Wings In The Night - Bloodline Part 3

Swallowing hard, I tipped the mirror slowly toward my face. And then I blinked, because I wasn't there.

The mirror reflected the wall behind me, but not me. I lifted a forefinger, and moved it back and forth in front of the mirror. But there was no image reflected there.

My hands went numb, and the mirror fell to the floor and shattered.

Chapter Four.

Ethan had watched the reactions cross Lilith's beautiful face as he'd revealed, bit by bit, the truth to her.

First there had been confusion, followed quickly by amus.e.m.e.nt when she finally got the gist of what he was trying to tell her but thought he was making a joke.

But even then there had been something more, something lying beneath it all. Some instinctive, living part of her being that recognized the truth when she heard it. And as he went on, slowly, ruthlessly convincing her, showing her, her expression had turned to one of disbelief and then, as she gaped at the gla.s.s, to one of horror.

As the mirror fell, her body sank heavily, all at once, onto the sofa. She didn't fall, but she didn't sit down, either. She just let go, landing hard on the cus.h.i.+ons, her head hanging, eyes unfocused, gazing at nothing.

"Lilith" he began, as he moved closer, knelt in front of her, wished he could have found an easier way to tell her what she was.

"I knew," she whispered. "I mean, part of me knew. It didn't even sound untrue when you said it." Then she snapped her gaze up to his, focusing at last, "How did you know? Do you know me, Ethan?"

He averted his eyes. "Vampires can sense other vampires. I knew what you were before I ever set eyeson you in the stable. What I didn't know was whether you had come here to kill me."

"You keep saying that. Why?" she asked.

He sat in the chair again and let his own head fall forward, as he rubbed the back of his neck and wrestled with his conscience. How much should he tell her? Because the thing was, he did know her.

Though they'd had almost no interaction at The Farm, he knew her. He'd watched her, seen her, learned her nature. Her reaction, once she remembered, was as predictable as her need for blood, her aversion to sunlight.

She would go back. He knew she would.

"I need to know," Lilith said softly. "If there are vampires out there hunting down and killing other vampires, then don't you think I need to know?"

"You'll be safe as long as you stay here." His head came up then, and he plumbed her eyes and her mind at once. "And as long as you aren't lying to me."

"I've told you everything that's happened since I woke up beneath that bridge. It feels to me as if were born in that moment."

He tipped his head to one side, ran a hand over his chin. "I suspect you were."

"What do you mean?"

"I believe, Lilith, that you were made over into a vampire, just prior to this sleep. I think it likely that you awoke to your new life tonight for the very first time."

"Do vampires normally forget everything that came before?"

He shrugged. "I didn't. And I've never exactly known any other vampires."

She flinched when he said that, her head jerking slightly to the left, as her eyes squeezed tight.

"What? What is it?"

Brows furrowed, she pinched the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. "A flash, maybe. I don't know."

"A memory?"

She opened her eyes and speared him with her steady gaze. "I saw a personat least I think it was a person, though it looked more like a decomposing corpse. It was chained to a wall, and I felt its agony.

And that was all."

He tipped his head to one side, studying her and wondering what horrors she had seen at The Farm that he had not.

"Do you know what it could mean?" she asked.

He shook his head slowly. "No, I don't." "What do you know about our kind?"

How could he answer that? He only knew The Chosenthe captives who, like the two of them, had been raised at The Farm. Everything he knew of vampires had been taught to him by The Keepers. And he didn't trust themhe never had. But as he thought it over, he wondered. If amnesia was a common aftereffect of being made over, that would explain why he'd never heard from James in all this time.

Maybe his brother didn't remember him.

"But then, why all the training and education? Why teach us things we're only going to forget?" he muttered.

"What are you talking about?"

He snapped his gaze back to hers, aware he'd journeyed deeply into his own mind. "Nothing," he said.

"Just thinking aloud."

"Oh." She stiffened her spine. "That's not the only flash of memory I've had," she told him.

He looked at her and tried not to show her that the revelation startled him a bit. h.e.l.l, it wasn't as if he honestly wished her memory were gone forever. He just needed some time to figure things out.

"I remember kissingor being kissed bya man." She blinked, but didn't avert her eyes from his. "It felt like you."

"But we've only just met," he told her.

"Have we?"

Clearing his throat, he got to his feet, feeling fidgety. "I need to go back to the stables. I was on my way to tend the horses when I found you."

She nodded, then turned her back to him and walked toward the fireplace, leaning one hand on the mantle, lowering her head so that her hair fell like as suddenly as a curtain falling across a stage. It was as if she were already alone in the room.

"You can come with me, if you like."

Without moving at all, she said, "I'll stay, if you don't mind. I have a lot to process."

"All right." He started for the door, then paused, because he hadn't covered half what he needed to. And he wasn't certain how he could, not without revealing everything, something he wasn't confident enough of her motives to do yet. "Lilith, that car you encounteredthe Escalade. Are you sure it didn't follow you here?"

"I'm sure."

Two words. He hoped she meant them. "If you need me" he began.

"I'll open the door and shout." No need. Just shout at me with your mind. I'll hear you.

Her head rose slowly, and she turned toward him, blinking in surprise. "You will?"

Now that she was looking at him, she would know for sure he wasn't speaking aloud. This was a skill she needed, and one of the easiest to masterover short distances, at least, and with a willing partner.

It's one of the benefits of being what we are, Lilith. He spoke to her clearly, without saying a word, and as she watched, her eyes sharpened with interest. One of many, he added. It's not a bad thing, being immortal. Not at all.

As he watched her closely, she closed her eyes, and then he heard her thinking, But we aren't really immortal, are we?

He smiled. "It depends on how we define the word, I suppose," he said aloud. "Take care around the fire."

She smiled, apparently pleased that he'd heard and answered her question. That she could speak to him with no more than a thought. He actually thought there might have a been a glimmer of the old light in her eyes.

"Thank you for taking me in, Ethan."

"You're very welcome," he said. And he meant it.

Because, after all, Lilith was the only thing about The Farm that he'd regretted leaving behind. He'd thought of her so much that he'd been unable to keep himself from buying the Waterhouse print when he'd seen it. Because it reminded him of her. Of Lilith. She'd been nineteen when he'd left, and already notorious. Everyone knew who she was.

She was the one they couldn't break. She was the one who would rather die than submit. She was the voice of his conscience whenever he closed his eyes long enough to listen. She was the face he couldn't stop seeing in his mind, the name he heard on the wind.

She was the one kiss he had never been able to forget.

He hadn't named her Lilith because she reminded him of the print. He'd bought the print because it reminded him of her, right down to her name.

She was Lilith.

And somehow, she had found him.

He was going to have to make her tell him how.

21 Years Ago The taxi dropped Serena off in front of a cracker box house in a neighborhood full of cracker box houses and pulled away. She'd never felt more alone. It wasn't a new sensation, of course. Serena had always been alone. She'd been orphaned at nineteen and had been making her own way ever since, waiting tables at the Broadway Grill, living in her tiny apartment in the low rent district. On her own. That was how it had always been. The one-night stand that had resulted in the pregnancy had been just that. A one-night stand. A stranger in a bar on a particularly bad night when she'd been too depressed to want to go to bed alone. She didn't even know his name.

But for the last nine months, she hadn't felt lonely at all. She'd had her baby daughter growing inside her.

She'd talked to her. She'd laughed with her. She'd sung to her and read her stories. Then she'd given birth to herand someone had stolen her away.

It wasn't fair.

She'd briefly considered going back to her own apartment. Her own job. Her own life. Until she'd seen the one person who had tried to help her blown to bits in her own car.

Now Serena was scared. She was angry, and she was grieving the loss of her baby, but fear had layered itself over both those emotions. She'd given her name and address, her employer and insurance information, when she'd checked into the hospital. She wasn't going back home, not until she knew exactly what was going on. It might not be safe.

So she stood in front of the little house staring down at the key chain from the knapsack and wondered briefly if this had been Maureen Keenan's home. If it was, and if Maureen had been killed because she'd tried to help her, then wouldn't those dark killers know where she lived? Wouldn't they be watching?

Serena turned, and looked around. There were other houses just like this one lining both sides of the smooth, narrow, perfectly paved road. There were little maple trees s.p.a.ced at regular intervals along both sides. There was a sidewalk unrolling in front of the houses, not a chip or a crack in it.

A few cars were parked in a few driveways. None along the curb. None with anyone lurking inside.

There were swing sets and tricycles in several yards. The place looked for all the world like a cozy, friendly, safe little neighborhood. No faces peered out through parted curtains as far as she could see.

Maybe it would be safe to go inside.

Drawing a breath, she went up the perfect little sidewalk to the front door, knocked and awaited an answer that never came. So, with hands that trembled, she slipped the key into the lock, turned it and opened the door.

The house was dark, but it wasn't empty. She didn't know why no one had answered the door, but she could feel another's presence. And along with that feeling, there were the aromas. She smelled something hot and rich, and her stomach growled.

She looked through the darkened room she had entered to the rectangle of light that was an open doorway at the far end. A woman's form stepped into that opening, no more than a dark silhouette.

"Serena?" the shadow asked softly, but the tone of her voice said she already knew.

"Yes."

"And where is Maureen?" Serena got the feeling that the faceless woman already knew what her response to that question would be, as well. "I got off the bus where she told me. And she was there, in her car, and she waved to me"

She spoke faster than she should have, her tempo increasing as she went on. "I started to cross the street, and then her car, it just.i.t justexploded. And she was she was gone. She was just gone, and I couldn't"

Her throat closed too tightly to let her go on, and she tipped her head back, eyes focused on the ceiling as she tried to swallow, tried not to just burst into the hysterical tears she felt pus.h.i.+ng at the gates to get through.

She heard the woman's footsteps coming closer. Felt a hand on her shoulder and lowered her head to see a pair of kind eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears, an attractive face with full lips that trembled and high cheekbones that seemed pale in the insufficient light.

"I'm so sorry," Serena said, and sniffled hard. "She was your friend, wasn't she?"

"She was more than a friend. She was a sister. Not by blood, but well, h.e.l.l, you'll understand soon enough."

"Why was she killed?" Serena's stomach clenched, and she tried to quell the sickness writhing inside her.

"Was it because she tried to help me?"

"She knew exactly what she was risking, Serena." The stranger squeezed Serena's shoulder and spoke these words firmly, as if they were very important. "This this situation is way bigger than just you or your baby. You bear no responsibility for what happened to Maureen. Even if she had known what the outcome would be, she would have done exactly the same thing."

Serena lowered her head and let the tears flow. "I'm so confused. I don't know what's going on.

Where's my baby? Why would someone take her? Why would they kill an innocent nurse?"

"I know all this is overwhelming to you right now. But I'm going to explain everything, I promise. Just not here."

"We have to go?" Serena knew her tone was whiney, and yet she couldn't help herself. "But I'm so tired."

"I know. I've made you soup and a sandwich to eat on the way. This is a safehouse, but we can't risk that you might have been followed. My car's in the garage. This way."

The woman took Serena's arm and led her to the kitchen, where the stranger picked up a Thermos, and a zipper bag with a sandwich and a spoon tucked inside.