Broken (26 page)

He waited until the door between their rooms closed before he turned away and downed the goblet of blood on his desk. His hand wrapped around the ring in his shirt as he strived to gain control of his riotous emotions. He'd known that one day he would have to face this but he still had no idea how he was physically going to get through it. He couldn't picture Genny while he was with Anna; that would be like desecrating her memory and everything they had shared together. But when he thought of anyone else, everything within him seemed to shrivel up like a worm left out to bake in the sun.

There was no way he could put it off though; no way he could deny her. As of now, she thought he stayed away because of her feelings, if she realized it was because he didn't want to be with her, the gossip would start. It would be one thing if he favored men, everyone would already know that. He'd still be expected to produce an heir, but they would understand she wasn't his preference.

They all knew he liked women though. He'd never had a problem being with any of the women within the clubs, the serving women, or the noble women that had come to his bed. If he didn't do this, they would think him less of a man, unable to lead, weak. The alliances he was building, the power he had gained by marrying Anna in the first place would all be for naught.

He
had
to get through this, somehow. Reaching into his pocket, he removed the ring from his possession for the first time since he'd exchanged it with Genny. He could not bear to have it in the same room with him and Anna if they were to become intimate. His fingers lingered on the band as he placed it on the desk and turned toward the door. He felt like he was facing his execution but he walked into her bedroom.

***

Atticus snatched the ring off the desk and slid it on before bolting across the room and leaping off of the balcony that overlooked the rocks and ocean below. He half hoped he'd end up smashed against those rocks but he knew fate would never be so kind to him. The air rushed up around him, it whipped at his hair and tore at the clothes he had tugged back on when he'd finished with Anna. He welcomed the pain as it stung his skin but it wasn't enough, it wasn't nearly enough to drown out the anguish inside of him.

His arms were down at his sides when his feet plunged into the water below. The briny ocean rushed into his mouth and up his nose. It plummeted over his head and beat against his body. He allowed himself to be caught up in the waves, allowed them to pound and ruthlessly batter against him.

Keeping his eyes open, he watched as the murky waves rolled over top of him, spinning him around as they pushed and pulled him about. He didn't fight against them, didn't try to get back to the surface of the water. The sea would decide where he would end up, he didn't have to breathe, and right now all he wanted was to be beaten and pummeled by the ocean.

He was spun around so that he caught a brief glimpse of the blurry moon shining in the sky through the water above his head. His feet caught on something, his bare toes curled into the sand as he realized that the waves had carried him to shore. His head popped out of the salty water; he stared up at a sky that was clear without the tumultuous ocean to obscure the view.

Pulling himself upright, he rose to his feet and pushed the straggling strands of wet hair back from his face. The tug and pull of the waves caused his body to sway as they washed in and out of the shore. His fingers curled into a claw-like gesture, he fought the urge to tear his skin from his body, but he lost. Shedding his clothes, he tossed them onto the sandy beach. The water was cool against his bare skin but he found nothing refreshing about it. His hands began to rub vigorously up and down his arms before spreading to his torso and finally his legs in an attempt to scrub the feel of Anna's body from his. Lunacy swirled through his mind as a knot of disgust lodged in his throat.

He continued to scrub and tear at himself but no matter how much he tried, he couldn't rid himself of the feel of her. Nor could he deny that the only way he had been able to touch her was by doing the one thing he'd sworn he wouldn't. He had pictured Genny while he was with her. He'd done everything he could to keep her from entering his mind, but his revulsion of Anna had only grown to the point where he'd almost retreated from the room. The only way he'd felt any kind of arousal was when he brought Genny to the forefront of his mind.

A betrayal, that's what it had been, but he couldn't deny that during that brief time he'd been able to pretend that it really
was
her. That life was the way that it should have been instead of so hideously wrong. Now it was over and with reality once again upon him, Genny was still gone, and he'd just sullied her memory in order to consummate his hideous sham of a marriage. Self-hatred swamped him; the water running down his skin had become red. He'd scoured himself raw and torn the flesh from his body in some areas but he still felt dirty.

Glancing around the beach, he realized he didn't recognize where he was. There were some villas in the distance, with candles flickering in the windows. The water and blood dripped from his body as he emerged from the sea and gathered his clothes. He dressed again before making his way down the beach. He didn't know if he was heading in the right direction and he didn't care. He didn't even care about the irritating grains of sand that rubbed against his healing skin and stuck annoyingly to his flesh.

He'd gone about a mile down the beach before coming across two human peasant girls. Their clothing was dirty and disheveled, their hair was pinned on top of their heads but strands of it had straggled down to frame their faces. They appeared to have just gotten off of work.

"Excuse me sir, is all alright?" the small blond asked him.

Atticus stood and stared at them as he tried to sort through the chaotic thoughts swirling through his brain. The insanity that had been whispering at the edges of his mind over the past few months called even louder to him now. He'd been keeping it under control but he could feel the unraveling within him even more strongly tonight.

"Sir?" the small brunette squeaked. "Do you need assistance sir?"

His hands fisted as he glanced back and forth between them. "Can we help you sir?" the other one asked.

The last little bit of his sanity unraveled as his finger touched upon the gold band on his finger. "Oh yes, you can help me," he said in a low voice.

Again he questioned if it was his pretty face that kept them standing there, looking uncertain and yet unafraid until he was upon them. The brunette was never able to make a sound before he grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground. The blond released a small squeak as he dragged her forward, but it was the only sound she got out before he buried his fangs into the vulnerable flesh of her neck.

Her hands beat ineffectually against him, the brunette's feet kicked uselessly in the air as he drained every ounce of blood from her friend's body. Power seeped into him as her life force rolled down his throat and the madness in his mind was appeased by the blood filling him. To keep the monster at bay, he must do more than feed he realized as the pulse of her heart slowed and finally stopped.

His head fell back as he pulled away from her and let her body drop to the ground. He hadn't killed since that night with Genny, and then he'd been too lost to the rage to feel any kind of release. He felt it now though. Not only did death keep the monster at bay but it also gave him power, power he would need in order to accomplish his goal. The events of tonight had caused him to waver in his ultimate purpose but he would never let that happen again.

The brunette tried to scream, she thrashed in his grasp as he turned his attention to her. Her eyes bulged and her kicking became more frantic. Her fingers tore at his hands enough to cause him to bleed when he smiled to reveal his lengthy canines. "Hideous rodents, all of you," he whispered before pulling her close and sinking his fangs into her throat.

Relief filled him as he drained the blood from her body.
Death,
it was what he required in order to thrive.

***

December 13
th
, 1050

My dearest Genny,

The only time I find any sense of peace now is in the few minutes I can lose myself to the blood I spill and the death I create. It's not something I'm proud of but I'm also not ashamed anymore. I simply just am. I guess that's the only way to describe what I have become. Just here.

I get up, I do what I must, and I go to sleep. I think of you, constantly.

I have no concerns about being caught in my new, nightly excursions. It is easy enough to make a body disappear or to make a murder look like it was done by a human. It is the vampires that completely lose themselves to the blood, and become careless, that get caught. I will never allow myself to become like that, I would fail in my mission if I did so. And all that matters anymore is the mission. I don't hunt near my home and even if someone sees me going out, I am allowed to do as I please. I don't pay to kill in the clubs; no one can know that there's even a little bit of a murderer living inside of me. We all know who the killers are amongst us; it is not a secret that is well kept amongst the club patrons.

I've tried to stop killing, but this beast inside of me won't allow me to do so. I can keep it in check but it feels as if I'm swallowing glass if I only try to drink blood from a goblet and do not allow the monster to have its nightly soul. I start to spiral toward what I was the night when you died and that's something that cannot happen again, not with so many around me now. They would know that I AM a monster now and they would put me down.

My ship returned to me today. I didn't ask where Camille finally decided to stay and they didn't tell me. They assured me that she is safe though, that she is well guarded and that she has settled into a home quite nicely. I hope she finds happiness, I know how much you wanted it for her and no matter how lost I am now, it's also what I still want for her.

November 5, 1096,

My dearest Genny,

I've volunteered with The Council to join in the wars waging throughout the Holy land. With the amount of humans and death there, the Crusades being waged have attracted a large number of vampires to them. The Council is concerned that such easy feeding grounds will attract vampires who will stop caring about the risk of exposure. They are also concerned that some of The Council properties may be put at risk by the human's ridiculous religious wars. How the human race has managed to live as long as they have is something I will never understand. Foolish, stupid things, all of them.

The idea of going to that baking land is not overly appealing but the idea of losing myself amongst it is. At least I'll not have to see Anna again for a while. It's been nearly fifty years since that first night with her but the revulsion I feel from touching her hasn't eased. I don't think it ever will. I must have time away from this place.

She had another miscarriage yesterday; that is the fourth. I'm beginning to wonder if she is even worth it. I would request an annulment, she doesn't seem to be able to carry to term, but it is still early in the marriage and I'm not willing to alienate her family. Not yet anyway, I will need a son soon though.

By going to aide in watching over the other vampires and protecting our lands, I'll also be able to feed more.

It saddens me to think that you wouldn't recognize me anymore but it's for you that I do this. For you I try to gain this strength and power. My entire existence became about you before your death and it's even more so now.

***

The waves of heat rising from the sand caused the makeshift camp before him to appear blurry. Sweat beaded on his forehead and neck, it stuck the clothes to his skin as it slid down his back. He'd thought he would despise it here but as he stared across the baking desert, excitement began to grow in him. Within the endless sand and sun beating down upon him, he felt a freedom he hadn't felt in years. This place was as empty and barren as he was inside, he could be at home here.

The best attraction about coming to this wasteland had been leaving Anna behind, but he realized there was far more for him here than that. A cruel smile twisted his mouth as he studied the human soldiers gathered beneath the sun and the women that moved amongst them, offering their service. Easy prey, there was
so
much easy prey here.

Oh yes, he could lose himself in this wasteland of death and blood, he could
thrive
here.

***

July 27, 1223,

My dearest Genny,

Anna gave birth to our son today. He's a healthy baby, fat and happy. I almost turned away when they offered him to me, but appearances must be kept after all. When they handed me that baby and I looked down at his chubby face, and black hair, for some strange reason all I could picture was a baby girl with my green eyes, and you. It was the closest I've come to crying since the first time I read your words that day on the ship.

The image of you and our daughter was so vivid that I felt I could almost touch you once more. A beautiful smile lit your face as you gazed down at our child with love radiating from your eyes, just as it did every time you looked upon me. Sometimes I think if you saw me now that you wouldn't have that look, not with the thousands I've slaughtered since your demise while in war, and simply for my pleasure. But then I feel you with me and I know there would always be love and forgiveness in your heart for me.

Our baby girl would have been as beautiful as you were. I would have loved her unconditionally and I would have protected her with my life.

I felt nothing for my son, but that was not his fault, I don't feel anything other than pleasure from blood and a never-ending thirst for vengeance. This child will help in that quest for vengeance. He has my blood in his veins after all, he will grow to be powerful, and he will be a strong fighter and ally. I will make sure of it.

She named him Braith, she asked for my opinion on the name, but I didn't have one to give. I don't know where the name came from, nor do I particularly care. I could set her free now, she has finally produced an heir for me, but truth be told I like the cover she gives me. I go to fight and come home to my wife. If I were to set her free I would have to find a mistress or do something to keep up appearances as a man, and I have no desire to do so.

I can force myself to be with her if I must, but I will not set up another woman in my life that I will have to speak with and lay with, without being able to kill her. That is the problem now, for me sex has become entwined with death. My body needs the release but that horrid feeling of betraying you takes me over every time. The only ones lucky enough to walk away from me have been Anna and the women that others know I am with; it is war after all and there is little privacy. I do not discriminate, both human and vampire women fall equally. The killing of the human soldiers is easier when I am engaged in battle and many have fallen beneath my sword and fangs.

I refuse to have to go through another relationship with another woman though or worse yet listen to what she has to say. It is bad enough with Anna, whom I rarely see, but at least when I do see her I know what inane gossip, fashion, and travel conversation I will have to suffer through. Therefore, I will keep up this sham of a happy marriage for as long as it takes for my plan to come to completion.

Until then, I will continue to pretend. I am the master of it after all.

I'll be returning to the Crusades within the month, it's where I can be free. For now though I suppose I will play the role of father.

***

Atticus stared down at the squirming bundle within his arms. The boy, Braith, he reminded himself, had his black hair and his mother's oddly colored, yet striking eyes. Eyes that were focused raptly on him as he walked from one side of the room to the other with the baby. He was surprised to realize that he'd actually believed he might grow to feel something for the child,
his
child. Even if it was part
hers
there was a piece of him within this baby. Shouldn't he be reacting to that, shouldn't he care in some small way?

Instead, the emptiness within him grew with every step and just like the night he had first lain with Anna, he felt a growing madness escalating within him. It seemed that each event in his life that moved him further away from Genny, the more the insanity took hold of his mind. Knowing that he required this child for his future plans, he turned and thrust the baby into the nurse's arms before he did something to the boy that would destroy everything he had been working for.

The woman, startled by the abrupt gesture, fumbled to keep hold of the child. Atticus spun away and left the room before he destroyed everyone within it. He had to get back to the desert and the freedom it gave to him. Striding down the hall, he thrust open the door to his rooms. He'd been planning to escape the villa, but it seemed fate had other plans for him when he spotted Merle alone in his private solar, standing by the balcony overlooking the beach. His cousin turned toward him and smiled invitingly as he opened his arms to him.

"My but you're a sight for sore eyes!" Merle greeted cheerfully. Atticus gave him a brisk hug before stepping away. "I hear congratulations are finally in order! And a boy!"

"A boy," Atticus confirmed. He moved further away from his cousin to pour himself a goblet of blood.

"And his name is?"

"Braith."

"Interesting."

"She chose it," he said before downing the contents of the goblet.

The smile slid from Merle's face. It had been nearly fifty years since he'd seen his cousin; their lives had taken them on completely different paths. Merle lived the easy life in Spain with his wife while he enjoyed the massacre of the sand.

"I thought this would make you happy," Merle said quietly.

Atticus's eyes slid sideways toward him, his hand clenched upon the gold goblet, causing it to bend within his grasp. "Happy!" he barked as his façade cracked. "It had to be done! That does not mean I am
happy
about it."

Merle's eyes widened, he stood for a moment before walking over to pull out a chair. He dropped the blade at his waist onto the table and slumped onto the chair. "I'd hoped you had found some happiness in your life since we last saw one another."

Atticus tossed aside the ruined goblet and brought another one forth. He cursed himself for having let so much of himself show, he'd worked relentlessly to keep up the charade that was his life. The birth of his son and seeing Merle again had rattled him in perilous ways. He couldn't allow it to all fall apart now. Regaining control of himself, he poured himself another goblet of blood.

"Would you like some?" he inquired not bothering to respond to Merle's statement. Merle waved his hand dismissively and shook his head. Atticus walked over and sat across from him. "How have things been with you?"

"Fine enough," Merle responded though his eyes remained troubled as he watched Atticus. "Jane miscarried again three months ago. I think she's had enough of trying and so have I. That was the sixteenth child we've lost, a boy this time. I don't think it was meant for us to have offspring."

"Do you plan to end it with her and marry another?" Atticus inquired.

Merle shrugged. "Things are convenient for us now but I suppose I'll eventually have to take another if she can't produce an heir."

"Do you have any bastards?"

"I'd lay wager that there are a few of them running around out there, none that I'm aware of or have acknowledged though." Atticus nodded and sipped at his blood. "How is it in the land of the sun?"

"I am kept busy," he murmured as his gaze drifted toward the darkening sky outside the balcony doors.

"Do you plan to return to the war now that you have a son here?"

"I'll return to the desert within the month. What brings you here?"

"The Council meeting is next week. I thought I would take a detour on my way to Transylvania to see how you have been and to congratulate you." Merle had been granted his own place on The Council when a young noble from the House of Herstin died unexpectedly in a fire. The noble had been the last of his line and they'd needed someone to step forward to take his place.

"I'd forgotten," Atticus admitted.

It had been years since he'd attended one of The Council meetings. It wasn't required of him while he was battling to keep their lands safe and the vampires within the desert under control. The population of vampires amongst the Crusades was swelling but most behaved themselves, far better than he did. In the beginning he'd come back for every Council meeting, but he'd soon realized that being the war hero, and the only one amongst them with actual battle experience, had elevated him in The Council's eyes far more than his attending every meeting ever would. He was battle hardened, he protected their wealth, and he carried out their laws without hesitation. Messengers carried back his feats to The Council and relayed Council details to him. That was good enough for him. He came back here twice a year, for two weeks to visit with his wife, but that was the only time he spent outside of the desert.

Merle shifted in his seat and began to fiddle with his knife. It seemed as if something was on his mind but he appeared reluctant to reveal what it was. Finally he lifted his head to meet Atticus's eyes. "I ran into Camille."

Atticus's head shot up, for the first time in years a true smile lit his face. "How is she?"

Relief filled Merle's face, he relaxed and smiled jovially back at him. "She's doing well, looked as beautiful as ever."

"What is she doing now? Is she married?"

"She is designing women's clothing in Paris and is highly sought after. That's how I ran across her; Jane insisted we go to see her while we were in France. Though I didn't know who it was we were going to see at the time, and of course Jane has no idea who she is. She has chosen not to marry, though I'm sure if she met the right man she would settle down. She says she enjoys having control over her life, being free, and taking care of herself. She seemed happy enough but she told me she misses Genny every day and that she actually hides a little G in every piece of clothing she creates."

Atticus turned away as tears burned his eyes. He tried not to think about the wonderful life he would have had with Genny if she hadn't been killed, but between this news and the baby, he was flooded with images of her in ways he hadn't been in years. Her raven eyes swam before his face, his nose was filled with the scent of asters as her laughter rang in his ears. His head bowed beneath the piercing blade of sorrow that pierced his heart. A blade that hadn't dulled over the years but only sharpened with every day he spent without her.

"She told me to tell you that she says hello and that she misses you also," Merle continued.

"She wouldn't miss me if she knew me," he murmured unable to keep up appearances with the barrage his senses were taking. "I should have died that day."

Merle leaned over the table toward him. "Didn't a piece of you though?"

Atticus shuddered, his nostrils flared as those words caused knowledge to spark within him. "Yes," he confirmed and lifted his head to meet Merle's gaze. Though it was far more than just a piece of him that had ceased to exist but he would never reveal that. "Yes, a part of me died that day."