Fallen Embers (26 page)

She glanced toward Georgia, who stood in the door between the bedrooms, rather than the door Julie was aiming for, the one that led to freedom. Thank heaven for that! The look on Georgia's face shocked her, however, and for a moment, Julie could only stare.

Georgia looked terrible—pale, grim, shaking. She looked aged. In fact, the last time, the only time, Julie had seen anyone look this unwell was the night they'd freed Conrad from Vincent's cell. She was pretty sure he'd looked worse, but not by much, and not for long. Whatever was going on here, she no longer doubted that it
was
important. But, given the circumstances, only a fool would hang around to find out why.

Pulling herself together, Julie turned and headed for the door. “I'm sorry to cut this short,” she said, shooting one last look in Christian's direction. “Honest, I am. But I really do have to go.”

She felt bad as she fled the room and ran down the stairs, she really did. He was in trouble and he needed her and that's what friends were for, wasn't it? But there was no help for it at the moment. She was only good for one crisis at a time.

“I won't ask if you've lost your mind, since clearly you have.” The distrust in Georgia's tone cut deep. “But what on earth are you up to now?”

Christian glared at her. “What am I up to? I'm saving your bloody life, woman. The same thankless task I've been working at for centuries.”
So close. So close.
The words chanted inside him, taunting him. “And now, thanks to your interference, the best chance I've had to do that in…forever…has just run out the door.” He forced a deep breath. He had to calm down, had to think. There was still time to turn things around, to salvage this disaster. “I am so bloody close.”

“Oh, my love.” Georgia's lips curved into a wan smile. “If only you
could
save me. But I'm afraid it's far too late for fairytales. I'm sorry if I've disrupted your plans with Julie, whatever they were, but you need to pack your things. I'm sending you home.”

He stared at her, aghast. “What are you saying?”

“Come, darling, it's really not that complicated, is it? I need you to leave.”

“I don't understand. Where is this coming from? Did Conrad say something?”

Georgia shook her head, causing the soft, golden curls of her hair to bounce in that way they had of doing, that way that had captivated him from the start. “You just worry about getting yourself home as quickly as possible. I'll deal with Conrad.”

“I'll just bet you will.”

“When you get there,” Georgia continued, “you'll need to burn everything—your notebooks, your lab records—and dismantle your lab. I should have made you do that before you came.” She glanced across at the shelves that held his current experiments. “All this needs to go as well.”

“Georgia…” Should he tell her what he'd discovered? Did he dare?

“I'll leave it to you to decide what to do about the servants. Just make sure no one talks.”

“
Jesu Christo
, woman. You're not serious?” Without him, without his blood to nourish her, without his strength to support her, she would die. She would literally die. He didn't even think it would take days for it to happen, at this point.

“I can't fight this anymore.” Georgia's lips thinned into what could have been a smile. “I
will
try and hang on, for as long as I can, to buy you as much time as possible. Just remember…”

Remember what?
Christian wondered, as Georgia's voice trailed away.
That you love me? That our love was worth the risk, worth even the price you've paid? Is that what you're going to say?

“When they come to tell you about me, you must act surprised.”

Christian's heart clenched. “Darling, please. Don't talk like that.” He crossed the room, intending to take her in his arms, to beg and plead and coax her into changing her mind.

But she slipped back into her own room and shut the door in his face. The lock clicked shut. Furious, Christian slammed his fist against the door. One blow—all the sound he dared to make. He couldn't afford to let anyone hear. No matter how bad things seemed right now, they would only get worse if anyone else got dragged into it.

Reining in his anger, he switched to a softer, more reasonable tone, and allowed his native accent, the one he'd spent centuries eradicating, come to the fore. Maybe, if he could remind her of home, if he could remind her of happier days… “Georgia. Stop with your nonsense now. Open the door, like a good girl.”

“No!” Her voice was shaking and he'd swear he could smell her fear clear through the door. “Go away, Christian. Just pack up your things and go!”

“And how d'you plan on explaining that one to Conrad then? How is he like to respond if I simply up and go, without so much as a by-your-leave?”

Silence met his question. Perhaps that aspect hadn't occurred to her, Christian thought hopefully. She was frightened, not thinking clearly, acting on impulse. It was always their impulses that got them into trouble. If he could just convince her to give the matter a little more thought, maybe it would buy him the precious time he needed.

“Just do as I say,” Georgia said at last, dashing Christian's hopes once more. “Leave me to deal with Conrad.”

Conrad. The soft quiver that was always present in her voice whenever she spoke his name had Christian biting his own arm in an effort to keep from howling. No matter what Christian did, he could never hope to compete with
Conrad
.

It didn't matter how many times the bastard had failed her in the past, how badly or often he'd broken her heart, it was Conrad who would always be Georgia's hero.

“Just give me a chance, darling,” Christian begged again. “That's all I'm asking.”
So close. I'm so close!
“One chance to show you what I've learned. It's not too late—I promise. Let me prove it to you. Then, if I still can't convince you, I'll leave. I promise. No more arguments.”

If he couldn't save her, what was the point of living himself? He'd rather be dead than to be forced to spend eternity as the man for whom Georgia had thrown away her life.

There was nothing he wouldn't do to avoid that, no price he wouldn't pay. And no one he would not sacrifice.

Chapter Fourteen

On the outside, Marc's warehouse looked very much like Julie remembered it. Inside, however, enough had been changed so that, if she didn't know where she was, she could probably have pretended she was somewhere else. Perhaps that's what Marc did too. Perhaps that was the reason for all the changes.

But, if that were the case, why would her brother have kept the small cell in which he'd been held prisoner? That cage would have been the first thing Julie would have gotten rid of. Yet Marc had been content to leave it where it was, to paint the bars with glitter and string colored lights around it, until it resembled a giant
piñata
.

It didn't fit. It was all pretty on the surface, deadly underneath. On second thought, maybe it fit too well?

“This is your brother's crib?” Brennan glanced around. “Looks sorta like a grunge cathedral, huh?” He gave the wire fencing that made up the cage walls an experimental tug. “Sturdy.”

Julie shivered. “Don't!”

“I don't get this place. What's it supposed to be?”

“Good question.” She was starting to think it had been a mistake to bring Brennan here. She'd forgotten that all he knew of vampires was what he'd learned from working at the mansion. Yeah, he'd been to a few of the parties there, but those were probably tame compared to what went on at some of the clubs where Julie's kind went to feed.

“Okay, that's far enough.” An overly large, male vampire swaggered over to where they stood. He was dressed all in black—combat boots, black fatigue pants and a black tank top—like he was channeling Blade. Definitely not the kind of guy she'd want to run up against in a dark alley. “And no dissing the décor. You two don't like it, you're free to fuck off. How the hell'd you get in here in the first place?”

Julie pointed back the way they'd come. “Door's open?”

“Again? Fuck.” Raising his voice he shouted, “People! Did y'all grow up in a submarine? Stop leavin' the fucking door open all the time!”

A submarine? Julie winced. “Yeah, dude, I'm pretty sure that's not how that saying goes.” She remembered him now, and with the recollection, a little of her fear drained away. He hadn't been so tough-looking the last time she'd seen him. He'd looked about ready to piss his pants—as who wouldn't, with Conrad on the verge of tearing him to pieces. She wondered how many nights since then her brother had regretted having saved this joker's life.
Big mistake, bro. Huge.

“Whatever.” The big man rolled his eyes. “Everyone's a critic. Point is, you ain't supposed to be here. So you can just turn around and sashay your fine self outta here. You hear me, sweetie?” His gaze slid past her to rest on Brennan. Given the hungry look that flared in his eyes, he might as well have licked his lips. “He can stick around though.”

At the sound of Brennan's sharply indrawn breath, Julie felt her temper rise. “I don't think so.” This guy was big—and a vampire—that was generally a combination she did her best to avoid. She had no idea if she was any kind of match for him physically, even with her training, and she had no great desire to find out. So if this really
was
a dark alley, if she wasn't confident her brother was around here somewhere, or if she didn't have Brennan to worry about, she'd have been long gone. It was just lucky for her that wasn't the case. “Back the fuck off, already, and quit trying to scare me. I'm here to see Marc.”

The vampire smirked. “Yeah, sure you are. That's what they all say. You want I should put your name on the list?”

“Hawk!” Marc's voice rang out sharply. The big man flinched in a way that was eerily similar to Christian's reaction to Georgia. “What the fuck are you doing this time? Get the hell away from my sister.”

“Sister? Ah, shit.” The vampire—Hawk—grimaced. “How was I supposed to know?” He shot a reproachful glance in Julie's direction. “You shoulda said.”

She ignored him and turned her attention to the second-story catwalk where Marc leaned on the railing, looking pissed. “Hey, bro.”

“Jules. What's goin' on? Why're you here?”

“You mean other than the fact you told me to come and check the place out?” Julie asked, recalling her brother's response to her own very similar question the other night. Two could play that game. “We need to talk to you. In private.”

“All right.” Marc pointed to the metal staircase. “C'mon up.”

“Nice welcoming committee you got there,” Julie remarked after she followed her brother into what appeared to be a private suite—one that rivaled Conrad's for opulence.

“Yeah, I know.” Marc sighed. “Sorry about that. He tries though.”

“If you say so.” Julie's eyebrows rose as she took in her surroundings. “Wow. You're really dug in here, aren't you?” There was something very strange about this place, though she couldn't quite figure out what it was. It was certainly not the kind of décor she'd ever have associated with her brother. Had his tastes really changed that much? All the same, it was suddenly clear that Marc was exactly where he belonged.

Things were never going back to the way they used to be, no matter how much she wished otherwise. Marc wasn't ever moving back into Conrad's house. He was home.

“So what's going on?” Marc asked over his shoulder as he very hastily zipped up a large, black duffle bag that he'd had open on his desk. He cast a curious glance at Brennan. “I'm surprised to see
you
here, Brennan. I thought you'd gotten out?”

“He did,” Julie replied absently, her attention still focused on the duffle bag. It looked like one of the bags of emergency supplies they kept stored in the mansion's garage. Had Marc lifted it from there? Why? He couldn't be planning another trip so soon, could he?

“My son's been kidnapped,” Brennan said. “I need help finding him.”

“Oh, man!” Marc turned away from the desk to stare at Brennan in shocked dismay. “Dude. I am so sorry. What can I do to help?”

A small, detached portion of Julie's brain noted her brother's reaction with approval. Yes. Exactly.
This
was how you responded to such an announcement—with expressions of sympathy and an offer to help. “Brennan thinks vampires might have been involved.”

“What?” Marc turned to glare at her and all that dismay disappeared behind a mask of rage. “You think it was
my
people? Why? Just 'cause they used to be feral? That's bullshit.”

“That's not what I said!” Julie snapped. His
people
? Wow. So what did that make her?

“My ex says she doesn't remember anything that happened last night,” Brennan said with a hint of the same stubbornness he'd been showing all night. “That's not normal. And, in my experience, that doesn't add up to anything else. It means either she's lying, or someone messed with her mind.” He swallowed hard and added, “I have to believe she's not just making it up. Because, otherwise…”

“Right. I got that.” Marc shot a curious glance in Julie's direction. She answered with a shrug and a subtle shake of her head. She didn't know if Valerie was lying, either. But she understood why Brennan wasn't ready to accept that possibility. If his ex was
lying, then Parker was likely dead. Come to think of it, maybe she couldn't accept that possibility either.

Marc turned back to Brennan. “That still doesn't mean it was vampires, you know. Humans do that kind of shit to people all the time, don't they? Roofies, date rape, stuff like that.”

“Yeah,” Brennan agreed. “Except she wasn't at a club, she wouldn't have let just anyone into her apartment, and nothing else was messed with. That's a hell of a lot of trouble to go through just to take one little boy.”

“No one's asked for a ransom, either,” Julie added. “Not that it would make sense if they did. It's not like Brennan's a celebrity or like he has a lot of money or anything. But Conrad does. So maybe they're trying to get at him again? Like they did with you? I mean it wouldn't be the first time.”

Marc looked startled. “That's kind of a stretch, don't you think? I mean, Conrad and I are family; Brennan's not even working for him anymore. And his son…it's just really far removed.”

“What other explanation is there? The police aren't having any luck finding him and, you know, they wouldn't, would they, if that were the case? Vampires are the last thing they'd be looking for.” Remembering what Damian had said, she added, “And they're the last thing we
want
them to be looking for, right?”

Marc nodded. “Those are all good points. I'm still not sure I'm buying it, but I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions. I shouldn't have assumed you were trying to pin this on us. It's just that we've had to take a lot of crap from people and, well you know how it goes.”

“Uh-huh.” Julie practically bit through her tongue trying not to react. My people. Us. We. Her brother couldn't make it any plainer where his loyalties lay—with that Neanderthal downstairs, and all the rest of his crew. Damn it all, she
should
have shown him that picture Linda had given her. She should have told him
everything
she'd learned about the two of them, about their family, their past. She should have reminded him who his
real
family was. Maybe then, he wouldn't be trying so hard to cut her out of his life. But this was not the time for that. “So will you help us?”

“Of course. I said I would, didn't I? I just don't know what you want me to do. What's the plan?”

Julie shrugged. “I don't really have one. I hoped maybe you'd have some ideas. I just thought… Look, I'm not saying any of ‘your people' are involved, okay? So don't go off on me again. But maybe they've heard something? Or maybe they could ask around? You've got your ear to the ground more than anyone I know. Besides, we're vampires. And it's not that big a city, right? Why can't we just…I dunno, sense where he is? Sort of…sniff him out?”

Marc stared at her. “We're not bloodhounds, Jules.”

No, they were something a whole lot better, a whole lot scarier. She gritted her teeth. “I know.”

“And San Francisco is
not
that small. I don't care how good our senses are, picking out the scent of one particular person in a city this size is…hard. Why'd you think Damian sent for us in the first place? You think he didn't
want
to find Conrad when he went missing? Or ask Georgia; she's been looking for Audrey for six months with no luck.”

“We couldn't find Conrad because they were keeping him in a cave—and who even knew there were caves here? Now that we do, it's a different story. And if Georgia really hasn't thought to check for Audrey there by now, then she's an idiot.”

Marc nodded. “Point taken. But still, that's vampires. Finding a human is going to be even harder. There are a whole lot more of them, for one thing.”

“I don't care how hard it is, Marc. We have to find him.”

“I know. Just…look, don't go getting your hopes up too high.” He flashed another apologetic glance, this one aimed at Brennan. “Sorry, man, but the truth is it's not gonna be easy. We're talking about isolating the scent of one, single human, someone who I've never even met, a child no less…”

“
I've
met him,” Julie said, earning her another look from Marc. A long, searching look, full of torment and indecision, it had Julie wanting to squirm. “What now?”

“Nothing.” Marc glanced away, his jaw tight. “I'll put some people on it but…your knowing him might mean that you have an advantage, that's all. You're probably his best chance at being found.”

“Well, why didn't you say so?” The idea didn't seem to be making Marc too happy. It didn't make her happy, either. But something in his words rang true. It really
was
up to her. Why was she even surprised? And why had she even bothered coming here, or looking to anyone else for help in the first place? “Right. Well. I guess I'd better get started then, huh?”

“Not so fast.” Marc crossed to the door and opened it. “Hawk! C'mere a minute.”

“Now what're you up to?” Julie asked in a tone that was wary and suspicious. “What do you want
him
for?” Marc didn't bother to answer. Given that he could already hear Nighthawk's footsteps as he jogged up the metal stairs, he knew she'd find out soon enough.

A moment later, Nighthawk appeared in the doorway. “Yeah, boss?”

“We've got a crisis on our hands.” Marc gestured at Julie and Brennan. “Brennan's son is missing. My sister is trying to find him. I want you to go with them and give her an assist. Got it?”

Nighthawk's eyes widened. “A'ight. I hear you.” But the look on his face said,
you gotta be kidding me?

Marc glared back with a look he hoped conveyed his own message:
Do not fuck this up.

“What?” Julie shook her head. “Oh, no. No, Marc. Hell no. Not happening. I don't need to be lugging any extra baggage on this trip.” She glared at Nighthawk. “No offense, or anything.”

“Oh, none taken, sweetie. Trust me.”

“Jules, listen to me for a minute,” Marc said. “You came to me for help, right? So then let me help. Nighthawk's the best I've got. I'll get some other people hitting the streets, asking questions and stuff, even though I still think you've got a better chance of finding him than anyone else. But you don't get a medal for doing it all on your own. It never hurts to have a little backup. So take him along, just in case. Okay? For my sake? Please?”

“Fine.” Julie rolled her eyes, then fixed Marc with a steely-eyed stare he remembered well. “But once this is over, you and I need to talk. You hear me? I am
not
happy with some of the stuff that's been going on.”