Blood Ties Omnibus

by Jennifer Armintrout

  “Father is indeed like son.” Nathan suddenly turned serious. “They are very much alike, Carrie. If something happens, if things go wrong…if you’re forced to confront him, don’t underestimate him. He is very manipulative and seductive.”

  Seductive? I’d seen the Soul Eater a total of one time in the flesh. He’d been half-decayed and reeking of death, calling out for blood and souls in an inhuman chorus of horror. I’d seen him in memories, but he’d been a filthy peasant then, and dung is not a look I find attractive on a man. “I’ll try to resist his charms.”

  Nathan didn’t laugh with me. “It isn’t a joking matter, Carrie.”

  For the first time, he purposely forced his own memory into my mind. At first, I didn’t realize what was happening. I was used to the feeling of sharing memories with Cyrus, and seeing them through blood. I’d even seen Nathan’s memories via his dead wife’s soul, but I’d never, in all the time I’d known him, actually seen something Nathan had chosen to show me.

  In an unpleasant flash, I went from sitting calmly on the living room floor to running half-naked across a vast lawn. The rain slashed Nathan’s face and his feet slipped on the grass. Behind him, the sound of barking dogs increased as they gained ground. The tall iron fence, impossibly faraway, mocked him with the chance of freedom. He was doomed.

  The dogs were at his heels now. He turned, flashing his fangs at them, feeling guilty and absurd at having to use the tools that monster had given him. More guilty at the thought that he could kill one of these animals and feed. Hunger gnawed his guts, the intensity mounting as his steps slowed and he admitted defeat on the cold, wet lawn. Despair crashed over him. He would never survive here.

  Not that he wanted to. Not after what he’d done to Marianne. He thought of her body, still lying in the ballroom, and he fell to the grass weeping, heedless of the dogs that tore at his flesh. They wouldn’t bite for long. They didn’t like the taste.

  Rough hands dragged him to his feet. “Take him in to the master,” a voice ordered. Nathan knew they were tiring of his constant escape attempts.

  He didn’t resist as they dragged him across the lawn, up to the house. I didn’t recognize the place, but I assumed it was still the house in Brazil. The palm trees lining the walk gave it away.

  Inside, they took him to a large parlor. A man in a deep red robe stood at the fireplace. I couldn’t see his face, but his white hair hung in a long braid down his back. I recognized Cyrus, lounging in a chair beside the fire. Annoyance crossed his face at the sight of Nathan. I’d expected a more volatile reaction, considering his wife had been killed as a sacrifice to the Soul Eater’s hunger in Nathan’s place. Then Nathan’s gaze fell to the sling that cradled Cyrus’s arm, and the bruises that marred the shadowed side of his face. Apparently, Nathan had already exacted some revenge.

  “Kneel before the master,” the guard holding him commanded, shoving him toward the man in red. Nathan stood his ground.

  “Kneel!” Cyrus kicked him, an agonizing blow to the kidneys, dead and useless though they might be. Nathan crumpled to the floor.

  “Enough!” The man in red turned, his eyes furious as he regarded his son. Jacob Seymour, his body refreshed from feasting on his daughter-in-law, turned his gaze to his new fledgling. His sharp, regal features softened. “Nolen. Nolen, Nolen. Why are we still running?”

  Nathan hung his head. Shame filled him, absurd though it seemed. He hated this monster who’d taken Marianne and taken his mortal life. He hated that he could still taste Jacob’s blood on his mouth, that he craved more. And he hated the part of himself that kept him from escaping.

  It shouldn’t be impossible to leave this house, but it was. There was pain, physical pain when he was separated from his sire. The word burned like a brand through his mind, which was also under this man’s control.

  The Soul Eater stooped, elegantly somehow, his moves fluid and spiderlike. “You haven’t fed in so long. You look positively worn-out.”

  His hands on Nathan’s shoulder’s took away some of the pain and longing. It sickened Nathan and comforted him at the same time.

  I could see now what he meant by “seductive.” The lines were blurring in Nathan’s mind, crucial lines between torment and relief, what he wanted and what he was forced to do.

  “Bring him something,” the Soul Eater commanded one of his guards, straightening. “Something…pretty.”

  “And that screams,” Cyrus added cruelly.

  Nathan struggled to stand, but he’d expended the last of his energy trying to flee.

  Jacob straightened, bringing Nathan gently to his feet as he did so. “Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you deny yourself the satisfaction of feeding?”

  “I don’t know,” Nathan half sobbed. He shook from cold and exhaustion.

  The Soul Eater wrapped Nathan in his arms, cradling him against his cold chest. “It hurts me that you would rather die than stay with me. You’re like a son. My son.”

  Cyrus scoffed. “Lucky him.”

  Contempt radiated off Jacob Seymour like a wave. It even reached Nathan through the blood tie, though it wasn’t directed at him. “Better than a son, in some ways.”

  The guard returned, pushing a girl through the doors. Nathan turned, instantly aware of the scent of fear and blood.

  The girl wrestled with the guard who held her captive. Her arms were bound behind her back. The buttons of her dress were fastened out of order and the thin fabric hung, limp and dirty, around her body. Her feet were bare, and bloody with scratches.

  “This one has tried to escape a few times, as well,” the Soul Eater said, stroking Nathan’s hair. “It’s your right, you know. You’re not like them anymore.”

  Above the strip of cloth that gagged her, the girl’s eyes widened. Her hair was dark, like Marianne’s.

  “Do what you will with her. She is yours.” The Soul Eater stepped back, and Nathan turned, looking for reassurance, an absolution, maybe.

  The girl screamed, and he ran. He was on her in an instant, holding her down, whispering apologies that weren’t meant for her, before he tore into her throat.

  And I was in the apartment again, shivering.

  “You know I would never do those things, not on my own,” Nathan said, his voice pleading. “But that is what he’s like. He finds your weakness and he chips away…. You don’t know he’s doing it.”

  “I’ll be careful.” But I couldn’t stop shaking, and I couldn’t get the sound of the girl’s screams out of my head. Or the touch of the Soul Eater. Though his hands had been on Nathan, they might as well have been clutching me.

  And I feared they soon would be.

  Twenty-One:

  From Bad…

  T hey came for them, eventually. Max had no idea what time it was. Since the accident, time seemed to be constantly slipping away.

  When the door opened, Bella woke with a start, her face creased in confusion. Then she seemed to take in her surroundings, and horror replaced it. “No!”

  “Hey, you stop that,” he admonished. “Have I ever died before?”

  Really, it was going to be hard enough to get tortured without having to remember her sobbing and wailing as they dragged him from this room. He’d much rather hold the image of ice-cold-bitch Bella making fun of him for being a pussy, while they did God knew what to him.

  “Good morning, good morning,” a mocking voice called from the door. A vampire stepped in, cocky smile pasted on his face.

  The smile that usually preceded a gory, horrible death for the smiler. Things were looking up.

  Two more vampires followed him, both carrying crossbows. They had stakes in holsters at their hips, like gunslingers-in-training, and they acted bored with their work, a sure sign they were overconfident.

  Bella noticed, too. Her despair turned at once to flinty resolve. She mouthed, “The one on the right first,” kissed Max and wheeled herself out of the way.

  The one on the right. A nervous guy about an inch
shorter than Max, with his finger already itching to pull the trigger and send a bolt into Max’s heart. He would be a problem. New guys.

  The first one who’d entered unlocked Max’s shackles. “Get on your feet.”

  He then marched him to the door, a little more roughly than necessary. Oh yeah, he was begging for death.

  “I love you, baby,” Max called over his shoulder. He got a last glimpse of Bella as they shoved him out of the room.

  One of them stayed behind. That threw Max off a little. He didn’t want some vampire alone with Bella, where he couldn’t protect her.

  “What are you doing?” he heard her ask.

  He didn’t like the reply. “You’ve got to get ready. The Oracle wants you presentable for the entertainment.”

  Great. Max had planned on busting free right there in the hallway, backtracking and grabbing Bella on his way out. This was going to make things more difficult. He scrapped the plan. No way was he leaving without Bella, and he certainly wasn’t going to set off a chain reaction of increased security when he had no clue where she was or how to get to her.

  They marched him down a series of hallways and up a couple sets of stairs. They’d been in a cellar—a huge old one, with arches and support columns you didn’t find in your everyday suburban home. When they reached the surface the air was prickly with daylight. No direct contact, but that morning smell was in the air, and the feeling of wearing too-tight skin.

  They took him to a large room in the center of the second floor, if he’d guessed his location right. The marble floor was cold under his bare feet. They must have taken his shoes when they’d chained him up. The dark wood of the walls stretched to a vast, domed ceiling swimming in ugly, fat angels. He had a feeling the cherubs and seraphim eternally paused in their harp playing to smile down on him weren’t the decor choice of the current owner.

  If they were, he’d enjoy killing her even more.

  The windows were covered over with matching wooden shutters. They were huge, so there was no chance they’d be throwing those open soon, not if they weren’t fond of barbecue. The covered oculus in the center of the ceiling troubled him, however. Especially with the rope that dangled from the shutter.

  Another rope hung from the ceiling, this one passing through a pulley and ending in leather gauntlets. Cocky and Twitchy tied Max’s wrists into the leather cuffs and jerked the rope, hauling him up to his tiptoes.

  “I didn’t peg you guys for the type who’d be into this sort of thing,” he quipped through clenched teeth as his shoulders dislocated. They had him at a real disadvantage now.

  “What did you say to me?” Cocky demanded, grabbing the front of Max’s T-shirt. His feet slipped from beneath him and he spun on the rope, squeezing his eyes tight against the disorienting twirling of the room. Cocky laughed. “Not so tough now, are you?”

  Twitchy laughed with him, but nervously. He had a right to be. Before Max left this place he was going to fuck them up.

  “Get out of here.”

  The quiet command caught the attention of all three vampires, and Max craned his neck on his next turn to see who had issued it.

  Anne ambled slowly through the arched double doors. She’d gotten rid of the feathery coat, but her hair looked the same, a thick fall of springy coils scraped back so tight her skin looked like it might pop off. Max stretched his legs, toes grasping at the slick marble. He managed to stop his spinning, but the effort was hell on his calves.

  “Don’t you look comfy?” Anne observed as she circled him, the buckles on her knee-high combat boots rattling with each step. She regarded him for a moment with an unreadable look, then smiled the same girlish smile she’d always given him when he’d visited Movement headquarters. “Max.”

  “Care Bear.” He tried to nod, but the effect was ruined by his arms stretching above his head. “So, what’s the plan here? Truss me up and let these morons spin me until I vomit to death?”

  She laughed, the unrestrained, mindless laughter of an eternal teenager. “You always were funny.”

  “Apparently not enough to save my ass.” He pulled himself up, the muscles in his arms screaming. “Any chance of letting me down a little? I’m tall enough.”

  “You’re going to be as tall as a pile of ashes when I’m done. The Oracle’s gonna let me kill you.” Her tone implied he should be greatly impressed, or happy for her.

  “Well, why don’t you pull that rope and get it over with?” It was a risk, but he was ninety-nine percent sure she wouldn’t do it. Not yet. “I’m not one for pointless small talk.”

  “Cha, right. Like that’s going to work on me.” She gave a long-suffering sigh. “Not that I’m not used to people underestimating me.”

  Cry me a river, bitch. “Well, that’s kind of why you were such a good assassin. No one saw it coming. Shit, I didn’t think you’d lie to my face and stab me in the back.”

  “I know, right?” Her face lit up in appreciation of his recognition. “People never got it! They think just because I look young, I don’t have the experience or the smarts to pull stuff like this off. Not that sucking up to me is going to get you off the hook or anything, but thanks for, like, getting it.”

  “It appears I live to get things. Like shafted by my supposed friends.” He tugged on the rope. Synthetic. It stretched a little. He could get the balls of his feet down now. And she was so wrapped up in her own drama, she didn’t notice.

  “The Oracle gets it, too.” Anne turned away and walked to a long table at the side of the room. “She says it’s one of my strengths.”

  With a flourish, Anne pulled back the canvas draping the table to reveal an assortment of weapons, branding irons, power tools and surgical implements.

  Keep her talking, Harrison. Keep her talking or your worst trip to the dentist is about to be grossly outdone. He twisted his wrists in the cuffs, but they held. Damn bondage weirdos and their escape-proof fetish gear. “So, what’s her game, anyway? I mean, is she working with the Soul Eater or what?”

  “Oh, please!” Anne snorted when she laughed. “Do you think I’ve never seen a James Bond movie before? Right, I’m going to spill all my secrets to you.”

  “The only reason Bond villains were stupid to spill their secrets was because Bond always got away.” Max tugged the rope for effect. “Not like I’m going anywhere.”

  She cocked her head, considering. “Yeah, okay.”

  Suppressing a sigh of relief when she dropped a cordless drill, Max gave the rope another discreet pull. All he needed was a little more slack…

  But he also needed to hear what she’d tell him.

  “What do you already know?” She eyed him warily.

  This was where playing it cool would come in handy. He had to act as if he was casually interested in the stuff he really wanted to know, but not so casual that she’d decide to quit wasting her time and get on with the torture. “Not much. Why don’t you give me the rundown. It’ll kill some time.”

  “Right, like you don’t just want to keep me from carving into you.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Did you know that the Soul Eater was, like, trying to become a god?”

  “Yeah, that was the message your boss gave us. Right before she broke your back? Remember that?” He gave her a sarcastic look.

  Anne clearly didn’t appreciate it. “Yeah, I remember. Now, do you want to hear the rest of the story or what?”

  He inclined his head. “Continue.”

  “Okay.” After a dramatic pause, she did. “Well, you know how she, like, blew up the Movement? She was talking to me for the whole month that I was healing from when she broke my back. I could hear her voice in my head. So she freed me, I helped her pick off a few Movement staffers, and now I get to be, like, her right hand.”

  “That’s great, but I wasn’t really curious about your life story here. I figured most of that out myself.”

  She rolled her eyes again. “I’m getting there. Anyway, this whole time I’m in a coma, I hear about
how the Soul Eater is trying to become a god, and she’s gonna string him along and make him think she’s helping him when she’s, like, furthering her own agenda.”

  Surprise, surprise. “And that agenda includes?”

  “Chaos.” Anne laughed. “Oh my God, did I ever tell you what I thought about the Movement?”

  “Apparently, you didn’t think too highly of them.” He wriggled his hands again. When her sharp gaze snapped toward his wrists, he shook his head. “I’m just trying to get comfortable. So, the Movement pissed you off enough you’d want the Oracle to have free reign on planet Earth?”

  “Okay, I went from being the highest paid assassin on their roster to being a receptionist. A receptionist? I could have stayed human and done something dumb like that.” She paused. “You know, if I’d been born, like, ten centuries later. But the point is, I was told they had a contingency for when assassins couldn’t work anymore. I didn’t know it meant getting busted down to secretary.”

  “So, you’re going to help her destroy the world because you’re unhappy with your retirement benefits?” Max laughed. “Yeah, no, you’re way more mature than you look.”

  “Oh, shut up. You’re so righteous and everything because you’re not filing papers all day for room and blood.” She crossed her arms and pouted. “Like it matters, anyway. I’m not stupid. I know that once she gets some power, a lot of us will be stupid enough to stick by her. The smart ones, like me, are going to lay low.”

  “And you don’t think she’ll find you?” Here it was. The desperate bid for freedom. He hoped she didn’t peg it as such. “Listen, you can stop all this now. There are Movement people working against you guys, and you’re gonna lose. But if you get me out of here, if you get Bella out of here—”

  “Oh, that’s sweet.” Anne snorted. “You want to save your doggy girlfriend from certain death and you think you can scare me into doing it. Yeah. That’s not going to work. I have a vaultful of money waiting for me, and part of that payment is contingent upon my new boss getting her hands on your illegitimate baby.”