Falling to Ash (9 page)

Two sets of footsteps marched into the delivery area, just as Jace pulled the door
almost
shut. He left it cracked open, probably to avoid the noise of closing it fully, but also so he could catch a slivered glimpse of what was happening outside.

I could hear his quiet breathing in the confined space, and for once found myself glad that I didn’t have to breathe anymore. I never, ever believed I’d think something like that about my undead status. I leaned against the metal wall of the closet, trying to stay as far away from my companion as I could. At such close quarters, I became horribly aware of his body heat – and of the blood running through his veins. I was tired, hungry and freaked out by everything that had happened in the last couple of hours. Being so close to human warmth was making me twitchy. A faint silver light began to combat the gloom, and I realized that it was coming from me – from my eyes, as they responded to my hunger.

Crap
. I quickly closed them and willed them to stop glowing, hoping that Jace hadn’t noticed.

I felt, rather than saw, him turn to face me. I opened one eye and almost sank to the floor with relief when I didn’t repeat my inconvenient impression of a flashlight. I opened my other eye and we gazed at each other through the gap in the uniforms hanging between us. He didn’t look away – surprising, considering how furious he’d been when I’d somehow managed to slip inside his head earlier.

Maybe Jason Murdoch was actually starting to trust me. Saving each other’s lives could have that effect, I guess.

The two voices moved further away. Someone cursed
as
he – or she – tripped over something, and then the door opened and clicked shut.

Jace nodded at me after waiting another minute. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

We bolted from the closet and made for the exit. Jace carefully wiped the key-card for prints and threw it across the room as we pushed our way out into daylight.

I blinked, grabbing my sunglasses from an inside jacket pocket as the sudden brightness burned my eyes. I could hardly believe they hadn’t been crushed in the fight with Zombie Rick.

We were in some kind of parking lot. A couple of large delivery vans protected us from potential scrutiny, and beyond them I could see the tops of trees hiding where the main road would be.

Jace checked left and right, then ducked back behind the shelter of one of the vehicles. ‘So, I guess this is it . . . Moth.’

He held out a business card. I took it and glanced down. A phone number stood out, printed neatly in black ink. Nothing else marked the stark white card. I looked at him, surprised. Confused. Maybe a little pleased but not wanting to show it.

Jace folded his arms and shrugged. ‘Just in case you find out what happened to the kid. I have a bad feeling about it – maybe we haven’t seen the last of whatever that was. It’s probably a good idea to figure out what we can.’

I wanted to make a witty comment, something about how he’d just given a vampire his cell phone number, but for once I was lost for words. Why would he really give me this?
Was
it all about the so-called zombie? What else could he possibly have to gain? I kept my mouth shut and carefully slipped the card into my jeans pocket.

He pulled out his cell phone and raised an eyebrow. The one with the piercing. ‘Are you going to give me yours, or what?’

‘Oh.’ Flustered, I recited my number.
What would Theo say?
I pushed that thought aside. I could make my own decisions.

Jace had an expression of mock-sympathy on his face. ‘I can imagine you don’t get asked for your number too often.’

I opened my mouth. Closed it again and thought for a moment. ‘I do too.’
Genius response, Moth
.

‘Riiight,’ Jace said. ‘Of course.’

I gave him the finger but he just laughed.

‘I’m going to do some research,’ he continued coolly, as though the whole phone-number thing hadn’t happened. ‘Dad’s books are in our new apartment. Most of them are still packed away in boxes, but I guess this’ll give me a reason to sort through them. I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.’

‘OK. I’ll see you then,’ I said, forcing a smile. I took care to keep my fangs hidden. It was so bizarre to
actually
be having a normal conversation with him – one that didn’t involve looking down the business end of a crossbow.

His answering grin was wicked. ‘Not if I see you first.’

Chapter Seven

SATURDAY NIGHT I
headed over to my Maker’s home. This evening had come around far too quickly, but now that it was here I was a bundle of nerves.

The November night was cool and frosted with a light mist that wrapped itself around me, whispering of the hunt. I took an icy breath, shaking off those instincts, burying them somewhere deep.

Theo’s house was hidden in the heart of the appropriately affluent Beacon Hill. He owned several places across the country; you don’t live for almost two centuries without accumulating wealth and property. But it was no wonder that Theo preferred to stay right here in Boston. You could walk along Beacon Street on a winter’s night and truly believe you were in another century. Gas lamps lined the roadside, standing guard over town houses with
wrought-iron
gates, fancy windows, and even roof gardens. Theo had one of those, of course, even though he could only go out there at night.

Most vampires slept below ground, but Theo preferred to live here, in this house, at all times of day. There were heavy curtains at every window, and he slept in a third-floor room with shutters both inside and out, but he wanted to be in his own home as much as possible.

I waited impatiently for him to finish dressing for the evening’s oh-so-joyous activities – my official introduction to the Elders who oversaw Theo’s vampire Family in Boston. I was possibly more scared at the prospect of this dubious ‘honor’ than I had been of my undead encounter with Rick, since by Making me without permission, Theo had apparently broken one of the High Council’s most precious rules. Now the Elders had arrived to get an explanation – and to finally meet me, after Theo had kept me damn near hidden for the better part of a year.

My Maker’s place had been a surprise to me, back when I’d first seen it. Considering that he purposely cultivated an image of the decadent Gothic vampire, most people probably expected to find his home would reflect that in some way. Lots of velvet, maybe. A four-poster bed and candles on every surface of the room. Black and deepest crimson. On the
outside
, it fitted him perfectly; it was an old, old house, as most were in this part of the city. But it was entirely modern on the inside.
It
was kitted out in a contemporary but comfortable style, lots of smooth lines and reflective surfaces. Beautifully cultivated plants filled the entry hall, one of my Maker’s unexpected hobbies. And the space . . . space like you wouldn’t believe. The first-floor dining room was bigger than the whole of the tiny apartment Holly and I currently called ‘home’ – owned, of course, by Theo. The fourth floor was the only ornate part of the building, having been converted into a cathedral-style meeting space, all vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows. I half expected bats to live in the belfry.

Finally Theo sent Kyle down to fetch me. When I walked into the bedroom, Theo was sitting in his favorite chair. It was one of those black leather TV chairs that could swivel and lean back, with a foot rest that flipped out. I never understood why he wanted the stupid thing; Theo didn’t watch television, even though he had the biggest plasma screen I’d ever seen fixed to the plain white wall above the open fireplace. Solid silver candlesticks stood at either end of the marble mantel, a testament to Theo’s often bleak sense of humor.

‘Moth,’ he said. It wasn’t a greeting so much as an acknowledgment of my presence.

I nodded. ‘Hi, Theo.’

‘Come here, let me look at you.’

Theo was what Caitlín would call ‘easy on the eye’. He had curly black hair that was a little too long to be clean
cut
– it swept back from his face now and fell to just below his collar – and sculpted features that never looked pasty or unhealthy. His skin was smooth like the finest porcelain, and his lips were wicked and sensual. The only thing that looked anything less than perfect was the rather hawkish nose, but I always thought it made him look distinguished. And just a little bit dangerous, like a bird of prey ready to swoop down and devour you. Even at somewhere around his mid-twenties (at least to the human eye), Theo looked like a cover model for a romance novel – one that probably involved pirates.

He was slender, toned, no more than five ten, and he moved with a dangerous sort of grace. He was all lean muscle and sharp reflexes. Sharp like a nail. Sharp like a fang.

God, seeing him always brought back memories. Dark, nightmarish images, only half remembered:

‘
You’re not dead,’ Theo says softly. ‘But . . . you’re no longer alive, either. Not exactly
.’

I sit in a chair in the corner of one of the many rooms of his house, as far away from the window as I can get. The light hurts my eyes, though Theo tells me that will pass. I clutch a blanket around me
.

‘
I’m cold,’ I whisper. ‘So cold.’I am numb all through my flesh and bones. My chest hurts so badly I want to cry. It is a constant pain, a pain that devours
.

Theo strokes my hair
.

I remembered what it was like, waking up and realizing that everything was different. The world smelled different – even I smelled different – and my body was no longer my own. It was a strange, heavy thing. Alien. Nothing worked the way it was supposed to and I was so hungry. So very hungry.

‘Let me look at you,’ Theo said again, bringing me back to the here and now.

Dutifully, I presented myself and waited for him to say something negative about what I was wearing. Theo hated my clothes, but it was what I’d always worn and I like to feel comfortable. It wasn’t anything to do with an ‘image’ or symbolic of becoming a vampire. It was just
me
.

This time I’d done my best to please him – considering the occasion – while still remaining true to myself. The dress I’d chosen was crimson satin, short and fitted with a Chinese-style collar and long sleeves that practically covered my hands. The black fishnets itched like crazy, but what did that matter when it came to fashion? My huge, almost comically chunky boots made me look like a Manga character, what with my skinny legs, but I didn’t care. The bigger the boots the harder you can kick – that’s my motto.

I unzipped my leather jacket, trying for the tough-but-vulnerable look. Sort of
Rebel Without a Cause
in a dress.

Theo leaned forward and his light gray eyes began to glow with the ethereal silver light that all vampires’ eyes possessed. I knew that my own would mirror his, only ten times brighter. Theo was my Maker – he’d made me what I was – and my body betrayed our connection even if I wanted to deny it.

‘Take off that ridiculous jacket,’ he said.

I bristled, but did it anyway. I dropped it on the floor just to annoy him.

‘You look well, my Moth,’ was all Theo said.

I was surprised, but tried not to show it. ‘Thanks. So do you.’ The words slipped out before I could stop them, but it was true, so what did it matter?

My Maker had been here in the good old US of A since 1847. He had taken a number of aliases over the years, one of which I knew for sure was Theodore Fitzgerald – although I had no idea whether or not that was his true name. Sometimes I fantasized about investigating his origins. The minimal facts I’d managed to gather so far must give me
somewhere
to start. For example, if he arrived in Boston’s North End in 1847 as a young man, after the long, slow boat ride from an Ireland being destroyed by the Potato Famine, surely there were records. Wouldn’t there be some kind of register of all the new arrivals?

I was pretty certain that Theo hadn’t been Made until he’d arrived in North America. It seemed unlikely that he
would
have survived such a long voyage over water – day and night – had he been a vampire. Unless he was a very new one, I guess. That was possible, but everything I’d managed to glean from him – every titbit that I’d filed away in the hope of learning something about the man I both loved and hated – seemed to indicate he’d become a vampire within a few years of arriving on these shores.

Holly told me that there were rumors of a dead family back in Ireland – a wife, even children – but Theo never spoke of it. I so desperately wanted to know more about him. He was in my heart, my soul – my
blood
. I couldn’t go a day without thinking of him, no matter how much that freaked me out and made me feel weak, weak, weak. I told myself that it was the vampire link between Maker and fledgling that did this to me, but sometimes it was more difficult to convince myself of that than others.

‘You’re staring,’ Theo said, his voice radiating warmth. ‘Do you like what you see tonight?’

I swallowed. There was no way I wanted to play this game with him – he was a hundred and seventy years too old for me.
That didn’t stop you last year
, said a traitorous voice inside my head. I gave myself a stern talking to: I didn’t know what he was, then. I didn’t know the truth.