Ashes to Ashes-Blood Ties 3 (12 page)

"No!" The very idea rocked the foundations of reality for me. Cyrus, my power-hungry, Euro-trash former sire, working in a grocery store?

He gave another heavy sigh. "You wouldn't believe the number of times a day I would trade my soul for a pair of fangs. Really, the customers… my God, it's as if they're brain dead."

I laughed the sympathetic laugh required for such a comment, and we lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

"So," I began uneasily. "You're back in Grand Rapids for good then?" He made an affirmative noise. "I found Mouse's sister. I can't say I made any real progress there. But she knows what happened. At least, she knows the sanitized version."

"How did she take it?" Cyrus had told me very little about the girl he'd named Mouse. When he'd left Grand Rapids to seek out her next of kin, I'd been under the impression he'd had little hope of finding anyone.

"She asked me for a hundred bucks and offered to, ah, compensate me for it." He sounded as though the subject made him tired. "She didn't even care."

"At least
you
cared." It was a stupid thing to say, but I'd never been good at condolences.

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"Where are you staying?"

"In a horrible apartment downtown, near the college. The absolute worst part of the city. Hippies as far as the eye can see." I heard the smile in his voice as he added, "Near your sire's place, actually."

"Uh-huh." Great. All notions of domestic bliss, or however close Nathan and I could come to it, shattered by geographical coincidence.

"It wasn't my idea, really," Cyrus rushed to add. "Dahlia set it up for me."

"Oh, so you've been talking to Dahlia." I turned and met Nathan's suddenly alert glance with a worried one of my own. "That's comforting. What did you have to do to earn her help?"

"Still jealous, are we?" Cyrus laughed. "Don't worry. It was a trade—the mansion for one room with a kitchenette and a tiny bathroom with a stall shower and a door that doesn't close all the way. Doesn't seem like a fair trade, but life has been consistently unfair to me for a while now."

"Oh, how nice. I didn't realize I'd been invited to the pity party," I mused. He laughed again. "Carrie, I stock bricks of pasteurized, processed cheese for seven dollars an hour. Indulge me if I miss the comforts of my former life a bit."

"Have you been keeping an eye on your health?" I asked, changing the subject. "You're not immortal anymore, you know."

"I'm painfully aware of that. I'm also painfully aware of the fact I have no insurance, and the world seems to turn on the revenue generated by insurance companies." He waited a moment before asking, but I could feel the question coming. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind being my care-giver. Just until things are settled. I have the most insufferable allergies—"

"I don't think that's such a good idea." Historically, me and any expanse of unclothed Cyrus flesh were a potentially unstable combination. "But maybe we can go to the drugstore when I get back, take a look at some of the over-the-counter allergy meds. Some of them are just worthless, but—"

"Ask him about the Soul Eater" Nathan interrupted. I'd pushed his patience too far. He sighed heavily and tossed the book aside, clearly weary of his role as phone chaperone. I narrowed my eyes at him and clamped my hand over the receiver. Too late. "Is that Nolen I hear in the background?" Clearing my throat, I made an affirmative sound. "And it's Nathan now."

"I know, I know." I could practically hear Cyrus's eye roll. "So, how is
Nathan
.?"
Agitated
. He was still looking at me expectantly, his big arms folded across his chest.

"He's fine. He wants to know if you've heard from your father."

"Oh, yes. Of course I have."

Wow, that was easy
. "Oh?" I asked cautiously.

"Yes. We went fishing and then to a baseball game, and after that he took me to the toy store and bought me everything I wanted. And a pony." If sarcasm were liquid, it would have dripped from Cyrus's words.

"You know I have to ask," I snapped. "Something is going on, and so help me, if you have anything to do with it—"

"How, Carrie?" He sounded tired, in the way only a human could. Physically tired beyond anything a vampire could feel, a mass of dying tissues and an inability to stand another second of bullshit. "How could I, in this failing, mortal body, be a part of anything my

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father has planned? Do you think I've been spending any amount of time in the company of vampires? Do you know any humans who do?"

"Dahlia," I answered, for both counts. "She hung around you."

"Like an anchor," he agreed.

"And you've been talking to her lately, if she got you the apartment." I waited a moment, unsure if I would push him too far with the question. Then I decided to hell with it, I had to ask. "You're not trying to become a vampire again, are you?" The silence was so long I wondered if he'd hung up. When he spoke again, his voice was thick. "Do you think I would want to be one of
you
again? After what happened to…

her?"

It stung that he wouldn't say her name to me, as if I were unworthy of hearing it, or guilty by association for being part of the species that killed her. Not that I could blame him. When his father had raised him from the dead, Cyrus had come back human. Mouse had been his human caretaker and, as often happens in cases of desperation and captivity, they'd fallen into a warped kind of love. Then I'd completely misread the situation, kidnapped Cyrus—Mouse's only protector against the vampires holding them—and left her to die. Not a day went by that I didn't dream of her ruined body, lying in the bed where we'd found her. That I didn't wake up sick with guilt at the thought I could have saved her if I'd just listened to Cyrus instead of rushing to chloroform him.

But then, anyone who'd been alone with Cyrus for more than five minutes would have rushed to the chloroform.

"I'm sorry." I lowered my voice, but not for Nathan's benefit. "But I'm not sorry for asking."

"Of course you're not." He snorted derisively. "You're never responsible for anything where I'm concerned."

"Cyrus," I began, while Nathan stood and crossed the room, as if he'd be able to defend me over the phone.

I waved him away as Cyrus's angry voice cut me off. "I have to go. I have a finite amount of life left and I don't want to spend it arguing with you."

"Fine, I'll let you go," I said coolly. "But first, tell me what you know about the Soul Eater."

"I don't know anything about him!" Cyrus snapped. There was a pregnant pause, and I could nearly hear him throwing up his hands. "Dahlia stops by every now and again with groceries or money. Next time I see her, I'll find out what I can and I'll contact you."

"I would appreciate that, thank you." What I really wanted to say was, "
I'm sorry I hurt
your feelings. You don't have to wait until you hear from Dahlia to call me. I'll always
want to hear from you
."

But Nathan, good old, ever-watchful Nathan, stood so close I could feel him literally breathing down my neck.

Instead, when Cyrus asked, "Is there anything else?" I replied, "No. Goodbye, Cyrus."

"That went well." Nathan's words would have seemed sharp and sarcastic if not for his soft tone. "Are you all right?"

I turned and pressed my face to the front of his T-shirt. His hard chest muffled my response. "No."

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He laid a hand gently on my hair. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"He called me a monster." I looked up and shrugged. "Call me crazy, but it bothers me." Nathan stepped back and turned away, but I caught the grimace he tried to hide. "Well, do you blame him?"

"Pardon me?" My hands came to my hips in a horrible cliché of an angry woman, and I forced them down.

"He's human now. We probably seem pretty damn intimidating to him." He calmly returned to the book, this time looking far more interested in it than he had before, when he'd been listening in on my private conversation.

"Excuse me! He ripped my heart out, not the other way around!" I conveniently glossed over the fact that I had killed him another way. Still, Nathan's attitude, that Cyrus was somehow right in lumping us together with the vamppires who'd killed his girlfriend, chafed me. "You might be okay with calling yourself a monster, but I'm not!" Nathan looked up, true concern on his face. "I had no idea this bothered you so much."

"Well, it does." I shook my head. "All of it does." He returned to my side, this time a little more cautious. "Don't let him get to you. You're putting a lot of importance on what he thinks of you."

"I know." I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "And I know that has to worry you.

'Cause of what happened before."

"What do you mean?" Bless his heart, he honestly didn't understand.

"When I left and went to Cyrus." I looked away from the hurt in Nathan's eyes. "I wouldn't blame you if you thought I'd do it again."

His expression darkened. He seemed truly wounded that I would think
he
would think I was capable of that kind of betrayal twice. "Don't ask me to mistrust you. Carrie, you went to him because you were saving my life. I have no doubt that if you were put in that situation again, you'd do the same thing. It's one of the reasons I—" My heart leaped up like a puppy begging for table scraps. It must have shown on my face, because he quickly cleared his throat and looked away.

"Well, that I trust you, anyway." He turned away and headed toward the door. "I'm going to get some blood. Want any?"

I patted my stomach a little too enthusiastically and injected syrupy cheer into my words.

"Nope, made a pig of myself already."

"Okay," he answered, in a tone that clearly conveyed my cheerful act wasn't working. The door clicked shut behind him and I slumped on the bed.

It's not that I wished him to think I was going to go tearing back to Cyrus at any moment. I wanted Nathan to trust me. But another part of me wanted to protect him from myself. He was clinging to the belief I'd only gone to Cyrus before because Nathan's life was on the line. The truth was, I'd have ended up there, anyway.

Now, Cyrus was human. There wasn't anything left of the monster he had been. I'd been afraid of him then, but oddly in love with the bit of humanity I'd glimpsed beneath his surface. Now that he was all humanity, I couldn't trust myself where he was concerned, and I certainly didn't want Nathan to.

"Why do you want to go with me?" Bella asked.

Max ground his teeth. First Nathan wanted to keep him from heading east, now Bella?

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"Because you can't take care of yourself."

"I have the same assassin training as you," she pointed out.

"Is this national See How High Max Harrison's Blood Pressure Will Go day?" He slammed a wadded T-shirt into his duffel bag and turned back to his dresser. It helped him avoid the sight of Bella lounging on his bed. "If the Oracle gets inside your head again, do you think you'll be able to take care of it on your own?"

He jumped at the touch of her warm hands on his shoulders, unexpected, as he hadn't heard her leave the bed. "Stop worrying about something you cannot anticipate or change." He didn't want to take comfort in her touch, but the sick, needy child in him forced his hand up to cover one of hers. "You're really going to exploit that whole I-can'tsay-no-to-you thing, aren't you?" Gently, she turned him to face her. Instead of answering, she rose on tiptoe and brushed her lips across the corner of his mouth.

"Don't." He pulled her hands away and forced them down. She smiled, her practiced, seductive smile. "I thought you said you could not tell me no."

"I can on this." He swallowed to wet his suddenly dry throat, and turned away. "I can when it's for my own good." When she moved, his suffering body felt the distance. He heard her flop down on his bed and sigh. "So, you will follow me to Boston and put yourself in danger, but you will not touch me?"

"Nothing personal. I just can't separate my emotions from my dick where you're concerned." He ducked the pillow she hurled at him.

"Do not be crude!" Her outrage couldn't cover her laughter, but even that had to fade, leaving nothing but uncomfortable silence. "Do you love me?" Max grabbed a few more shirts and another pair of jeans and returned to the bed to cram them into his bag. He couldn't look at her, and waited as long as possible to respond. "I don't know. Maybe?"

"I told you that you did." Was that smug satisfaction in her voice?

"I said, maybe." He sounded a bit more gruff than he'd intended, and it helped rebuild a little of the wall he'd let crumble where she was concerned. "So, what's the plan?"

"We will have to take your car." She shrugged. "As for everything else, I have no plan." Max zipped his bag shut forcefully. "Let's go to Marcus's library and go online. We'll find directions and get driving."

"At night only." She raised her hands helplessly at his sharp glance. "I do not know how to drive. My people… we do not use cars."

No, you just hang out the passenger window with your tongue waving in the wind
. Proud of his restraint for only thinking his latest dog joke instead of speaking it, he folded his arms across his chest. "Fine, we'll have to stay somewhere during daylight hours." Max eyed the cigar box on his nightstand. It held about two thousand dollars in cash. That would be enough to buy her food, bribe someone for extra blood if he ran out, and put them up, "Are you still packed?"

"I do not travel with much." A strange expression crossed her face, something between sadness and anger. She shook it off with a laugh. "I do not have much." For some bizarre reason, he wanted to ask her why that was, why she didn't have a closet stuffed with clothes and enough makeup to whore up a whole brothel—not that she needed it—but he couldn't form the words. She'd made it clear to him they were separate