Valerie was alive. Some part of her was alive, and their connection still held. That knowledge made him feel strange, almost breathless. Valerie’s eyes were closed as she rested her head on the table top, blood pooling in front of her, dripping off the white table and landing on the ground. This was not simply a nosebleed. He grabbed the napkins from beside Valerie, shoving the man out of the way and tried to stop her bleeding.
She was limp as a rag doll, unresisting as he tilted her head and pinched her nose. It could not be a coincidence. Remind her of the past and have her bleed all over the table and pass out.
Was it internal? He had a sudden fear that she might be hemorrhaging, and wondered if they should call an ambulance? Wait. That didn’t make sense. This wasn’t reality. Sure it looked like reality, felt like reality…but this was a mirage. An illusion.
But he did not know what the consequences would be if she died here.
His hands were covered in bright, red blood. His heart started to pound for another reason, human emotion making him feel shame and disgust at the blood lust that would hit at any moment. She was dying, and he would want to drink her blood.
Any moment now.
Wait. He should be feeling it already. But he was not. Lucas jerked backward, tripped over a chair and fell to the ground. Which hurt!
Hurt?
The situation was utterly bizarre. A quick survey of the shop showed that the workers and customers were frozen, as if this were a movie halted. They all stared at Valerie but did not move. And Valerie was still sitting at the table, unconscious, blood coming out of her steadily while the room around him began to darken.
As if he were at the theater, and this was the end of the act.
“Valerie!” he yelled, and the response was pain.
Sharp and close.
A knife slicing through the muscle of his arm greeted him when he returned to reality. Valerie was gone and Virginia stood before him, still wearing Valerie’s flesh. She held the blade in her hand and smiled at him. His body felt flayed alive.
Then Virginia hunched over, one hand at her head as if it hurt, and the other covering her face. The scent of blood hit him, bloodlust rising within him sharply. Blood dripped through her hands, coming out of her nose and even her eyes.
“Cerdewellyn,” she called weakly and then again, in a louder voice as she dropped to her knees.
Cerdewellyn appeared from nowhere and went to Virginia, dropping down next to her, forcing her to look at him. “It hurts,” she said with a whimper.
“What happened?” Cerdewellyn asked her.
“Nothing. I don’t know. I was here and then there was just…pain. It is coming from her. I can feel it.” Virginia started to cry. “What if she comes back? What if I can’t keep this body?”
Cerdewellyn pulled her close, and he could hear the man whispering in Fey, telling her she would be all right. At least, that’s what he assumed Cerdewellyn was telling her.
“Once I have the Sard, no one will be able to harm you. Your body will be restored to you, and we will start again. I am close, my love. Come and rest for a while. He is not going anywhere.”
“I can make him tell me where it is. I just need a little more time,” Virginia whispered.
Cer kissed her on the forehead. “Of course. Tomorrow. Hundreds of years we have waited. What is another few hours? You must stay strong so that Valerie does not awaken and fight you.” And then he scooped her up and carried her out of the dungeon, ignoring Lucas utterly.
Tears coursed down his cheeks unbidden. In fact, he hated himself for it. It made no sense to be emotional in this situation. How did people do this on a daily basis? Live and function while their feelings were just waiting to consume them. It was dreadful. He turned his attention to what was important.
Valerie was alive. He had found her once, and he could find her again. It was also clear that what hurt Valerie also hurt Virginia. There must be a way that he could use that to his advantage, but how?
He suspected that Virginia knew nothing of Valerie’s little world. He thought of it almost as a bubble, a little place somewhere inside of her where Valerie was…living? Hiding? Recovering? Perhaps even regrouping so she could make a return.
He didn’t know, couldn’t even guess, but the fact that she had almost died, that the world she had created for herself began to crumble as soon as he forced the truth on her, worried him. Mental pain caused physical harm.
And she knew nothing of her past. So what was she doing? Was it a defensive mechanism that her mind had created to keep Virginia from taking her over? And a scarier thought, one he did not know how to deal with, what if she had just run away?
What if that man who’d been so concerned about her and eaten sweets with her was what she really wanted. Human, boring and in love with her. If that was what she truly wanted, how would he ever convince her to come back?
Chapter 17
VIRGINIA RETURNED to him all too soon, coming back for more blood and his strength. She tortured him, made him weep, punished him for his past and his mistakes; but he never went back to that place, that nirvana, where Valerie was.
He did not know how to get there. And as the days passed, and he became more and more dependent upon the empathic blood—he wondered if he had imagined it all. Perhaps he’d never seen Valerie at all. What if seeing her again was something he had wanted so dearly that he had lived a fantasy.
Virginia was becoming stronger, using his power, her own, and undoubtedly Cerdewellyn’s to gain strength. All he had now were the moments she appeared. If he became free and she called him, he would respond. If she sent him nightmares, he would dream. His chance at free will or freedom was almost gone. The only chance was to get Valerie back, but he did not know how he had gotten to her before. He’d been…abused by Virginia, more vulnerable and susceptible to pain than any time since. The shock that Valerie was gone had left him defenseless in a way he had not been since. Was that the answer? That he had to succumb to the worst torment, let her plunder him and break him down, in order to get to Valerie?
There was an unfortunate element of justice to it, if that were true.
A terrible idea took shape in his mind, the rightness of it making him feel light-headed even as fear made his limbs tremble. Virginia had no pity within her. She wanted his death, and he could see the desire for it shining out of her eyes with the brightness of love.
Do it. Do not be weak now. And yet he did not want to say it. He wondered if he would survive what she would do to him if he told her his weakness. If he opened himself up, became unable to keep her out.
He did not know if it were the only way to see Valerie again. His only chance to bring her back. And then a moment of recklessness and peace overcame him, as if he’d been touched by the hand of God and offered a way to salvation.
The truth was that it did not matter if he saw Valerie again, for that was what he wanted. One as wicked as he, had no business wanting things, or aiming for his own self-interest. He would do this, because sacrificing himself to try to get Valerie back, was the right thing to do.
Virginia was humming, touching him lightly, almost petting him as she contemplated what torture to inflict upon him next. It took him two tries to get the words out. “I can give you the keys to my soul.”
Virginia rolled her eyes. “I have that. I have your memories, have subjected you to pain after pain. I already own you,” she said and ran her hand down his cheek possessively. Did Cerdewellyn know how much time she spent down here, torturing him? The thrill she got from it?
Lucas caught her gaze, saw her breath catch. “You are young, so let me inform you about remorse. We all have it. But it is unequal. You make me relive things that were wrong, and I feel the physical pain of it. But the emotional toll…I did not care for those people. I weep for them, but those memories will not destroy me. But everyone, even the worst villain, has something that will destroy them. Some memories they cannot survive.”
She tapped
her finger against her lip. “What you are afraid of the most? Your grief? Why would you tell me that?”
“You do not need my reasons.”
Virginia smiled coyly. “Very soon I shall have them anyway. Whether you tell me or not. Did you love her? Is that why you are giving up?”
“I am dead. I do not love.” Is that what is happening? Am I giving up?
She squinted at him. “You are lying to me. You think to trick me somehow.”
“Vampires do not love, not really. We desire, and we covet. We become infatuated and jealous, but it is not love. If I were…mortal, I believe I would love her. The secret to my soul? The reason I have killed for centuries? Vengeance. For my family. My wife and daughter. My son. All of them were killed by vampires. I vowed that I would avenge them. That is what set me on my path of destruction. Not hate, but love.”
Her eyes glittered like twinkling stars, and an anticipatory smile quirked her lips. She did not care for his motivation; all she wanted was to cause him pain. He looked down at Valerie's wrist and felt fear slide through him.
Fear.
Lucas bit deep and swallowed. The time for regrets and hesitation was over. Lucas felt her thrust inside his mind and gasped at her strength. He could feel her in his mind, ripping through doors and breaking windows into his soul, all the time looking for it, plundering, and wanting to find that last door, the final one that he had held so deep inside of him that he’d forgotten about it.
He was nothing.
Lost.
Virginia pawed through his mind, and his every instinct was to fight, to build up his mental walls and keep her out. Shield himself from her attack. Snarl in return and declare war.
But he didn’t. Lucas left himself open, used every ounce of willpower he had to let her do what she would with him. She reached that door and opened it, filled up the cavity of emptiness inside of him. He saw his daughter, Anna, flash by him, saw her joyful smile and blond curls, and it made him flinch.
“It is true,” she said, and he heard the satisfaction in her voice. She was like a murderer in a house at night, pausing, listening for the slightest sound, wondering if she had gotten them all. He was the last survivor. He was the faint sound in the dark, like a child’s plea, begging to be spared. She found that innocent version of him, the good man he’d once been, and she studied him curiously.
And he heard her clear as a bell, as she passed down judgment upon him. “That is the totality of your soul, Lucaius Tiberius Junius. The moment of your grief that you never healed from and that stalks you like a pestilence. You grieve for your children. Who are so distant that no one would know their names, could find no hint of bone or flesh. Have you thought about that, Lucaius? How time treated them when you were the one to carry on? Beautiful, strong and deadly. Each and every day you became more so, and every day they were lying in the dark, underground, decaying, and they did not know what had become of you. The monster you let yourself become. From the moment they were born to the moment they died and became nothing but earth. Think of all the things you could have done differently so that they might have lived. Live it, Lucaius. Live it until breaks you.”
Lucas was there: He could smell the closed up room and smoky fire where his daughter was born. Hear her first cry, and how small and light she was when he held her in his arms. The soft skin and blue eyes. Love surged within him, followed closely by pain and grief. He could see it all, feel it all, and he wanted to leave, and he wanted to stay more than anything in sixteen hundred years.
They aged and grew before his very eyes. Happy and loving, and all the time the danger was coming closer, looming and growing in the shadows…And then the night came where they died. They were in their beds, and he saw them die, felt the dirt under his fingernails as he pawed through the earth and laid them to rest. But this time was different. He didn’t get up and walk away, didn’t become a creature of the night, soulless and savage, determined to slay every creature he encountered until the world was safe again.
Instead, he stayed there, buried in the earth with them. He saw the bugs come for them, saw their clothes disintegrate, saw them return to a state of dust, and she made it last, made their loss go on for an eternity. A torture even he would have shied away from.
“I liked that,” she said from very far way, and he smelled his own blood on her breath, as his mind and body pitched. “I want you to do it again.” And she set it up, from start to finish, his children being born to the moment they were beyond ruin, until Lucas wanted nothing else but to die, to have it stop. He would have given everything to make it end.
But he had nothing left to give. Nothing to fight with, no means of defending himself because he had given every last piece of armor to her. So she could forge it into a weapon and stab him deep. His lips shaped Valerie's name, wanting to say it, hoping he wouldn’t forget that he’d made this gamble for a reason. But his children caught him with dead arms and kept him in the earth with them, stole his words and his senses, his plans and his memories.
His children lay back down in the earth and took him with them, holding him there with nothing but grief, as the bugs returned, nibbling away, growing strong on his children’s death. And he cried, and he prayed, for the first time in hundreds upon hundreds of years—Lucas prayed to die.
*****
Valerie stumbled to the faculty bathroom and splashed water on her face, wetting a cloth and going into one of the stalls. She put the lid down and sat, body trembling. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She closed her eyes, and she saw him again. The mystery man who had shown up once before.
You know me, he’d said.
You toy with death, he’d said.
Then what was his name if she knew him so damn well? Valerie put a wet paper towel against her forehead.
Death.
She could see him, trapped behind her eyes. See him in a dark dungeon and chained to a wall, but he wasn’t screaming anymore. He was limp, body fallen forward as though he were dead, and that was too much. It made everything impossible, made her want to rush out into traffic and end it all. Which was insane. And so she sat here instead, hoping to get herself together, hoping to make the panic end.
I have to help him. That was stupid. He wasn’t real. He wasn’t being hurt, and he wasn’t dying. It’s just a symptom of being crazy. Just a little unwell like the Matchbox Twenty song.
She didn’t know him, all she knew was this—school, her house and how none of it felt quite right.
But he’s mine, she thought irrationally, and she found she was crying. You know me, she thought again. His voice accusing, demanding of her. You know my name. Did she? Did she know his name? Did she know him?
He was hers and he was in pain, and she wanted him. Wanted him here with her, wanted to save him. Dammit. Her nose started to bleed again, blood coming fast and steady. She grabbed toilet paper, but kept bleeding through it. She could die here, she thought suddenly, and she wouldn’t see him again.
You know me.
You know me.
You know me.
She let the blood fall, gave up on trying to stop it, and thought about him, about what she knew, what she’d seen. “Lucas,” she said, and felt as if a spike were driven into her brain. “Lucas,” she called again, voice getting weaker.
“You’re mine,” she said, and the floor rushed up to meet her as she started to convulse.
Chapter 18
JACK’S HEART pounded, and he felt sick. No, he felt like a kid again. One who was defenseless. Helpless. Fuck that. He wasn’t helpless. Jack heard a noise, the barest scrape of sound, but it took him back to his childhood, made him feel like he was there all over again, being carried by Marion, the way her bony shoulder had dug into his stomach and ribs, the sound of her skirts as she carried him slung over her shoulder.
Oh God.
And then he had a peculiar thought. Peculiar because it was clear. It cut through the paranoia and the terror that were swamping him. This is the mom
ent you’ve been waiting for your whole life.
Vengeance.
He had dreamed about it and sacrificed for it. He’d given up Valerie, given up life and love. He had isolated himself from everything, in hopes of getting close enough to kill Marion. And now it was here. His big chance.
It’s about fucking time.
Rachel was staring at him, hands on her hips, head cocked. “Look Kujo, I know you’re ready to slaughter and run, but we have a purpose here. We have to get the information. Killing her comes later.”
Jack crowded close to her, knew he was vibrating with anger. He hoped she felt it, like ants crawling on her skin. He wanted her to understand every word as if he were shouting it at her. “She is mine.” His voice was gravel, scraping the lowest register.
She swallowed, dropped her head. “I know.”
He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “Promise again. Promise now that we are bound, and I can feel your sincerity.”
She looked into his eyes, and Jack wasn’t sure what he saw there. If she were being honest or not. She was either good for him, or she’d kill him. He prayed his baser instincts had chosen right. That for some damned reason, he had seen something worthwhile in Rachel and that it was real.
She nodded jerkily, licked her lips, voice thick. “I promise. You can kill Marion when we get the information that we need.”
His shoulders drooped, tension flooding out of him. He stepped closer to her, putting his head on her shoulder, resting his forehead against her neck.
She shivered.
“That’s not the hard part. The decision is nothing. Now we have to do it,” she said.
“Funny,” he replied, lips brushing the column of her neck. “That’s the only part I feel confident about. What comes after, I have no idea. But killing her…I know that part.”
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