Blurred Bloodlines [2nd in Blurred Trilogy] Page 16

  Kate's throat felt dry as ash suddenly. She wanted nothing more than to walk out, find something to drink, wash herself and scrub her skin until she felt clean again. She had to know for certain, though.

  "Did they do the same thing to Blake?” she asked, hating how her voice shook on his name.

  Behind her, Simon let out another quiet whimper. Kate didn't look to him, but Jen's eyes flicked to him for just a second before coming back to Kate.

  "I wasn't there, but I suppose they did."

  Kate's hand clenched on the stake until she could feel the wood digging into her skin, splitting it. Jen's nostrils flared. Daniel pulled away, walking to the back of the room.

  "You sent him back to us,” she said, stepping closer to Jen and glaring down at her. “How could you not know—"

  "Calm down, child,” Jen cut in sharply. “I'm a spy and traitor. Do you think they bother telling me anything about their plans?” She snorted and shook her head. “I didn't know they had him until a few days before they released him. I saw him there and told them he was Marc's Childe. They told me to track Marc down. I didn't find him, but I knew he visited you sometimes, and I knew where you were."

  Kate wasn't sure, at first, whom Jen meant by ‘you.’ The way she looked at all three of them in turns, finally ending on Simon, only caused Kate to wonder even more. Could the demons possibly know or care who was fighting them? All that humans saw of the demons was brute force, endless waves of attack with little to no thought behind them. But that wasn't really true, was it? Their use of Jen—and Kate wasn't naive enough to believe she was the only spy they had—hinted at long-term strategy. Was returning Blake to them part of that strategy? What could they possibly expect to gain from that?

  "Did you put him in that box?” Simon asked, speaking up for the first time since the beginning of the interrogation.

  Kate glanced at him over her shoulder. All color had drained from his face, leaving his eyes to stand out like dark pits.

  "I didn't put him in it,” Jen said, sounding unconcerned. “But I knew he was inside."

  Simon jerked forward, and for an instant Kate thought he would attack Jen. He stopped short of being close enough, though, hands fisted and trembling at his sides. “You monster! How could you—"

  Jen's chin tilted up, back to its full arrogance. “You think sticking him in a box is the worst they did to him? Or me?"

  "What did they do to you?” Kate asked again. She was afraid get a full answer, but at the same time, she needed to know. This was why they had tracked Jen down for all these weeks. If she was going to help Blake, she needed to understand what had happened to him.

  "I can't,” Simon whispered, his words edged with lace-like panic. “I'm sorry, I..."

  When Kate turned to look at him, he was stumbling back toward the door, eyes wide and teary. Daniel moved over and opened the door for him, closing it again as soon as he had passed it. He crossed his arms as he leaned back against the wall again, and met Kate's gaze coolly. He wasn't going to run out on her, and for that she was grateful.

  "You don't care what they did to me,” Jen said, a bitter laugh coloring her voice. “What you are really asking is what they did to Blake. But do you really want to know? Do you want to hear they starved him? Vampires can go for months without blood, but the hunger...” She shook her head, laughing bitterly. “Oh, no human could ever know what the hunger is like. No human could endure the beatings, either. They'd let me heal, give me just a drop of blood, and once I was better they'd just start all over again. Or do worse.” Her voice was rough now, gravelly. “Demons’ anatomy is not compatible with ours, but they found volunteers in their jails. Humans and vampires whose spirits were shattered beyond sending them back here as spies. But demons can use magic just as well as your boy wizard can. Better. So it wasn't strangers I saw during all of the time I spent there. It was my friends. Old lovers. My own Childer. They tricked my own mind into choosing its own worst nightmares, and made me live through them, day after day after day."

  It was only when Kate felt the solid, unyielding surface of the door behind her, the handle digging into the small of her back, that she realized she had moved away from Jen as she talked. She couldn't go any further without running away like Simon had. At that moment, she wished more than anything that she could have fled, too. But she couldn't. She owed it to Blake to get all the answers she could.

  "Is that..."

  When she faltered, Daniel's hand settled on her shoulder, and Kate jumped, startled. She glanced at him at her side. He gave her a faint nod, his hand squeezing lightly. She nodded back, his support giving her the strength to finish.

  "Is that what happened to Blake?” she asked, looking back at Jen.

  A few seconds passed before the flames glowing in Jen's eyes died down. She seemed to deflate under Kate's gaze, and looked away for the first time. “I told you, I don't know,” she said quietly.

  "Why did they let him go?” Daniel asked and received the same answer.

  "I don't know."

  "Did they break him, too?” he insisted. “Did he agree to spy for them?"

  Her gaze returned to them, as cold as ever. “I don't know. Maybe. I did what I had to in order to survive. I'm thinking you got fangs for the same reason. Who knows what Blake agreed to?"

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  Chapter 17

  Vampires didn't get headaches. Hangovers, yes, but no headaches. Yet Mark hadn't drunk enough to get a hangover, so why was his head throbbing in pain? It had to be the stress, he decided. Too much worrying about Blake and whether he was helping him or crippling him even further. Too much wondering what he could do to change the status quo. Too much denying that he wanted little more than to take Blake to bed and fuck him senseless until he had his Childe back.

  To make things worse, a persistent knock on the door woke him by mid-morning, only minutes after he had finally managed to fall asleep. He had half a mind to not answer, but after a few instants the knocking was accompanied by a voice—"Marc, it's Kate"—and almost instantly Marc could pick up the fear in the air, even though Blake and he were in different rooms. If he didn't make her stop now, Blake would soon be out of control, Mark supposed as he hurried to the door.

  He had to stand to the side when he opened the door. Sunlight bathed the front steps. For an instant, it seemed to him that Kate was glowing. And then he saw her eyes, and something tightened painfully inside his chest.

  "Oh, Kate... What happened?"

  She stepped inside and into his open arms. Closing the door behind her, he held her tight, more concerned with each second that passed without a word.

  "Kate,” he repeated quietly. “Tell me."

  She didn't raise her head from where her cheek rested against his chest. “We found Jen,” she said, barely louder than a murmur. “She told us..."

  When her voice trailed off, Marc looked down at her. Gently cupping her face, he tilted her head up toward him. “Told you what?"

  Her mouth opened, but before she could say a word, a quiet noise behind him caught both their attention. Her hands tightened almost painfully on Marc's sides. Without letting go of her, he slowly turned back. He expected to find Blake cowering in fear on the floor at the sight of Kate, and was surprised to find him clearly uncomfortable and ready to bolt out of the room, but still on his feet. Thankfully, he was clothed; Mark's frequent reminders that clothing was not optional seemed to have gotten through to him, and he only disregarded the rule when he wanted physical attention.

  "Why don't you sit down on your sofa, Blake?” Marc suggested, curious as to whether Blake would listen and take the few steps that would bring him to his spot by the fire—but also considerably closer to Kate. She seemed to understand that something important was happening because she remained quiet for the long moment it took Blake to finally start moving, her breathing shallow and quiet. Blake's eyes never left her as he walked to the sofa, until he sat down and became hidden by the back of it.<
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  "He looks better,” Kate murmured, choking a little on the words.

  "The question is, how much better,” Marc mused aloud. The scent of fear was still there, and Marc wasn't sure that Kate's continued presence wouldn't eventually send Blake into hysterics. Then again, he wouldn't know until they tried.

  "Sit with us for a while,” he offered. “Just a few minutes, to see if he remains calm."

  She nodded and followed him to the sitting area.

  "The sofa is Blake's,” he warned her when she looked as though she would sit there. “Take the armchair instead."

  Marc busied himself with the fireplace, throwing wood in and reviving the embers until bright flames were dancing over the logs. When he turned back to them, neither had moved. He remained standing, leaning back against the mantlepiece so he could see both of them at once. His gaze stayed on Blake as he took note of every twitch, every flicker of his eyes between Kate and him, every nuance in his scent. Fear remained present, as an undertone, but it was nowhere near as strong as it had been when Kate had said her goodbyes months earlier.

  A small movement of Kate's brought Marc's attention to her. Her eyes flitted to Blake, then her eyebrows rose questioningly. Marc could guess what she wanted and nodded slowly. She flashed him a quick smile before looking at Blake.

  "I'm so glad to see you're better,” she told him, leaning ever so slightly toward the sofa. “I've missed you terribly. I wish I could have come back sooner."

  When Blake only answered with a blink and a wary glance toward Marc, Kate's smile fell. She looked at Marc again, this time asking quietly, “Can he talk?"

  Mark shook his head. “Not yet. It took weeks for his hands to heal; it'll probably take a lot longer for his voice to return."

  If it ever does, he finished for himself.

  Her eyes flickered to Blake's hands. Blake noticed and buried his hands between his knees, curling a little more into himself as though hiding in shame.

  "He's been feeding by himself,” Marc added, putting as much pride and approval as he could in his words. “He doesn't need a straw anymore."

  "Do you have enough blood?” she asked, sounding concerned. “He still looks thin, maybe ..."

  Her voice trailed off when Blake suddenly closed his eyes tight and wrapped his arms around himself. A thread of sour shame was rising in his scent.

  "He's much better,” Marc said quickly. “Slowly filling in. It's just a matter of time for that, too."

  Blake opened his eyes, throwing a cautious, almost questioning glance in Marc's direction. Kate, on the other hand, didn't seem convinced, but she nonetheless nodded. “Any other progress?"

  There was a slight pause, during which time Marc tried to come up with an explanation for why he had done the same thing for which he had nearly ripped Simon's throat out that first night, before realizing that she had no way of knowing and he certainly wasn't going to admit to it.

  "Everything takes time, Kate. It's almost incredible how far he has come in so little time. Don't ask for too much too fast."

  For a second, she seemed ready to argue, but then she changed her mind. “You're right,” she conceded. “It's just... it hurts seeing him like this."

  Something shifted in Blake's scent, in the way he held himself, in the tightness at the corners of his eyes. Marc reacted immediately and stepped forward, his eyes urging Kate to rise and come with him.

  "I think it's better to cut the visit short,” he explained when she hesitated. “He's starting to get agitated."

  She appeared a little reluctant still, but she nonetheless followed, her parting smile to Blake doing nothing to calm him. With a glance toward Blake to make sure he would be all right, Marc accompanied her to the door. She stepped outside into the sun and shivered, both her hands rubbing at her arms.

  She turned back after taking a deep breath and offered Marc a shaky smile. “Thank you."

  "What for?"

  She gave a small shrug. “Letting me see him. Taking care of him. Making him better."

  Marc bit back the comment that he wasn't doing any of it for her. In a way, he was. He nodded. “What about you?” he asked quietly. “How are you?"

  She took a few steps away and into the sun, her back to him again, head tilted up. “Lonely,” she breathed. “Tired.” She shook her head and threw a smile back at him. “I'm fine. Or I will be. You?"

  Marc wished he could have reached out for her, both to comfort her and allow himself to find comfort in her, too. “Lonely and tired just about sums it up.” He dropped his voice. “Maybe you could come back tonight. Late, when he's asleep. You could tell me what you learned from Jen."

  Her face fell. “I'll come back,” she agreed. “But not tonight. Daniel said he'd like to visit you. Maybe... maybe he can tell you about it."

  The chains that bound Marc's heart tightened a little more. He had long ago guessed what Blake must have endured. He wished Kate had never known.

  His Master brought her in to see Blake.

  Seeing her—seeing her whole and healthy, with no blood marring her face or body, no fear or pain in her eyes—filled him with awe. He had been worried, since his Master had taken him away. Worried about her. Worried for her. He knew she was a prisoner, just like he was. She had always refused to give him details, but he had guessed much more than he had wanted to know.

  And so, along with the awe, he was scared. Scared for her. Had she been brought in to be punished in his place? It had happened, sometimes, when his Master had been in a particularly cruel mood. Had Blake finally failed that test he couldn't understand? Would she be stripped, beaten, or worse yet—would Blake be forced to drink from her until only the barest flicker of light remained in her? That had only happened once, and they had dragged her away before he could know whether she would live or die. That had been before they took his fangs away, and he'd almost been glad when they had. He'd never bite her again, never steal her life or anyone else's. It had been weeks before he had seen her again, and by then—

  Hurt.

  She was hurt.

  She said so.

  The word rang, clear and loud like a cannon through Blake's mind. Memories rolled through him, each grimmer than the last, and he could do nothing to stop them. Closing his eyes, he curled himself into a tight ball and tried not to whimper.

  Kate took her time to return to the small hotel where she, Daniel, and Simon had rented rooms. After weeks of driving around the country, walking through brick-paved streets and feeling the sun on her face felt nice. She wished the sunlight could have warmed her, but she felt frozen to the bones, and it had little to do with the cold draft sliding down the nearby mountain and running through the small town.

  She still couldn't get used to how relaxed everyone she saw appeared to be. She had visited and defended close to a dozen cities since joining the squad, and in all of them, the sense of urgency had always been present on all the faces: these cities had been under siege, and even in the middle of the sunniest day, when a demon attack was as unlikely as the sudden end to the fight, no one had ever been able to forget that the demons would return, and more fighters would fall.

  In Riverton, that undercurrent of expectation and dread was absent. The fight and the demons weren't completely forgotten, of course not. When Kate and the two men had arrived in the small hours of morning, they had been stopped by policemen, who had demanded to know their names, why they were in town, and who had proceeded to explain to them about the town's rules. Apparently, living in a place that remained untouched by demon attacks had a price, and a heavy one at that. Visitors were allowed to remain for no more than two months, and had to check into the town's only hotel so that they could be found easily. People who wanted to live in town permanently had to prove they had sufficient resources to contribute to the community's life and help buy all the supplies that weren't produced locally. When she had heard this, Kate had immediately thought of Marc, and wondered if he had those resources; he must have, for he and
Blake had been there for longer than two months, and the address he had given her wasn't that of the hotel. There was so much about him she still didn't know. She had thought she had time and that she would be able to discover more about him and Blake as time passed, only to have that time stolen from her with Blake's disappearance. Now she hoped she might have the chance again to ask those questions, not so much because the answers mattered, but because it would mean spending time with them. She had missed them so much...

  When Kate finally reached the hotel, Daniel was alone in the room he shared with Simon.

  "He went to see if he could find me blood,” he explained to Kate as he let her in. “I told him I have enough for a few more days, but he went anyway. I think he just wanted to walk around."

  Without thinking, Kate looked at the cooler in the corner of the room. She had been the one who hunted down food and blood supplies as they traveled, and she knew how much was left in there. She also knew that Daniel could and would stretch the two small jars and make them last a week or more. But she had been around vampires before him, she had watched them feed, and there was something else she knew: there was barely enough left for a day if he fed as much as he should. She didn't think she had seen Daniel feed enough in months. There had to be a reason for his bursts of temper, and the way he starved himself was her best guess.

  "I've walked around for a while myself,” she replied absently. “It's a nice town."

  He frowned at her words. “You didn't find Marc?"

  "Oh, I did, yes. I talked to him for a little bit. Blake—” Her throat tightened when she said his name and she had to push the rest of the words out. “He's better. Not fully healed but... better."

  Better didn't really mean much, but she didn't know how else to describe Blake. He hadn't cowered at the sight of her, hadn't tried to hurt himself, and that was a good thing, she supposed. Kate had thought a lot about what Jen had said, and she had finally figured it out. The fear Blake had demonstrated every time she had been close to him ever since they had pulled him out of that box could only mean one thing: whatever torture had been inflicted on him, the demons had used magic to make him believe it was Kate who had inflicted it on him. That was why he couldn't stand to look at her. It broke Kate's heart just to think about it, and she only wished she could have told him she wouldn't hurt him. She had tried, when she had sat close to him that afternoon, but the words had refused to come. She would go back, though, and next time maybe it would be easier to look at Blake without wondering what horrors he saw when he looked at her.