Bitter Fruits (9 page)

“And how do we find out if she turned anyone?” I ask, thinking he will go on about some sort of blood tithe to fairies or mermen. Fortunately, his answer is hell of a lot more
reasonable.

“Research.”

“Caleb, you just made my night,” I laugh. “I can’t do a thing about vampires or whatever you are, but I can research like you read about.”

“I’ve never read about-”

“Forget it,” I say. “Let’s go.”

10.

The library is surprisingly empty, considering midterms are coming up. Somewhere in the middle of all this, I realize I still need to study for statistics. I almost lose it when I start thinking that I could save the world against Lilith, vampires, and revenants - and yet still not graduate because of that course. Caleb looks at me funny as I tap my fingers anxiously against the wall while we wait for the elevator; I chuckle to myself. Maybe he excelled at statistics in one of his
“lives.” I shake my head and lead him into the elevator. The lounge mix version of “Tainted Love” truly captures the moment better than anything has since the instant I stepped into the vampire masquerade. Caleb smiles at me; his messy hair and incredible eyes should be illegal. Damn, he’s cute. Luckily, we reach the stacks before I can consider him further.

The stacks are always vacant since most students use the internet for everything, but I love the smell of old books. It never fails to exhilarate me when I step off the elevator; today is no different. As the doors open, history and stories welcome us back to a world that feels as if it belongs only to me. Sadly, today is not a day for exploring the great number of possibilities that exist in those pages. Instead, I bring Caleb to the antique microfilm machines.

“Really? These still exist?” He asks.

“They do, although no one uses them. Almost everything is online now.
But when I Googled Samuels, it was hard to find much. I’m guessing we still have a better shot looking through these.”

We get to work going through half a century of newspapers, trying to trace the path that Lilith took from Oxford. Caleb feels confident that no one
was turned since, although we cannot find Lilith, we also can’t find anything out of the ordinary in the papers. I tend to agree that anyone being turned would show up at least in a small sidebar somewhere. However, I’m not the one whose eternity depends on being sure. There is nothing, though, and hours later, our eyes stinging, we head back to the cabin. I should be satisfied, as should Caleb, but neither of us is; something feels off and I don’t like the idea of going after Lilith without knowing. The wrong decision could ruin everything.

“It’s mostly unlikely she turned anyone,” he says
, once we’ve returned to the cabin and are sitting in the living room, deciding on a next step.

“Okay, mostly. But if she did, that means you kill Alec - over and over for eternity.”

“There are worse things,” he replies.

“Not for me.”

He reaches out and takes my hand. “My brother knows how these things go. It’s not permanent, you know.”

“Why even do it?
What if you just… don’t? Just see what happens?”

He shakes his head. “We tried that. We’ve tried a few things. Shortly
after we understood the cycle and its implications, my brother… Well, he tested it, tried to come for me first.”

“It didn’t work?”

“It didn’t work. The Mark stopped him. And, although it killed him - which was going to be the outcome anyway, it also led to a massive earthquake that destroyed three cities.”

“Damn. Don’t mess with you, I guess,” I tease.

His eyes grow dark again. “No, Nora.
Don’t
.”

I take my hand back and attempt to find the Caleb I’ve been getting to know, the one I had grown to see as someone I cared for, respected. “But that’s still not the same as just not doing anything. Alec killing you - well, that messes with the cycle. Letting the time pass…”

“We were in Italy right before the Renaissance. People were already talking about science, advancements, things that called into question everything faith had taught them. It was an age of doubt, a time to test the rules. We were no different. My brother and I… We let the opportunity pass.”

“And?”

“He died anyway. Of plague. Along with thousands of others.”

“You’re saying
you
caused the Black Death?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was an unfortunate coincidence. I imagine, however, that you don’t want
us to test it again?”

“No. I don’t. But
then what do we do?”

“Unless we break the curse, we do nothing. The cycle is fulfilled.”

“What about wiping the world clean of his connections or whatever? Isn’t that part of your debt?” I ask.

He refuses to meet my eyes and I wonder how each brother has kept his own burden and his own secrets for so long. They each tell a different story of how things are and how things must be. “It’s complicated,” he answers after a moment. “There’s only really been one...”

“But it ended badly,” I finish.

“That would depend who you asked.”

“Death tends to be bad regardless of the person you ask.”

“It’s not always as simple as it appears,” Caleb says.

“Have you ever killed anyone but your brother?” I ask.

“Not directly.” It isn’t much of an answer. I consider what that could mean and suddenly something reminds me of the party, of Chloe. Although they don’t kill their prey, could someone be hurt because of them?

“What happens if you let things go too far? When you feed?”

“It’s an unfortunate accident.”

“Have you ever had any ‘unfortunate accidents?’”

“Of course.
Although not for a very, very long time,” he answers.

“How long?”

“Longer than you can comprehend.”

“What about Alec?” I ask, although I don’t think I want to know. When Caleb stands up and moves to the kitchen, I definitely don’t want to know.
He returns a few minutes later with a glass of water for me, but I wasn’t thirsty and I know evasion tactics well. Changing the subject, I get back to what triggered the line of questioning in the first place.

“Caleb, the party,” I say.

“Yes? They were all clearly pretending,” he yawns. I realize the sun is coming up and I haven’t slept. It looks like I’ll be missing classes today, but thankfully, I only have two and one is mythology. I doubt Henry will mind, wherever he is.

“There was a girl.
Chloe.” His eyes look away and his expression confirms what I suspected. “You drank from her, didn’t you?”

“You know our prey must be willing,” he defends himself.

“Right, but something happened?”

“I don’t know what happened. After I ran into you and my brother, I was … shall we say, upset, so I looked for a quick release. She approached me, and she was wild; she said she knew what I was, but I thought nothing of it. The whole party, the mood, all of it - it was easy for anyone to believe she lived in a fantasy.”

I blush, remembering how I felt that night. “So what happened?”

“Everything was fine, just as it should have been. I drank from her, but when I tried to leave, she became clingy. I walked away, as I’ve done so many times before. It didn’t take long before she was screaming. Although there
was no reason for anyone to believe her accusations, I felt exposed. I ran away and that was the end of it.”

I shake my head. “It wasn’t, though. She started quoting
Dracula
, wandering out at night, being strange overall.”

“Why?” He asks. “I made her no promises.”

“You don’t get women, do you? We don’t like feeling used.”

“She came on to me,” he argues. “I only followed her where she wanted to go. I never offered her anything else.”

This isn’t the time to discuss the difference in expectations of men and women in relationships. Besides, I don’t know Chloe’s mind; maybe she was only looking for a little fun. Maybe we’re both reading more into her behavior that night than there was. Either way, something happened after he was with her. “Do you think-” I start.

“Anything’s possible. Where is she now?”

“I don’t know,” I admit.

“We should talk to her. I doubt it’s anything, but it’s worth checking out anyway.” He yawns again. “But first, sleep.”

We go down to the hall to our rooms, both weary and needing rest. He’s exhausted, as am I, but when we reach my door, I take his hand. He’s been so different from what I’d expected; without noticing it, I have become attached to him in a way that spells only trouble. Regardless, I know he’s seen little kindness and that’s what leads me to say, “Thank you, Caleb. For everything.”

He looks at me with pain in his eyes and shrugs.
“Yeah, no problem.”

I reach up and kiss him on the cheek, pretending that touching him doesn’t send shivers through me. I want to know more about him, to know everything about him. After the scene on the couch earlier, though, his walls are securely in place. I don’t want to push him when he’s reluctant to share. “Good night,” I say. Caleb squeezes my hand before dropping it; I smile and close the door between us.

****

I wake after noon but it was not a refreshing sleep. I sit on the edge of the bed, trying to
recover some semblance of sanity. My dreams varied between those of Alec fighting hopelessly against an army of vicious monsters - generally monsters I imagine based on movies, since I have no idea what a revenant looks like - and those of Caleb and I engaged in illicit and magnificent sex. In the glare of the afternoon sun, I think the nightmares were preferable. How do I face Caleb when every time I think of him, I imagine his body in all sorts of sinful positions? I rise, willing the day to erase these dark desires; we have work to do following up on talking with Chloe. When I go out into the den, Caleb is already scanning the internet for anything that might help.

“Good morning,” he says without looking at me.

“I need to take a shower and then maybe we should go see about Chloe,” I suggest.

“Yeah, okay.” He’s being dismissive. I wonder if his dreams were anything like mine. I move to the bathroom for my shower, stripping out of my clothes. Standing naked on the tile floor, waiting for the water to heat up, my body whispers its wanton desires to me. I ignore the call between my legs, the tingling in my nerves. When there is a soft knock on the door, I almost fall over.
This denial trick Caleb and Alec have perfected is not compatible with my personality; I’m not accustomed to need without indulgence.

I open the door a crack. Caleb is standing there, holding a towel and soap. The tingles grow more demanding.

“I figured you didn’t know where they were,” he says, averting his eyes. The small crack does not reveal much, but it wouldn’t take a detective to realize I am naked. I reach for the towel and soap and my hand brushes Caleb’s arm. It is total agony to touch him; my self-control fights with my hunger and I drop both the towel and soap as flames of lust lick my skin. Bending over to pick them up, I let go of the handle and the door opens. It is only a slight opening, but, suddenly, I am naked in front of Caleb and the line is crossed. His eyes move along my body and the shame on his face betrays his thoughts. He wants to look away but he can’t. The moment is frozen until I reach forward and drag him into the bathroom by his collar, walking back toward the sink. His mouth lowers over mine; his kiss obliterates any remnants of a line. There is no going back now. I need him and my body can’t deny the emptiness any longer. His fangs stretch out from under his lips as he looks at me with doubt.

“Yes,” I nod, and then they break the skin, drinking from me from the opposite side of where his brother did. His hands hold me against him and I clutch at his head. Fear stops me
from touching his back, from acknowledging the Mark. He drinks until I am weak, but I don’t need to ask him to stop. He does so freely and then, sated in one way but still full of longing, his blue eyes meet mine. I pull his shirt off over his head, revealing all of him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, but it’s too late. His body and mine
are obviously meant to be together. Caleb’s lips move to my breasts and his tongue traces my nipples; my breath catches in my throat. I feel guilty but I cannot stop. His fingers reach up between my legs and find me wet and warm. They bury themselves inside of me and start to stroke me from the inside. His touch makes my dreams seem sterile; I explode as he teases my cunt and promises me so much more. I fumble for his pants, but my hands are weak from pleasure. I twist, opening myself up deeper to him, but also slamming my back against the sink. The cold porcelain digs into my flesh. I don’t want to break the moment, but it’s started to hurt.

“Caleb,” I say. I push
my body from the sink and his fingers leave me; remorse shatters him and he backs away toward the door. “No, you don’t need to stop; it’s just, the sink-”

My words echo in the empty room; he’s gone, the door slammed behind him. The throbbing between my legs is unbearable. I know I should feel terrible for what just happened, but I don’t.
There is something I can’t understand at work; in his arms, it makes sense. I take a quick shower, but it can’t get cold enough to douse the burning inside of me. I dress and go back to the den; Caleb is sitting on the couch, sobs racking him. Kneeling between his legs, I rest my head on his thigh.

“You did nothing wrong,” I tell him.

“I never wanted to kill him,” he says. “He’s my brother.”