Need Read online

  I poured myself a cup and sat down across from her. “I was hoping last night was a dream.” The coffee was incredibly strong. I took a deep breath and set the cup down on the table. “But it wasn’t. I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

  “Spilt milk, Cord, and all that. No sense beating yourself up about it anymore.” She waved a hand but still didn’t look up at me. “Nigel’s doing some research. He’ll be back in a while. With any luck he’ll figure this all out. He’s pretty damned smart, and he’s been around forever.” Now she looked up and gave me a wry smile. “And I do mean forever. I take it Jared’s still sleeping?”

  I nodded and took another sip of coffee.

  “That’s good.” She closed the newspaper, folded it, and gave me a look I couldn’t decipher. “It’s better that he sleep through the entire process.” She looked out the window. “With Nigel’s blood in him, the conversion should be over by tomorrow night.” She sighed. “It’s never a good idea to mix the blood of two vampires in someone who’s transitioning.” She tried to give me a reassuring smile. “But there’s nothing we can do about that now. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  I looked down at my hands, remembering.

  Nigel had examined Jared for almost an hour while Rachel and I sat in the front room in silence. When he finally rejoined us, he looked tired. “I let him drink from me.”

  “But, Nigel, that’s dangerous.” Rachel’s voice had been awed and quiet. “You’ve always told me—”

  “That in a new convert, one must never allow the blood of two vampires to mix, yes, I know. It can cause madness.” He sighed and sat down in a wingback chair, his eyes closed. “And the last thing this world needs is another mad vampire.” He steepled his fingers in front of his face. “I saw no other option besides destroying him. And I didn’t think that fair.” He opened his eyes and turned to me. “Then again, turning him in the first place was not fair, was it, Cord?”

  I looked away from him. “I didn’t think I had a choice.”

  “You had many choices, Cord.” His voice wasn’t unkind.

  “Yet you panicked—a perfectly natural reaction, given the circumstances—and chose the worst possible option of many. But I—and the Council—can’t and won’t hold you responsible for this. You won’t be punished. And if we can fix the damage you’ve done”—he cleared his throat—“then perhaps Jared will come out of this okay. That’s why I gave him my blood, Rachel.”

  “Your blood is so powerful,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  He smiled at her. “I gave you my blood. Was it dangerous then?” He turned back to me. “Do not worry, little one, about your mistake. You’re just a baby. How were you to know?”

  My temper flared, but I bit my tongue and didn’t snap at him. Right now, I needed Nigel and Rachel, and I would have to tolerate their condescension until Jared was out of danger. And as soon as he was okay, I was going to throw their asses out of my house and be done with them.

  “Ah, that makes you angry, doesn’t it?” Nigel laughed softly.

  I raised my chin. “I can’t imagine anyone likes being referred to as a baby, Nigel.”

  He nodded. “It is disrespectful, yes, and I apologize. I will try to watch my tongue in the future. Jean-Paul should have never let you out of his sight, and he will have to answer for that to the Council.” He shook his head, his long white locks moving. “But he also clearly had no idea that you were cursed.”

  “You said that before. What do you mean, I’m cursed?” This time I did look up. He was smiling, and the sting of his earlier words was lessened. I sensed that Nigel wasn’t cruel, and relaxed. “I don’t understand. If you mean being a vampire—”

  “You carry a witch’s curse, my young friend, from a very, very powerful witch.” Nigel closed his eyes and rested his head against the chair. “I sensed it when you first came to New Orleans several days ago. Oh, yes, we knew you were here, and we’ve been watching you. One never knows in these times whether a vampire is friend or foe—or a rogue.” He sounded tired.

  “A powerful witch?” I looked from him to Rachel and back again. “Do you mean Sebastian? Am I in danger from this curse?” I felt a chill go down my spine. I really didn’t like the sound of this. But a curse . . . I looked over to the closed double doors. Maybe that was why the wounds in the stripper’s neck had closed but Jared’s had not.

  “We’re always in danger,” Nigel replied. “Danger from humans, danger from our own kind, danger from other creatures out there that aren’t human, that hate us for who and what we are. But there’s no need for you to worry about that now. Our primary concerns are lifting the curse from you and taking care of your friend—making sure his transition is safe and pleasant, and he doesn’t go insane.”

  “Is that possible?” I barely breathed the words out. I closed my eyes.

  “You know so little, you poor thing,” Rachel said. The words were harsh, but her tone was more kind and sympathetic than it had been before. “Seriously, Nigel, Jean-Paul cannot be allowed to get away with this.” She slammed her fist down on the table with such force it cracked. “A vampire cannot convert a human and then just leave him to his own devices. It endangers us all.”

  Nigel rose. He walked over to me and cupped my chin in his hand. “You look tired, my young friend. Perhaps it would be best if you got some rest.” He gestured over his shoulder. “Go lie in the bed with your friend—someone needs to watch him anyway. I will go start my research and will return when I am finished, when I have found what I need. Rachel, I want you to stay here and watch over them.”

  She bowed her head and nodded.

  And he swept out the front door.

  Once the door shut behind him, she gave me a look. “Go lie down. Do as he said.” She clapped her hands together. “Go.”

  Meekly, I obeyed, and once my head rested on the pillow and my eyes closed, sleep came. I slept through what was left of the night and most of the next day.

  And now, I wanted to know what was going to happen to Jared, just how dangerous was it for him to drink the blood of two different vampires?

  “You said that last night,” I said. “How dangerous is it?”

  “Well, in this case it isn’t as dangerous as it would be with two equals.” She gave me a look. “No offense, but your blood and your vampire’s heart are very weak. A vampire as young and weak as you . . . I know it bothers you to hear this, but you really are just a baby. To give your blood to a human? It would be the same as a human woman giving birth to a child with birth defects.”

  I made a face. “Great.”

  “Whether he would have completely converted isn’t a guarantee, either. Your blood simply isn’t strong enough. He most likely would have died during the process, or he would have been so weak. His fangs might not have fully formed, and then he wouldn’t be able to drink.” She sighed.

  “And if he isn’t able to drink . . .”

  “He’d either starve to death, or you would have to hunt for him, feed him,” she finished for me. “I doubt that you would enjoy being saddled with a weakling like that. And his weakness would be a threat to other vampires. He would be hunted down and destroyed. With Nigel giving Jared his blood, he might have a chance now. Nigel might seem very old to you, but with our kind, that is a sign of strength. Unlike humans, we become stronger the older we are. Nigel is one of the most powerful vampires in the world. The strength of his blood will very likely consume yours, obliterate it and burn it out of his system.” She sighed. “The blood . . . I don’t understand how it works. I’ve only been a vampire for twenty years myself—but vampire blood fights inside a human when they’ve drunk from two different vampires.” She waved her hand. “I should have paid more attention in my biology class, I suppose. That’s what causes the madness—the blood fighting inside the convert’s system.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “So, Jared’s probably not in any danger, really.”

  “You’ve only been
a vampire for twenty years?” I stared at her. “But your powers . . . they’re so advanced. Jean-Paul told me it would take me almost a hundred human years to come into my own.”

  “Nigel converted me, Cord.” She got up and walked over to the sink. “I drank his blood. Nigel is very old. I don’t know how old he is. He will never say. But he was around when they built the pyramids.”

  I couldn’t have heard that right. “You mean, pyramids like in Egyptian pyramids?”

  She laughed at the look on my face. “Yes. Like I said, the older the vampire, the stronger and more powerful his heart—and his blood. Jean-Paul is at most four hundred years old, so, yes, it would take about that long for your heart to become strong enough to handle vampiric powers.” She waved in the general direction of where Jared was sleeping. “You know how weak you are in comparison to other vampires—imagine how weak Jared would be if it was your weak blood that converted him. You really weren’t doing him any favors. Someone would have killed him. He would have been too easy of a target to survive long.” She shrugged. “Even now, there’s no saying what the Council of Thirteen will do when all of this is brought before them.”

  “The Council won’t terminate him, will they?” I hated asking. I was afraid of the answer.

  She shrugged. “There’s no telling what the Council will do.” She walked out the door to the back gallery. She paused. “Your neighbors—are they always as annoying as they were this morning?”

  I nodded.

  She smiled. “Well, I took care of that little problem. They won’t be bothering anyone with their idiotic behavior again.” She let out a laugh that curdled my blood. “Seriously, some humans truly don’t deserve the gift of life, do they?” The door shut behind her.

  I wasn’t sure what she meant by that but figured it was better to not ask.

  I finished my coffee and got another cup.

  Okay, think, I thought. Nigel said I’m cursed. Well, that’s obviously a leftover from Sebastian. He probably died cursing me. But. . .

  It didn’t make sense. I hadn’t killed him; why curse me?

  And Jared . . . I walked back over to the door and looked in. He’d rolled over onto his back and was murmuring in his sleep. He was quite beautiful, and I wondered, for the first time, what his life had been like in the two years since I’d “died.”

  Guilt is a completely useless emotion. I heard Jean-Paul’s voice inside my head again.

  I leaned against the door frame.

  He’d said that to me on my last night in Palm Springs. The White Party had been that night, and we’d all worn identical costumes. Clint had thought it would be funny if we’d all gone as angels—sexy angels, of course. Any costumes we ever wore were designed to show off as much of our bodies as we could get away with. We did look amazing in our little white Lycra-blend bikinis, with white leather harnesses holding our wings on, and white boots and wristbands. The Ecstasy we took started to hit as we danced in a room full of beautiful men all dressed in white, and Jean-Paul fixated on a muscle boy wearing white jeans and a white Lone Ranger–style mask over his eyes, covered in sequins and glitter. He had no shirt on—no one at the party seemed to have one—and was dancing by himself, sweat glistening on his darkly tanned hairless torso.

  “Stop glaring. Don’t pay any attention,” Clint whispered in my ear as he slipped behind me and put his arms around my waist, pressing his crotch against my ass. “Let it go, Cord, and have fun.”

  I wanted to kill the little bitch.

  Adrenaline surged through me as I watched the boy and Jean-Paul checking each other out. I rubbed my ass against Clint’s crotch, grinding against him as the two of them began dancing together, flirting, touching.

  “You and Jean-Paul have all of eternity.” Clint nibbled on my earlobe, which he knew always drove me near mad with desire. “So he wants to nail a muscle boy here and there? They’ll be moldering in the grave and we’ll still be dancing the night away.”

  I pushed him away from me. “It’ll never end, Clint. There will always be another pretty one to catch his eye, won’t there? There was before me, and there will always be. Why did he convert me if he didn’t want me to be with him?”

  Clint folded his arms. “Must you turn everything into a soap opera?” he snapped at me, his eyes narrowed angrily. “Why must you try to ruin everything every time?” He leaned in toward me. “Well, not this time. If you want to be a pouting little bitch, you’re not ruining my evening. You think I can’t find another pretty little boy to fuck?” He snapped his fingers, and two shirtless, smooth-chested boys seemed to materialize out of the smoke and began touching him. He flicked his hand at me dismissively and turned his attention to the boys.

  I stood there for a moment, watching, and finally realized he wasn’t kidding.

  Clint was done with me.

  I knew it was just for the evening—and to be fair, I was behaving childishly. But I didn’t care, and it made me angry.

  And I wanted to be anywhere but there.

  I started pushing my way through the crowd of drugged-out dancing men, smiling at guys who would reach out and touch my ass, my chest, calling me “angel,” but I never stopped.

  I walked out the doors and into the parking lot.

  Now what? I asked myself. What do I do now? I don’t have any money. And as I stood there, another wave of the Ecstasy began building inside of me.

  A man came walking out of the parking lot, heading for the building.

  He wasn’t wearing anything but a white jock strap and a pair of white boots and a white leather harness with a matching leather cap.

  He was about six foot four, with thick muscles and a handsome face.

  And I could feel the desire welling inside of me.

  Desire and bloodlust.

  I could smell his blood.

  “Hey.” He smiled at me. “You okay, pretty boy?”

  I grabbed him. He let out a startled hey but big as he was, he was no match for my strength as I forced him down and turned him so the big vein in his neck was exposed to me, and I could feel my cock growing hard as I released my teeth and sank them into his warm skin. It was so warm, and then his blood was flooding my mouth, and it was delicious, and he was moaning as one of his hands grabbed my hard cock and he started playing with it—

  And I was pulled off him.

  “Are you insane?” Jean-Paul’s eyes flashed angrily. “In the fucking parking lot? Do you want to be caught, you stupid boy?”

  “I’m not a boy!”

  “Go home,” he said, turning his back to me. He bit his finger and rubbed the blood over the gashes in the man’s neck. They healed instantly. “Go inside and have a good time. This never happened,” Jean-Paul said to him. He staggered off through the parking lot, looking like nothing more than another inebriated partygoer. Jean-Paul turned back to me.

  I wiped the blood from my mouth. “I’m tired of the way you treat me!” I screamed at him.

  “Then go,” he sneered at me. “Get out of here. Leave here. The sight of you sickens me. I’m done with you. You’re on your own.”

  He turned and went back inside the party.

  And I left. I didn’t stop running until I was back in New Orleans.

  It would have probably been better had I stayed with Jean-Paul.

  I went back into the bedroom and started dressing. Jared was still asleep. I touched his forehead—his skin was extremely hot. He mumbled as I finished dressing, and I was at the door when he sat up.

  His eyes opened, and they weren’t blue—they were brown flecked with gold.

  “Sebastian—” His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell back into the bed.

  “That’s odd,” Rachel said from behind me, making me almost jump out of my skin. “Did you call him Sebastian?” She shook her head. “Wasn’t he the witch—”

  “I’m going for a walk,” I said, pushing past her and heading for the front door.

  “Suit yourself.”

  I
slammed the door behind me.

  CHAPTER 6

  I stood on my front steps, leaning back against the door as I tried to catch my breath, trying to figure out what was happening to me—and to Jared.

  It was a cool night. A chilly breeze was blowing down the street from the direction of the river. I could hear the music and noise from Bourbon Street, and the clouds overhead were that odd pinkish color from the neon lights in the Quarter. Orleans Street was deserted, but there were crowds down at the corner at Bourbon. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go, or even what I was running away from.

  Was it just my imagination? Or was Sebastian—or rather his spirit—somehow coming through Jared? Was this all my fault ?

  I sat down on the top step and buried my face in my hands. The old man had said I was cursed, that Sebastian had somehow cursed me as my brotherhood had killed him. But why was the curse only now rearing its ugly head and affecting my life and the people I fed from?

  It isn’t affecting everyone you feed from. Remember the stripper at Oz? His wounds healed the way they always did before. It’s just Jared. Somehow, if there is a curse, it has something to do with him.

  It didn’t make sense.

  Nothing made sense.

  “You really should wait for Nigel to get back,” Rachel’s voice whispered inside my head as I stood up and leaned against the railing.

  “And you really should stay out of my head. You’re starting to annoy the crap out of me,” I told her. “And don’t you think it’s kind of rude and invasive to just go inside of someone’s head without permission?”

  “You only say that because you can’t do it yet.”

  Much as I hated to admit it, she had me there.

  “I knew it!” Somehow she managed to make it sound smug and triumphant. I heard her laugh, and then, “No worries, baby. I’ll teach you not only how to do it but also how to block others.”

  I gritted my teeth and started down the steps. I took a deep breath, trying to decide where to walk. I wasn’t hungry, so there wasn’t a need to go hunting. I had just decided to go down to the levee and watch the river for a while—I always found that to be relaxing—when I heard someone start playing the piano. It took me a few moments to realize the sound was coming from inside the house.