A Fall of Silver (The Redemption Series)
Page 15
After the second peal of the front doorbell faded, Theresa opened the door and studied the remains with a pale face and tightly compressed mouth. “Bring her to the infirmary,” she said at last, waiving them inside.
“Jason...contaminated her.” Quicksilver kept her voice low as she brushed a soft strand of damp hair back from Kathy’s empty face as Kethan carried her down the hallway. The girl looked so young, her pale skin smooth and satiny.
“I’ll take care of it.” Theresa’s expression grew even bleaker.
“I’m sorry,” Quicksilver said, moving ahead of Kethan to grip Theresa’s elbow. “I should’ve stopped it—I should’ve done something. Let me handle it. I told Kethan I would.”
“No. It’s not your responsibility. We gave her the medicine, but she disappeared anyway, a few hours ago. We searched and found the pills under her pillow.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I called your home phone.” Theresa’s voice held no accusation, but Quicksilver felt it, anyway.
I should have been home. If I’d been there, I could have prevented this.
She glanced at Kethan over her shoulder, her eyes burning with pain before she turned back to Theresa. “I was out. You should’ve tried my cell phone.” When she pulled it out of her pocket, she realized she’d turned it off. After she flicked it on, it beeped, informing her of several unheard messages. Her breath caught in her throat as her body swayed with a rush of cold guilt. She’d turned it off! “I’m sorry,” the phone beeped again, “I—the battery is low. Oh, Christ, I’m sorry—I’m a useless idiot! I can’t believe you tried to call me and my damn phone was turned off!”
“It’s not your fault. Obviously, Kathy was determined to go. She tricked us into believing she took the pill, and then she escaped. I doubt you’d have found her in time, even if you had gotten my phone call.” Theresa tried to hug her, but Quicksilver was too consumed with rage at herself to allow any comforting touch. When she pulled away, Theresa asked, “Where did you find her?”
“She was at the park by the Potomac.” Kethan watched her with a look of concern creasing the skin between his brows.
“You see?” Theresa caught her wrist, but Quicksilver shook her off and paced a few steps forward before stopping at the intersection to the hallway that led to the infirmary. “Why would you think she’d go there? Didn’t you find her at Chez Burgers before? There was no way for you to know where they’d go. No one blames you.”
“Well, I blame me.” She rubbed the nape of her neck. The puckered scars felt hard and unnatural under her fingertips. Her head ached with the rhythm of someone pounding nails into a plank. “I was distracted. I left my cell turned off—I meant to plug it in. And I knew I should’ve killed Jason last night, along with Tyler. If I had, Kathy would still be alive.”
Or I shouldn’t have interfered at all. She gritted her teeth and twisted her head, trying to ease the throbbing sensation and pull of the tight muscles in her shoulders.
“Hindsight. It’s easy to play the ‘would-uv, could-uv, should-uv’ game. None of us can predict the future,” Kethan said, “and you can’t kill on the assumption someone might do something wrong.”
“Do something wrong?” She swung toward him. “He killed that seventeen year old girl laying in your arms! Is that wrong enough for you?” The pressure in her head intensified, the throbbing agony driving away the last shreds of sanity. “There’s no negotiating life and death! The only way to deal with vampires is my way. You kill them. Simple. End of story.”
I’m right. I’ve got to be. She turned away, blinking as the humming fluorescents overhead made her eyes water. Shards of light glittered in the dim hallway, interfering with her vision until she realized they were not real, just the dim light reflecting off the tears in her eyes. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Nothing is ever that simple,” he said. “Not when there’s still hope of redemption,” Kethan countered.
“Hope?” She laughed bitterly. “Hope? Haven’t you figured it out yet? There’s no such thing as hope. There’s only what is. Reality. Deal with it.”
“There’s always hope,” Theresa said, her soft voice tinged with sadness. “There must be hope. If you give up hope, you’re giving up any chance for the future.” Her eyes searched Quicksilver’s face. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
“It’s another headache, isn’t it?” Theresa gripped her shoulder. “You should have let the doctor do a CAT scan. We can still—”
“No. It’s just a tension headache or a migraine.”
“It could be more serious—”
“I’m not being poked, prodded, and shoved into a tube just to have some doctor tell me they don’t know what’s wrong and suggest still more tests. It’s just a headache.” She rubbed her face tiredly in the crook of her elbow. The blood beat a huge, bass drum in her head while the pressure increased. She could literally hear the pain singing along the nerves and beneath the bass boom, she could still hear the high, thready sound of Allison crying in the darkness.
Why can’t she leave me alone and let me forget?
Chapter Fourteen
Quicksilver squeezed her hands together, trying to regain control of anything: her emotions, her life. No matter what she did, everything seemed to unravel further, tainted by the past.
She tried not to stare at Kathy Sherman’s body and wonder about the “ifs.”
If she hadn’t interfered in the alley.
If she’d killed both vampires instead of just one.
If a vampire word could be trusted to keep his word and not to attack humans.
If only.
“Quicksilver?” Theresa eyed her warily.
She straightened. “You’re going to take care of the body?”
“Yes, I will. She won’t rise.”
After placing the body in the infirmary, Quicksilver hesitated at the door. She felt as if she were abandoning Kathy, again.
Unsettling as she found it, Quicksilver also had the distinct impression that Kethan would have liked to request that Theresa not behead Kathy to prevent her rising. She locked glances with him, pretending she could influence him enough to leave well enough alone. After a few moments, he shook his head and simply said goodbye to Theresa.
They drove back to Quicksilver’s apartment in silence, both absorbed in their own sad thoughts. Escaping from the car, she ran upstairs for clothing, too tired to argue about where she could, or should, spend the night.
Perhaps a different bed would keep the nightmares away. If only her headache would ease for even a few hours and let her rest. She desperately craved the peace of one night’s quiet sleep.
Peace. The word sounded so…simple.
It echoed through her mind like the distant tolling of a bell, faintly echoing until they returned to Kethan’s townhouse. She placed her hand over her mouth as she got out of her car, a nervous smile stretching her lips. Peace and quiet sounded remarkably easy to achieve but it seemed nearly impossible for her to find over the last few days.
She stared at Kethan’s front door with a sense of relief as he brushed past her to open it. Maybe for a few days, she wouldn’t have to face the darkness alone.
Inside, the warm, faint smell of curry lingered, reminding her that her stomach was once again hollow. The clean edge of the counter in the kitchen down the hall drew her gaze. The kitchen beckoned her, but not just for the food. Her body remembered the taste of Kethan’s lips and the gentle, hesitant touch of his hands.
Tension burned in her, the need to do something—feel something. Anything to use up the brittle, itching energy surging through her in response to the scents and atmosphere in Kethan’s home.
“I’ve got to change,” she said abruptly, hanging her small purse over the newel post by its strap. Pulling her hastily packed duffle bag against her hip, she adjusted the wide strap biting into her shoulder.
A surprised look flashed over his face. “Your
room is upstairs, to the right.”
“Super.” She ran up the stairs, already rifling through the duffle bag. With a burst of excitement, she saw her stretchy red dress at the bottom. She’d forgotten it was there.
He’d have a coronary when he saw her in that dress. Swallowing a laugh, she looked over the banister to watch Kethan stroll into the kitchen before she ran up the rest of the stairs.
Pulling out the flimsy garment, she kicked the door shut behind her, not even bothering to look around. Her stomach fluttered with excitement at the thought of his face when he saw her….
Tonight, they’d both forget about death and vampires.
A minute later, she had yanked off her jeans and shirt and slithered into the little dress. She smoothed it over her hips. A pair of strappy red high heels, red lipstick, a few brushstrokes, and she was done.
At the top of the wooden stairs she stopped, noticing her reflection in a large mirror hung against the wall on her left. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her eyes glittered in the dim light. Heart hammering she took one more step down before she paused again.
So he sees me in this…what then? Are you really ready for this? Suddenly she felt more nervous than pleased. She was falling for him and knew instinctively that what she hoped for would only make it worse. Their views were too different, and Kethan’s negotiations could only end in disaster.
Could she handle that kind of pain?
Descending the staircase slowly, she glanced around, feeling claustrophobic and trapped by all the warm, rich details that made his house into a home. She needed time alone, to think. She couldn’t face him in this inviting, intimate setting.
The sound of water gushing from the kitchen tap spurred her forward. She grabbed her purse, the jacket Kethan had left draped over a chair in the hallway and dashed through the door to escape into the damp night air.
He won’t miss me—he won’t even know I’m gone. The words did not reassure her, but she climbed on her bike anyway. Just a short ride, a few minutes of freedom, is all I need to clear my head. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop thinking about the gentle touch of his lips….
Riding the motorcycle barelegged in a skimpy dress, astride the thrumming motor, raised a flush of heat even though the danger of unprotected flesh scraping asphalt if the unthinkable happened dampened her hands in a quick rush of nervousness. The frisson of fear only increased the heat prickling through her body from her frustration and attraction to Kethan.
She gunned the engine and the tires squealed in protest as the wind rushed through her dress and over her legs. The icy air made her ache with need, aggravated by the scent of cinnamon and curry that clung to her lips.
Why did Kethan have to be so decent, so nice to her? Why did he have to have this compulsion to help vampires when all they really needed was a stake to the heart?
Buzzing down the street past Renardos, she circled, looking for a place to park. Maybe a quick drink would help. There were a few empty slots near the dumpster in back, but she couldn’t bring herself to park her motorcycle. Unappetizing smells wafted through the air, trapped between the metal trash container and the brick walls.
The third time around the block, sharp spikes of rain started falling, stinging her thighs and arms. Within minutes she was drenched. Her dress stuck to her shoulders and thighs, restricting her movement. However the cold water didn’t prevent her from driving another lap nor did it cool down her need.
Shaking with nervous energy, she felt as if she’d overdosed on caffeine. Her body flushed first with itchy heat and then cold with rain as it evaporated from her bare skin.
When her tires slipped on the rain-drenched street, she slowed. All she could think of was the warmth in Kethan’s dark blue eyes, eyes that would be filled with disappointment now.
That’s what I want, isn’t it? His disappointment so he’ll leave me alone? It was the only way to avoid getting too close. He’d let her go and that would be that.
After the fifth time circling Renardos, she sped away, the rain lashing her shoulders and thighs with whips of ice.
Chapter Fifteen
Kethan got to the front door in time to watch Quicksilver climb onto her motorcycle. As she whipped the bike away from the curb, he couldn’t help a few fond thoughts of chains, handcuffs, and his own desires, so ruthlessly crushed.
His body wanted her so desperately that he had a hard time thinking about anything else, especially after the brief glimpse he’d had of the red dress she’d donned while he was in the kitchen.
Redirect your thoughts. Focus on the negotiations. Now was not the time to give in to the seductive temptations of the flesh.
Easy words to say, hard to put into practice. Part of him ached and remembered the taste of her kiss, remembered her mouth with its sexy, plump lower lip, and the softness of her warm skin. He’d almost given in earlier when his blood sang in his veins, hot and rampant, and his heart had beaten out a well-remembered message. Da-thump, da-thump, the one, the one, the one, as he had kissed her.
He wanted her, and he didn’t care how damaged she might be or what it might cost him to have her.
Is it worth destroying the peace you’re working for? Running a hand through his hair, he shut the front door, realizing he was no longer sure of anything.
But he had to be sure. What he was doing mattered deeply. He’d been given a second chance at life for a reason, and he couldn’t throw it away for a woman who could barely hide the contempt she felt for him and his work.
A man of words. She didn’t realize how much that accusation burned.
He’d been a man of action, once. It had taken years of misery and penance to discover that words could bring results more effectively than actions, at least sometimes.
The difficulty lay in determining which course was required—action or negotiation.
Her life was simpler without those questions, although she didn’t realize it. She had yet to learn the value of words and ironically, her confidence in the efficacy of action made him reevaluate his own beliefs.
Had he chosen the correct course with Martyn Sutton’s clan or was Kathy Sherman’s death the result of a bad decision?
He rubbed the back of his neck. Kathy had made her choices. Poor choices, true, and the result had been a terrible tragedy. The reality, however, was that ending the negotiations and attempting to wipe out all the vampires would not have changed her fate. Those actions might have simply made it happen sooner. He twisted his head and heard crackling noises as the stiff muscles stretched and popped. The sounds made him feel ancient and tired.
Weighing his alternatives, he picked up his keys. He ought to go after her and make sure she didn’t get into difficulties. When he moved to get a coat, an odd, silvery glint on the floor caught his attention. Quicksilver’s whips lay on the floor and the jacket he had left on the chair was gone.
At least she couldn’t be planning to hunt vampires. If she were, she’d have taken her weapons. Unfortunately, leaving her whips behind also meant that she was defenseless if she ran into difficulties with Sutton or his clan.
He gripped his keys more tightly and strode to the door, stopping short when a knock interrupted his thoughts. Expecting to find Quicksilver on his doorstep, he exhaled a long breath in relief and threw open the door. Father Donatello stood outside with a worried look lengthening his thin, lined face.
“What’s wrong?” Kethan scanned the street as he stepped aside so that Joe could enter. There was no sign of her motorcycle. Taking a deep, calming breath, he studied the area more thoroughly, praying no vampires were watching his house. He didn’t want them to realize Quicksilver was out there alone and defenseless.
The priest shook the rain off his umbrella before entering and with deliberate care, placed it in the black lacquer umbrella stand in the corner near the door. Kethan’s brows furrowed as he glanced out again at the heavy rain sluicing over the gutters.
Quicksilver was riding in the rain, her lo
ng limbs unprotected in that tight, red dress….
“Is Quicksilver here?” Joe asked.
He shut the door. “No. She went out on her motorcycle. Why?”
“There’s something wrong.” Joe rubbed his hands together as if to warm them. “Did you notice how nervous Martyn was when we met earlier?”
“Yes. It was probably a reaction to Quicksilver’s presence. Or he might have feared a trap.”
The priest shook his head. “No. I arrived first, before the two of you. He was even worse, then. Something’s wrong, something more than just his fear of Quicksilver.”
“I don’t know.” Kethan considered the information with an increasing sense of anxiety. The pounding of rain on his roof distracted him, the noise effectively deafening them to any other sounds. Are Sutton's vampires out there? Do they already have Quicksilver? He straightened and cleared his thoughts. “Sutton was just nervous, trust me. He had to deal with what Jason did to Kathy. That would upset anyone.”
“I’m sorry to disagree, but perhaps you’re not seeing this clearly.” Joe paused with an air of uncertainty. “Haven’t you wondered why he was so eager to prove we could trust him? Why he would kill one of his own clan without putting up more resistance? He should have demanded we take care of Quicksilver before he eliminated Jason, you know that.”
“Well, he didn’t.” He pushed a hand through his hair, distracted. The image of Quicksilver riding exposed in the driving rain wouldn’t leave him alone. Concentrate. He cleared his throat. “Martyn Sutton’s having a difficult time holding his clan together. He’s not a natural leader, and he can’t be having an easy time of it.”
“Well, we certainly saw the results of his difficulties,” Father Donatello said, although his slow voice hinted that he didn’t necessarily agree with that particular line of thought. “The younger members are hunting without permission.”
“So it’s possible that his clan’s rebellion aroused his anxiety. They might have turned on him in defense of Jason, and he needed that show of power when he cut off Jason’s head. He needed to know which vampires he could trust.” A worse thought struck Kethan. “He may have let Jason kill Kathy to provide an opportunity to display his power and flush out those who sided with the younger vampires.”