Darkness & Discovery (The Bespelled Trilogy #2) (6 page)

“What’s that?” I asked
suspiciously.

“Help me with these
dishes. Please? If Bryn happens to come down here and sees the kitchen like
this, he’ll be so upset. And the last thing I want to do is to upset him.”

I grabbed a few dishes
and brought them to the sink. He was holding a pot under running water, and I
said, “Let me guess. You have no clue how to wash dishes.”

He smiled at that.
“When exactly would I ever have washed dishes in the past?”

I rolled my eyes and
opened the dishwasher, and began rinsing plates before loading them into it,
scraping off several untouched meals in the process. “Ok,” I said. “I’m
helping. Start talking.”

“It’s a pretty short
story, actually. At least the part I know. One of the times Alastair ran away
from me, he met a pretty human girl named Elizabeth. They met in Chicago around
1920, had a whirlwind romance and were married. Elizabeth envied Alastair’s
immortality, and begged him repeatedly to turn her. He, of course, wouldn’t
hear of it. He hates vampires, makes it his life’s mission to kill them, after
all, so why would he do that to the woman he loved?” Augustine said.

“But she found someone
else to do it, to change her,” he continued. “And Alastair was furious. He told
her their marriage ended the day she died and was reborn as a vampire. He
refused to accept her. This drove her into a fury, and Elizabeth attacked him.
He fought back, of course. The two became mortal enemies after that. They’ve been
playing a game of cat and mouse for decades, each trying to end the other. Though
it’s never been clear to me which is the cat, and which is the mouse.”

“It wasn’t you, was it?
You weren’t the one to turn Elizabeth, were you?”

“God no. I know you
think I’m responsible for every heinous act throughout the course of
history…and ok, many have, in fact, been my fault. But I didn’t do that. Why
would I? I wanted Elizabeth to live out a mortal lifespan, and then I wanted
her to die. Just like you. I hardly wanted her hanging around for centuries.”

“So…are they actually
still married?”

“No. Alastair had the
marriage annulled decades ago. But I don’t think Elizabeth ever accepted that.
Apparently she still refers to him as her husband.”

“Where was she, last
you heard?”

“Somewhere in the
southwest. Killing Alastair isn’t the only goal of Elizabeth’s. She’s also
incredibly power hungry, and is forever working on some scheme or another to
make herself stronger, richer, more invincible.”

I dumped detergent into
the washer and shut the door. And I asked as I hit the on button, “So what’s
the deal with the necklace? Why did Allie have it with him?”

“That’s what he gave
her when they were married, instead of a ring. When she attacked him, he tore
it from her neck. And now he keeps it as a reminder.”

“A reminder of her?”

“No. He keeps it as a
reminder never to fall in love again.”

“Oh.”

I turned toward the
double sink and stopped up one side, and let hot water fill it as I squirted in
some dishwashing liquid and Augustine said, “So, you’re welcome.”

“For what?”

“As far as I can tell,
that’s the one positive that came from wiping Alastair’s memories. Forgetting
his past opened him up to finding love again. And he found you.”

“You can’t really take
credit for that.”

“I can take credit for
everything,” he said with a grin as he picked up a sponge and began wiping down
the granite counters.

“I’ve never understood
why you’re ok with me,” I said. “If you felt like killing me, you could have
done it a million times by now. And yet, you tolerate me in Alastair’s life.”

“I more than tolerate
it. I encourage it. I want Alastair to be happy. I’m glad he has you, just like
I’m glad I gave him Joey. This way, I know he’s ok. He has people looking out
for him, taking care of him. Even if he hates me and doesn’t want to be with
me, at least he won’t be lonely.” He said that so quietly and turned his back
to me, going to work on a counter across the room.

“I thought forcing him
to turn Joey was an attempt to control Alastair, another way of manipulating
him.”

“I’m sure he sees it
that way. They both do. And it’s worth having them hate me for it. Forcing him
to turn Joey gave Alastair a best friend and constant companion. That’s what I
wanted.”

“But you tried to kill
Joey when you were bespelling Alastair.”

“Well yes, for several
reasons. Joey was meant to be a short-term solution, a companion during
Alastair’s latest break from me. He wasn’t meant to replace me forever. After
Alastair’s memories were wiped, I had intended to step in and take Joey’s place
at Alastair’s side. And of course, I couldn’t have Joey going to Alastair and
filling in all the memories I’d gone to so much trouble to erase.”

“Latest break from you.
Is that what you call it when Alastair escapes?” Augustine had kept his creation
prisoner on and off for decades, subjecting him to untold torture in an effort
to tame him and break his will. That tactic had failed miserably, of course,
and he had wiped Alastair’s memory to make him forget all of that.

Augustine turned toward
me and leaned against the counter. “You and Joey were in one of my prisons for
a few days. How likely would it have been to ever find a way to escape?”

“It…would have been
impossible.”

“Exactly. Alastair
isn’t some great escape artist. He doesn’t somehow bust out of every prison
I’ve ever put him in. After a while, I just become too discouraged to continue
my efforts. I need a break from it. He does, too. It takes quite a mental and physical
toll on him, and if it goes on indefinitely, I run the risk of shattering him.
So after a while, I always let him go. And then I recapture him when I’m ready
to begin again.”

“You say that so
calmly. So rationally. But what you’re talking about is torturing someone to
try to force them to love you. Which is absolutely insane,” I said, staring at
him.

“Oh, I don’t expect him
to love me. That
would
be insane.”

“Then what are you
trying to accomplish?”

“Just simple obedience
and loyalty. That’s all. I want from Alastair what every other vampire gets
automatically from every one of their progeny. Since he’s such an anomaly, he
and I were denied our maker bond. So I’ve had to…improvise.”

“Why is that so
important to you? Who cares if he’s obedient? What possible difference could it
make?”

“If he learns to obey
me, then I can order him to never leave me,” Augustine said quietly.

“Is that what you want?
A lap dog that stays by your side?”

“Not a lap dog. I want
Alastair as he is, unbroken and spirited, but loyal to me. Never mind that I
could sire a hundred more vampires, a
thousand
, and they’d all obey me,
they’d all stay with me. That’s not good enough.
They
wouldn’t be good
enough. Because none of them would be him.”

“So, are you going to
keep trying? Are you planning to take him prisoner again and spend another
decade or two hurting him, making him hate you all over again, just to once
again fail to bend him to your will? If you are then let me know, so I can
stake you before you have the chance to hurt him anymore.”

He grinned, just a
little, but it was a sad smile, not a mocking one. “You can’t kill me, Lu. You
don’t stand a chance. And for the record, I’m trying to learn to leave Alastair
alone. I’m trying to move on, which isn’t easy after two centuries of
obsession. It’s so hard, seeing him. I suppose it must be like…like an
alcoholic walking into a bar – he’s my addiction. But I’m trying so hard to let
him be. I really am.”

“I want to believe you.
I just never know when you’re telling the truth.”

 He crossed the kitchen
to me and stuck one of his long, graceful hands in the suds I’d made in the
sink, swirling the bubbles around. “I know. I’m used to no one believing me.”

I stared at his profile
for a long moment. One of the most jarring things about Augustine was that he
looked so incredibly sweet and innocent. He looked like…well, what I’d imagine
an angel to look like, his long pale blonde hair, big blue eyes and sweet smile
adding to the illusion.  I blurted, “How can you do it? How can you make
yourself torture the person that means more to you than anyone else?
How the
hell can you hurt Alastair
?”

“By being a vampire,
Lu,” he said simply. “All vampires are dark at our core. Even Alastair, even
Joey. Maybe
especially
those two, given how much they love the hunt, how
much they love killing others of their kind.”

“They don’t love it.
They do it because they have to,” I said vehemently.

“Think so?” Augustine
shrugged as he played with the suds in the sink. “If you say so. I’ll only
speak for myself then. It is absolutely, without a doubt, in my nature to kill.
It’s what I am. I’m currently choosing to access my humanity, to resist the
killer in me. It’s a conscious choice. But the killer isn’t gone. He’s just
leashed, temporarily. That part of me, the vampire part, never really goes
away.”

His voice was low,
quiet, as he said all of this. “So now,” he continued, “I feel bad about the
things I’ve done. But if I want to stop feeling bad, it’s so simple. All I have
to do is flip a switch and my humanity is shut off. I do that from time to
time, when the anguish and guilt become too much. And at those times, when my
humanity isn’t around to hold my vampire nature in check? Torture and death and
destruction, they’re not only ok. They’re
fun
.”

I absorbed this for a
long moment, resisting the urge to shudder as the hairs on my arms stood on
end. Finally I said, “Well, you’ve succeeded in freaking me out.”

“Not the goal, Luna.
I’m just trying to explain the nature of the vampire to you. And you can choose
to think I’m only talking about myself. Go ahead and think I’m an anomaly.
Whatever gets you through the night, as they say.” Augustine scooped up a
handful of suds and dropped them, watching them float back down to the sink. It
was such an innocent, childlike thing to do that it seemed absolutely bizarre,
coming from him. He changed the subject by saying, “This thing you’ve done here
in the sink is festive. What are the bubbles for?”

I cleared my throat and
said, “I’m going to show you. With
one
of these pans. Then you’re doing
the rest.”

When Augustine had the
dishes well under way, I went back upstairs to the guestroom. Alastair was the
only one still awake, propped up against the headboard and resting a hand on
Bryn’s arm protectively.

“Lu, I’m so sorry. I
didn’t know about Elizabeth,” he whispered.

“I just found out you
had the marriage annulled long ago. You’re not still married.” I repeated what
Augustine had told me.

“I tried to kill her?
God, I’m such a monster,” he whispered, pain in his voice.

“You’re not, Allie. She
tried to kill you first. What were you supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Not
that.”

I thought back over my
conversation with Augustine.
All vampires are dark at our core.
But I just
couldn’t see it, not in Alastair and not in Joey.

Or I didn’t want to.

Chapter
Five

Apparently morose Bryn had been transformed into
drunk, belligerent Bryn while I slept.

He was currently
blasting the Ramones while sucking down enough whiskey to drown a normal
person. He was drinking it through a long, purple kids’ twisty straw as he lay
on his back on the big table in the center of the wine cellar, yelling
obscenities at the ceiling every couple minutes.

“Bryn, you seriously
have to put the booze down,” Joey implored. “You’re actually human, you know.
And this much alcohol can, in fact, kill you.”

“I’m not human, I’m a
bloody warlock. If I poison my liver I’ll just make myself a new one,” he
growled.

“Warlocks
are
human. And it’s gonna be kinda hard to conjure yourself a new liver once you’re
unconscious,” Joey said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, how I wish I could
drink myself unconscious! But you know what happens when you spend over three
hundred years developing a tolerance to alcohol? It doesn’t bloody
work
anymore! Do you know how much booze it takes now for me to even sort of feel
drunk? This much,” he said, sweeping his arm around the huge wine cellar.

“Bryn, just give me the
bottle,” Joey demanded. He started to reach for it, but a little flame leapt up
out of nowhere and scalded his hand, making him pull back quickly. “Awesome.
Light a fire around a bunch of totally flammable alcohol. Good thinking,” he
grumbled.

“Ok, that’s it,” I
said, stepping forward. We’d been watching our friend in this destruction
spiral for a couple hours now, and it had gotten old. “Sit up, Bryn. Now,” I
told him. If he needed tough love, he was going to get it. And after growing up
with a drug addict mother, I sure as hell knew how to dish it out. He sat up
cautiously, eyeing me like I might possibly be dangerous, and the music dropped
to a normal level.