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and I wriggled to face away from him. His arm relaxed where it lay over my
stomach, and I thought he'd fallen asleep again when he spoke. "Carrie, don't
go."
"What?" I half sat up.
"Don't go," he repeated. "Let's pack up right now, steal the van and just
drive."
"You know we can't." But my heart shouted,Go ! I would listen to my mind this
time, I decided firmly. So many decisions I'd made lately based on my feelings
had turned out horribly wrong.
"We can! We won't have to face my father. We'll find someplace nice well,
maybe not nice, but a place to stay, nonetheless and we'll hide until all of
this nonsense is over," he insisted, his tone pleading.
I wanted to give in to him. The look of utter desperation on his face nearly
overwhelmed me. Then I thought of Nathan in the next room. I imagined him
waking to find I'd gone, and realizing he had to fight his sire alone.
"I can't lose you, Carrie. I just can't." Cyrus pulled me tight to him, his
fingers digging into my back. Had he always been this fragile, even when he
was a monster?
"You won't lose me," I soothed, freeing a hand to stroke his hair. "But if we
don't go after your father, who will? Nathan? Is he going to sneak into the
mansion? Is he going to rescue Bella and Max?"
There was no way he'd be capable of it. Resisting his sire's will alone was a
dicey proposition. But to expect him to pull it off and free Max and Bella was
ridiculous wishful thinking.
"I'm not going to leave Nathan behind." I repeated "You won't lose me." Then
I realized I'd never even imagined I might lose him, or Nathan.
Suddenly, I understood too well where Cyrus was coming from.
We were mostly silent as we prepared for the night. Nathan dug out his old
Movement uniform for himself and a matching set for Cyrus. I thought of making
a joke about the Doublemint twins, but figured it would go over like a lead
balloon.
I dressed for comfort I was going to be invisible anyway, I argued when they
objected to my decidedly non-blacked-out attire and armed myself simply. A few
stakes and a couple vials of holy water were the weapons I hoped I wouldn't
need. If all went according to plan, I would get into the mansion, poke around
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until I found what I was after, and slip back out without a fight.
Of course, when had things ever gone according to plan? The gods of physical
humor seemed inclined to watch me try to fight as often as possible.
Nathan, on the other hand, had a pile of weapons beside him as he sat in the
armchair inspecting his crossbow.
"Is that all you're taking?" I asked sarcastically, dropping onto the couch.
He smiled wryly. "Where's Cyrus?"
"Showering and changing into his spiffy new Movement attire."
Nathan raised an eyebrow.
"He says if he's going to die again, he's going to die clean." I
surreptitiously sniffed my armpit. I didn't want to be the one who died with
B.O.
"No one is going to die," Nathan assured me in the gruff, detached way he
always spoke when his hands and eyes were otherwise occupied. "This is
probably the easiest thing we've ever done, on account of your unexpected
talent tor the occult."
"I told you, that was Dahlia's blood doing it. Let's hope she doesn't pick up
on the trick while I'm in there." I looked around the apartment. All the
furniture was visible. "Where's the stone?"
"It's in the shop, on the table when you first come through the door, so
don't walk into it." He set the crossbow aside with a heavy exhalation. "I
want you to be extremely careful tonight."
How like him, to turn an inconsequential moment into a
too-serious-for-comfort pep talk. I put on my brave face for him. "You know I
will be.When have I ever marched into danger recklessly before?"
Another sardonically arched brow.
"Okay, but those times were life-and-death. And once, it was your life on the
line, so you can't really complain." On impulse, I stood and went to his
chair, knelt beside him and laid my head on his knee.
I think he was too startled to say anything at first, but after a moment he
put his hand on my head. "I love you, Carrie."
If he had hit me in the chest with a sledgehammer, it would have had about
the same effect. I couldn't breathe. It was like he'd knocked the wind out of
me.
I wanted to ask what he meant by that. Did he love me the way a sire is
supposed to love his fledgling? Or did he love me like a man is supposed to
love a woman when there isn't a bunch of screwed up emotional baggage and
vampire history thrown in the mix?And why now? Why wait until we were about to
do something dangerous to confess his love? Did he think one of us wouldn't
survive to feel awkward about this later?
But I didn't ask any of the questions I was dying to have answered. I'd [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]