Gabriel released his shoulder. “Eli won’t kill you.”
“Somehow I don’t think your assessment of his character is terribly reliable,” Jules said.
“Why not? I’ve known him for almost five hundred years. He wasn’t able to kill me, and I’ve done worse than you. Far, far worse.”
About the last thing Jules had expected was for Gabriel to defend his father, but it was hard to miss the hint of wistfulness in his expression. It must have hurt like hell when Eli turned on him. Still, that didn’t make his argument convincing.
“I used to think I knew him,” Jules said, bitterness tingeing his voice. “Or at least, that I understood him. But that was before I knew he was a Killer who’s been lying to me for almost eighty years.”
Gabriel made a sound between a snort and a laugh. “Eli doesn’t lie. He’s a master or skirting the truth, but he’s completely anal about not lying.”
“For eighty years, he’s been pretending that he’s not a Killer, that he wants nothing more than to destroy Killers for the good of all humanity. As far as I’m concerned, that’s an outright lie!”
Gabriel’s eyes widened. “You don’t know the truth about him, do you?” He chuckled. “That would explain a good many things.”
“What truth? What are you talking about?”
Gabriel met his gaze squarely. “He was a Killer. But he cured himself.” He smiled wryly. “Not on purpose. He was trying to kill himself in a fit of remorse but fucked it up.” The smile turned into one of Gabriel’s patented sneers. “That’s when he decided all the rest of us needed to die. That’s when he founded the Guardians.” He sighed. “So no, Jules, he won’t kill you for turning the woman you love into a vampire to save her from certain death. But if you’re too chickenshit to go to her when she needs you, then I’d be happy to carry out my original plan.”
Jules blinked, and suddenly his back was against the cold, crumbling wall, his feet off the ground as Gabriel crowded into his space.
“Don’t misunderstand me, Guardian,” Gabriel said. His breath reeked of blood and death. “I’m not the forgive and forget type. I will come to Philadelphia. And I will kill any Guardian who gets between me and my father when I come for him. If you truly love Hannah, then go to her. Let Eli help her through her transition. And then the both of you had better stay the hell out of my way. Now, should I take you to the train station, or should I start questioning you?”
It was hard to get a sound out with Gabriel’s forearm pressed hard against his windpipe, but Jules managed to gasp the words “train station.” The freak released him and gave him a shove out the door. Jules breathed deep of the fresh clean air, but Gabriel was walking briskly toward the car and he had to hurry to keep up.
The badly injured mortal woman lay across the backseat. Her skin was deathly pale, her breathing shallow. The life force Jules had sensed in her was growing even more faint.
“What are you going to do with her?” he asked as he got into the car.
Gabriel floored the gas pedal, and the car took off with a shriek of burning rubber and a fountain of gravel. Jules hastily fastened his seatbelt.
“I’ll drop you at the train station,” Gabriel said as the car continued to pick up speed. The maniac had to be doing about eighty on this quiet country road. “Then I’ll take her to the emergency room.”
Jules gripped the door handle and tried not to watch the road, figuring what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “Shouldn’t we drop her at the emergency room first?”
“First or second, it doesn’t matter. She’s going to die anyway,” Gabriel said with callous indifference.
“You don’t know that! She might—”
“I’ve seen more human death than you can possibly imagine, Guardian. I know it when I see it. But I’ll take her to the emergency room anyway. She’ll probably last a day or two, maybe long enough for her family to come be with her at the end.”
Jules would have argued further, but there was clearly no point in it.
They made it into the city in what had to be record time despite a stop at a convenience store bathroom to wash off the worst of the blood. Jules wondered how much glamour Gabriel used to avoid being stopped for any of the hundreds of moving violations he committed along the way.
True to his word, Gabriel dropped him at the train station. Jules had to pick up his luggage from the hotel before going anywhere, but he’d be extremely thankful to be out of Gabriel’s presence and take a cab.
“I’ll take care of returning the car for Hannah,” Gabriel said as Jules shut the door behind himself. “Take good care of her.”
“I will,” Jules said, once more bemused by Gabriel’s apparent multiple personality disorder.
Then the car pulled out into traffic once more, and Jules was faced with a decision. He wasn’t foolish enough to remain in Baltimore, but just because Gabriel had dropped him at the train station didn’t mean he had to go to Philadelphia. For a moment, he entertained fantasies of leaving his past and all his troubles behind him, going somewhere new and starting over. Then, he returned to reality.
Maybe Gabriel was totally delusional, maybe Hannah didn’t need him. And even if she did, maybe she wouldn’t want him, not after what he’d done. But he owed it to her to let her make that choice herself.
Hoping that Gabriel was right about at least one thing—that Eli wasn’t going to kill him on sight—Jules entered the train station and bought a one-way ticket to Philadelphia.
21
JULES STOOD OUTSIDE THE gates of Eli’s mansion and shivered. Freezing rain pelted him, soaking through his clothes and chilling him to the bone, and yet still he hesitated. It had taken him three seemingly endless nights to work up the courage to come here, but now his courage was failing him.
Was Hannah awake yet? If so, would she hate him? He wasn’t sure he could bear it if she did.
The intercom set into the gate suddenly squawked, nearly startling him out of his skin.
“How long are you planning to stand out there in the rain, Jules?” Eli’s voice asked.
Jules groaned quietly. He’d told no one that he’d returned to Philadelphia. He’d shut off his cell phone and unplugged his home phone, needing the extra time to try to straighten out his thoughts. The time hadn’t done him much good.
“How did you know it was me?” he asked, leaning closer to the speaker.
“Who else would stand at the gate in the rain for twenty minutes without ringing?”
“May I … come in?”
Eli didn’t answer, but the lock on the gate buzzed. Gathering the remnants of his courage, Jules stepped through the gate and hurried up the path toward the house. At least it would feel good to come out of the cold, even if Eli was about to kill him. Or, worse, tell him that Hannah hated his guts and never wanted to see him again.
Eli met him at the door, silently handing him a towel. Jules took it gratefully and dried off as best he could, considering his clothes were soaked through. Eli led him to the library, where a merry fire crackled in the hearth. Jules stood so close to the fire he practically singed his eyebrows, drinking in the warmth of the flames. Behind him, he heard Eli sit down in one of the leather reading chairs. Bracing himself, Jules turned around to face the Founder.
He might have thought that after all he’d learned about Eli, he’d see the Founder with different eyes. But Eli still looked like Eli, a kind old man with a too-knowing stare.
Jules stuffed his hands into his pockets and resisted the urge to scuff his feet like a guilty ten-year-old. “So, are you going to kill me?” he asked.
One corner of Eli’s mouth raised slightly. “Tempting, but no. I understand from Drake that there were … extenuating circumstances.”
Yeah, that was one way to put it. He swallowed hard, shoving away his mental picture of Hannah lying bleeding on that floor.
“Was it worth it, Jules?” Eli asked softly. “Is everything all better now that you’ve had your revenge?”
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Jules flinched. Eli always knew how to eviscerate a person with his words. Jules almost swallowed the rebuke without protest. But on second thought …
He sucked in a deep breath and met Eli’s steady gaze. “If I hadn’t gone to Baltimore to confront him, then I never would have been able to let go of the rage.”
Eli raised an eyebrow. “Have you let it go then?”
It was tempting to give Eli the glib, easy answer, but Jules knew the Founder wouldn’t settle for that. So he thought about it a long moment before he spoke. “I don’t know if I’ll ever let go completely. But what was once a bleeding wound is now no more than an ugly scar.” His throat tightened. “If Hannah hadn’t gotten hurt in the process, I’d have said it was worth it.”
Eli’s gaze frosted over. “You selfish, arrogant ass! Would it have been worth it if because of your pigheaded insistence on revenge Camille had destroyed the Guardians?”
Jules stood firm in the face of Eli’s anger. “No, of course not. But she didn’t.”
“No thanks to you.”
“It’s not my fault you’ve lied to everyone for all these years.”
Eli’s eyes said he made no apologies. “I keep secrets for good reason, Jules. I know I can never atone for the things that I’ve done, but I’m going to keep trying anyway. The fewer people who know about my past, the better.”
Jules shook his head. “So what you’re saying is you’re still going to keep your damn secrets.”
“Yes. Drake has agreed not to share what he’s learned about me. And if you start talking, he’ll contradict you.”
Jules knew he was playing with fire, practically daring Eli to change his mind about killing him, but he couldn’t help himself. “Have you ever told Drake that the addiction is curable?”
For the first time Jules could remember, Eli looked genuinely stunned.
“Gabriel told me.”
Eli shook his head and groaned. “How I wish I’d killed him when I had the chance!”
“I gather this means Drake has no idea.”
Eli sighed. “No. And it’s going to stay that way.”
“Eli—”
“It’s not curable. Not for someone his age, or someone who wants to live.”
“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.