In the Dark (3 page)

Marc watched him, teeth aching to tear into…something, his stomach burning with an unaccustomed ferocity. The tug of Julie's hand on his wrist, urging him to sit back down, finally registered. He gave in to it, but grudgingly.

“Damian, you said ‘that's why
we're
here',” Julie reminded him. “What did you mean? What makes you think
we
can find him if
you
haven't been able to? Especially if you can't tell us anything helpful.”

“Because you
have
to,” Damian snapped, eyes blazing as he turned to glare at them. “Because there's no one else who can do it, no one else I can trust with the truth. Don't you think I would have kept this from you if I could have? Do you have any idea how furious Conrad is likely to be when he learns I've brought you here? But it can't be helped. There are reasons why I cannot look for him myself. Reasons, which you two can't
possibly
understand at this point, why I have had to stay here and yes, Marc, throw parties, and continue pretending that everything is just as it's supposed to be. For as long as I can.”

Marc crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair and returned Damian's angry look with one of his own. “Well, I don't care about your reasons. You're going to have to do a much better job of explaining things than that. Otherwise, you can kiss any hopes you might have of us helping you good-bye.”

“Marc!” Once again his sister turned to look at him, her expression scandalized. “What are you saying? Conrad's missing! Of course we're going to help find him.”

Damian's gaze turned haughty. “This is not the time to be thinking with your blood,
chavalo
. I need your help with this and you
will
give it to me. Now, what is it you wish to know?”

“Just what I said,” Marc replied. “I want to know what's going on. Who'd want to kill Conrad. And, and why?”

“Such ignorance.” Damian resumed pacing. “If I knew who was behind such a plot, Marcus, I would already have destroyed them myself, would I not? As to why…
dios mio
, there could be so many reasons for that! Let me see how I can make things clear to you. Do you recall anything you were taught about the social structure of lions and wolves and other such predators? They live in family groupings, do they not? Under the protection of a single dominant leader? It's not so different for us except that, since we grow stronger with age and have fewer spawn, our nests are much more stable, our leadership far less likely to be challenged. But, if something were to happen to Conrad.” He waved a hand at the encompassing space. “Then this house and most of the people you saw here tonight, all the wealth and power Conrad has amassed over the centuries, the houses you grew up in, the money that supports you, everything you've ever known—all of that would be at risk.”

Sighing, he continued. “It's bad enough when a leader, such as Conrad, meets with some sort of fatal accident. Imagine an anthill, if you will, after you've stirred it with a stick—that's what we would be like. Everyone in the nest would be at each other's throats, fighting for supremacy, struggling for power, for control, until a new, uncontested leader finally emerged to take charge.”

“Someone like you, for instance?”

Damian's gaze iced over. “Yes, Marc, if you were to be
very
lucky, it might be me. But this nest is far larger than I think either of you realize and many of its members are exceptionally strong. It's by no means certain that I would prevail if such a contest were to take place. However, fighting within the nest is only one of the possibilities we face. If Conrad were to be killed outright, intentionally dispatched, as it were, things would be very different. There would be no fighting then, for there would be no need. The vampire who killed him, who drained him of his blood, would instantly inherit a large portion of his power, automatically gaining control of the nest and all its resources without any need for further bloodshed. The transfer of power would be orderly, almost instantaneous—painless for most of the nest—making for a scenario that many people might view as preferable. Do you have any idea what it is I'm trying to tell you?”

“Yeah, I think so. You're saying it would be better for all of us if we let
you
kill him—is that it?”

 

“Marc!” Gasping in dismay, Julie turned to stare at her brother. The next instant she was jumping from her seat and dodging quickly aside as Damian rushed the table and Marc rose to meet him. All three chairs crashed to the floor.

“Idiot!” Damian snarled, planting his hands on the wooden surface and leaning in until he was practically nose to nose with Marc. “I would
die
for Conrad. What will
you
die for?”

“Is- Is that what we're here for, Damian?” Julie asked, her heart practically pounding its way out of her chest as she stared in terrified fascination at the two men. Razor-sharp fangs, dripping with venom, were clearly visible in both their mouths as they faced off across the table. “Is that what this is about? Did you bring us here just so we could all die together?”

“No.” Uttering an angry growl, Damian pushed away from the table, nostrils flaring as he struggled for control. “No, of course not.” Still breathing hard, he righted his chair and seated himself once again. Julie followed suit, as did Marc, after a moment's hesitation.

“I would die for either one of you, as well,” Damian said quietly. “If it came to that.” A ghost of a smile flitted over his lips as he added, “However, we can still hope it won't.” Picking up one of the blood bags, he threw it at Marc. “Here. Eat something, for God's sake. Maybe it will help calm you down.”

Marc stared at the bag in his hand. “Three weeks.” His eyes were troubled when he raised them to meet Damian's. “He can't possibly have survived that long.”

“Eat,” Damian repeated, tossing a bag to Julie, as well. “Is
that
what has you so worried,
hijo mio
?” He gazed at Marc with an expression of grim satisfaction. “I suppose I should have guessed.” Reaching for another bag, he tore it open with his teeth, guzzling a mouthful before continuing. “I don't doubt it was an unpleasant experience for you, Marc, but, I assure you, you were never in any imminent danger of dying from your little teenage experiment. I always thought that if we'd let you continue just a little while longer; if we'd let you come to your own decision about when to stop, it might have helped you resolve your doubts about your nature that much sooner. But Conrad thought otherwise.”

“It wouldn't have mattered all that much,” Marc answered, both his voice and his face subdued. “I wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway. There's no way I could have gone even two weeks like that.”

Damian clucked his tongue. “
Ay dios mio
. Well, of course
you
could not have. You were a growing boy, after all. You needed your nourishment. But, Conrad—I estimate it will take at least a month for him to be brought to the point of being in any kind of mortal danger. Up until then, I suspect sharpening his hunger will merely serve to shorten his temper. It would be a
very
bad idea, right now, for whoever might be holding him captive to get too close.” He swallowed another mouthful of blood and then smiled, seeming unexpectedly cheered by the thought. “So, let us hope our unknown opponent is too impatient to think of that, eh?”

“But, we can't count on that happening, can we?” Julie asked, watching, relieved, as Marc finally sank his fangs into the bag he'd been holding. “There must be something else we can do?”

“Of course there is,
chica
,” Damian answered, calmly pushing another bag Marc's way. “Now that you're here, we're going to find out who has him and get him back.”

Chapter Two

Marc finished unpacking in the room Damian had assigned to him—one of many vacant rooms available. He'd found it odd that such a big house should be standing mostly empty, but in a night filled with oddities it had hardly seemed worth mentioning.

Apparently most of the vampires associated with the nest lived elsewhere, just as he and Julie had always done. So, maybe it wasn't odd, after all. Maybe this sort of lifestyle choice was normal for vampires. Maybe they were solitary as well as predatory and maybe
he
was the strange one for thinking there was anything odd about it.

He lay back on the bed, folded his arms beneath his head and looked around. It was a nice enough room, he supposed. Large. Comfortable. A little dark for his tastes. A little heavy on the gold trim. Faultlessly decorated, but impersonal. There was nothing to indicate whether anyone had ever actually lived in it before. Maybe he would be the first. And maybe, if they stayed long enough, someday it might even begin to feel like home.

Maybe. But that could only happen if they found Conrad in time.
And how in the hell are we supposed to do that?
They had to though, didn't they? Just as Damian had said. Because, if they didn't, all bets were off, their lives would be forever changed and Conrad's…well, for Conrad it would likely be over altogether. That thought—and the fear that went along with it—left him too anxious to rest.

He got back on his feet. A Jack-and-Jill bathroom connected his room with his sister's. He pulled the door to it open and hurried through. “Hey, you wanna get outta here for awhile?” he asked as he emerged in Julie's room. “Maybe go for a run or something?” Exercise was good and late at night—when no one was around to notice and maybe clock him going faster than he should have been able to go—was the only time he was really able to cut loose. If ever he'd needed to cut loose, it was now.

Julie was curled on the window seat, staring out at the night. She startled at his words and turned, almost snarling at him. “Haven't you ever heard of knocking?”

“Sorry,” Marc answered, a little taken aback. She wasn't usually so short tempered. “You're not thinking about going to bed already, are you?” It was getting close to sunrise, sure, but not
that
close.

Julie shook her head. “No, but what's that got to do with anything? And what's wrong with you, anyhow? Ever since we got here you've been acting crazy. I thought you and Damian were going to bite each other's heads off in the kitchen.”

Good question
. He wasn't altogether certain what was affecting his mood but, in the interest of sibling harmony, he decided not to mention that Julie's temper seemed a little out of sorts tonight, as well. “I dunno, I think it's this place. Pretty funny, huh? All these years we've been practically begging Conrad to let us come out here and now…” He shrugged. “I guess maybe there was a reason he didn't want us here, after all.”

Julie's expression grew clouded. “It's not what I thought it would be like, that's for sure. I thought I'd at least recognize or remember
something
.”

“Jules, we were only a couple of weeks old at the time—or maybe not even. What did you think you'd remember?”

“I don't know,” his sister sighed. “A smell, perhaps? Or a feeling. Maybe a familiar face. There should be something.” She shook her head sadly, then leveled another scowl at him. “And I
cannot
believe you accused Damian of planning to kill Conrad! What is
wrong
with you?”

“I told you what's wrong. It's this place! Don't you feel it too? Besides, you heard him. That's exactly what it sounded like he was saying.”

“Oh, stop. It did not. Damian would no more kill Conrad than I would, and if you don't know that…well…then…you should! He
raised
us, Marc. He and Conrad and us—we're family.”

Marc nodded. “I know that. But…oh, c'mon, Jules, you gotta admit he's acting weird. First he lies to me on the phone to get us to come out here, then he lies to that guy, Armand, about being our sire and then…cookies? Are you freakin' kidding me? You
know
how Conrad got last time. There's gonna be hell to pay when he finds out what's been going on.”

“Oh, cookies. Yeah, that's real heinous. That's just exactly the same as plotting someone's murder. And, for your information, the only one
I've
noticed acting weird tonight is
you
.”

The unhappy look on Julie's face told Marc he'd scored a point, whether she was willing to admit it or not. Yeah, sure, he was acting weird too. Given the circumstances, who wouldn't be? But that wasn't all of it. Not by a long shot. “This whole scene is seriously screwed up. It makes me want to punch something. I hate all this stupid vampire drama.” He paused, running his hands through his hair, trying to shake the moodiness threatening to overtake him again. “It just never stops, does it?”

Julie rolled her eyes. “Here we go again. Why would it stop, Marc? We're vampires. Always were, always gonna be. I can't believe you're still trying to dream up idiotic reasons not to admit that. We're different, so what? Learn to deal with it, already. Or, you know what? Don't. If it honestly makes you feel that much better to pretend we're really space aliens instead, then go for it, Star-man, live long and prosper.”

Marc flushed.
Not fair
. He'd never pretended they were something they weren't. He'd merely theorized on the various possibilities. And it had been
years
since he'd floated the idea they might have evolved from some kind of alien life form. Decades maybe. Even though anybody with brains would have to agree that a dip in the extraterrestrial gene pool was a good, solid,
reasonable
explanation for the way they'd all turned out. It was scientific, logical and so much better than the traditional theory—that they'd originated from demon spawn.

Aliens, by virtue of the fact they'd had to travel through space to get here, were obviously smart, technologically advanced and, in all likelihood, peaceful ambassadors from a better, brighter world. Vampires, on the other hand, were murderers. They were monsters. They were the quintessential fairy-tale villains—right up there with ogres and trolls and gorgons—the kind of creature nightmares were made of.