Fallen Embers (7 page)

Sometimes he even found himself wondering whether he would still be working as hard as he was to save her if his own life were not also at risk. Would he continue to fight what had become an uphill battle to keep her healthy and alive, or would he be more inclined to let her slip peacefully away?

“You must learn to temper your responses,” Georgia said in a voice that spoke of her unutterable weariness. “Your inability to hide your feelings worries me. Such things are important now, but in the future they will be critical.”

“
My
inability? My dear girl, what of your own? Perhaps you think you're doing a bang-up job of appearing normal, but I assure you that's not the case.”

“It doesn't matter. What I do or fail to do is of far less importance. I am
Invitus
. I need worry only what Conrad thinks.”

“Yes, well, you certainly do that,” Christian replied, feeling peevish and out of sorts. “Your concern for him is touching. Or it would be, if you weren't so tiresome about it.”

“Oh, Christian, please.” Georgia shook her head. “Not this again. Would you like to know what
I
find tiresome? Your pathetic jealousy. Do you see me behaving in like fashion? Do I complain endlessly of all the time you spend with…with that girl, with Julie? No, you do not.”

“And a good job it is that you don't, seeing as it's you who asked me to play up to her in the first place, to gain her trust and find out what I could about her.”

“Aye, but not at the risk of alienating Conrad. Why can you not grasp this simple fact? You will need his goodwill going forward—if you're to have any hope of weathering the coming storm. You'd do well to try and curry favor with Damian also. Perhaps Julie might assist you in that regard. He quite dotes on her. It's positively bizarre.”

“You wish me to do what? Toady up to the devil who ruined your chances for independence? The idiot whose own insane jealousy nearly got you all killed? The man who, if he'd had his way, would have seen me dead four hundred years ago? I think not.”

“Yes. That's exactly what I'm suggesting.” Georgia sighed. “I don't like it any more than you do, but it's for your own good. He has Conrad's ear. He has Conrad's trust. You alienate him at your peril. I do know whereof I speak.”

“Conrad again,” Christian snapped. “It always comes back to that, doesn't it? What he wants, what he thinks, what he might do. He's all you can talk about.”

“You should listen to yourself,” Georgia replied bitterly. “Because this is exactly what I mean. Such disloyalty to your sire is dangerous.”

“
You
are my sire. And I've always been loyal. If you say otherwise, you're a liar.”

Tears gleamed in Georgia's eyes. “No, you're right. I could never fault you for that. Still, it pains me to hear you talk this way about Conrad. I fear for your future.”

“As I fear for yours. Not that you'll have much more of one if you continue to run yourself ragged attempting to kowtow to his every whim.”

Georgia shrugged helplessly. “Again, what would you have me do? He's my sire. I have no choice.”

“Ah, yes. How very convenient for you.”

“It is not convenient at all!” Georgia snapped. “Do you not think I wish it were otherwise? You know I do. I wish many things had turned out differently. But what's done can never be undone. As my sire, I owe him my allegiance, my fealty, my loyalty. That will never change.”

Unless he were to die,
Christian couldn't help but think. “But he wasn't always your sire, was he?”

“No,” Georgia said and her voice itself seemed a form of betrayal, so soft and gentle, so endlessly wistful. “No, he was not.”

“So for you to say that can never change, is a bit naïve, wouldn't you agree?”

But, at that, Georgia shook her head. “No. Not naïve, rather say hopeful. For I promise you, my past friendship with Conrad is all that stands between us and ruin.”

“If you say so.” Anger and resentment burned in Christian's heart. Whenever Georgia was questioned regarding her feelings for Conrad, her answer was always the same. She swore she gave him nothing more than was owed him. She spoke of allegiance, fealty, duty. She said nothing whatsoever about love. Yet Christian would be willing to bet any amount of money that her feelings for Conrad were far less a matter of blood than of the heart.

Chapter Five

Britannia

Early Twelfth Century

The quiet of the night was broken only by the distant piping of birds, the faint creak of branches overhead, the soft burbling of the nearby stream and the harsh, stentorian breathing of the human caught in Quintano's clasp. Georgia kept a close eye on the other vampire as he fed, making certain he followed her instructions to the letter. He was such a contradictory creature, so rough, primitive and untutored on the one hand, yet oddly compassionate beneath. He was strong—he had to be, to have remained so unbroken after all he'd been through—with a twisted sense of honor that left her sorely troubled. She had no lack of appreciation for his honor, since it was that very trait that had prompted him to save her life not so long ago. All the same, she also knew that such qualities as honor and compassion had no place in their world. One day, they would more than likely lead to his undoing. She'd just as soon not be there when it happened.

“Gently now,” she cautioned when the man who Quintano had pinned against the trunk of the large oak tree whimpered suddenly and squirmed in protest. She placed her hand lightly on the vampire's tense shoulder—keeping it there even when he flinched at the contact. “Relax your grip a little. Hold him lightly, as you would a lover. There's no need to squeeze the life out of him. I promise you, he's not going to run away.” The man had best not even attempt it. Given how richly he'd already been compensated for his trouble, he should be willing to put up with a good deal more discomfort than he was presently undergoing.

Georgia was not in the habit of paying for her meals—certainly not with gold and
never
with so much of the substance—but Quintano had insisted. He seemed not to take her at her word when she told him his venom should be compensation enough. Seeing as the gold in question was not hers, however, Georgia could find no reasonable grounds upon which to object.

She prodded again at the vampire's shoulder. “Do as I say.”

A low growl issued from Quintano's throat. It lifted the hairs on Georgia's neck and pulled an answering growl from her own throat. She set her teeth as she struggled for control. He'd come far in the past few weeks, but he had still a ways to go. If he kept challenging her every dictate, however, she'd soon be leaving him to his own devices.

“There's no good in your asking for my help if you won't follow my directions. I am grown tired of having to endlessly repeat myself. If you wish me to wash my hands of you, then by all means keep to your present course.”

A shudder wracked Quintano's frame. Slowly his hands unclenched. The human in his grasp sent Georgia a grateful look, which she did not deign to acknowledge. In truth, the man's comfort was of little interest to her. He was useful as a training tool, nothing more. They'd encountered him outside the little village and quickly struck a bargain. Given his bedraggled appearance, he was poor even for a peasant. He was clearly without influence and unlikely to ever be missed if things went awry. Even if things went well, he was probably fated not to live for very long. He was lucky to have met them then; and if his luck held, perhaps he'd find a way to use the gold he'd earned here tonight either to prolong his days beyond what they would have been otherwise, or at least to bring some measure of ease to what was left of them.

“Very good,” Georgia told Quintano. “Now, take a minute, why don't you, and listen to his heart. See if you cannot determine for yourself this time whether or not you've taken enough from him.” Up until now she'd had to do most of the work herself—and fight the other vampire at almost every step. It had become a long, tiresome, thankless process and both her patience and her gratitude were wearing thin. It was a mystery to her why she continued to help. Why should she not just cut him loose?

Quintano stilled. A moment later he lifted his head and glared at her. “I cannot tell! How am I to judge something like that when I don't even know what I'm listening for?”

“It's very simple. You need only try and recall what his heart sounded like before you started—or what anyone's heart is wont to sound like.” They were vampires. Hearts sang to them. Or at least they should. Why did they not do so for him? “Surely you've experienced enough of them over the years to know what I'm talking about.”

“Have I? What does it matter how long it's been, when I never paid the slightest bit of attention or cared at all for such things until now? Most of those I've fed from these last few centuries were nigh on dead before I started. As for the rest…that was so long ago. I can no longer recall what noises they might have made as I killed them. Nor do I wish to remember it. It's hopeless, I tell you.”

He snarled the last words. Georgia snarled back in response. Another whimper broke from the peasant. No doubt from fear this time. As who would not be afraid, caught between two angry
Invitus
? Georgia reined in her emotions.

She shook her head. “It is only hopeless if you refuse to try. Do you always give up so easily?”

“I am done here anyway,” Quintano growled as he released the man from his grasp.

“Wait.” Georgia put out a hand, stopping him before he could step away. “I will not always be there to clean up after you.” She gestured at the human. “Mend his wounds, if you've no more use for him. Unless you wish for him to bleed to death?”

Quintano shot her an angry look, but he did as she bid him. The terrified man squeaked once again, as the vampire seized hold of him. Quintano paid him no mind. He quickly licked the blood from the man's neck, sealing the small punctures. The skin knitted itself back together almost immediately. Quintano raised his head and stared fixedly at the place where his teeth had been. The look on his face was very much like pain. Suddenly, he thrust the man away and then stalked off into the darkness without another word to either of them.

Georgia sighed. She'd fought hard for the privilege of being treated with respect and not like a slave, a peasant, an underling, a thing. This was too close to what she'd escaped from. How dare he dismiss her so lightly? How much longer did he imagine she'd put up with such ill-bred, unpleasant behavior? How long before one or the other of them lost their tempers and blood was spilled? There was a reason why
Invitus
tended to be loners. Gratitude and honor could only take one so far.

“You may go now,” she told the trembling human. “But say nothing to anyone of what you've seen here tonight. If any trouble comes from this I shall know who's to blame and I
will
come after you. You have my word on it. I shall make you rue the day you were ever born.”

“Y-y-yes, mistress. Of-of course, mistress. I'll not say a w-word,” the man stammered as he backed away. “Th-th-thank you.” When he judged the distance between them was great enough, he turned and ran, stumbling a little in the dark as he made his way back toward the road. Georgia sighed once again. With any luck, the man would see the wisdom in holding his tongue. If not, then it was just as well they'd both fed recently, if not terribly well. If they had to run, at least they'd have the energy needed to do so.

Assuming she was not already on her own. She paused a moment to listen, but heard nothing to suggest Quintano was anywhere in the vicinity. Perhaps he'd fled? Perhaps he'd chosen to disappear from her life as abruptly as he'd entered it? In some ways it would be a relief. He was troublesome, combative and not infrequently rude. His wildness, his unpredictability, his shocking ignorance—nearly everything about him in fact—made him a terrible liability.

Yet, all the same, it surprised her to realize that she was not quite ready to put an end to their association. Being able to enjoy the company of one like herself without a constant struggle for dominance, without always fearing for her safety—it was an unheard of luxury. She'd enjoyed it very much.

He truly seemed to have no interest in doing her harm. Even more surprisingly, perhaps, he truly seemed to have no interest in
her
. Perversely, she found, that made her want him all the more. She wanted to pique his interest, at least a little. She wanted to tempt him into changing his mind, into remembering that she was a woman, he a man, and neither of them unattractive. It would be very disappointing if this were over already, if she never got that chance.

So it was a relief when she found her protégé seated just outside the shallow cave in which they'd made their camp. He was perched on a fallen tree, overlooking the small stream, his face buried in his hands.

“What ails you?” she asked as she seated herself beside him, close enough so that their shoulders nearly touched. “Are you hungry still? There's no need to despair, if that's the case. It's not yet that late and there's likely to be a pub, of sorts, in yon village. We could easily search out someone else if you wish.”

Quintano shook his head but said nothing.

“You've not seemed pleased with your last few meals. Was their flavor not to your liking? Perhaps the taste was too bland. Do you miss the fear? The bitterness that accompanies pain? I know it adds some interest to the blood—or so some say.”

“No!” he barked hoarsely. “No, no, no. I find this infinitely more palatable. Why would you ask such a thing? Who could possibly prefer the taste of…the taste of pain?”

Georgia shrugged. “There are some who do. There are many, in fact, who crave it—through no real fault of their own. I know 'tis what
you
are used to, so I thought, perhaps you felt the same. It would be unremarkable were it the case, you know. There's no need to be ashamed. It's how you choose to deal with the urges that matters most, much more so than the urges themselves. Or so I've always thought.”

He shook his head. “No. I have no such urge, no need or craving to ever taste such suffering again.”

“You should try and eat more then,” she told him. “If the flavor does not displease you, I know not what the problem could be. I'm convinced it would improve your mood if your stomach were more often full.” She was no longer surprised that he was as strong as he was. To eat as he did, consuming barely enough to blunt the edge of his hunger, frequently produced that result. It also left one's temper ragged. Angry, desperate and hopeless—it was an explosive combination. No good could come of it.

“My
mood
?” He raised his head to stare at her. “What care I for so meaningless a thing? The very thought of having to eat in this fashion sickens me.”

The bleakness in his expression tore at her heartstrings. She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “And why is that? Most of nature consists of one creature devouring another. It is the way of the world. And have I not yet proven to you that you need cause no harm? Why does that not ease your mind? Why are you not more pleased with my tutelage?”

“It is not that,” he answered at length, his voice low. “Indeed, I feel naught but gratitude for all you've taught me. It's just that, when I think back and remember all that I've done… When I realize that, all that time, I could have fed without killing, eaten without causing injury or pain… Do you know how many people I've killed? I thought my actions were justified. I believed I was only doing what was necessary. But no! Now, I come to find out it was all for nothing. Needless suffering, needless pain, needless death.”

“I beg to differ. You have told me you learned to kill swiftly, in order to spare your victims. Is that not so?”

“It is.”

“And those you killed—did you not do so at your sire's behest?”

“For the most part. Other than those I came across on my travels.”

“Could you have refused to kill those whom your mistress gave you? Let us forget, for the moment, that had you done so without having first learned to feed painlessly, you would have been causing untold suffering. If you'd somehow figured out for yourself how to spare them that pain, if you'd chosen not to drain them, to take merely what you'd needed and not their very lives, would that have been the end of it? Would she then have let them go?”

He laughed mirthlessly. “No, not she. Did you truly think I would not try and refuse?” He shook his head. “Of course I did. In the beginning I tried every way I knew to resist. And, for all my efforts, those I tried to save merely suffered more. Either I was locked up with them until the beast overtook me and I tore them to pieces in my madness, or else they were taken away from me and given to those even worse than I. Either way, they died in agony and more often than not I was made to watch, to listen. I can still hear their screams.”

“Then you did what you had to do. You acted to spare your victims needless suffering. You've nothing to reproach yourself for.”

“No.” At that he shook his head. “Perhaps
you
have no cause for reproach. I, on the other hand…”

“Have I not?” Now it was Georgia's turn to laugh. “In that you are very much mistaken, my friend. Were I to give in to self-pity as you seem so fond of doing, I too could find regrets and reproaches aplenty. One does not become
Invitus
without pain or bloodshed. 'Tis only when that side of our nature is nurtured from the start, when it's coaxed into full expression and we ourselves are driven to the point of madness again and again by our hunger, only then do our strengths emerge and our differences grow more distinct. Otherwise, we'd be just like all the rest of the undead—perilous to humans, yes, but prey to anyone else.”

“You call them strengths?” He laughed harshly.

“They
are
strengths.”

“They are an illness, a disease, an irreparable weakness. If I drop a bowl and it shatters, have I improved its ability to hold water?”

“No, but you
have
improved its function as a weapon.”