I was back in my body, and Cyrus groaned as he spilled inside me. It was ice-cold.
I was going to be sick. With all my strength, I pushed him off me and rolled to the side of the bed. Blood, mine and his, was smeared all over the sheets. I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the sight. “What is your father?”
The sheets rustled behind me. I suppose Cyrus sat up. “I’ve told you.”
“But you haven’t told me, really.” I wasn’t sure if the chill creeping up my back was from the cold radiating from his skin or the drafty room. “What does it mean, that one day he’ll rule?”
He heaved a sigh and flopped audibly against the pillows. “It’s all very complicated. I’d rather sleep than talk about this.”
“Sometimes in life, we have to do things we don’t want to.” I sat up so I could face him. “Why don’t you just tell me?”
Cyrus obviously wasn’t happy with my postcoital pillow talk, but I wasn’t about to back down. He considered what I’d said for a moment, as if trying to gauge whether I was joking or not, then gave another exasperated sigh. “If you really want to know.”
“I do.” I hugged my knees to my chest, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I was to him.
“For years, my father has been searching for a way to recover his power. It’s a very secret quest, and even I’m not privy to the rituals and texts he’s reviewing.” There was a note of bitterness in Cyrus’s voice.
“Then how does he get them?” One day of consciousness per year didn’t seem like a lot of time to scour the libraries.
Cyrus let out a resentful laugh. “He has an assistant who does most of the reading for him. I don’t know who it is, but he’s assured me it’s someone he can trust.”
I wasn’t about to delve into Cyrus’s father issues, so I let the comment slide. “You told me your father was a peasant before he became a vampire. What power did he have that he needs to recover?”
“It’s not power he actually possessed. It’s the power he believes has been reserved for him. It’s locked away, waiting for him. He merely needs the key.” With an elegant shrug, he leaned on one elbow, a sinful smile curving his lips. He reached to gently stroke my arm. “But we can discuss this later.”
I shifted away from him angrily. “We can discuss it now. What exactly is the Soul Eater trying to do?” But I’d pushed him too far. The easy dialogue between Cyrus and I dried up immediately, as though someone had dammed the flow of words.
He settled back and closed his eyes. “I’m tired. If all you’re going to do is bother me with incessant questions, you may leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” I realized how shrill my voice sounded, but I didn’t care. “Tell me what’s going on!”
“You want to know what my father is planning?” Cyrus sat up and leaned toward me, his face now mere inches from mine. “When the time is right, and all the pieces fall into place, the Soul Eater will rise to become the most powerful vampire this world has ever seen. Humans will be cattle to feed my father’s minions. Any vampire who opposes him will be consumed. He will rule the world, and the world will perish.”
The religious fervor with which he spoke chilled me to the bone. When I spoke, I could barely force a whisper from my clamped throat. “You would help him do this?”
“Carrie, you knew who I was when you walked through the front door.” Cyrus looked almost wounded. “You can’t hate me for it.”
“No,” I agreed. “That wouldn’t be fair.”
I stood and tugged the top sheet loose from the others, wrapping it around myself with nervous hands. “But life isn’t fair, Cyrus. And right now, I don’t like you very much.”
He didn’t try to stop me as I limped from the room.
Sixteen
Best-Laid Plans
In the days following, Cyrus didn’t speak to me. I didn’t know if he was busy with party plans—his frequent excuse—or if I’d honestly hurt his feelings. It shouldn’t have bothered me if I did, but I was learning fast that where Cyrus was concerned, my heart wanted the opposite of what my brain knew was right.
The first few mornings, he called on Dahlia to share his bed. She strutted around the mansion proudly displaying her scars, but she never spoke directly to me. I wasn’t sure if this was a blessing or a curse, as it seemed everyone in the house knew I was persona non grata with their master and followed suit. The days were lonely and dull, and it was no comfort to know there were centuries of them to come.
At nightfall, Cyrus ventured from the mansion accompanied by his bodyguards and sometimes Dahlia. I didn’t know where they went or what they did, and I convinced myself I didn’t care, despite the fact I was dying to get out. It would have been a perfect opportunity to meet Nathan, but he’d stopped showing up. I pushed my worry to the back of my mind. Nathan wasn’t the person I had to protect.
What concerned me more was Cyrus’s sudden interest in Ziggy. He kept his word and never harmed the kid physically, and after the first few visits to his chambers, it seemed Ziggy had grown to genuinely like my sire.
“It’s not like we’re dating or anything, Doc,” Ziggy said when I cornered him in the kitchen one evening. He rooted through the large refrigerator of people food, claiming various items with a Sharpie pen. I didn’t bother telling him that most pets didn’t live to mooch off their host for long.
I leaned against the freezer. “I know, but Dahlia is going to kill you. And do you have to act like you’re enjoying it so much?”
He shrugged. “He’d actually be a pretty decent guy if he wasn’t an evil vampire. But more important, if I want to live through this thing he’s got planned, I need friends in high places.”
Was there more to the New Year’s party? “Well, don’t leave me hanging. What’s he got planned?” I asked.
“The party,” Clarence said as he emerged from the walk-in freezer.
I hadn’t even known he was there, and his sudden presence gave me a start. “I knew about that. But I’ve been pathetically out of the loop for a couple of weeks now. Fill me in.”
The butler didn’t look at me as he slammed a block of ice on the countertop. He no longer watched me from the corner of his eye, but there remained a sliver of unease between us, most likely because I was still a vampire. But he’d continued to relay messages to Nathan when possible, and he’d dropped the stuffy butler act and refrained from calling me ma’am every second word.
“What the hell are you doing, boy?” he barked.
Ziggy grinned sheepishly and tossed a can of soda over his shoulder. The older man caught it in his nimble fingers and popped the top. “This shit will rot the teeth right out of your dumb head.”
“I ain’t gonna live that long,” Ziggy replied as he drew a thick Z on another can.
My stomach lurched. I’d never believed all those stories from med school about patients who knew they were going to die and freely dispensed the information to everyone, but I didn’t want to hear Ziggy make such predictions.
“Don’t talk like that,” I snapped. I tested the blood tie to see if Cyrus was listening in. All I felt was a vague, alcoholic haze before the tie seemed to evaporate between us. The fact that he could so easily ignore our connection created a sick, lonely feeling in my stomach. But if he closed himself off, I at least had some time to talk about the impending event without the risk of him knowing my thoughts. “Since Cyrus