In the Dark (24 page)

He let her go
when her eyes showed a trace of panic. Specter would have crushed her
throat to remind her this was no game. A strict teacher with little
patience; Sebastian had seen students die at his master’s hand.
Only his own ability to learn quickly had kept him alive. Ian, he
felt, would learn nothing from such harsh treatment. Specter would
have said that if she could not survive it, she did not deserve to.
Once, Sebastian would have agreed . . . once.

“Not a bad
beginning, certainly,” he said to Ian. “But you must
forget what you already know. You cannot defend against a vampire
with moves intended to protect you against a human.”

She nodded,
taking in shallow, agitated breaths. Another habit she would do well
to rid herself of. He decided to save that lesson for later.

“Come at
me,” he instructed, taking up a stance. He did not need the
stance. He took it so she would feel he was prepared.

She came at him
again, seriously, but easily avoided. He used the block he had just
shown her, turning it into a grab that used her own weight and force
to take her to the floor. She flipped herself over, the muscles of
her jaw tense.

“Did you
see what I did?” he asked.

She nodded once,
shortly. He helped her up, then showed her the block again.

“Again,”
Sebastian instructed. Ian nodded, balanced herself – and he
rushed her. She missed the block, but ducked out of his reach as she
realized she had. He sidestepped simply, changing his swing from her
face to her middle. She gave him a frightened look when he stopped,
his fist gently resting against her abdomen.

“Good,”
he told her. “You missed the move you wanted, but tried again
quickly. Let’s do it again.”

Words that would
never have come from his master’s mouth. If you lived through a
night, you would go through another. You received no other reward.

Her eyes
glinted, determined. Good. She straightened, stretched, and he went
for her again.

It was a game.
Despite her grace, she attacked and defended like a child. But he
hadn’t offered her training out of need for a sparring partner
– if he wanted that, he would have to search long and hard.

He did this
because of what he felt – that small spark of sympathy for her,
for her father. He didn’t like the idea of seeing her dead.

It didn’t
disturb him to distraction, but it was unpleasant, the idea that this
girl who “wanted to get to know” him might be taken. He
couldn’t save her from all trouble or enemies that might arise.
But he would do this. He would show her how to save herself, that he
wouldn’t have to scatter her dust to the wind as he had Kent’s.

“Again,”
he told her, and attacked.

I
wasn’t sweating or even really tired when Sebastian held up a
hand. I was frustrated enough to tear something apart, quivering and
tense, but ready to go all night.

“Enough
for tonight,” he said over his hand. “Think on what you
have learned, return tomorrow.”

I snapped a nod,
then started pacing.

He raised a
delicate eyebrow. “Is something wrong with that?”

“I’m
just frustrated.” I half-shrugged. “I can’t keep up
with you. Not even close.”

“It is how
I was taught. Necessity will help your body develop its strength and
speed. As you called to me the night before last.” He tapped
the side of his head. “It became necessary for you to call me,
and so you did.”

I winced at the
thought of that night. So I really did call him. Josephine was right.
With a distracting snap, things started falling into place in my
head: the need to turn and look for Kent just in time to see him,
watching Josephine through Emily’s eyes for a moment in my
dream, the sudden feeling of unease when I first touched
Emily-the-shape-changer. It didn’t matter. Nifty psychic power
or not, I wanted to forget all of that, not dwell on it.

“Yeah, I
guess.” I kicked the wall. “I guess. I just – I
just feel . . .” I shrugged. Kept pacing.

“Just
what?”

He couldn’t
let it hang. He had to ask. Damn, I wanted to shred something.

“Everything.
Emily’s gone, Kent’s gone, and I’ve had a killer
chasing me around the city – I’m tired. And sad. And
angry. And I have to go home and deal with Amanda tonight.”

He crossed his
arms. “Why must you deal with someone you don’t wish to
deal with?”

I lifted my lip
a half-inch. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to be done. I
wanted to eat nails. “I want to see her,” I snapped,
rubbing at the bridge of my nose. “It’s just . . . I mean
. . .” I sighed. “Maybe I don’t want her to stay.”

His eyes stayed
flat. “That is for you to decide.”

That’s
right, you think she’s a pet. Just get rid of her if she’s
being difficult. Put her to sleep.

A growl rose in
the back of my throat that had nothing human about it. If I hadn’t
felt so angry, the sound would have shocked me. “Damn, think
you can be any colder?” I snapped. “What did you do with
your family when you had them, eat them for dinner?”
Sebastian’s eyes flashed a brilliant pale blue of fury, the
same color they’d been when he cut the shape-changer down. His
entire body tightened. My stomach flipped.

Fuck –
!

His lips raised
in a growl, like the one I’d just uttered, but deeper. Meaner.
Tiger to my housecat. I remembered I was talking to a killer. I
stepped back a pace. He glared at me for what seemed like minutes,
then whirled away from me.

“Leave,”
he barked.

“Sebastian
–” My voice shook in my throat.

“Do not
try my patience, Ian.”

I froze. His
voice was icy serious, but . . . had I heard a tremble? His hands
clenched at his sides, his shoulders tight. I couldn’t see his
eyes. I couldn’t tell how he felt.

“Sebastian,”
I said again, and watched his shoulders tense. Maybe I didn’t
need to see his eyes.

I backed up,
slowly, one, two, three. My back hit the door. “Okay,” I
said. “I’m going.”

He didn’t
watch me leave.

I waited until I
reached the living room before I shoved my feet into my boots. Didn’t
bother to tie them until I got on the elevator.

There couldn’t
be more than one reason why he would act that way after what I said.
I turned it over in my head the whole way down and came up with the
same conclusion. He killed someone he didn’t want to. Ate them
for dinner, just like I said.

Damn. Kent had
always told me to keep fed, don’t let myself get hungry or stay
that way for long. I had wondered why. Frequently, actually. Was that
it? That if we got hungry enough . . . ? I shuddered, feeling sick
again.

Who had it been?
A family member, obviously. A sibling maybe? Like Amanda? Could I
maybe get hungry enough –

I shook my head.
I wouldn’t let that happen to me. Or Amanda. I wouldn’t
end up with nothing but a souvenir of her, a handful of photos and a
book of lyrics –

Or that sad
fabric.

I shivered,
suddenly sad.

I should say
I’m sorry. I opened up my yap when I was upset and I hurt him.

Yeah, I should.
I thought about stopping the elevator, taking it back up. Reached out
to hit the button – except it wouldn’t work without the
key. Only down worked.

The elevator let
me off in the garage and I stalked to my car, hands stuffed in my
jeans pockets, head down.

Well, I’ll
just show up at his house, same time tomorrow, and see what he does.
We have a date. Unless he says otherwise.

I started the
car and pulled out into traffic. Amanda was waiting at home for me.
I’d already been gone for hours. She was going to have a lot of
questions.

I planned on
answering them.

T
he
rain started when he had gone a few blocks from his car. He had seen
the clouds rolling in over the sound, gathering until the night sky
could host no more of them and the water came down. Sebastian turned
up the collar of his coat and kept walking.

This area of
town had long since quieted for the night. Only the occasional passer
through made an exception of that – like himself. Rain washed a
lock of loose hair down into his eyes. He brushed it away with
irritation. He was wet, angry and hungry, stalking the dark and
silent streets in search of a victim. And all the while, his thoughts
returned to Ian. What she had said, and how he had longed for her
blood in retribution.

Damn her.

Damn her, or
damn yourself?

He let out a
tense and growling sigh, but had to admit the truth, at least to
himself. Not really. Not all of him wished to feed from her, take
from her until she vanished. Only the anger. The hunger. The part he
wanted to learn to control. The part that roared to be let loose now.

He had tried to
practice once Ian had gone, tried to let his aggression out in the
exercises. Exercises meant to strengthen his body, quicken his pace,
take down an opponent before the opponent could blink.

He had shattered
one of his mirrors before he decided to let himself out of the
penthouse. Practice was all well and good, but it released so little.
He hungered.

It occurred to
Sebastian that he had gone blocks in mere minutes. He was pacing. He
drew up his steps, but the irritation welled as he did that, as if
his rapid steps had held it in check.

Damn.

His lips had
pulled back in the feral snarl that meant rage, rage and hunger. They
held taut there, as if forced, unable to relax.

Damn.

“
What
did you do when you had a family? Eat them for dinner?”

Sebastian looked
up, another several blocks from where he’d last noticed his
quick pace. He did not know how much time had passed. His watch said
several minutes.

Blood . . .

He raised his
head. It was only a smell, something vague in the rain-scented air.
His stomach screamed for it. He found the source immediately. At the
end of the block stood a young man, leaned against a wall with a
cigarette between his lips. Confident. Arrogant. Certain the world
could not hurt him.

“
You.”

The man looked
up. He was perhaps as old as Sebastian had been when he’d died.
Sebastian stalked toward him, his snarl turned to a grin.

“What the
hell –” The young man turned, belligerent at first, then
backing away as Sebastian neared. His eyes widened. Sebastian leaped.
His arm snapped up to take the man’s throat. One quick squeeze
shut off the man’s shout, his voice shattered. His cigarette
fell with a hiss on the wet pavement.

The man
struggled, punching, kicking – useless. Sebastian took him to
the nearest alley, pulling him along by the throat. In the dark,
hidden from sight, he pinned the struggling creature against his body
with one arm and pressed his fangs into the warm human skin. The man
made a strangled, barking sound. Sebastian held his prey’s
mouth with his other hand and
drank.

Hot blood seared
his throat, burned his stomach. Absorbing the heat in one long,
drawn-out rush. Drowning his anger in sensation until all that
remained was a single need. Easily understood, easily met –

More.

The man’s
heart raced, forcing the blood to Sebastian, filling his mouth with
swallow after swallow. The sharp tang of adrenaline coursed to him on
the blood, a taste he had not had for decades. A taste he had once
had in plenty, had once craved, had denied himself all these years –

Yes –

It hit his
tongue, too metallic, too coppery, making his teeth ache. It was
familiar, he knew that flavor like no other. It was the same one he
had had so many times, the one he had often sought. It was awful.

He drew his head
back, his hunger fading. The man had ceased to struggle, merely gone
stiff, his lungs and heart pumping furiously. Sebastian licked the
too-coppery drops from his lips, resenting the taste. Wondering, when
had it spoiled?

He knew the why.

“Forget
me,” he said to the man, and released him. The man staggered
away, hand clapped to his neck, eyes huge and focused on Sebastian.

“Go,”
Sebastian told him, suddenly hating the sight of him staring like
that, hating the taste of fear still lingering in his mouth.

The man hardly
hesitated. He whirled and ran for the mouth of the alley, hand still
pressed to his neck. Sebastian watched him go. He had not needed so
much blood. And yet, he had only death in his mind when he took that
man.

Perhaps . . .

He followed
after the man to the mouth of the alley. Made sure he was alone
before stepping out himself.

Perhaps Ian had
only been observant.

I have said
more than once that I am a killer. And I am.

Not until his
death. The man he had been had never killed. Would have shivered in
revulsion at the idea of killing for pleasure. Very suddenly,
Sebastian
remembered.
He had not been a killer.

Though I am
now, and that is what I have shown Ian.

That was not
what he wanted Ian to see.

He shrugged his
wet coat up over his neck, hiding the world from his view.

Then perhaps
I shall have to change.

A
nother
car had taken my spot in my driveway. A car I didn’t recognize.

I pulled up to
the curb and parked, staring at the car, searching for some familiar
detail. Dark blue Cadillac, California plates . . . Nothing. I didn’t
know a soul from California, or anyone who might drive that kind of
car.