Ashes of the Day (19 page)

“Don’t!” Damian’s voice cracked. A growl left his lips, the undercurrent in his tone so savage it sent Julie scrambling off the bed in alarm. Even Conrad was taken aback by it. “Do
not
call me that!”

Tears sprang into Julie’s eyes as she gazed at Conrad in helpless appeal. “What’s happened to him?”

Conrad crossed the room and hugged her close. “It will be all right, my dear,” he whispered in her ear. “We’ll talk later. Meanwhile, don’t worry. Just leave us alone for a little while. Let me take care of this—yes?”

Julie nodded. “If you say so.” She cast one last look at Damian and then departed. Conrad locked the door behind her. Then he went and took her place on the bed. Damian shuddered in reaction to the tentative hand Conrad laid on his back but otherwise he ignored him, just as he’d ignored Julie, and continued to lie there with his arms wrapped protectively around himself. His grief surrounded him like a wall. Conrad could feel the tension in Damian’s muscles. He tried a gentle massage, tried rubbing soothing circles up and down along Damian’s spine. No response.

Finally, not knowing what else to do, Conrad pushed in closer. He pulled Damian around to face him, turning him until he lay with his head in Conrad’s lap. Damian made no protest, allowing himself to be manipulated however Conrad saw fit. Conrad didn’t know whether to take that as a good sign or cause for further worry. In all their time together, he’d never seen Damian in such a state.

“There. That’s better, isn’t it?” Conrad asked, not getting an answer; not that he’d expected one. He peered at Damian curiously. His face was set in hard lines, pain and loss written in each one. His eyes were dry, open, unfocused.

“So, is he—” Conrad cut himself off, quickly. No. Wrong question. “He’s gone then, I presume?”

A shudder wracked Damian’s frame. He nodded. “
Sí
. Gone forever.”

Conrad sighed. “I’m so sorry, my dear. You were there in time though, weren’t you, to be with him at the end? You had that at least, I hope?”

Again Damian nodded, but his eyes squeezed shut and he grimaced as though in pain.

“Ah,
caro
.” Conrad laid a brief kiss against Damian’s head then went back to stroking his arm and shoulder, hoping to give comfort with his touch. “It’s hard, I know. But…you loved him, did you not? And he loved you. Cherish that thought, my dear. Cling to the love you felt for one another and find what peace you may in it. Not even time itself can take that from you. I promise.”

At first, Conrad thought his attempts were helping, that his words were getting through to Damian and were, perhaps, easing his pain. Damian’s breath stuttered and grew uneven and the rigid tension in his muscles seemed to lessen. Then a fine tremor seemed to seize him and an angry sob broke from his throat. “Peace?” he croaked. “What peace can I find in that, Conrad? What peace do I even
deserve
to find? I ruined his life!”

“What? No. Impossible. Why would you think such a thing?” Conrad all but snarled the words. “Did
he
tell you that?”

“Of course not.” Damian sighed. “He denied it to the end. It makes no difference. It’s true all the same. He loved me and…
Dios mio
, what did I do? I cheated him out of any chance for happiness he might have had. And likely shortened his life, as well.”

“Nonsense. It was his disease that shortened his life; that was certainly not your fault. And, young as he was, still he lived a much longer and fuller life than many others you and I have known. Loving you could never be a waste, my dear. He was lucky to have had the opportunity. If he were here, if you were to ask him, I’m sure he’d tell you so himself. As for the rest…we can never know what might have been. Surely you must know that by now? I don’t know what could have put such a thought in your mind.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Damian asked wearily.

“To you perhaps. But I’m not in your head, Damian, nor have I been with you this past week. Will you not explain it to me? Tell me. What is it that makes you so certain you ruined his life?”

“I suppose…” Damian gestured vaguely, as though trying to find the words to explain what he wanted to say. “It’s because, in a way, I think… I think I was to
him
what you have always been to me.”

Conrad stiffened. He swore he felt his heart stop beating. Is that what Damian thought? That Conrad had ruined his life and…and what was the other thing? Cheated him out of any chance of happiness? “I see.”

“Do you? I wish
I
had seen—before it was too late. But I never realized what I was doing to him. I didn’t see…or maybe I didn’t want to see. Maybe, deep down, I knew all along what I was doing to him. I just refused to admit it. I was weak. Arrogant. Callous. Selfish. I didn’t think. He gave me friendship, love, companionship. He gave me everything I needed, everything I asked for. And what did I ever give him in return, other than heartache? I should have known better. I should have done better by him.”

“Hindsight, my dear.” Conrad grimaced at the bitter taste the words left in his mouth. “I don’t suppose any of us ever really see what we should have seen until it’s too late to undo what we should never have done.” Should he apologize now for a five-hundred-year-old mistake, or was it pointless? After all this time… Was there any way to make amends? Was there any sense in even trying? “I’m sorry,
caro
. Truly, truly I am.”

“As you should be,” Damian muttered, his voice bleak. “You could have stopped it. You
should
have stopped it. You should
never
have let it happen. You should have told me. You should have made me see. You should have…done…
something
.”

Again Conrad wondered what Damian meant. Should he have stopped Damian from seeing Paul? When? This last week, or all along? Or perhaps Damian meant that Conrad should have stopped himself all those centuries ago, that he should have reined in his own wild urges and refused to turn Damian, even though he’d begged him to. If Conrad had only hardened his heart against him back then, none of this would have happened.

Or maybe it was something else altogether that Damian was blaming him for. Everything else. Half a millennium of arrogance, of thoughtlessness, of one callous error after another, compounded over and over again…

He could always ask, of course. He could inquire as to which error, which grievous fault Damian was laying on his doorstep this time around. But Conrad had already received enough unpleasant surprises for one night. Why beg for more?

It’s not like it mattered. The die had long been cast between them. What was done was done and nothing could change it. “Yes. You’re quite right. I probably should have acted differently. But, it’s a little late to think of that now, isn’t it?”

“
Sí
. I suppose it is.”

“So we will say no more about it. Now, have you eaten at all these past few nights?” Conrad asked, changing the subject to something more practical. “Or gotten any sleep?”

Damian sighed. “No, not really.”

“Do you wish to go out now and look for food? It’s not too late yet. I could accompany you, if you’d like.”

Damian shook his head. “No. Tomorrow night will be soon enough for that. I’ll get up then and…and try and find something to eat, I suppose. I don’t think I could stomach it right now anyway.”

Can’t stomach eating
?
Or my company
? Conrad brushed the question aside because, once again, what did it matter? “You can’t let yourself grow too weak, you know,” Conrad said, pulling the best card he had left, possibly the only card. “You must stay strong. The twins still need you and…you’ve already frightened Julie very badly this evening.”

“I know.” Damian nodded. He seemed weary but composed. Surely a victory of sorts. “I’m sorry for that too. I’ll make sure I find her and apologize tomorrow. I’ll let her know that…that everything’s okay. That I’m fine. That nothing’s changed. I’ll make up some lie to tell her. But, for now…I just want to be left alone.”

“Very well.” Taking the hint, Conrad shifted Damian from his lap and rose. “I’ll see you on the morrow then.” He contemplated mentioning how happy he was to have Damian back, how willing he was to support him in any way he needed, but decided against it. No doubt that would all be taken the wrong way as well.

“Conrad?”

Damian spoke just as Conrad was opening the door. He glanced back toward the bed, surprised at the unnatural pallor on Damian’s face, the bleak look that was once again in his eyes. What else was wrong? What more unhappiness must Conrad bear tonight? “Yes, my dear? What is it?”

“I didn’t— I shouldn’t have…” Damian shook his head and tried again. “I’m sorry. For what I said before I left. And tonight as well. It was…uncalled for. I apologize. I’m only here because I’m needed. I-I know that but, I want you to know that I’m sorry. Truly. And, if you could find it in your heart to look past my behavior, I promise…I promise I won’t let you down again.”

Oh, my love. As if you ever could
. Conrad shook his head, allowing a small, rueful smile to show briefly on his lips. “No. Of course you won’t. Rest well, Damian.” Then he let himself out of the room and closed the door behind him. Damian let
him
down? No. Never. If anything, the reverse was true. That was one shoe, it appeared, that was very firmly on the other foot.

Chapter Thirteen

December 31, 2009

It had only been a few weeks since Marc had been a regular part of the club scene, but so much had happened during those weeks it felt like a lifetime ago. As he checked his reflection in the mirror one last time, he couldn’t keep from grinning. He’d spent more time and paid more attention to his appearance tonight than he had at any point in the past twenty years. This obsessing over every detail was so adolescent—and he was hardly that. It might have taken him a while to get here, but in the past few weeks, he’d grown up fast. He wished his sister could be here to share the joke. He could only imagine what Julie would have to say about all his primping and preening.

There was so much he wanted to share with her, so much he needed to talk to her about, but for right now, it was better that he keep his distance, better that she stay safely in the dark. It had been a week since he’d last seen her—the longest they’d ever been separated. He hoped Julie was having fun tonight. She’d always loved New Year’s Eve and tonight, for the first time ever, they’d each be celebrating it on their own. He felt a little bit guilty about that as well.

He left his room and headed downstairs, where the rest of the family was already assembled and waiting for him. Maybe he could have put this off. Maybe he could have done it another night. But he was making a statement, sending a message, taking a stand. And New Year’s Eve was the perfect time to do it.

“We’re all ready, boss,” Nighthawk said, strolling over to join him, and subtly gesturing at everyone to stand up.

As his crew nervously rose to their feet, Marc nodded at his lieutenant. “Good job, man. Thanks.” Lieutenant. Damn it, he still hated the term. Still thought there was far too much of the military, too much of the mob, in it. Not really the impression he wanted to leave anyone with. Even if he himself had fallen into the habit of calling tonight’s little excursion a maneuver. He had to call them something, he supposed.

“I did just what you said. Made sure everyone had proper clothes.”

“So I see.” As he glanced over the black-clad sea that was his people, Marc had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. So, okay, maybe assigning Nighthawk the task of making sure everyone was suitably attired had been a mistake, but after Heather had adamantly refused the task, insisting she was not going to get stuck doing all the girl jobs, he’d been the logical choice. Besides, it only mattered if Marc minded the inevitable jokes and comments people were sure to be making about their apparent attempt to recreate a Matrix poster. But he didn’t mind. People could think what they liked. If some of them wanted to draw the conclusion that he and his merry band were just kids playing dress up, he was happy to let them. Being underestimated had never hurt anyone. If anything, it would give them a tactical advantage in the event things turned dicey.

Heather came up beside him and slipped her hand in his, pressing close. Marc turned his head and smiled. “You ready, sweetheart?”

She nodded, but a small frown creased her brow and Marc was pretty sure she was remembering her earlier visits to Akeldama and the not-so-warm welcomes she’d received there.

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “You’re with me tonight, all right? No one’s gonna bother you, but if you’re worried at all, you just stick close.”

She smiled gratefully up at him. “Okay.”

“Or she could just stay here,” Nighthawk suggested.

Marc shot him a hard look. “Why’s that?”

Nighthawk shrugged. “I’m just sayin’. Does she really need to go with us? For that matter, I don’t know why we’re taking everyone. You’re talking about takin’ on the frat boys, right? Seems to me it would be easier to coordinate a smaller crew.”

“We’re not ‘taking on’ anyone,” Marc corrected. He turned to the group. “Is that clear? Does everyone understand this? We’re not looking for trouble tonight, we’re not going there to start fights. This is a…a diplomatic mission. I’m looking to build relationships. We need to find allies who’ll support us. That’s why we’re all going.” He shot another sharp glance at Nighthawk. “I don’t want there to be any mistake about who we are, what we are, what we stand for. We’re in this together.”