Secrets in the Shadows (33 page)

“What happened?” Jules asked, unable to repress his curiosity. “How did you do it?”

But Eli shook his head. “I’m not in the mood to share confidences. I tried to reproduce my results with others. Every one of them died, slowly and in terrible pain.”

“But surely Drake has a right to know—”

“Don’t push me on this, Jules.” Eli’s eyes flashed with anger. “If I thought telling him was the right thing to do, believe me, I would have done it by now.”

“What gives you the right to decide that for him?” Jules’s temper was stirring ominously, but he didn’t feel any hint that he might lose control of it.

Eli steepled his fingers in front of his face and stared at the fire. “Drake is the most well-adjusted vampire I’ve ever known. And I’ve known a lot of vampires in my life. He’s completely at peace with what he is because he’s convinced he has no choice, and he’s not the type to whine about his fate. But if he should start to think that maybe he has a choice after all … Do you really think it’s fair to shatter his peace of mind when in all likelihood he’d die if he tried to beat the addiction?”

Jules wasn’t sure that fairness was really the issue, but he couldn’t deny that he saw Eli’s point. Still … “All these secrets of yours may very well come back to bite you in the ass.”

Eli shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“No, I’m not talking hypothetically. Gabriel’s gunning for you. He told me he plans to come to Philadelphia and confront you, and I believe him.”

Eli’s eyes hardened. “Let him come. This time, I won’t lose my nerve.”

Jules doubted a straightforward fight with Eli was what Gabriel had in mind. He tried to think of a delicate way to say that, but Eli slammed that conversational door in his face before he had a chance.

“Are you going to get around to asking about Hannah, or are you going to keep avoiding the subject indefinitely?”

Jules found himself holding his breath and forced himself to release it. “How is she?”

“She’s come close to consciousness a couple of times, but she hasn’t fully awakened yet.”

Jules nodded and finally sat down. He’d forgotten his clothes were soaking wet and would probably ruin the leather of the antique chair he’d chosen. He started to stand up again, but Eli waved off his concern.

“How are you, Jules?”

Jules suspected his smile was as enigmatic as one of Eli’s. “When I figure that out, you’ll be the first to know.”

“You should be there with her when she wakes.”

“And if she hates me for what I’ve done?”

Eli’s expression turned stern. “Then you’ll just have to take it like a man.”

Jules closed his eyes and absorbed that. He’d take it like a man, all right—a man who was hopelessly in love with a woman who might very well hate him. “Will you take me to her?”

“Of course.”

***

Warmth. That was the first thing Hannah noticed. She had a vague memory of being cold. Shivering. Teeth chattering. Buried under piles of blankets, flickering firelight that failed to warm her. A voice, unfamiliar, speaking to her from far away.

She groaned softly and cuddled into the warmth, drinking it in through her skin. Not just warmth—safety. She’d been in danger, and now she wasn’t anymore. She sighed in contentment and drifted away.

When next she woke, the warmth was still there, as was the sense of safety. She breathed deep, inhaling a bewildering bouquet of scents. Wood smoke. Furniture polish. The crisp smell of clean sheets. Something else—spicy, familiar.

Jules.

She opened her eyes.

She was in an unfamiliar room that looked like it could be a bed-and-breakfast inn. Cozy, with an English cottage look. Wood crackled in a fireplace fronted by an ornate iron screen. She wanted to move closer to the fire, closer to that tempting warmth, but for reasons she couldn’t name, she didn’t like the look of that iron screen.

Blinking bleary eyes, she tried to remember where she was. Her last clear, coherent memory was of being in the dark, cold and scared, fighting for her life. Then she remembered the flare of a Coleman lantern, Ian’s evil laugh. Trying to shoot him. Failing. And then …

Groaning, not sure she wanted to know, she reached up to her throat where she remembered the sharp, stabbing pain of Ian’s fangs. The skin felt smooth under her fingertips, and she frowned in puzzlement. Maybe she’d dreamed Ian biting her, but she hadn’t dreamed Gabriel, she was sure of it. She felt all around her throat, but couldn’t feel any sign of a scab or even a scar. What the hell … ?

More fragments of memory floated around in her brain. Falling. Falling down an endless black pit, terror dragging on her heels, sucking her down toward nothingness.

Then something else had a hold of her, slowing her fall. The memory crystallized. Jules. It was Jules who had a hold of her. Jules who offered her a lifeline.

Her stomach turned as her conscious mind finally made sense of the images. She’d been dying. And Jules had made her a vampire.

The fog continued to clear, and she realized she really did smell Jules’s distinctive scent. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she turned over, her body so weak she could barely manage it.

He was lying beside her on the bed. It was his warmth she’d cuddled up to when she’d first awakened. He was fast asleep, but even so she could see the haggardness of his face, the shadows under his eyes. She swallowed hard, her newly acute senses reeling from too much input as she realized she could feel him there beside her without having to touch him.

“Gee, I have vamp-dar,” she muttered to herself, but she didn’t much feel like laughing at her own joke.

Beside her, Jules stirred, then woke with a start. He sat up abruptly and gazed into her face, his eyes widening.

“You’re awake,” he said. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the expression on his face, though she read relief and dread in it.

“Yeah.” She should say something more, but words stuck in her throat. She closed her eyes, the room spinning around her as panic threatened. She was a vampire. A newly created creature of the night. She had psychic powers. She would have to drink blood.

And Jules was her maker.

Her hands fisted in the covers and she fought against the sting of tears. Surely this had to be a dream! If only she could wake up from it.

Jules’s fingers brushed softly over her cheek, the touch so tender and tentative it made her heart ache. A tear spilled out from under her closed eyelid. He bent and kissed it away.

“I’m so sorry, Hannah.” His voice was a hoarse croak, full of anguish. “I was too slow. I should have—”

It took every ounce of her energy, but she reached up and touched her fingers to his lips to silence him. Her memory of what had happened was spotty and vague, but she remembered four fledgling killers and Ian. How either of them could be alive right now was a mystery.

Her hand fell weakly away from his lips, and Jules wrapped his fingers around hers, squeezing tightly. He no longer looked like the cocky alpha male she’d known. His eyes were shadowed by uncertainty, his shoulders slightly hunched.

“Where are we?” she asked, glancing around the strange room.

Jules took a slow and shaky breath. “We’re at Eli’s.” Haltingly, he told her what had happened after Ian bit her. She did her best to absorb it, and a long silence descended on the room, broken only by the crackle of the fire.

Finally, Jules shifted uncomfortably and squeezed her hand even tighter. “I can’t stand it anymore—do you hate me?”

She looked up into his anguished face, and something stirred inside her. Something that most definitely was not hate. “Of course I don’t hate you.” She shivered in a sudden chill, and her whole body felt heavy. Her vision blurred. “What’s happening?” she mumbled, sure she should feel alarmed, though her emotions seemed suddenly miles away.

“You’re still recovering.” Jules’s voice was faint and distant. She had the vague impression he said something more, but her mind sank into the darkness and she didn’t hear.

***

She woke again some unknown amount of time later. Her body felt a little stronger, and she managed a tentative stretch. Every muscle and joint ached and protested, but she struggled her way into a sitting position.

Jules was standing by the fire, looking at her with obvious concern.

Sitting on the edge of her bed was a man she’d never seen before, but whom she instantly recognized. She licked her dry, chapped lips.

“Gabriel has your eyes,” she told Eli, who smiled faintly.

“I know. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been run over by a truck. And I think it backed over me afterward to finish the job.”

Still standing by the fire, Jules laughed. “That’s my Hannah,” he said with obvious affection.

My Hannah. She truly was his Hannah now, wasn’t she? He was her maker. Her master. Bile rose in her throat, and she forced it back down.

“It will take you a few weeks to become accustomed to the changes that have occurred in your body,” Eli said. “I’m afraid you’ll suffer quite a bit of discomfort for a while, but it will pass.”

She nodded, then looked over at Jules. Why didn’t he come any closer? Why was he hanging back by the fire? And why was he sweating and chewing his lip?

She frowned at Eli. “So, what’s going on here, exactly?”

“Jules broke a cardinal rule by making you,” Eli said. He lost his kindly-old-man look and became coldly stern. “If it weren’t for the extenuating circumstances, his life would be forfeit.”

Something fierce stirred in Hannah’s center, and she made a snarling sound she’d never heard from her own mouth before. “You’re in no position to be throwing stones, buddy! Remember, I’ve met your fledgling up-close and way-too-personal.” Her gums tingled strangely and her heart-rate accelerated as she struggled to sit up straighter, maybe even get out of bed and put herself between Jules and his hypocritical, holier-than-thou mentor. Though what she thought she could do against him was anyone’s guess.

Eli smiled at her bravado and patted her shoulder. “As I said, I understand there were extenuating circumstances. Jules is in no danger. Calm yourself and withdraw your fangs.”

Fangs? She tentatively touched her tongue to her canines and discovered that they’d grown and sharpened. Ah, that’s what the tingling feeling in her gums was. She frowned. How exactly did one withdraw them?

“They’ll withdraw on their own when you calm down,” Eli answered, as though she’d asked the question out loud. “You’ll gain voluntary control of them eventually.”

She forced a slow, deep breath, calling on her martial arts training to find a core of calm. Not that she’d ever been much good at that part. Still, her heart-rate was slowing, and her gums tingled again.

“As I was saying,” Eli continued, “it’s highly … irregular … for a Guardian to create a fledgling. Jules had a choice between making you and letting you die. My question to you is, are you comfortable with the choice he made?”

“Huh?” Boy, she was just full of intelligent questions today. A regular Einstein.

“If you had to choose between life as a vampire and death, which would you choose for yourself?”

Jules made a little choking noise, and she glanced over at him. He stood motionless by the fire, his eyes pleading with her, and she realized he was in the grip of Eli’s glamour.

“Let him go!” she snapped at Eli.

“Answer my question first, then I’ll release him. This is your life we’re talking about, not his.”

She opened her mouth for a retort, but when she met those implacable, ancient eyes, she swallowed her words. She had the distinct impression that if she said she’d choose death, she’d be dead before the words finished leaving her mouth.

A lot of things made sense now. She remembered Jules’s question—Do you hate me?—and even now she saw the guilt in his face. Ignoring Eli, she met Jules’s eyes and spoke only to him. She remembered that horrible falling feeling, and she remembered Jules extending his psychic hand to catch her.

She chose her words carefully. “Unlike most people, I knew what you were offering. I’m the one who decided to accept. You didn’t force anything on me, I’m not mad at you, and I certainly don’t hate you.”

His shoulders sagged in relief and he came to the bed in two long strides. Eli stood so Jules could take his place. With a nod and an enigmatic smile, the Founder slipped out of the room.

Jules grabbed her hand and squeezed it, then seemed to decide that wasn’t enough. He pulled back the covers and slipped into the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms. She went readily, laying her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around him.

“You know,” she said, “there’s nothing like a near-death experience to show you what’s really important in life.”

His arms tightened around her, and he pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “You know I would never take advantage of my power as your maker.”

She thought about it a moment, feeling his muscles stiffen when she didn’t immediately reply. She smiled and rubbed his chest. “Yes, you would.”

“I would not!” he cried, and he couldn’t have sounded more indignant.

She raised her head and looked up into his eyes. “If I were about to do something insanely dangerous, like walk all alone into a house filled with nine Killers, you’d freeze me in my tracks without a second thought. Hell, I’d do the same to you if I had that kind of power.”

He frowned at her, no doubt trying to puzzle out whether he should be offended. She snuggled against him once more.

“Besides,” she said, smiling against his chest, “you used glamour against me, and you even tied me up, and I managed not to hate you for it.” And to get the better of you anyway, she thought but didn’t say. Before, she’d thought letting a man have any amount of power over her was a sign of weakness. Now she understood that she’d given him power the moment she’d fallen in love with him. What’s more, he’d given her the same power over him.

“Did you mean what you said?” she asked, thinking back to the moment when she’d been on the brink of death.

“What I said when?”

“When I was dying and you were trying to bring me back.”

“You remember words?” He sounded startled.