I think you should stop talking and let me sleep.” I turned away from him, onto my side, groaning when he leaned over me to snap on the bedside lamp. The light cut through my eyelids and I groggily sat up. “Don’t you think it’s a little silly to go back to the one place the Soul Eater knows to find you?”
“I think it’s silly to let my fear run my business into the ground. It’s not as if I have centuries of vast wealth to fall back on.” There was a bitter note to his voice, and I knew he thought of his sire. “Besides, you’ll have a better chance of manipulating Cyrus for information if you can see him face-to-face.”
“Manipulate him?” I frowned. “You think I’m manipulative?”
Nathan smiled—no, half smiled—and dropped a kiss on my shoulder. “I think you’re smart enough to do what you have to. Unless you don’t think he’ll be of use to us?”
I chewed my lip. Of course I thought Cyrus would be of use to us. Oh, I had doubts he was involved with his father, but he’d told me himself that he’d been seeing Dahlia. And if there was one thing Dahlia wanted, it was the kind of power the Soul Eater could offer her. If I had to use Cyrus to get to her, I would. “I think you’re right. I think we should go back.”
Later that evening, when Nathan, Bella, Max and I had done the requisite cell number confirmations and synchronizing of watches—okay, not really, but at times the three can lapse into their Movement regiment training—Nathan went to load up the van and Bella went with him to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. Max and I were left to our own devices in the foyer.
It only took a couple seconds before the realization that we’d been alone in this very room not long ago crashed through my brain like a rampaging wildebeest. At the exact same time, I saw an uncharacteristic flush color Max’s face.
“So. This is weird.” It was all I could think of to break the silence.
Max didn’t appreciate it. “You know, sometimes it’s better just not to talk.”
I frowned at him. “Hey, so we made a mistake. It’s not a big deal. At least, not a big enough one to ruin our friendship over.”
“I know, I know.” He went to the plastic console beside the door, which looked painfully anachronistic among the antique furnishings, and flipped it open. “But it wasn’t a mistake. It’s just that…”
“You’ve never had anyone you’ve gotten physical with stay in your life before,” I finished for him.
He gave me an exasperated look, the one he often gives me when I’m a hundred percent sure I’m right. Turning back to the alarm console, he sighed. “And now I have two of them.”
“Well, you’ll only be saddled with one of them for the next couple of weeks, if that’s any consolation.” It was certainly better than having him shut up here any longer. All the memories of his late sire brought out a morose side of Max I’d never seen before and certainly didn’t like. I wasn’t sure it would do him any good to be stuck with Bella for an extended period of time—their mutual attraction was equaled only by their mutual desire to drive each other insane with rage—but at least the object of his unrequited love would be a living and breathing person.
“When we’re talking about her, could you refrain from using words like saddle?” He punched in a few more codes and a loud, electronic beep sounded. “We’re locked in.”
I laughed. “Oh, good.”
“It is good. It will buy us some time before she gets back, so you can give me some advice.” Max motioned for me to follow him to the couch.
“Advice?” I sat at one end of the sofa and curled my feet under my legs so we didn’t actually touch. Immature though it might seem, I couldn’t get past what we’d almost done.
He nodded, his body posture as rigid and withdrawn as mine. “About Bella.”
For a moment, I was confused. “I don’t think she’s going to have any lasting medical implications, if that’s what you mean. Though she is a werewolf, and I can’t claim to have a lot of experience treating them.”
“No, nothing like that.” Max looked around the room as if Bella were going to jump from behind a potted plant or something, and take us by surprise. “She’s acting weird. You know. Like a woman.”
I rolled my eyes. “Perish the thought.”
Max didn’t quite get my sarcasm. “It’s making me crazy. One minute she acts like she wants to be with me and I’m the one rejecting her. The next, she’s got this barbed wire fence and barking dogs around her, like I can’t even ask her the simplest questions.”
“And here I was assuming you didn’t care about her.”
Stabbing his fingers through his hair, he groaned. “I don’t!”
“And you make it perfectly clear.” Men. Idiots. “Did you ever think maybe she has had a change of heart, but she’s afraid of your rejection?”
“I told her I wouldn’t reject her!” He lowered his voice with obvious difficulty. Clearly, he wanted to scream the house down. “What else am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know.” And I didn’t. If I were the relationship guru, I wouldn’t have spent the last four months stumbling through an equally bad situation. “Bella obviously doesn’t have much experience communicating with the opposite sex. You don’t have much experience communicating with the opposite sex without talking dirty. Maybe this trip will be good for both of you.”
“Yeah, until I die of lack of oxygen to the brain caused by a permanent hard-on.” He stood and paced. “What’s taking them so long?”
“Maybe they’re screwing in the back of the van,” I suggested drolly.
“That’s not funny!”
“No, but you are. You’re completely out of your mind over her, you want her to be out of her mind over you and she probably is, but neither of you wants to make a move. It’s so junior high, Max!” I stood and stalked to the door. “How do I get out of here?”
“Are you pissed at me?” Disbelief filled his voice, as if the idea was completely unfathomable.
“No. I’m just tired of watching you run in circles over someone when you’re not committed enough to tell her how you feel.” The second I said it, I realized how painfully his actions mirrored Nathan’s. “Never mind.”
But it was too late to take it back. He shut down immediately. “Listen, I’ll call you from the road. If anything comes up. If you can be bothered to listen.”
“Max!” My heart crumbled at his words. Maybe just at the realization of how selfish I’d been to cast him as the villain just because Nathan had hurt me in the past.
Max shook his head. “That was low. But you’re going to have t
o talk to him sometime.”
I know. Before I said it, however, someone pounded on the door. It was Nathan, uncharacteristically cheerful. “Hie ye hence to the van, wench, afore the sun comes up!”
“You really want to spend eternity with that guy?” Max’s scowl bent into a reluctant smile.
“I’m having second thoughts.”
In the garage, the four of us said our goodbyes. Nathan grudgingly shook Bella’s hand—I could picture the word toenails flashing through his disgusted mind—and Max hugged me.
He whispered in my ear, squeezing me tighter as though it would help me comprehend. “Don’t waste time on this, Carrie. The four of us might not have much left.”
“Same to you,” I whispered back.
Nathan and I had pulled out of the garage and onto Wabash Avenue before he asked me about the exchange. “So, what did Max say to you by the car?”
I could tell he was dying to know, but I couldn’t share. To share would mean to explain, and to explain was to launch us into a confession I didn’t want to make.
I smiled brightly, teasing, “It’s a secret.”
Nathan chuckled and turned back to the road.
At around midnight, Grand Rapids emerged from behind a curve as northbound I-96 turned into the Gerald R. Ford Freeway. When I was a child, I used to pass a few boring minutes in school pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes and watching the grid of sparkling lights flare up in the dark behind my eyelids. That was how the city looked at night, with my eyes opened.
“Are you awake?” Nathan asked gently from the driver’s seat. He’d refused my offer of splitting the driving, citing my “long day” as reason for being rewarded with some extra sleep on the trip.
I nodded and smiled. I’d dozed a bit during the boring stretch of highway from I-94 to here, but I’d spent most of it watching Nathan. He’d hummed some of the time, occasionally singing soft lyrics from a song I didn’t recognize, probably some relic-of-the-seventies classic rock monstrosity waxing poetic about Lord of the Rings. Every now and then he would smile and turn to look at me, and I’d close my eyes to feign sleep. I didn’t often get a chance to observe him without his knowing, and I couldn’t pass it up.
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