Broken (27 page)

It seemed strange to confirm it aloud but once the words were out, he couldn't take them back. Merle sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. He didn't speak again as they sat together well into the night. It was the closest he'd come to making a connection with anyone in years and though he knew it wasn't much of one, he didn't want Merle to leave. The silent presence of another within the room actually made him feel almost alive again, but he knew it was a feeling that wouldn't last.

"She smelled of asters," he murmured.

"I remember," Merle said.

Maybe that was why he felt almost alive again, because he had someone else to remember her with him if only for a little while.

***

December 15, 1225

My dearest Genny,

Word arrived today that my second son was born on October 21. I knew she was to have the baby around then but I didn't return for the birth this time. Why would I? I was there for the birth of my first son; I found no reason to be there for the second. It's reported that he is healthy and that she has chosen the name Caleb for him. It's not a name I would have chosen, but who am I to judge? The children are simply a means to an end after all.

It's strange, people die so quickly within this desert that even though I've been here for some time, I haven't had to move about much in order to avoid detection. It would be a dream if the rest of the world could be more like this place.

***

May 30, 1227,

My dearest Genny,

The Council has called me back. I've just received word that my Uncle Nyles met his demise in a hunting accident and that they believe it is time for me to assume my place amongst them now that they are down a noble. I don't know how I'm going to handle going back to civilization. I don't know if I can go back to the charade that I've been avoiding for almost a hundred and fifty years.

***

Atticus sat and watched as his sons moved around the field. Even at their young ages he could see the differences in the two of them. The oldest had a kindness in him that Atticus was determined to rid him of. It was a horrible thing for Braith to possess, one that would only destroy him in the end. It was a weakness that Atticus could
not
tolerate. Not in the son that he planned to have become one of his strongest soldiers in the war that he would one day wage across this land. Even as he watched though, the eldest knelt to call forth a kitten that had been hiding in the woods. The kitten crept out cautiously but continued forward at Braith's urging. There was delight all over his child's face as the kitten finally came to him.

Atticus contemplated putting the child out of his misery before life destroyed him also, but he was aware of the fact that the staff of the villa didn't like the younger child. Some even feared him. Caleb was known to laugh as he bit, pulled the hair, or kicked and beat at those hired to take care of him. Atticus found this amusing; in fact it was something he took pride in. Whereas the oldest was every bit the clueless, hapless bastard he had once been, this younger specimen was every bit the heartless, savage monster he had become.

However, Atticus was old enough to hide the insanity and ruthlessness within him, Caleb was not. The youngest may be the merciless son he would need to one day crush the human race beneath his heel, but the vampires would not follow him. They were more likely to turn against him and put him down as a child when it would be easier to kill him, if they thought there was any chance he would rise to power.

The oldest though, humans and vampires alike loved the oldest; he had a magnetism about him that few could resist. Perhaps it was his pretty face, Atticus thought sardonically as he was already shaping up to be a handsome, strong boy. Even more so than the younger child. At six, Braith was already twice the size of the other vampire children he was being raised with and the star of all his training courses. He may not have the savagery within him that Atticus required in the boy, but he had the power and the ability to lead that Caleb did not possess.

There was always the chance that he could rid the eldest of the weakness of compassion that would one day drag him down, and that was exactly what he intended to do. Braith grinned as he caught the kitten in his hands and held it before him. Walking across the field toward him, Atticus saw much of his old self within Braith and he hated him for it.

"Kill it," he commanded brusquely.

The smile slid from Braith's face as his head tilted back to look up at him. "Excuse me papa?"

"I said kill the kitten."

Behind him the younger one began to giggle. "But I don't want to," the older protested.

"It doesn't matter what you want. In this life you won't get what you want, learn that now child. Crush it."

The boy stared at him from uncertain eyes that were the same shade of gray with that strange blue band around them as his mother's. He
despised
those eyes. His gaze fell to the orange and black tabby cat squirming within Braith's grasp. Atticus watched as Braith's hand moved to grab hold of the kitten's head but at the last second, instead of killing it as he'd been told, the boy tossed it toward the tree line it had emerged from. The kitten's legs were braced apart, its hair stood on end when it landed in the woods. A small hiss escaped it before it turned and fled into the forest.

The younger one began to laugh louder as Atticus snatched Braith up by the back of his tunic and lifted him before him. The color faded from Braith's face, his eyes bulged from his head. Atticus gave him a sharp shake back and forth. "You are
never
to disobey me again!" he snarled.

Dropping his arm down, he dragged the child behind him on the ground as he stormed back to the villa. The child was brave and obstinate, he'd give him credit for that, but he would learn his place. He would learn that this world was only a place for cruelty and he was going to be the one to teach it to him. The sound of the boy's cries fell on deaf ears as he dragged him back to the boy's room and locked the door behind them.

April 9, 1235

My dearest Genny,

My daughter was born today. She's nothing like the little girl I'd envisioned with you when I first held Braith. She looks like her mother with her blond hair and delicate features. The sight of her made me cringe. Anna named her Natasha. Again, it wouldn't have been my choice but again I offered no opinion on the matter.

I often ponder what our daughter's name would have been but I can never think of anything that would have been beautiful enough for her. Though sometimes I think I would have called her Aster as she would have been our shining star.

I hate this world I live in and these vampires and humans that surround me. I want my desert back but that's not to be. I must say though that The Council is almost as ruthless as me; they just use their laws to cover up their ruthlessness. The methods of torture they come up with are ingenious. Though we are not allowed to actually carry them out (they do not like to get their hands dirty and expect that we all feel that way, even though I don't) as an appointed enforcer of the laws, I do get to watch.

***

Atticus smiled grimly as the vampire trapped within the cage before him screamed on endlessly. His body thrummed with excitement as the man's face became florid and the muscles in his neck stood out. Beside him, Braith took a step back and turned away. Horror was written all over his son's features as the man's face twisted in agony.

As a vampire this was only the beginning of the man's suffering, there was much more torture still to come. A vampire's body did not simply give out on them. Oh no, he had learned over the years, and even more so now that he was working closer with The Council, that there were many things the vampire body could withstand. They could lose almost all of their blood and continue to function as a mere husk of their former selves. Their tolerance for pain before finally passing out was ten times the threshold of a human's, and they were far more fun to play with than any human was.

Every new form of torture he discovered he filed away for future use. Until the day he could use what he had learned, he enjoyed making sure the punishments that The Council handed down to vampires that broke the Vampiric Law were carried out.

Atticus wrapped his hand around the back of Braith's neck and pulled him forward as the rats continue to eat their way through the vampire's belly and chest. "Look," he hissed at his son.

In the glow of the fire behind the man, Braith's eyes were wild and filled with dread. His muscles strained against Atticus's hold upon him but he didn't try to break free of his grasp. He was strong and broad, especially for a twelve year old, but he was of no competition for his father and they both knew it. Sweat began to break out on Braith's face but he remained immobile within his grasp as the vampire released one more howl before succumbing to unconsciousness.

"Ach," Caleb said disappointedly from beside him and gulped down the rest of the blood in his goblet.

"It is over now," Braith murmured. He turned sideways to twist out of Atticus's grasp and he let him go. Braith's eyes were filled with disgust as they lingered on Caleb. He turned on his heel and walked away. His footsteps echoed on the stone floor of the catacombs beneath the building that The Council had established as their center for law enforcement in Italy.

Atticus watched him go; it seemed that no matter what he did, he couldn't break the boy's compassionate streak. Braith was still young though; there was plenty of time to make him see. He'd learned that forcing him to stay to watch only turned into a battle and right now he was enjoying this newest torture far too much to fight with his son.

He turned back to Caleb. "Would you like to wake him?"

"Oh yes, very much so," Caleb said eagerly. Caleb's green eyes, so much like his own, gleamed with pleasure in the light of the fire.

The tiny piece of him that still had a little sanity left was even a little unnerved by Caleb and his thirst for brutality. It was an extremely small piece though and one that was easily ignored as he grabbed a poker from the fire and handed it over to his son. A twisted smile curved Caleb's lips; he placed the burning tip of the poker against the man's cheek. A howl escaped the man as he came back to life.

***

February 17th, 1243,

My dearest Genny,

Anna has given me another son today. He's much like the other boys with his dark coloring and his eyes are gray like his mother's. I wonder if that means he'll be as soft as his eldest brother is. Braith is growing larger everyday though and the vampire people, as well as humans, really do respond to him. He has some kind of hold over them, or not a hold, but a charisma that attracts them.

When he smiles they smile back at him, when he speaks, they listen. He will be a great captain for the army I will one day raise, a great champion for my cause. I may not have succeeded yet in showing him that there is nothing in this world but cruelty and death, but he's proven himself to be exceptionally strong, fast, and a powerful warrior.

Caleb can be the one that does the dirty work, but it will be Braith that leads the armies. The girl, Natasha, is much like Caleb. I see it in her. They both take the same twisted pleasure in death and torture that I do. They are not as good at concealing it though, but they are children, they will learn to keep it better hidden as they grow.

She named this boy Jericho, I had no input in this name either but it is not overly bad. I wonder what he will be like. Will he be the oblivious fool his older brother is, that I once was, or will he be as twisted as his siblings are, and as I have become.

It will be interesting to see.

***

August 4th, 1373

My dearest Genny,

The years are going by so fast now. Sometimes I think that maybe one of these days I will wake up and you will not be the first thing on my mind. That day has not come yet. I sat last night with your words again, like I have every day, but for the first time in years I opened the trunk too. I was always afraid to open it, afraid your scent would escape and I would lose yet another piece of you. It has dulled over the years but your aroma is still there, and still potent enough to drive a knife through my heart. Though I don't need your smell to do that, just the memory of you can still bring me to my knees.

***

March 11
th
, 1450,

My dearest Genny,

Merle came to see me today. It has been almost twenty-five years since I last saw him, he is little changed but he did come with the strangest bit of news…

Atticus looked up from where he sat at his desk, keeping a detailed account of the vampires that had been put down this month and the offenses they had committed in order to deserve the punishment from The Council. He grabbed his goblet full of blood as a knock sounded on the door of the library he'd had built in his newest villa.

"Who is it?"

"Your best looking family member," Merle called cheerfully from the other side.

Atticus couldn't help but chuckle as he rose to his feet and went to open the door. Merle was leaning in the doorway, his sandy blond hair was longer than the last time Atticus had seen him, his skin tanner, and a vibrant smile was on his face. "Cousin," Merle greeted as he straightened away from the door and grasped hold of Atticus's hand.

He'd become infallible at keeping his revulsion hidden from everyone but even still, he slipped his hand away from Merle's as soon as he could. "You're looking well," Atticus said and stepped aside to let him enter.

"As are you," Merle said. He dropped his hat on the table in the center of the room and settled into a chair. "How have you been?"

"I'm fine and you?"

"Jane and I have officially decided to call it quits. She was a good woman but it's time to get serious about having an heir. We won't live forever you know," he quipped and winked as he propped his feet up on the table.

"Does Anna know about this?" Atticus asked. He walked over to reclaim his goblet before settling in across from Merle.

"I'm not sure if Jane has told her or not. She plans to return to Italy to stay in the family home that had belonged to her mother so that she can be closer to Anna and her father."

"Do you have another woman in mind already?"

"I don't but now that I'm free of a wife, I'm also free to start looking. There are some tempting bits out there you know."

"I do," Atticus said with a laugh that he didn't feel. He was still so good at playing along. The only bits he found attractive now were the ones he could kill afterward. There were times when he thought he should be mad about the fact that his normal yearnings had died with Genny, but in the end, it was the smallest part of himself that he'd lost when he'd lost her.

The smile slid from Merle's face, he folded his hands on top of his stomach. "I've heard that Anna's had more than her fair share of miscarriages again since your last son."

"She has," Atticus confirmed.

"Have you thought of finding another wife?"

Atticus released a harsh bark of laughter as he drank his blood. "No. I'm quite content with Anna and the children she has managed to produce."

"Has it changed then?" Merle inquired with a strange gleam in his eyes.

"Has what changed?" Atticus inquired.

"Your feelings for Genny, have they finally gone, have you moved on then?"

The sound of her name caused him to recoil as if he'd been slapped. It had been years since anyone had said her name out loud. His upper lip curled into an involuntary sneer at the insinuation of Merle's words. "Have they gone!" he spat. He stood abruptly and ran a hand through his hair as he paced away from the table. "Get out!"

"Wait Atticus, I meant no harm from it. I know what she meant to you…"

He moved so fast that he didn't even comprehend what he was doing. His hand wrapped around Merle's throat and he smashed him into the wall. "What she
means
!" He bit out as he shoved his face into Merle's. "What she will
always
mean!"

Merle's eyes were frantic as he searched his face. "I understand," he assured him.

Disgusted and surprised with himself for having lost control, he lowered Merle and straightened his doublet. Self-disgust filled him but his cousin was the only one that could rattle him into losing his composure. He would have to take more care from now on, to be more prepared for Merle's presence and the memories it brought back so vividly. They were much better off apart, or at least
he
was better off when they were.

"I don't know what came over me," he murmured by way of an apology as he walked away from his cousin.

Merle's hand went to his throat as he stepped away from the wall. "I think I do."

Atticus turned toward him so fast that blood sloshed over the sides of the goblet he had just lifted. "What do you mean you think you do?" he demanded.

Merle settled himself into his seat again and rested his hands on the table before him. "Have you ever heard of something called a bloodlink?"

Atticus frowned as he shook his head. "No, what is that?"

"I think it is what Genny was to you, what she will
always
be."

Atticus approached the table as cautiously as a man approaching a pride of lions. Merle might actually have an answer for what was wrong with him, an answer for what he had become. It was almost too much to hope for but he found himself riveted upon Merle's words. "Go on," he encouraged.

"I was talking with Khalfan the other day." It took Atticus a minute to recall who Khalfan was, and then his memory kicked in. He was the oldest known vampire in existence, and one of a handful of vampires known as the history keepers that was still alive. Atticus had met him a few times over the years, but the darkly colored man with piercing black eyes, and tribal tattoos covering his arms and the right side of his face had made him feel uneasy and exposed. The man never said anything to him, but Atticus had a feeling that Khalfan saw the madness lurking within him and he stayed away from Khalfan because of it.

"And what did Khalfan have to say?" Atticus inquired casually though he felt like a bundle of raw nerves inside. Merle knew he wasn't the same, that he never would be, but Atticus was certain he didn't realize the depth of his lunacy or his ultimate goal. Had Khalfan told Merle just how malevolent he really was now? He didn't want to have to kill his cousin, not unless Merle got in his way, but he wouldn't hesitate to put Merle down if he could expose him in some way.

"He told me about something called a bloodlink, a bond that exists solely between vampires. He said it's an extremely rare connection. That most vampires believe it to be nothing more than a myth created by vampire poets dreaming of love or vampires hoping to one day discover more power. He told me that he actually saw it once though, years ago between two vampires. He said the bond was so intense between them that they both became more powerful because of it. When one died the other promptly followed, by their own hand. He said it's rumored that if one dies, and the other is left behind, they go mad from the separation."

Everything within his body went completely still at what Merle had just revealed. The power that Genny's blood had given to him, the bond that he'd felt connecting them. It was still there, he could feel it even now encircling his deadened heart. The whisper of her touch, not felt in three hundred years, was still as strong as if he had felt it only yesterday. Her laughter, forever silenced, still rang as clearly in his ears as the church bells that had sounded this morning.