Fallen Embers (12 page)

“I know that you have them, which is already more than I wish to know.” He sighed and shook his head. “I know there's a tenderness in your voice when you speak with him that is never there otherwise. I know your thoughts of him consume you, how you're always wondering what will he do, what will he think, how will he react when he learns the truth. Tell me, how long has it been since you've drawn so much as a single breath without the thought of Conrad crossing your mind? Or don't you even recall?”

“You're being childish. Stop it.”

“You'll never admit it, will you? However, since we're speaking
honestly
, tell me why I should even bother trying anymore? If you're so convinced that this disaster is inevitable, if it's only a matter of time and you've
truly
given up hope, why have you not thrown in the towel already? Why not go to Conrad tonight and confess? Meanwhile, I'll simply cut and run. If I'm no longer needed or wanted here, why should I not head back to England, go into hiding, leave you to deal with the consequences on your own? Is that what you want?”

“You know it's not,” Georgia mumbled, her voice hollow as she made her way to the sofa that made up part of the seating arrangement in the suite's small living room. She moved slowly, as though every movement hurt. Perhaps it did. Christian's heart raged against the unfairness of it all.

He watched as Georgia lowered herself onto the couch. She gazed up at him, entreatingly. “You know how much I depend upon you, don't you? How much I
need
you here, how much I love you?”

“I know you need me.” It was the worst aspect of this cursed disease, the fact that no other blood but his could nourish her. Why
shouldn't
she love him—for that fact alone? But knowing he was the only thing that stood between her and oblivion meant he could never be certain there was anything else between them.

It certainly wouldn't surprise him to learn she hated him. After all, it had been he who'd infected her in the first place. Add to that the cruel fact that he remained healthy and strong while she wasted away? Oh, no, that would not surprise him at all.

As a carrier, he was, for all practical purposes, immune to the disease—the result of his already having been infected before he was turned. The disease in his blood had inoculated him, even as it doomed her. He could feed from whomever he wished without suffering any ill effects and, as long as he fed only from humans, there was no fear of spreading the disease.

Other vampires with whom he traded blood or shared a meal, on the other hand, would not be as lucky. They were all doomed—instantly, unequivocally, without exception. Until now…

Could Julie really be the miracle he'd waited centuries to find? There had to be some way to gain her trust and become privy to her secrets—but it had to be soon. A cure was useless if it came too late to save Georgia's life.

“You know it's more than
need
,” Georgia said quietly. “You know I love you. Don't you?”

“I hope so.” Christian crossed the room to sit beside Georgia on the couch. He brushed back a loose strand of hair and then took hold of her hand. “You're not really giving up on us, are you? You can't tell me you're ready for your life to be over yet.”

Georgia shook her head. “Of course I'm not. I don't know that anyone ever is
really
ready.”

“I'm not asking about anyone; I'm asking about you. At least promise me that you won't do anything foolish. Please, darling. I'm working on something that…” He trailed off. What could he say to encourage her, without giving anything away?

“That…?” Georgia prompted.

“Nothing. Never mind. Let's keep it a surprise, shall we? I don't want to say anything until I'm sure.”

“Christian…”

“Oh, very well. I won't bore you with the details, but I think I've found something that may help to keep your strength up, a sort of…a sort of tonic, if you will. It's not yet ready for you to try, but I'm very optimistic about it. Promise you'll hold on a little while longer. I can't have you giving up on me—not when we're this close. I need your word you'll keep fighting for as long as you can.”

Georgia closed her eyes, her exhaustion plain in every line of her body. “Promise me,” he urged again.

She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. “I am sorry, Christian. Truly I am. I will try my best, for your sake. But I just don't know how much longer I can do this.”

“It's most unfair,” Christian complained. “You bring me here. You set me a task, and then do nothing but hinder me as I attempt to carry out your orders. Now you worry me into thinking that 'twill all be for naught.”

“What help can I give you?” Georgia replied sadly. “When I can no longer even help myself?”

“Well, to start with, you can leave off complaining about all the time I spend with Julie.”

“Oh, ridiculous. When have I ever done that?”

“Just a little while ago. And, I'll ask you again, if you know a better way to reach her, to gain her trust, then by all means tell me.”

“Such as?”

“I don't know yet, that's why I'm asking. What weaknesses might she have? With whom would she share her confidences? You must have learned
something
useful; you were here for weeks before me.”

“And you've been here for months,” Georgia pointed out. “How much have you to show for it? It's like I told you. These twins of Conrad's are the oddest of creatures. The boy cares for naught but ferals and fairytales while the girl apparently prefers the company of humans over all others. Up until recently, she didn't even reside in the mansion. She'd chosen to live over the garage—with one of the gate guards, if you please—as though she herself were no more than a servant.”

“One of the guards?” Christian frowned. How was it possible he hadn't known this? “This is exactly the type of information I'm talking about! Which one is he? Why is she no longer with him? Did she tire of him? Or did Conrad interfere?”

“Who knows?” Georgia said with a shrug. “He no longer works here, so I doubt you know him. Conrad dismissed him shortly before your arrival, supposedly at Julie's request, if the rumors are to be believed. However, I've also heard it said that Julie wanted Conrad to turn her lover, and that was the reason he'd been sent away. Who knows which rumor is correct? It's possible both are wrong.”

Christian laughed bitterly. “Conrad refused to turn him? Why am I not surprised?”

Georgia shook her head. “No. It was
he
who did not wish to be turned, or so it was said. He has a young child apparently, and in the end he chose to remain human for his sake.”

“I see. So this child is his weakness, obviously. And he, in turn, may well be Julie's weakness—or a way to gain her trust. Is that what you're saying?”

“I had not thought of it in those terms, but I suppose you're correct.” She sighed—a sad, forlorn and wistful sound if ever Christian had heard one. “Love does seem to delight in making us vulnerable.”

“Where can I find this former guard…what's his name?”

“Find him? You
cannot
find him. He is to be left strictly alone—Conrad's orders. Everyone is to keep their distance from the man or face his wrath. To that I'll add my own orders. I forbid you to pursue this matter any further. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly so.” Christian quickly sealed her mouth with a kiss—in part to put a stop to their arguing, in part to conceal his own confusion. For practically the first time since his turning, she'd given him a direct order that was not backed up by any level of compulsion. Was it an oversight on her part, or a disturbing new symptom? Was she growing too weak to compel him?

Whatever the reason, Christian was suddenly free to do whatever he liked. And that was one order he had no intention of following.

Conrad was traversing the upstairs hallway, on his way back to his own suite, when the sound of a car door closing reached his ears. He paused at the top of the stairs, very near to the place where he had once stood with Armand, watching through the stained glass window as yet another of his lovers departed.

Then as now, he consoled himself with the thought that this was only a temporary separation. Or so he hoped. One rarely knew with any certainty, this side of the grave, when “goodbye” might not mean forever. Conrad had guessed wrong too many times, and in both directions, to ever truly trust his luck again.

“
Au revoir, mon ami
,” he murmured all the same, watching as Armand cast one, last backward glance at the house before disappearing into the cab. “Hurry back.”

It disturbed Conrad that Armand should choose to leave so close to dawn, but it didn't really surprise him. He had expected as much. The obvious conclusion was that Armand was leaving now in order to avoid another confrontation with Julie. In all likelihood, he would not travel far tonight. He'd probably booked a hotel somewhere close by where he planned to sleep through the day before journeying on after nightfall.

Conrad could only hope he'd made the right decision in letting Armand go, just as he hoped he was making the right decision now by choosing not to press Georgia for more information.

She'd looked eaten up by worry tonight. Her heart had been pounding in a most distressing manner. And, yet, when he questioned her about her relationship with Christian, she'd seemed honestly surprised. Conrad judged it unlikely she was lying on that subject. Perhaps the problem was something she had not wanted to discuss in front of Christian?

Conrad had been aware of the younger man, waiting just a room away, hanging on their every word. It was for that reason, more than anything else, that he'd held his own tongue.

He could force the information from her, if he had to, but he hoped it would not come to that. The ill will engendered by such heavy-handed tactics was rarely ever worth the information he gained. No, much better to let her come to him. He'd have the whole story from her eventually, one way or another.

When the cab, with its precious cargo, finally disappeared from sight, Conrad turned away from the window. As he resumed his trek down the hallway, his thoughts returned to Georgia. What had been going on in that head of hers tonight?

“If only fate had not conspired against us. If only we had not been separated!”

It had surprised him to hear her talk that way. And it troubled him. Not because he'd never shared the sentiment. Indeed, there had been many times over the course of his life when he'd wished the same thing. But, of the two of them, Georgia had always been the more pragmatic. He'd been certain she'd long since put such useless longings behind her.

Chapter Eight

Britannia

Early Twelfth Century

“You're looking unusually pensive tonight,” Georgia said as she and Quintano lay abed one evening, shortly after dusk. “Is there aught bothering you?”

“I've been pondering something you said,” he replied with a shrug.

Georgia's eyes tracked the motion of his shoulders as they rose and fell. Her thoughts grew heated as she recalled how his body had moved against hers when they'd made love. Just the thought of it had her body yearning for more. She pulled her thoughts back with an effort. “Indeed? Well that will never do! Whatever I said to put such a frown upon your face, I recant it immediately.”

Quintano smiled. “Nay. That you shall not. For I will always prefer to hear the truth from you, no matter how unpalatable it may be.”

“As you will. So then what is this truth that you find so unpalatable?”

“You told me that my mistress was unlikely to consider my mission here a failure since, by killing Edwin—the man she'd sent me to meet—I unwittingly gave her exactly what she'd wanted all along, control of his nest, the expansion of her empire and a foothold here on this island.”

Georgia nodded. “When you killed him you absorbed his essence. In that instant, ownership of all that he had, was transferred to you, and thus became hers.”

“So it's true then? I did not misunderstand you? She benefits each time I kill? Every death makes her stronger?”

“It is not quite as simple as that. Say rather that she does not lose anything by your actions. Every vampire you defeat makes you stronger. But it's only when your victim hails from another House that she benefits. When you kill someone who already belongs to her, she neither loses nor gains. Her power remains largely unchanged.”

His mouth tightened. “Had I but known that, I might have let them kill me—all for the pleasure of robbing her of yet another prize.”

“Then it's glad I am that you did not know.” Georgia reached out to feather the hair at his brow. “For you to have died before ever we met would not have suited me at all. In fact, I thank the stars above for your ignorance—and your mistress too, for failing to enlighten you. It seems she did us both a favor.”

Quintano captured her hand and brought it to his lips. “I, too, am filled with gratitude that fate has brought us together. However, I refuse to credit that foul creature with any of it.”

“Are you sure that's all that ails you?” she asked when his expression remained grim.

He stared at her for a moment longer and then sighed. “I am feeling unusually restless tonight for no reason that I can name. I think perhaps we should move on from this place.”

“Aye. Most likely we should,” Georgia agreed reluctantly. She pressed a kiss to her lover's chest, then stretched, enjoying the press of his body on hers, the clasp of his arm as it tightened around her, drawing her even closer. It was good to be mindful of such little things, so pleasurable, so memorable, but ultimately, so very fleeting.

They'd been camped in the same sweet little hollow for the past ten days, probably longer than was prudent for them to tarry in any one place. Arguably, they'd been the most idyllic ten days of her life, so perhaps she could be excused for being reluctant to move on. If she had her choice, she'd choose never to leave this spot. But after all this time, she knew better. Such bliss as this could not be expected to last. It was foolish to risk getting used to it. “I wonder if it's not your mistress's thoughts that are affecting you. She propped herself up on an elbow and gazed down at him. “I hesitate to mention it, but perhaps what you perceive as simple restlessness is in reality the bending of her mind to find you and urge you home.”

Quintano laughed rudely. “Good luck to her if that be the case.” He pulled Georgia back down to him and kissed her soundly. “Home did you call it? You must never do so again. You defile the very word if you use it to refer to so vile a place.
Domus Hera Noctis
was never anyone's home. Hades itself would be a better place in which to dwell.”

Georgia sighed. “I pray you will find a way to endure it there, for it grieves me to think that you will be so unhappy. Whatever you choose to call it—Hades or home—it makes no difference. Eventually, we must both return to that place where we belong, I to my sire, you to yours.”

“Return?” Quintano stared at her aghast. “To the very monsters who made us what we are? Are you mad? I shall never return there! Knowing what I know now… How can you think it?”

“If you still believe it to be a matter of choice, you must never have tarried overlong on your travels. For I assure you, if your mistress wanted you back, you would know it. And return you would, whether it pleases you or not.”

“You think me so weak? So corrupt?”

“No, love.” Georgia shook her head. “Of course I do not. You're no weaker than I or any other of our kind and far less corrupt than most. But when our sires compel us, there is naught for us to do but bow to their wishes. There is no shame in doing so. It is our nature. The pain that results from our attempts to do otherwise is enough to break the strongest of us.”

“Pain is a constant of this life we lead. In truth, 'tis more painful to be in her presence than anything I could experience anywhere else. Indeed, I've been aware of her foul voice in my mind for several weeks now, but one can train oneself to ignore almost anything. Being with you soothes me in ways I cannot express. But even were that not the case, I still would not return. There were but two reasons I stayed as long as I did. The first was because I thought myself a monster and believed her dungeons to be the only place for which one such as I was fit. The second was in order to fight. Her chief mode of entertainment has always been to pit her slaves against one another in battles to the death. The chance to kill a score or two of my brethren, mayhap rob her of a few of her pet champions in the process—aye, that was a very attractive lure. Now that you've shown me what else may be possible, there's nothing that could draw me back.”

“You never said why you were sent away.” Georgia gazed at him curiously. “Is that the reason? Because you killed too many of her best warriors?”

“Oh, no. That was, perhaps, the smallest part of it. Indeed, she was pleased at first—even after I killed the captain of her guard and her chief favorite. There's nothing makes her happier than bloodshed and despair. Unfortunately, she assumed my eagerness for the arena stemmed from a desire to impress her, to win her favor and, in the case of her late captain, to take his place in her bedchamber.”

“And did you win it?” Georgia didn't know why she even asked. It had nothing to do with her. Certainly she was deriving no pleasure from imagining a Quintano so besotted with another woman that he'd fight to the death to bed her. She hid her discomfort with a casual shrug. “If so I'm even more perplexed. Surely you did not disappoint her there?”

He shrugged once again. “I care not at all whether
she
was disappointed. Indeed, I'd much sooner bed a viper.”

“And would I be that viper then, sir?” Georgia asked mockingly. She drew away and looked at him askance. “I've a feeling I've just been insulted.”

“Vixen.” Quintano gazed fondly at her. “You are the moon of my night, the sole blessed light in a world gone dark. I'd think you an angel come down from heaven, but for one salient factor that, even with the best will in the world, I find I cannot ignore.”

“And that factor is?”

“Teeth.” He pulled her to him once more. With fangs unsheathed, he scored her neck, allowing just a hint of venom to slide through her veins, drawing a moan of pleasure from her lips. Then he closed her wounds and set her free, smiling as he said, “I am not a learned man, as you've oft remarked, but I've yet to hear that angels bite, nor moan, nor yet behave in so thoroughly decadent a fashion as I have observed in you.”

“Then that is their loss,” Georgia replied, somewhat breathlessly. “And we must weep for them. But you've yet to answer my question.”

“Perhaps I've forgotten what you'd asked? Your beauty, as always, is a powerful distraction.”

“Flatterer. I'd asked what ailed your mistress. How is it that she did not appreciate having you in her bed?”

Quintano sighed. “Many things may have ailed her—whatever foul illnesses there are that rot the mind and eat the soul. Assuming she possessed either in the first place. I suppose she was satisfied enough in the beginning. Until the night she chanced to remark on how much it must please me to be so honored.”

“Do not tell me you confessed to her your lack of interest?”

“She should not have asked had she not wanted to know. I told her I would have preferred to have died a hundred times over than to have been forced to bed her for even one night. She did not take it well.”

“Indeed, I marvel that you're still alive.” Had his mistress truly been unable to think of any more dire a punishment than banishment? Or did worse await him upon his return? “But if I may offer a word of advice, my love, we live in a world where such honesty as yours is not valued very highly. It would serve you well to cultivate a certain level of politesse—wherever you may chance to go.”

Not surprisingly, he brushed her concerns aside. “Plain speaking suits me well enough. I do not possess the patience for anything else. I am but a soldier. As long as my strength does not fail me, and my steel continues to serve my needs I am happy.”

“And when those fail?”

“
If
they fail, then I pray I might make a good end, and take as many of the bastards along with me as I can.”

“Ah, love. There's more to life than battle. But, tell me, what kind of life do you imagine you will lead if you do not return home? A solitary existence, constantly on the run? It saddens me to think of it. We all need to be part of something, do we not? A soldier needs an army, as well as a cause. He needs a leader to direct his actions, a goal to pin his hopes to. If you were on your own, for what or for whom would you fight?”

Her lover regarded her steadily for a moment before answering softly, “You. I would fight for you, if you'd allow it. You would be my cause and I would be your army. I would make it my life's goal to keep you from harm.” He shrugged. “Or, if you'd prefer it, I would fight alongside you. I've seen how you comport yourself, and I certainly would not scorn your assistance in battle. Indeed, I'd rather have you at my side than many a battalion I've been part of. Perhaps the life I envision is not as solitary as you imagine. With you beside me, I'd need no army, no leader, no other goal—nor any other home but this.” He gestured at the camp around them. “And I would be content, no matter how many days or years or centuries are left to me.”

Georgia dropped her gaze. His words were pretty enough. But she suspected he would soon grow tired of such an existence. And, as for herself, she
knew
she would not be content to live in this fashion forever. Always out in the open, at the mercy of the elements, constantly on-guard and just as constantly on the move? That was
not
her ideal.

Maybe she was foolish to hope for more, or maybe she was too ambitious for her own good, but she craved a life of ease—more comfort, more security, more riches, more
peace
. In the long term, she feared that not even Quintano's company could make up for the lack of all the rest.

In the short term, however… “Ah, love, if only such a thing were possible. But that which is fated will not be denied. We are neither of us free. And, unlike you, I have not the strength to resist my master's call. Sooner or later, he will remember my existence and recall me to his side. And when that happens, like it or not, I must go.”

“If that's your decision, then I will go with you.”

“You will do no such thing.” Georgia stared at him in alarm. “Are you daft?”

“'Twould not be my first choice, but as you see, I'm prepared to make almost any sacrifice on your behalf. Is your master so proud he would disdain my services? To have my sword at his disposal is no small thing, as I'm sure you'll agree. Plus, if I've understood all that you've told me, it appears I've lately vanquished one of his chief rivals. Why should he not be glad to parley with me? He has nothing to lose and everything to gain. And since he does not appear to value you as he should, why should he not agree to my terms?”

“What terms are these?” Georgia asked, so terrified by what his answer might be that she felt faint.

“Merely that I be allowed to take you away with me.”

“Oh, my love, of course he will not allow such a thing. Why should he? I assure you, if Rupert were ever to deign share me with you in such a fashion, it would only be for the pleasure he'd derive from taking me back at some later date and thwarting us both. And that's assuming you would manage to speak with him. In all probability, he'd have you killed on sight.”

“Why so?”

“For your strength, which would belong to whoever took your life. And because despite what you may believe, rivalries between Houses are seldom settled amicably. You've defeated his rival, aye, and thus set yourself in his place.”

“Not according to you.” Quintano's lips twisted into a bitter grimace. “Apparently I've set my mistress in Edwin's place.”

“Even worse. Were you to approach Rupert as an equal, a force with whom to be reckoned, he might have given you some measure of courtesy. But one such as he does not parley with an underling, no matter how well-meaning.”

“But…”

“Yes, yes. I know. You were sent here on just such a mission—or so you were told. Hence why, as I've said, you were lucky to have survived.”

“You may call it luck. I prefer to think of it as skill.”