"You have three people who care about you, you know," Conrad said as he unwrapped the cloth. "Not just two."

"I know that," she answered softly.

Conrad examined her hand. It was perfect, just as he'd suspected. There was barely a mark to indicate the wounds she'd received. Even for vampires the twins healed quickly. Too quickly, he'd often thought. It made the difference too obvious. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against the palm. "So, perhaps, next time you might come to me when you're experiencing difficulties?"

Julie nodded. "Okay."

Conrad smiled. "Thank you. Now, go and get some rest."

"All right." Bending down, Julie kissed his cheek. "Good-night, Grandfather."

"Good-night, carissima."

"Good-night, Uncle Damian," Julie murmured, going up on her toes to kiss Damian's cheek. "I'm sorry about your dress."

"No worries, querida. I was not planning on wearing it again soon anyway."

Julie grinned. "Well maybe you should. You looked very nice tonight."

"Gracias, bebesita," Damian said as he caught her in a quick hug. "Muchas, muchas gracias."

Damian's smile lingered as he watched Julie leave. Conrad waited until they were alone before speaking. "Damian." He motioned toward the chair beside his own. "Come. Sit down. We need to talk."

The light died in Damian's eyes. His smile disappeared. The look he fixed on Conrad's face was hooded, inscrutable. "Very well." He walked slowly across the room to sit in the chair Conrad had indicated, telegraphing his resistance with every measured step.

"What is going on with you, my friend? What madness has seized you to make you act this way?"

Damian shrugged. "I don't know what you mean."

"No? Well then let me speak more plainly. I've been worried about you for several months now; the chances you take, the needless risks... What you did tonight was dangerous." Conrad waved a hand to indicate Damian's clothes. "And, please, don't insult me by pretending this was all part of some game of dress-up you were playing. Marc told me what you'd said, what you were planning. Although clearly he didn't know the extent of what you had planned."

"Ah, pobrecito. The poor thing. Did you beat it out of him?"

"Of course I didn't! And don't try and distract me with nonsense. What were you thinking to take Julie out dressed like this? You were making yourself vulnerable. You were making the both of you vulnerable."

"She was already vulnerable!" Damian snapped. "Can you not see that? When has she ever been otherwise? All I did was show her that any of us might feel the same, that all of us are vulnerable at one time or other. I forced her to find the courage to defend herself. To find the strength within her."

"And you did this how, exactly?" Conrad demanded. "By putting yourself in danger when you should have been protecting her? By allowing her to get hurt? By encouraging the bloodl.u.s.t?" He raised a hand to forestall Damian's protests. "Oh, yes, don't deny it. I saw the signs."

Damian shrugged. "I did not intend to deny it. Why should I? I thought it might be good to give her a taste for it. I doubt she's in any danger of becoming dependent upon it."

"You had better hope she does not."

"We can't always be there for them, Conrad. Sooner or later, they must learn to stand on their own."

"Yes, and it will be sooner-much sooner-the way you're going about it."

Damian blanched. "What does that mean?" His voice cracked slightly on the question.

Conrad frowned. "It means you must take care and stop taking such risks. I know these past few months have been hard-"

"Hard!" Damian laughed bitterly. "Ah, s, but nothing I did not deserve. Is that not what you were about to say?"

"No, nothing of the kind," Conrad snapped. "I don't pretend to know what pa.s.sed between you and Paul at your last meeting, or why you feel as guilty as you clearly do, but, whatever the cause, you must get over it, for the twins' sake if not your own. Unchecked, your recklessness will endanger us all."

"I would never do anything to hurt either of them," Damian muttered stubbornly.

"See that you don't." It was not the first time Conrad had heard it, but he was no longer certain it was true. "Now, go to bed. The morning is already here and I'm in no mood to continue arguing with you."

Damian rose without another word. Conrad supposed he should feel comforted by Damian's easy acquiescence, but his thoughts remained troubled. As he watched Damian depart, he resolved to keep a closer eye on him in the future.

Chapter Eight.

December 28, 2009 It was a quiet night at Akeldama, as every night between Christmas and New Year's Eve tended to be. Drew was standing at the bar, enjoying a gla.s.s of stout and chatting with customers when the energy changed. The noise level in the bar dropped. Conversation abruptly ceased. A frisson of fear slithered down Drew's spine as he turned to search for the source of the disturbance. And there it was, bearing down on him with sickening speed and a furious expression on her face.

"Lady Lancaster. Wh-what brings you here tonight?"

"Mr. Geiger." Georgia's tone was clipped, her eyes as hard as flint. "I'd like a word with you, if you please."

Or even if he didn't please, Drew had no doubt. "Of-of course, milady." He gestured at a vacant table nearby and was not hugely surprised when the occupants at all the surrounding tables hurriedly rose en ma.s.se and found other places to be.

Georgia shook her head. "Alone, if you don't mind."

Drew sucked in a quick breath. Alone was the last place anyone would want to be with an angry Invitus. But, he doubted his preferences mattered to the lady. His shoulders sagged. "My office then?"

Drew waved Georgia into his office and then closed the door behind them. This time he didn't ask if there was anything he could get her. He didn't offer a chair, because it was clear she preferred to pace. And he seated himself behind his desk for one simple reason. He didn't think his legs would hold him up much longer. He sat quietly, watching with wary eyes as the blonde fury stormed back and forth across the carpet.

After a long moment, during which she appeared to be trying to rein in her temper-successfully, Drew fervently hoped-Georgia finally paused before his desk and fixed him with an angry stare. "I'd expected to hear from you before now," she said. "Have you nothing to report?"

"No, milady. Nothing of any substance."

"And why is that? Are you so busy you could not find the time to pay our friend a call-even though I'd asked it of you as a special favor?"

A favor? Drew was tempted to laugh. If his sense of self-preservation was just a little less hardy, he might have done so. "I did meet with him, milady, but it was not a very productive meeting. I learned nothing that I felt was worth troubling you about."

Georgia sighed. "Let me be the judge of that," she said as she pulled out a chair and seated herself across from Drew. She folded her hands on the desktop and leaned forward eagerly. "Now, tell me. Tell me everything. What did he say? What was he up to?"

"It was Christmas Eve," Drew explained. "So I thought-afterwards, you understand-that perhaps I'd timed my visit badly. That was why I was planning to wait until after the holidays are over before making a second attempt."

Georgia nodded. "Very reasonable. Do go on."

"I offered him back his job here, in the hope I could tempt him back into the fold, so to speak, but I don't know if he'll take it. He seems content where he is, very busy with the ferals and, I must tell you, he claims that everything he's doing there is under Conrad's auspices."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure he does." Georgia waved the explanation away. "Perhaps he even believes that to be the case. But what is he doing? How is he spending his time? What is he planning? You must have gotten some sense of these things?"

Drew shrugged. "To be honest, I saw nothing to suggest he's planning anything. Far too much of his attention is still focused on the ferals. I still don't understand why they interest him so, but there seems nothing amiss in that quarter. Indeed, they appear to be markedly improved under his leadership. Rather surprisingly so." It was so surprising as to be almost troubling, in fact, and it suddenly occurred to Drew that anything so exceedingly strange might very well qualify as being exactly the sort of information the lady would have been anxious to hear about. He hurried on before she could make that same connection. "I did ask if he was up to anything else, but I promise you, he mentioned nothing of any import. Indeed, we spent most of our time together discussing legends and lore, fairytales, if you will."

"Fairytales?"

"Yes. For example, he seemed most interested in learning everything he could about the Infragilis."

Georgia frowned. "What's that? Oh, preposterous. Why on earth would he ask about them? Are you certain you did not mishear? Or did he misspeak? Perhaps it was Invitus he meant?"

"Oh, no, milady. I'm quite sure there was no mistake. In fact, he specifically asked what the differences were between the two."

"Did he?" Her eyes put Drew in mind of glacial ice as she leaned back in her chair and fixed him with a frosty glare. "And how did you answer that, I wonder?"

Drew allowed himself a small smile. "I answered in the only way one could, milady. I told him only one of the two was real."

That answer earned him a grudging smile from the lady. "Very good, Mr. Geiger," she murmured. "I'm pleased to see your sense of humor has not deserted you."

Drew sighed in relief. If his luck held, he might yet survive the night with his skin intact.

"What could have put him in mind of such things?" Georgia mused. "Where would he even hear the term? Is this the kind of thing ferals typically talk about amongst themselves? Perhaps it is. Do they believe such creatures could actually exist? I wonder if their hold on reality is even more tenuous than we've always thought."

"It's possible," Drew agreed. "I, for one, certainly wouldn't doubt it. Although, in Marc's case, one can hardly hold it against him that he should wonder about such things. It's natural for him to be curious about our ways and he's young enough yet that, in all probability, he grew up not believing any vampires could exist. How is he to know what's real and what's not real, unless one of us tells him?"

Georgia nodded. "You argue a good case. But, I still don't understand how the subject would even come up. Are you sure you spoke of nothing else?"

"Nothing else, milady, other than a few minutes spent discussing an old scroll one of the ferals had given him as a gift and our memories of Christmases past. That was all."

"What did you say?" She sat up slowly, the look in her eyes so fierce Drew quailed and shrank back.

Saints preserve him. What had he said? "M-milady?"

"What scroll? Where did it come from?"

"I have no idea. As I said, one of the ferals had it."

"Did you read it? What did it say? Describe it to me."

"It was parchment, written in a rather cramped hand, and reasonably old. Several centuries, at least, or so I thought at the time, judging from both the friability of the doc.u.ment and the style of the writing. But I only saw it for a moment and didn't read more than a line of it, so I cannot be certain."

"Are you toying with me?" Georgia rose to her feet and planted her hands on the desk. She loomed threateningly over Drew, who was finding it inordinately hard to breathe. "What did it say?"

"I do not know, milady! There was something about a curse, as I recall. It was in Latin, in a very old hand. I had no more than a glance at it."

"Latin." Georgia p.r.o.nounced the word with distaste. "Of course it was. Well, that's something. You wouldn't happen to know if Marc can read Latin would you?"

Drew closed his eyes. Up until now, he hadn't felt as though he'd betrayed his friend to any extent. What had he said, after all, that anyone could take exception to? But this? What he was about to say now? He might as well be handing her a stake and pointing the way to Marc's heart himself. "Yes, milady. As it happens, that subject came up as well."

"And?"

"He has, I believe, a pa.s.sing familiarity with the language."

"Oh, outstanding." Georgia fixed Drew with another eviscerating stare. "I have two more questions to put to you, my friend, and you will answer them honestly. Do we understand each other?"

Drew nodded. "Yes, milady."

"Good. Because if you lie to me now and if I find out that you have done so-which I will do-then nowhere in the world will be remote enough for you to hide. I will hunt you down and I will find you and then I will kill you. And not even Conrad himself will raise a hand to stop me."

"Yes, milady."

"First, do you swear to me that Marc has said nothing to you that might suggest that he has any unusual interest in Invitus at all?"

"No, milady. I swear on my life. His only interests seem to be in the ferals and Infragilis. In fact, he seems sublimely indifferent to...to..." Drew swallowed hard. "To your kind, milady."

"And what about yourself, Mr. Geiger? What's your interest?"

Drew swallowed hard. "I-I don't understand."

"Your interest in my kind, Mr. Geiger. Are you certain you saw nothing in this scroll that pertained to Invitus? That you yourself have no undue interest, no intention of pursuing a subject that most a.s.suredly does not concern you? Will I find myself regretting having come to you for help?"

That was three questions right there, Drew was sure of it. Pointing that out to the lady? Obviously a bad idea. "No, milady. I swear it."

"Very well." Georgia sighed. "Well, Mr. Geiger, it seems you've given me a lot to think about. When do you see him again?"

Drew shook his head. "I don't know."

"Really? Well, that won't do at all," Georgia said, as she headed to the door. "Make it soon. And, this time, I'd appreciate more details."

"What does my lady wish me to find out now?" Drew asked miserably.

Georgia chuckled. "Now, now, Mr. Geiger, there's no need to sound so glum. Find out whatever you can. I definitely want to hear more about this scroll-where it came from, what it contains, whether there are others like it. Oh, and one thing more. Do try and discover the reason behind our mutual friend's sublime indifference to me and my kind." She paused and glanced back at him, her gaze faintly mocking. "I'm not used to such indifference, you see. It's not the reaction I've come to expect from...your kind."

Georgia swept out the door, leaving Drew sitting open-mouthed and more than a little stunned. Was he imagining things, or had she just winked at him?

Georgia stalked out of Akeldama the same way she'd come in, with her head held high and a brisk, purposeful stride. She pretended not to even notice all the lesser vampires scurrying to get out of her way, but it gratified her to see it. She was still a force to be reckoned with, she knew it, everyone knew it. She would die before she'd let anyone think otherwise, and for one simple reason. Because if anyone were to think otherwise, she very likely would die. And most unpleasantly.

Once she was clear of the club and its environs, and away from any prying eyes, her footsteps slowed. She sighed wearily as she cast a hopeful look at the sky. Perhaps it was later than she thought? But, no, this long winter's night was barely half over. If she returned home now, Conrad was sure to notice and wonder why, to demand an explanation. She couldn't risk that. Unless she went directly to her room? But, no. There again she was thwarted. This early in the evening, it was doubtful she even had a room to return to. Not with Damian overseeing the move. Was it too much to expect he would hurry on her account? Of course it was. When had things ever been otherwise?

She checked the street again to make sure no one was watching, then slipped into a nearby doorway and sat on the stoop. Lord, she was tired. Tired and hungry. As she leaned against the wall and let her muscles relax she could feel the hunger eating away at her insides, tunneling through her bones to gnaw at her marrow. It had been too long since she'd last eaten. Thank the heavens Christian would be here soon. She missed him. She missed his strength, his concern, his boundless optimism. She missed his blood.

She needed him to help her make sense of what was going on here, before it was too late.

For now, she turned the information she had received tonight over in her mind, seeking any sc.r.a.p that might prove useful. The scroll-surely that was a good place to start. It had to be something she had missed in her initial sweep of the warehouse, which in itself was worrisome. She really was losing her touch if some scatterbrained feral could find what she had missed. But the fact that Marc had failed to report it? That he'd failed to turn it over to Conrad-as anyone with sense would have done? That only strengthened her suspicions about him. He was obviously hiding something.

Unless she was looking at the situation all wrong. What if Marc had been telling the truth when he told Drew he had Conrad's blessings on what he was doing? What if Conrad already knew about the scroll? What if it wasn't Marc who was hiding something from Conrad, but rather Conrad who was keeping secrets from her?

But would Conrad order her to search for something he didn't really want her to find? Of course he wouldn't. Unless it was a trap, or a trick, or a test of some sort? But no, what was she thinking? That would be too complicated, too Byzantine a plan for Conrad to concoct. Or, then again, maybe not. After all, how much did they really know about each other anymore? It had been decades since they'd been truly honest with one another. It had been centuries since there'd been no lies between them, no secrets, no fear.

Only two more days. That's all she had to wait. Then Christian would be here to help her sort through the secrets and the lies. She just hoped that, whatever truth they uncovered, it was something big. Something crucial. Something she could use to her own purposes. That she could maybe even use to barter for her life.