The Turning-Blood Ties 1 (23 page)

He was masturbating, so what? I thought, a little surprised at Nathan’s reaction. Then I saw the third person in the room, a young man Ziggy’s age, at the corner of the bed. He clutched the rumpled sheet to his naked body and rapidly tried to explain his presence before grabbing his clothes and pushing past Nathan. I felt Ziggy’s shame, but also his strange relief at being found out and his embarrassment at the knowledge I saw everything he remembered.

I didn’t know he was coming upstairs, his thoughts whispered in my head. I didn’t know he’d be so mad. I should have told him. I want to go home. I jerked my head back, clamping my palm over the wound I’d inflicted to stop the bleeding. When no blood oozed between my fingers, I lifted my hand. The bite was neatly closed, but a telling scar remained.

“What’s wrong?” Cyrus sat up and tried to slip his arm around me for support. I pushed him away. “I can’t do this.”

His face contorted in anger, but he covered it quickly. “Why not?”

Quivering, I tried to pull down my skirt. “I can see his thoughts. I can feel his emotions.”

“Oh, is that all?” With a laugh that sounded more condescending than comforting, he pulled me into his arms. “Darling, that’s the best part.”

“I didn’t like it.” I tensed a little, testing the strength of his hold. His arms tightened around me solidly enough to prevent me from running. He licked the shell of my ear, and I felt some of my forgotten desire return. “There, there, dearest. You did very well, for your first time.” His hand fell to my lap, seeking the hem of my skewed gown. “And the night is still young. There are plenty of other exciting things we can do.”

The touch of his cold hand, separated from my flesh only by the thin material of my panties, sucked the breath from my lungs. I opened my legs for him and reached back to loop an arm around his neck.

When I heard Ziggy make another soft groan, I snapped back to reality. “Wait, wait.”

“Now what’s wrong?” His annoyance was unmistakable this time. Cyrus swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, pulling his shirt off in one agitated motion. “Do we

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need scented candles and Barry White? How about mirrors on the ceiling?”

“Don’t be angry,” I said, a little tearfully, and I insisted to myself it was nerves and exhaustion that made me react in such a way. “This is just so…new.”

With a deep sigh, he removed his belt and dropped it to the floor, kicking it aside. “I know. And I know I come across as a tad impatient. But I want you, Carrie. I’m not used to waiting for gratification.”

“I’m tired,” I admitted, not caring if it upset him. “Let me sleep today, and I promise we’ll…you know, tomorrow.”

He smiled. “I suppose I can wait one more day.”

Biting my lip, I looked to Ziggy, who still lay paralyzed on the bed. “But you have to do something for me.”

I’d expected him to be insulted, possibly enraged, but he seemed pleasantly surprised.

“You want to make a deal with me? Fine. For what price will I buy a night of sin with you, my princess?”

I wished he wouldn’t call me that, but now was not the time to argue. I pointed at Ziggy.

“I want to keep him.”

Cyrus arched an eyebrow. “Keep him?”

“As a pet. He was my first victim. I want a souvenir.”

I held my breath as I waited for his reply. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “I don’t see why not. You may have your trophy.”

“Thank you.” I kept my eyes downcast and let him kiss me on the forehead to seal our agreement. As I walked toward the door, I heard the rustle of the mattress sinking under his weight.

I turned to see him stretched out beside Ziggy, tracing the line of the boy’s bicep with a clawed finger.

“We had an agreement,” I said cautiously.

Cyrus laughed. “Don’t worry, Carrie, I won’t kill him. He’s in good hands.”

I didn’t want to ask what those hands would be doing. I couldn’t spare Ziggy from whatever perverse activities my sire had planned. I believed Cyrus wouldn’t kill him, though, and that was all I cared about for the moment. I went to the door and looked back once more. Ziggy’s eyes locked on mine, pleading. I could only leave and close the door behind me.

Thirteen

Revelations and Recriminations

B ack in my room, I practically ripped the gown from my body. My fingers shook and my chest ached with sobs as I struggled to hold them back. What was Ziggy doing here? He’d had an awkward confrontation with Nathan, but that didn’t explain why he’d come here. Not when he knew who lived here. Unless…

But he couldn’t have been running to me.

I put on my robe and rang the velvet bell pull to summon Clarence. He appeared minutes later, looking crisp and pressed as always.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” I asked as he nodded politely to me. His face was humorless. “You needed something?”

I drew myself up as regally as I could manage in a bathrobe. “Yes. The Master—” I

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stumbled on the word. “He has a guest with him in his chambers. I’d like to be informed when he’s…finished. And bring the young gentleman here.”

Clarence shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t involve myself with the pets.”

“He’s not a pet,” I snapped. “He’s a friend. If you don’t wish to do it yourself, tell the guards to deliver him to me.”

I thought I saw a spark of admiration in his eyes, but he didn’t smile. “Yes, ma’am. Will you require anything else?”

“Paper and a pen. Clean sheets. And medical supplies, any you might have. Gauze, disinfectant, clean towels—”

He cut me off. “I’m sure I can find an adequate first aid kit for you in the guardhouse.”

I wasn’t sure how to dismiss him. “You do that, then. Right now.”

After he’d gone, I went to my bathroom and ran the tap water until it was as hot as it could get. I grabbed a hand towel from the rack and plunged it into the water, then hurried to the parlor. I wiped off the wooden arms and carved back of the antique sofa, making several return trips to the sink when the cloth got cold. I repeated the process with the marble end table, and covered it with a clean towel. It wasn’t sterile, but it would have to do.

Clarence returned, and I nearly knocked him over to get at the medical kit he bore. I asked him to leave the folded sheets on the sofa. He surprised me by spreading them out carefully, skillfully tucking the corners around the odd shape. I popped the latch on the beer cooler that contained my necessary supplies. Taking a seat, I examined the contents. There were all types of sutures, tape, gauze, vials of drugs, and even surgical instruments in sealed, sanitary packages. “This is what he gives the guards here?”

“He doesn’t want them going to the hospital. Raises too many questions,” Clarence said. I looked up sharply. “What if they die?”

“Then some of the guards get burial duty.”

I looked out the window. The sky was turning pink. “What about the pets?”

“They don’t bury them out there. Guards go behind the guardhouse, that’s out past the maze. Pets go in the cellar. That’s my job.”

“The cellar? In the house?” I imagined piles of bodies festering below us. It made my skin crawl.

“In barrels. I fill ’em with cement and every other week the guards go out to the lake and dump them,” he answered.

“Like the mob.” If Lake Michigan ever dried up, I was willing to bet they’d find hundreds of such barrels. And crates, and probably shoes perfectly preserved in bricks of concrete.

“Well, thank you, Clarence. That was enlightening.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for your young man” was all he said. Then he left. I took the paper and pen he’d brought and went to my bedroom. I didn’t know how I intended to get the letter to Nathan, or what I should even say. “Hey, don’t be so hard on your runaway gay son” didn’t sound quite assertive enough, and “Get over it, you big, stupid baby” was more aggressive than I’d like to be. Groaning in frustration, I went to the window. I’d have to close the curtains against the sunlight soon, but in this faint predawn, my gaze fell on something I hadn’t noticed before. A slight gap in the ivy-covered rock wall that surrounded the property. A gate. There

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were no guards.

I wanted to run downstairs and check it out immediately, but bursting into flames didn’t seem like the best way to start the day. I shut the curtains and went back to my letter. Nathan,

Ziggy is with me. Wait for me at the gate in the sidewall after sundown. Don’t be late, I won’t be able to meet you after Cyrus wakes up.

Carrie

Dawn came, but I couldn’t sleep. Not until I knew Ziggy had survived. Eventually, exhaustion overtook me as I dozed off in one of the parlor chairs. It was around nine when I woke to the sound of labored footsteps coming through the door. Ziggy hung weakly from Clarence’s frail shoulders as the older man guided him in.

“Give me a hand,” the butler rasped, and I hurried to his side. Ziggy whimpered as he leaned against me, and I felt his nakedness through the sheet he’d been wrapped in. When I laid him on the couch, I saw the fresh bites that marred almost every inch of his skin. And I saw the one I’d made. My stomach soured.

“Ma’am,” Clarence said, bowing stiffly as he handed a bundle of clothes toward me. It was Ziggy’s borrowed pants. On top was a folded note. I looked from the livid purple bruise of a hand print around Ziggy’s neck to the gleaming white paper and snatched the clothing and note from Clarence’s hands. Shaking with rage, I unfolded the missive.

I only said I wouldn’t kill him. Enjoy what’s left. I crumpled the note in my fist. “Clarence, if I needed you to send something to someone, would you do it?”

“It depends on what that something is.” He eyed Ziggy’s gray body as if mentally calculating his weight.

“No, not him. He’ll be fine.” I couldn’t ask the butler to risk his life freeing Ziggy, nor did I feel comfortable just turning the kid loose on the streets. I would hand him over to one person, and one alone. “I need you to deliver a note.”

He appeared reluctant. “You could ask the Master. He has messengers.”

“No. Cyrus can’t know about this.” Almost without thinking, I smoothed back a damp strand of Ziggy’s hair. His gaze darted over my face and his mouth moved slightly, but I could tell the drug hadn’t yet worn off completely. Had he been given another dose?

I wanted to be able to smile, to give him some reassurance, but I couldn’t. I turned back to Clarence. “Please. I want to notify this boy’s father. I want to get him out of here.”

Ziggy’s body spasmed. Great, I thought, he’s allergic to whatever Cyrus gave him, and he’s going to have a seizure. To my relief, the twitches that followed were much tamer, a sign that his muscles were slowly coming back to awareness after their paralysis.

“Give me your letter,” Clarence said somewhat reluctantly. “And tell me the address.”

“1320 Wealthy Avenue,” I said, choking back tears of relief. “The note’s on the table there. Do you want me to write down the number?”

“No, ma’am. 1320 Wealthy Avenue. Will you require anything else?”

A declaration of loyalty like the knights gave Arthur in all those Camelot movies would have been nice, but I doubted I would get one from Clarence. The only guarantee I had was the fact he hated Cyrus and probably wouldn’t go out of his way to make his master happy.

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Clarence nodded as though he’d read and agreed with my thought, then he left without another word. Once he had gone, I knelt at Ziggy’s side. His eyes searched my face, and his mouth worked feebly to speak. I laid my hand on his chest, hoping the touch comforted him. “Ziggy, I believe the drugs he gave you are wearing off. Did he give you another dose? Blink once for yes.”

With visible effort, his eyes closed briefly, then snapped open.

“You have some bite marks I think might need cleaning. Can I examine you?”

Two blinks and an angry glare.

I sighed. “I’m sorry I bit you. I really am. But I couldn’t let Cyrus know who you were. He’d kill you. You know I wouldn’t have done it in any other circumstance.”

Two blinks.

“Ziggy, please. I don’t want you to get an infection I can easily prevent.”

After a long moment, one blink.

I went to the bathroom and scrubbed my hands thoroughly. Then, with the consideration I’d give a sexual assault case in the E.R., I began my examination.

“I’m going to take this sheet off of you, but I’ll rearrange it so you’re not completely uncovered. Right now, all I’m doing is evaluating the severity of your injuries.”

And some were pretty severe. Long, but fairly shallow cuts latticed his chest. Hideous, purple bruises darkened his skin, and claw marks showed where Cyrus had gripped the boy’s shoulders. When I moved lower, I saw bite marks, not inflicted by fangs, but blunt, human teeth, on the inside of his thighs. I turned my head away. When I looked back, I saw a tear roll from Ziggy’s eye. He wouldn’t look at me. A few hours ago, he’d been indulging in what looked like some pretty terrific sex. Then he’d run away from the only home he’d ever known, just to come here and be violated and humiliated by Cyrus. And me.

I debraded the bites and scratches and covered the worst with squares of gauze. “Do you hurt…anywhere else?”

He answered with two blinks, but croaked a barely audible “No.”

I went to wash my hands and snag an extra blanket from my bed. When I came back, I tucked Ziggy in, then dropped wearily into a chair. He spoke again, with more strength behind his voice this time. “Thank you.”

I heard the emotion in his words and tried to sound casual. “It’s okay. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

“Some aspirin would be nice. I’m sore all over.” He swallowed with a wince. I looked through the medicine kit and found a bottle of acetaminophen. “This will have to do. I don’t want to thin your blood, with all those…wounds.”