Old Sins, Long Shadow Page 14

  Georgia heaved a frustrated sigh as she sat back in her chair. “Oh, I don’t like this idea.”

  Conrad looked at her in surprise. “Well, of course you don’t. Why would you expect to?”

  She shook her head. “I mean I don’t like this secrecy you’re proposing. Why will you not inform the others? What if someone else is abducted while you attempt to deal with things yourself? They deserve to be warned.”

  “The attack was directed against my own house,” Conrad said. “Against me personally. I’ve no reason to believe the perpetrators are even aware of the existence of any of the others. Surely you will agree it’s safer for all of us if we can keep things that way?”

  “What of these twins of yours?” Georgia asked suddenly. “How are they involved in this? Are they someone’s failed attempts at creating Invitus?”

  A shudder rippled through Damian. Conrad put out a hand, warning him to silence. “My spawn, Georgia?” He gazed at her quizzically. “My dear, your question insults me.”

  “Well, what are they, then? There’s something very odd about the two of them. Do you deny it? They neither feel nor smell like anything I’ve encountered before. Why is it no one’s even heard of their existence until now? Where do they come from?”

  “As they have nothing to do with this matter, where they come from is of no importance. I suggest you put the subject from your mind.”

  “Perhaps the lady has forgotten the feel and smell of your kind, Conrad,” Damian suggested, his voice cold and quiet. “It could be she’s gone too long without a taste of your venom. You should remind her. It’s too cruel of you to deny her what she so obviously craves.”

  Georgia bared her fangs. “How dare you speak of me like that? You vile little upstart, you’ve done nothing but make trouble for as long as I’ve known you. If you really believe I’ve forgotten anything about the nature of Invitus, why not come over here yourself and help me remember? Or have you forgotten it’s my nature, too?”

  “Oh, one could hardly forget something like that, Lady Lancaster!” Damian wrinkled his nose in disgust. “As you yourself have observed, the stench is rather noticeable.”

  Shrieking with fury, Georgia sprang to her feet. Conrad grabbed Damian by the hair and yanked him across his lap in a show of possessive dominance he could only hope Georgia would recognize and respect. “Enough!” he growled fiercely. “Georgia! Sit down.”

  “Your lapdog needs a muzzle, Conrad. Teach it some manners.”

  Conrad regarded her coldly. “Shall I? Or else…what?”

  “Or else I’ll do it myself!”

  Conrad tightened his grip in Damian’s hair, pulling his neck taut. Snarling, he ripped the scarf from Damian’s neck, exposing the scars he’d put there himself only a few months earlier. “My house, Georgia, and I’ll decide what lessons are needed within it. Now, tell me again, what it was you wished to do to him? Perhaps you’d like to add your marks to my own?” He met her eyes and smiled dangerously at the surprise on her face, the flash of fear. “Yes, think carefully before you answer that, my dear. Think very carefully. For if you ever so much as touch what is mine without my leave, I will kill you. You have my word on it.”

  Georgia swallowed hard. “He forgets his place,” she said, still shaking with anger and obviously unable to back down completely.

  Conrad nodded. “Yes, I suppose he does at times. As do you. And I’ve grown weary of warning you both about it. My patience has reached its end. There will be no more of this. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You do,” she sighed, sinking back into her chair.

  “I know he can be difficult,” Conrad continued ruthlessly. “I know he makes you angry. But you will control yourself because I order it so.” He glanced down at Damian. “And you, my love, will cease tormenting her ladyship. Immediately. Is that understood?”

  Black eyes seethed with hatred as Damian glared at him. “Sí.”

  “Good.” Conrad bit back a sigh of regret. It felt entirely too good to hold him like this—even given the circumstances. But, Damian’s capacity for keeping grudges being what it was, he knew it would likely be a long, long time before he got such a chance again. With that thought topmost in his mind, he decided not to let Damian go just yet. Why not keep him where he was awhile longer? When he saw the flash of triumph in Georgia’s eyes, he knew he’d made the right decision. Let her have this small victory. Her anger was not wholly unjustified. Seeing Damian discomfited was little enough recompense for all she’d been forced to forgo.

  “So what is it you want from me, Conrad?” Georgia asked after a moment. “Why am I here? I know you didn’t bring me all this way merely to chat about the situation?”

  Conrad sighed. “No. I need your help in dealing with it. I’m afraid I must ask you to stay here, and help me protect the nest until the threat is eliminated.”

  “Stay here?” She frowned. “For how long?”

  “For as long as necessary. I realize this may be inconvenient for you, however—”

  “Inconvenient?” She laughed bitterly. “Yes, I should say so.”

  “And I am sorry for that, my dear. Unfortunately, I must insist.”

  Georgia looked away. It was clear she was distressed by the prospect. Conrad suspected that, had they been alone, this was the point where she would have argued with him, perhaps even pleaded with him to reconsider. However, they weren’t alone and he knew she would never again give Damian the satisfaction of seeing her reduced to begging. Conrad waited, giving her time to adjust. He could afford it, after all, for there could be only one outcome.

  “Very well,” she said at last. “If that is your wish. Might I assume my usual suite has been readied for me?”

  “No, actually, I thought it better to have you close by. I’ve had the room adjacent to mine prepared for you. For the sake of convenience.” In truth, the suite she’d referred to had been in Damian’s possession for the past ten years—something else that would no doubt annoy her when it was discovered. But for that, too, there was no help. His own, separate set of rooms had been one of the conditions Damian had insisted upon when he agreed to return with Conrad to San Francisco.

  “I see,” Georgia answered quietly, clearly disappointed. “Well, then, if you have no further need of me tonight, perhaps I might be allowed to retire? I am still feeling somewhat fatigued from my travels.”

  Conrad nodded. “Of course,” he said smiling gently in an attempt to soften the blow. “I will see you on the morrow. And, Georgia, once again, thank you.”

  Damian leaped off the couch the instant Conrad released him. He snatched his discarded scarf from the floor and wound it back around his neck, keeping his back to Conrad to hide the shame he felt, the shakiness of his hands. He couldn’t decide which had been more painful—witnessing the generosity with which Conrad bestowed his gratitude on Georgia, or the ease with which he’d lied to him. My love, Conrad had said, in a tone that hinted at a tenderness Damian was certain he no longer felt. How dare he even speak to me of love, while he humiliates me in so heartless a fashion? I deserve better.

  “I am sorry, my dear,” Conrad said now—in a tone from which any such tenderness was noticeably absent. “But it had to be done. You really should know better than to challenge her like that. What were you thinking?”

  “I had to do something, didn’t I?” Damian replied as he turned to face him. “When she brought up the twins… At least I managed to distract her.”

  Conrad nodded. “Yes. For the moment. But it was a dangerous and potentially costly ploy. And largely useless. She shall not forget about them for very long, you know.”

  “Should I have let her continue? She came too close to the truth as it was.”

  “Yes,” Conrad sighed. “I know. It was just as I’d feared.”

  “But, how could she know? What nonsense was that? They ‘feel’ different? Did you have any idea what she was talking about?”

  “Unfortunately, I do. And, I must say, I�
�m not nearly as surprised as you appear to be. Why do you think I didn’t want them here? What did you imagine had me so concerned? Or so opposed to your plan to claim them as your own? Do you see now how dangerous that was?”

  Damian stared at him, appalled. “You’re saying it’s true, that they are, somehow, noticeably different? Impossible,” he whispered, stricken by the realization he might have put them all in danger after all. “How could this be? I’ve never noticed this supposed difference.”

  “Perhaps because you’ve known them all their lives. You’re too used to them to notice. To you, they’re just…themselves.”

  “And you are not just as used to them?”

  Conrad smiled. “Well, then…perhaps it’s because I’ve had more experience with such things? Or maybe I’m simply more objective than you are?”

  “Or perhaps it’s because of…of what you are?”

  Conrad’s smile disappeared. “You mean Invitus? I suppose it’s possible. If my kind are the only ones capable of recognizing the twins’ unique heritage, it would certainly simplify matters, would it not? It would cut down to a mere handful the number of people I may have to kill in order to preserve their secret. Perhaps that’s something to hope for?”

  “Don’t talk nonsense. I know you blame me for bringing them here. But there was no way I could have anticipated how dangerous it would be—not with the small amount of information you’d given me. If you would only occasionally confide in me, Conrad, think how much trouble we could avoid!”

  Chuckling softly, Conrad picked up the decanter and filled one of the waiting glasses. “So, now you would have me believe this is my fault? I cannot say I’m overly impressed with your logic. You have always acted rashly and without proper forethought. If you were to occasionally do as I ask—without having to question my every decision—I believe we could avoid even more trouble.” He regarded Damian over the rim of his glass as he drank, holding his gaze with a look that had Damian wanting to fall on his knees at Conrad’s feet and beg for a second chance. Just when he thought he could not hold out another instant, Conrad lowered his glass and smiled. “I suppose we’re both lucky we’re not expecting each other to change.”

  “You call it luck?” Damian asked, barely able to keep his voice from shaking. There had been times in his life when all he’d had to live for was the faint hope that Conrad’s feelings toward him might someday change. Was it really that farfetched?

  Conrad laughed. “Luck or wisdom, call it what you will. After twelve centuries, I fear my own bad habits are so deeply ingrained as to be unalterable. And, as for you—”

  “What about me?” Damian interrupted, scowling furiously. “I am as you made me, Conrad. So if you dislike like what you see before you now, the fault is no one’s but your own. I suggest you simply not look if you find the view so distasteful.”

  Conrad’s expression hardened. His fingers tightened on the glass in his hand. “Leave,” he growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Now.”

  Damian felt no desire to stay and argue. He spun around and left, slamming the door behind him. Once outside, he paused. Eyes closed, he struggled to catch his breath, jumping when the door behind him rattled. The thump of impact and shatter of glass suggested Conrad had hurled his goblet at the door.

  “Is everything all right?”

  Damian opened his eyes to find Armand regarding him in far too sympathetic a manner. “All right? Why, yes, I’m sure it is.” He gestured at the door he’d just come through. “But perhaps you’d like to ask Conrad yourself? Please. Be my guest.”

  Armand backed away. “Ah. Merci. I think I’d best stay out of Conrad’s way tonight.”

  Damian gazed at him in mock surprise. “Come now, you disappoint me. Do you really mean to hold that one little tantrum against him forever? I never realized you were so squeamish. Why, he barely even touched you!”

  Armand grimaced. “Perhaps you did not see his face? I think, in this instance, I may be excused my squeamishness.”

  “Oh, I’ve seen his face, Armand, and I assure you, in the course of five hundred years, it really hasn’t changed all that much.”

  Before Armand had a chance to reply the door to Conrad’s room opened again and Conrad emerged. He stared at them both, his expression unreadable. Then he sighted on Armand, and smiled ruefully. “Armand, would you be so good as to find a member of the staff for me? This room needs cleaning. I’ve dropped a glass and I fear it’s made something of a mess.”

  Armand’s eyes widened in surprise. “Of-of course, Conrad. I-I’d be happy to.”

  “Thank you, my dear. I appreciate it.” Next, Conrad turned his gaze on Damian. “And you…will you not return to the party with me?” he asked in a voice devoid of inflection.

  “No.” Damian shook his head, too chilled by Conrad’s cool, impersonal gaze to even know what he was saying. “I…I… No. Not just yet. I need a moment to myself first.”

  “Very well,” Conrad growled, his jaw clenching. He turned away and headed for the stairs. “Do what you must. Just don’t take too long.”

  Damian caught his breath, momentarily blinded with hurts both old and new—all of them inflicted on him by Conrad. Even the scars that laced his back seemed to burn with fresh pain. How dare he treat me with so little regard after everything we’ve been through? Go back to the party with him? Why? So that he might insult me again? So that I might stand idly by and watch him lavish all his smiles, all his gratitude on somebody else—on everybody else.

  On everyone but him.

  No. Not tonight.

  “Damian? What are you doing?” Julie called, running to catch up with him as he crossed the foyer. “Why have you taken off your costume? You’re not going out, are you?”

  Damian heaved a sigh. He paused, within reach of the door and turned to smile at her. “I’m sorry, chica, but I’m afraid I am. Just for a little while.”

  “You’ll miss the party,” she protested, frowning worriedly at him.

  “There will be other parties. Right now…what I need more than anything else is a little fresh air.” What he really needed was something more base than that. He needed to gorge himself until dawn, to suck down all the blood his stomach could hold, to fuck his way from one end of the Castro to the other. After that, perhaps he might begin to feel better.

  “What’s wrong?” Julie asked as she studied him thoughtfully. “Is it Conrad? What did he do to you?”

  “Now, child,” Damian chided. “What are you saying? Why would you think this has anything at all to do with Conrad?”

  “What else could it be? He’s the only one who ever makes you look like this.”

  Damian’s eyebrows rose. “And how is it he makes me look?”

  Julie shrugged and looked away. “Like you’re so unhappy you want to run away—to just leave and never come back.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Damian admitted. “There are times when that is exactly how I feel.” Until he remembered how much worse things had been when he had left. How it had felt to fall asleep every morning and wake up every night praying for a chance to go home again.

  “Will you take me with you if you go?”

  “What?” Damian looked at her in surprise. She had wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at him piteously. “Why would you ask such a thing? Are you so unhappy here?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Sometimes. That’s not the point. I just can’t bear to be left behind. I know I can always come back here and visit. And if I want to see Marc or Conrad, I know I’ll always be able to. But, if you were to go…I just feel like I’d never see you again.”

  “No, no, baby girl,” Damian crooned as he wrapped her in his arms and held her tight. “Never think it. I promise—even if I have to go away—you will always know how to find me.”

  “I still want to go with you,” Julie insisted, pulling away to gaze up at Damian again. “I’m serious. I won’t be left behind again.”

  Damian sighed. “Be reaso
nable, Juliet. You belong to Conrad. You know he would never allow something like that—don’t you?”

  Julie shrugged. “Maybe. But, what makes you think he’d let you leave?”

  Because he’s done it before, Damian thought, ice flooding his veins at the memory. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said instead. “Perhaps he wouldn’t let either of us leave.” The thought should have been more cheering than it was. He shook his head and smiled at her sadly. “Go back to your party now, chica. There’s no need to worry about such things tonight. And don’t wait up. I’ll likely be a little late getting home.”

  Dead leaves littered the ground beneath Damian’s feet as he walked down the drive toward the gate. The night was cool and damp—a virtual replica of the night forty years ago, when he’d first stepped foot on these grounds. He remembered how nervous he’d been, how hopeful; so eager to see Conrad once more, yet so afraid lest all his hopes be dashed.

  He could never have imagined, back then, what the next forty years would bring, that he’d get so much more than he’d ever dreamed, yet still not quite everything he’d wanted.

  “Can I get you a cab, sir?” Brennan asked.

  Damian smiled. “Yes. Thank you, Brennan. I’ll be going to the Castro.”

  Brennan looked surprised. “Really? I thought the party was here tonight?”

  “It is,” Damian replied sharply, staring sternly at the boy until he’d collected his wits enough to remember why he’d been employed—not to ask questions, but to do as he was told.

  “S-sorry, I-I’ll go make that call.” His face flushed, Brennan ducked inside the kiosk.

  Damian frowned. Brennan was usually so dependable. There could be only one reason for this appalling breakdown of protocol. Julie. But what had the boy been expecting? If he was this upset over their estrangement, perhaps he should have thought twice about angering her.

  “So, um…how’s Julie?” Brennan asked when he returned, confirming Damian’s suspicions.