Mark of Betrayal

Page 52

But Petey’s sudden excitement and the fact that he bolted out my balcony door and stood on his hind legs, paws on the railing, whimpering and licking his chops, filled me with a tiny bubble of hope.
“What’s out there, boy?” I looked across the treetops to the grassy field. “Is it him? Is he here?”
He barked, dropping his paws to the ground, then ran to my bedroom door.
I pocketed the locket and followed him, hesitant but shaking with excitement.
My fingers wrapped the handle slowly. There was no way Jason could be alive. No way. I saw him die. I watched him fade. I…I threw dirt on his face.
The handle grated in the turn, and I became ultra aware of each breath, rolling the door slowly toward me, closing my eyes for fear I’d see nothing there.
“Rolf!” Petey brushed past my leg, knocking me into the doorframe, and ran down the hall—disappearing around the stairwell.
“Petey? Wait.”
He didn't wait.
“You okay?” Quaid asked.
“Ur, yeah.” I blinked a few times, discreetly checking every square inch of the corridor. “Was…did you see anyone out here?”
“Nope. Why?”
“Oh. No reason.”
He looked to where Petey had run. “That dog’s mad, Ara. He probably just ran off ‘cause he needed some private time.”
“Yeah. Probably.” I shut the door and leaned against it, my heart thumping in my throat, then reached into my pocket and pulled out the locket. I never thought I’d see it again. A part of me never wanted to see it again. I guess I hoped Jason had taken it to his grave with him—forever to hold a part of my heart.
Huffing silently, I looked down at my bare feet and jeans, then flattened my hair with my hands a little. I needed to follow Petey, which meant I needed to give Quaid the slip.
I opened my door again. “Quaid?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you do me a huge favour?”
“Uh, maybe…” He stood taller, looking around. “I am on duty, so, I can't leave my post. But what is it?”
“Um.” I screwed my face up as if this was awkward for me. “I kinda just got that girlie time of the month.”
Quaid went totally stiff, wide eyes and all. “Oh. Right.”
“Yeah, um, and…I don't have any tampons.” Ha! An embarrassed man. I love it. “Could you maybe go down to the Medic room and get me some?”
His eyes shifted to the end of the corridor then back to his feet, anywhere but my face. “I…you know I'm not s’posed to leave you.”
“I’ll stay right here. I swear. In fact, I’ll be in the shower—” I looked down, keeping half my body hidden behind the door. “I can't go anywhere while I have blood dripping down my legs.”
And that was enough for Quaid. I’d never seen black skin go so white. He turned stiffly away, taking wide steps down the corridor.
I ran back to my bathroom, twisted the shower taps on and locked the door, closing it behind me, then left a note telling Quaid to leave the tampons on my dresser.
Petey appeared in my doorway, his head angled like a curious puppy.
“Don't judge, Petey. You’d have done the same.”
He gave a high-pitched groan and turned away, his tail knocking my door into the wall, as if to open it further—inviting me along. And without a second more thought, I grabbed my cardigan and followed him. Hopefully, Quaid wouldn’t call through the bathroom wall to ask if I was all right. If I knew Quaid like I thought I did, he wouldn't. He’d be too afraid my answer might be descriptive.
Petey trotted down the quiet, empty corridors, and I scaled along behind him, keeping close to the wall, making up excuses in my head as to why I might be wandering around at this hour, should anyone catch me. But I owned the breath of relief I took when we reached the Great Hall and tiptoed over the shiny wood floors, past the partially-set breakfast table and into the garden, unnoticed.
Staff were busy all around the manor; the gardener was trimming roses, the maids were obviously dressing in their rooms on the ground floor and there were several people at the far end of the manor, carrying boxes, walking up and down the stone steps leading to the kitchen. Breakfast wafted out through that door with the homely warmth of bacon and stewed apples. My stomach groaned, but my heart jumped with anticipation as I followed my furry friend through the dirt path between the trees of the forest and came upon the field.
It was empty. I squinted against the morning sun to see the tree, and though the base was darkened by dawn’s shadow still, I was sure no one was sitting there. Petey, however, was not convinced. He charged forward, and I followed, glad I hadn’t been sucked into the enchanted forest. The sun was probably high enough now to class this as morning, not dawn. Either that or the forest saw me as a welcome wanderer, given that I was One with Mother Nature now.
“Petey?” I called. “Wait for me.”
He was fast, the little bugger, and in my weakened state, still recovering from the headaches, I’d lost some of my ability to run. I came up on the tree, huffing and puffing, and folded over to grasp my knees.
“Outrun by a dog?” a humoured voice said.
My mouth popped open and I rolled incredibly slow to stand, my eyes wrapping in tearful disbelief around dark hair, intense green eyes and a smile that could melt a glacier. “Jason?”
“In the flesh.” He flashed a grin.
He looked so sassy and so boyish, leaning against the tree in a pinstripe jersey and a blue Yankees cap. I didn't know he was a Yankees fan.
“What surprises you more?” he said, holding his shirt out from his chest a little. “That I'm alive, or that I'm a Yankees fan?”
My shaking hand rose slowly to cover to my lips. “What are you…how are you…?”
“Whoa.” He rushed in, scooping me into his arms before my buckling knees sent me to the ground. “It’s okay. It’s all right.”
“No.” I cried into his collar, cupping my hand around his neck, running my thumb over his hair at the back just to see if he was real. “You’re dead. I watched you die.”
He squeezed me a little tighter. “I know. I'm sorry you had to see that.”
“But…I…” He smelled so normal, like a human; no orange chocolate, just powdery fabric softener and a light hint of some spicy cologne, and it was the most darling scent in the world. My human version of David. “What are you doing here?”
“Well,” he said, his voice vibrating through his throat against my brow. “I got a very heartbreaking call from a strange number.”
I sobbed a little harder.
He laughed and continued. “And, I mean, what could I say to that? I shouldn’t be here, and quite frankly, my uncle will probably give me a beating for this.” He half laughed. “But I needed to be with you. That phone call just cemented it.”
I rolled my face upward to look into his radiant, shining green eyes. “I thought I’d get voicemail.”
“I know. I heard, and I also heard the pain in your soul through only the whisper of your voice.” His eyes seemed distant then, like he was remembering something—something that hurt really badly. “I know my being here stuffs up everyone’s plans, but I couldn't leave you alone any longer.”
“Where have you been? What…how are you alive?”
He smiled—his secret smile. “I was never dead, Ara. I had to fake my death so Drake couldn’t order me to hurt you again. Now that you’re queen, only you can do that, and even then…” He shook his head, smiling down at me.
“So…but, the venom?” I looked at his chest, where the syringe had gone in.
“Created venom.” He smirked.
My world rocked back—everything going blurry and ultimately still. “Holy crap!”
He laughed. “Damn needle broke off in my chest, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He tapped it. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to get that thing out by myself?”
“Were you…” I pictured the way he was laying; the way breath left his body and he stilled, as though he had no life left, and the way I said goodbye, accused him of being the worst kind of monster. In fact, I'm pretty sure I may have even condemned him to Hell. But it was all kind of fuzzy. “Could you hear what was said once you…fainted?”
He grabbed my hand and held it softly. “It’s okay, Ara. I tortured you, beat you, made you cry—” His voice quivered. “Anything you said or did to me after that was fair.”
I shook my head. “No, it wasn't. You helped me. You…you saved me from so much worse.”
He stroked my chin with his thumb. “It’s all over now, sweet girl. Nothing like that will ever happen to you again.”
I nodded, cupping my hand over his against my cheek. “Does Arthur know you’re alive?”
“Yes.”
My mouth fell open, dry, my lips numb.
“He couldn’t tell you, Ara.”
“Why?”
“A few reasons.”
“Like?”
“Well, for one…” He let out a breath. “I've not even shown you a quarter of the things I'm capable of. Drake knows many of my powers, many of which could have, all this time, helped him get to you. If I was alive, he would’ve compelled me to grab you.” He looked over his shoulder, motioning to the field. “Look how easy it was for me to get in here. No one has a clue. I could’ve come here many times, and no one would’ve known.”
“Did you? Come here, I mean.” I wiped my nose with the back of my wrist.
Jason shook his head. “No, sweet girl. I wanted to, but that would, and I guess has, ruined Arthur’s diabolical plan.”
“He has a plan?”
“He always has a plan.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Has he asked you to have a child with him yet?”
“Um…” I blinked a few extra times. “Yes. Why?”
He laughed, shaking his head, and wandered over to our tree. “How did you react to that?”
“How did you know he was going to ask?”
“Because that’s one of the reasons he’s here.” He slid down the bark and sat in the long grass, still kind of laughing.
“To have a baby with me?”
“Yep.”
“Is that just because he wants to be free—you know, ‘cause he wants the prophecy to happen?”
“That’s one of my conclusions, but…I suppose he never told you he was sent here by Drake, did he?”
“No. He left that bit out.”
“Gee, I wonder why.”
“Are you serious? Was he really sent here on a mission to impregnate me?”
Jason laughed. “For one, yes. But also to find something.”
“What?”
“The Dagger of Yahanna.”
“Death? Yahanna means death, in the ancient language, right?”
“Right. You’ve been studying.”
“No.” I sat down beside him. “I just know a few words.”
“Well, yes, he’s after this dagger—forged from the bone of an original and spelled on the Stone of Truth.”
“What does Drake want it for?”
“It’s the only way to kill your child.”
“What?”
“If he kills this child created of two immortals, all the power the child is born with will negotiate to him.”
“And, so, he asked Arthur to father this child, then hand it and the dagger over so he could kill it?”
Jason nodded, grinning.
“Arthur would never do that!”
“I know.”
“Then…why did he ask me to have a baby with him?”
“My only conclusion is that he wants to see if this myth that a child can set vampires free of immortality is true—or he wants to be king by right of heir.”
“By right of heir?”
“Yes, your first husband is always the only true king that can rule in your absence, unless he fails to provide an heir. In that case, the father of your child would become rightful king.”
“I didn't know that.”
“I know.”
“So…what if he had a baby with me, but then that child died?”
“Then he would no longer be king.”
“Wow. So, how is your presence here ruining Arthur’s plan to impregnate me?”
“Because, if I was alive, you would never give yourself to him.”
“Er!” My lip curled. “And you just…you were just going to allow that?”
“God, no.” He sat back, straightening his shirt. “Of course not. I knew you wouldn’t do it with him.”
“You did?”
“Of course, Ara. I know you. There's no way you’d have sex with Arthur, even if David were actually dead.”
“Huh?”
“What’s huh?”
“What did you just say about David?”
“Ara, come on—you don't seriously expect me to believe he actually died, do you?”
“Wait, so…you know about immunity?”
“Of course. Why do you think I let you bite him?”
I covered my mouth. “I thought you were ordered to do that.”
“Ordered. Not compelled.”
“So, you would never have killed him?”
He rose to his knees right before me, taking my cheeks in his hands. “No.”