All Just Glass Part 8

Dominique followed, the position unnatural to her. It wasn't that she had never followed anyone else-but the last time she had, her guide had been unwisely chosen. That path had ended with a knife in her hand and the body of a fellow hunter in her arms.

As she watched the next generation file out, Adianna in the lead, she wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, it was was her fault that her daughters seemed to be treading that same dark road. her fault that her daughters seemed to be treading that same dark road.

CHAPTER 12

SAt.u.r.dAY, 8:21 A.M. A.M.

NIKOLAS WAS IN WAS IN a towering rage. It should have frightened Sarah-his fury, after all, had directly led to her death-but she could barely focus on it. He was pacing and kept grabbing her arm and occasionally shaking her and shouting, but it was like that only added colored lights to the kaleidoscope of her thoughts. a towering rage. It should have frightened Sarah-his fury, after all, had directly led to her death-but she could barely focus on it. He was pacing and kept grabbing her arm and occasionally shaking her and shouting, but it was like that only added colored lights to the kaleidoscope of her thoughts.

She couldn't hold on to any single image long; they all slid into each other-one, then the next. Someone was crying across the room, with quick little breaths that made the air quiver. Then there was Nikolas, who was black and white and red.... She giggled, reminded of that stupid joke about the newspaper, and he stared at her, but then his features blurred again.

Her skin was buzzing, and her ears ringing. The world was too too vivid, all light and sound and sensation. vivid, all light and sound and sensation.

"You have to focus focus now!" Nikolas's anger was tainted by terror, and seemed to make the world roll. "Sarah, now!" Nikolas's anger was tainted by terror, and seemed to make the world roll. "Sarah, please! please!" he begged. "I know what you're feeling right now. It wasn't just your first feed on live blood, but it was witch witch blood. It's intoxicating. Kristopher and I have both been there before...." blood. It's intoxicating. Kristopher and I have both been there before...."

The words disappeared from her attention. He was still talking; she just wasn't hearing. Nikolas's voice had ceased to have meaning and had blended into patterns of rising and falling noise.

He grabbed her shoulder and shook her yet again.

"Sarah!" She managed to focus on him for a moment, only to have him throw her across the room. "Is there anything you can do?" he demanded.

She landed on...Oh, G.o.ddess. She shrieked, because for an instant, in her state, she was on her father's corpse again. There was blood on her hands. Was it his blood? Then the reality came clear, and it was Kristopher lying still and silent on the ground, a ragged wound from Michael's knife in his chest. It hadn't been a heart blow, and the Arun magic wasn't quite as poisonous as a Vida's, but it was killing him slowly nevertheless.

She had to draw out the magic. She could do that. Her powers didn't work the same now as they used to, but they weren't entirely gone gone. She...

She glanced up and found herself staring into wide, frightened eyes. Sarah's heart wasn't beating, but someone else's heart was racing racing, pounding, matched by her ragged breaths and the trembling that rippled across the surface of her skin. Nikolas shouted something, and the girl stood and bolted out of the room. Sarah started to rise to follow.

Nikolas grabbed her by the arm and hit her, the blow hard enough that it might have broken her neck if she had been human. Now it was barely enough to get her attention. He snapped, "I swear, if you let my brother die here-" He broke off and shook his head sharply before saying, apparently to himself, "You're going to hate me for this."

What did he- She couldn't complete the thought. He grabbed her, and then his fangs were in her throat.

And it hurt hurt. The buzzing across her flesh turned to wildfire, and her blood turned to lava. The white noise of the world turned to screaming, and the voice behind the screams was hers, until Nikolas threw her away again.

He staggered under the power he had just stolen from her, but he had more practice. He had ripped apart her giddy drunkenness, and now she existed in a cold reality where all she could see was Kristopher's form.

She put a hand over the wound and tried to reach for her magic. Vampiric power wouldn't help her with this. She needed a witch's power, but her Vida magic had fled deep inside, hiding from the new blood.

"I tried to get him to feed," Nikolas said. "That helped when Elisabeth nearly killed us, as if her blood combated her magic. But he wouldn't. I fed for him, on the witch who had attacked him, but I couldn't even get him to take blood from me."

She nodded. The power was already too deep inside Kristopher for him to rouse enough to feed. Sarah didn't know if she could find her Vida power in time to pull Michael's power from the wound, but Nikolas was right that such power could be drowned with more of the same-normally by taking blood, but there were other methods.

"Come here," she said. She didn't have to say why or ask permission. As soon as Nikolas was near enough, she put her left hand on his throat. He tensed a fraction but did not draw back, even when she pulled at his power. He clenched his jaw; she knew it hurt, what she was doing, but she also knew that Nikolas would never argue against any measure that might save his brother.

Besides, he had taken her blood; he could hear her concerns in her mind. He knew perfectly well that she didn't know how to control her magic anymore, and that she could easily mangle his power through clumsy fumbling, killing both or all of them.

She used herself like a wire to funnel power from Nikolas into Kristopher. She transferred to Kristopher the power Nikolas had taken from Michael, which would temporarily fool the magic of the knife into thinking this body was not an enemy but a friend. It wouldn't completely heal him, but it would slow the damage, like a shot of epinephrine delaying a fatal allergic reaction.

Only when she had given as much power to Kristopher as she dared did she put both hands on Kristopher's chest, one over the wound and one over his heart. She closed her eyes and struggled to find the blade's magic, which she knew almost as well as her own. She and Michael had grown up together. They had trained together. She had helped him form the link between his power and the centuries-old Arun blade.

Bit by bit, she subdued the poison. Now that Michael's magic was feeding Kristopher instead of killing him, Kristopher's own power was able to help heal the wound.

At last, Sarah turned to Nikolas to say, "He'll live. He'll need to rest, and feed when he wakes, but he'll live."

Nikolas nodded, and then it was like that wasn't enough. He pulled her close and kissed her. Through Kristopher, whose mind was still open to her and tightly linked to his brother's, she could sense the overwhelming wash of emotion: protectiveness, grat.i.tude, relief, maybe even love. It was like a reflection on a stream, not as clear as the thoughts she could normally hear from Kristopher, but a background hum Nikolas wasn't trying to hide from her. She didn't want to shut it out, because in that instant she was feeling exactly the same way. Whatever she felt about Kristopher, she did not want him to die for her.

And whatever she felt for Kristopher, she probably shouldn't be kissing his brother.

"Thank you," Nikolas said when she pulled back. There was no sense of guilt in his mind about the kiss. Did he know something she didn't know about Kristopher's feelings for her? Or did he just know that Kristopher wouldn't mind, regardless of his relationship with Sarah?

She had to block out the echoes of thought. It was too much to think about and try to dissect these relationships in the middle of everything else.

"It was my fault Kristopher was hurt," she said.

"It was our choice to come for you," he replied. "We argued over whether or not you had the right to end your own life. We decided it didn't matter if you did have the right. We weren't going to let you go through with it."

Argued. These brothers did not argue, not with each other. Their paths had diverged only once, when Kristopher had chosen to stay with his sister to help her through a difficult time. Otherwise they were always so similar. Sarah's impression had been that Nikolas tended to defer to his brother.

"Out of curiosity," she asked, "what side of the argument were you on?"

Nikolas hesitated. Maybe he thought she might think less of him for believing that they shouldn't ride to her rescue.

"I argued that it was selfish and cowardly to turn yourself over to the hunters," he said softly. "You are a protector. You are not a Vida anymore, but you are still a guardian to those who need you. Your despair is not sufficient to erase that responsibility."

"That wasn't why I did it," she responded. "I would never abandon a duty just because it was hard hard. I didn't want other people-"

"I've seen many people die in the last century and a half," Nikolas interrupted. "The one thing I know for certain is that after you are gone, you lose any power to decide what other other people do. Will they kill for you? Will they die for you? Will they fight to avenge you? That is never your choice." people do. Will they kill for you? Will they die for you? Will they fight to avenge you? That is never your choice."

It was the people who might kill or die for her if she lived lived who worried her. "What about the humans who come to you and Kristopher to die?" she asked. "Do they get the same talk about whether they have the right to end their lives?" who worried her. "What about the humans who come to you and Kristopher to die?" she asked. "Do they get the same talk about whether they have the right to end their lives?"

"They come to us because they see no other choice," Nikolas replied. "When we can, we give them options. I have counseled plenty who come to me seeking an end, sent many home, and given others new lives. Some I can only help one way." He shook his head with a sigh. "Do me a favor, Sarah. If you must end your life, at least do it yourself. Do not force your once kin to slay you, and do not force my brother and me to decide if we must take on the entire race of witches to avenge you. And do it somewhere that I will find your body, instead of my brother. I cleaned up my father's b.l.o.o.d.y corpse so Kristopher would not see. I can do the same for you."

Only from Nikolas could those words sound sincere, instead of like a ploy to elicit guilt and submission. Sarah knew he meant every word.

At last, what he had said earlier sank in. Kristopher and Nikolas had come to save her, despite knowing she had chosen her death. Would they have avenged her even though she had been willing to give up her life? Would they have either slaughtered or been slaughtered by those she had once called family?

Worse, Nikolas and Kristopher had allies-not just Nissa, but powerful figures like Kaleo. Even if the twins respected her decision, Kaleo had made it clear that Sarah had his protection, yet he was far less likely to care what choice she had made. Would he have joined the fight?

How many bodies would have joined hers on the floor?

She had thought she was doing the right thing. Was Nikolas correct that she had just been doing the easy thing? As he had pointed out, once she was dead, she didn't have to make the hard decisions anymore.

"What was Kristopher's opinion?" she asked softly. Nikolas had made it clear that his decisions after her death would not be affected by how she chose to die. Kristopher claimed to love her. What would he have done?

"He argued that we are not your keepers, and that no matter how much we want to hold on to you, whether or not you continue with this life has to be your decision." Nikolas shook his head. "Ultimately, it is is your choice to make, no matter which side of that argument each of us is on. If Jerome had not told us what you were doing, we would not have known. There will be plenty of other moments we will not know about. We will protect you, even from yourself, when we can, but the final decision to live must be yours." your choice to make, no matter which side of that argument each of us is on. If Jerome had not told us what you were doing, we would not have known. There will be plenty of other moments we will not know about. We will protect you, even from yourself, when we can, but the final decision to live must be yours."

The words cut deeply. She had grown up among absolutes and duty, but Kristopher had introduced her to doubt, and decisions, and therefore freedom. He represented the opposite of all she had been raised to obey without question, so it should not have surprised her that he had been the one to argue for her right to make a decision that now horrified her.

Nikolas, on the other hand, had always been more black and white.

"And if, someday when you aren't there, I decide not to live?" she asked.

Nikolas shrugged, his gaze going distant. "Kristopher will forgive you," he said. "He will mourn for you. He may choose to avenge you even if your death is by your own plan, and I will follow whichever path he takes. But unlike my brother, I do not forgive easily."

Perhaps Nikolas's approval should not have meant so much to Sarah, but the words ate at her, feeding the shame she already felt for- Oh, no.

"Zachary," she said as the last moments of the fight came back to her. "I-"

"He'll be fine," Nikolas said swiftly, in a flat tone absent all judgment. "You didn't kill anyone; we we didn't kill anyone." didn't kill anyone."

"Sarah?"

Kristopher's groggy voice shocked her from her thoughts.

She reached for him and helped him sit up. She could tell the exact moment when disorientation broke in favor of memory, because his fear spiked.

"We couldn't let you do it," he said.

"I know," she answered, her voice breathy through her tight throat.

She tried to help Kristopher stand, and then stumbled as a wave of dizziness nearly took her legs out from under her. Nikolas tried to catch them both, and all three of them ended up back on the floor.

"You two both need sleep," Nikolas suggested. "Sarah, I know you slept a couple of hours earlier, but it's well after dawn now, and healing took a lot of energy."

Nikolas insisted on helping them up the stairs; Sarah was so tired she couldn't even focus her thoughts enough to transport herself, and Kristopher couldn't seem to take a step without stumbling over air. Christine looped an arm around Sarah's waist and helped her stay standing long enough to wash her cousin's blood from her skin before she fell into bed. Sarah vaguely recalled her having been in the room earlier, before Nikolas sent her away so she would not be a distraction.

"You should rest, too," Sarah said to Nikolas when it became obvious that he was walking them to their rooms but was not planning on sleeping himself.

"I'll hunt first," he answered, reminding Sarah that while she and Kristopher had been injured, he was the one who had been drained of power. Remembering how much of Nikolas's energy she had siphoned off to heal Kristopher, Sarah was surprised he was still rational. Was his self-control really so much better than hers?

She would have killed Zachary.

He had looked at her, and seen her as Sarah, and called her cousin. Zachary Vida, who never hesitated, had paused, unable to drive his blade into her heart. And in return, she had nearly torn his throat out. If she had had any hope that he might trust her before, how could he possibly forgive her now? She could live, but after what had happened, how could she ever convince any of her once kin that she was anything but the monster they a.s.sumed her to be?

Their problems were insurmountable. The Rights of Kin would have them hunted as long as witches lived. Their normal lives could not resume as long as the Vida line drew breath, but Sarah would not let her new allies destroy her mother, sister, cousins and other kin.

She didn't know what to do.

The first step of living this life, though, was learning how to survive. She had tried to ignore her new blood instead of facing it. If she had listened to Nikolas and Kristopher and-much as she hated to admit it-Kaleo in the first place, maybe she could have ended the earlier fight by running, instead of creating the disaster she had.

She needed to learn how to hunt without killing. There were vampires at SingleEarth who never killed, and Kristopher had gone fifty years without taking a life...though Nikolas had once strongly implied that the self-control she had seen in him came only at the cost of human life, and that he did not know how to live without death.

She shuddered and tried to shove that thought from her mind. Such doubts would help nothing.

For now, the power she had taken from her cousin and then from Nikolas was sustaining her, but there would be other nights. She needed to know how to be be. She had never before had choices about who she was and how she wanted to live. All of her life had been dedicated to her duty as a Vida.

As she closed her eyes to sleep, she wondered: was there anything more to her now?

CHAPTER 13

SAt.u.r.dAY, 9:32 A.M. A.M.

ADIA HADN'T HAD a lot of trouble packing to move to the safe house. After all, she didn't have a piece of sentimental memorabilia that didn't in some way involve Sarah. a lot of trouble packing to move to the safe house. After all, she didn't have a piece of sentimental memorabilia that didn't in some way involve Sarah.

She tried to sleep after they settled in, but managed less than an hour before she succ.u.mbed to the compulsive need to look up her latest contact. Sleeping would mean letting herself be still, which would mean thinking thinking. While she was working and focused on the next steps, she could avoid thinking about the big picture and the overall goal. The oversized binder took up most of the kitchen counter as Adia leaned over it, balanced on a stool.

She had already decided that once she was in charge, all the information was going to be entered into a database, searchable by known characteristics.

Such a system would have made it much easier to find Jerome. Searching by name wasn't effective, since even if he had given his real name at the coffee shop, the book wasn't arranged in alphabetical order. Many vampires weren't known by name, or else were known by several names, so they were arranged by lineage instead. That was why they needed a searchable database.

Dominique had objected on the premise that technology was unreliable and easier to interfere with, but Adia suspected that it was more because Dominique hadn't grown up with computers and didn't trust new things. She was more technophobic than the eighty-year-old woman Adia occasionally handed change to in the subway station.

At last, Adia found Jerome. She smirked at the well-lit color photograph that went with the entry. Though the book held many sketches, there were few photos, because most vampires were smart enough not to get themselves caught on film. This one, however, had smiled for the camera. Stretched out in casual jeans and a T-shirt, with one arm draped over the back of a leather couch the color of good coffee beans, he looked as friendly and welcoming as he had at the Makeshift.

She read the typed entry.

Jerome. Kendra's line, changed by Daryl. Rarely outright aggressive, and not known as a frequent killer, but information is difficult to confirm, because he is known for using guile in place of physical a.s.sault. No known circuit for hosting, but a frequent guest at circuits owned by a variety of vampires of Kendra's and Katama's lines. Jerome does not seem to possess a strong drive toward leadership or power among his own kind but is better described as a game player or information gatherer. He has a wide net of contacts. He seems to court human companions but has no known bloodbonds Kendra's and Katama's lines. Jerome does not seem to possess a strong drive toward leadership or power among his own kind but is better described as a game player or information gatherer. He has a wide net of contacts. He seems to court human companions but has no known bloodbonds.

Further down the page, another line had been added in tight, nervous handwriting, as if an afterthought.

Suspected in the death of Frederick Kallison.

There were no more details about that, as if the one line should have been self-explanatory. From the description of Jerome, it sounded like previous hunters had had a chance to observe him pretty closely but had decided he was not dangerous enough to be a worthwhile primary target. If he frequented Kendra's circuit, then hunters had probably encountered him while he was surrounded by much more worthwhile prey.

Then there was that last line.

The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. Frederick Kallison had probably been a hunter, or he would not have been mentioned by name. Perhaps he had disappeared while hunting this vampire, or perhaps it had been known that Jerome had targeted him for some reason. It would be useful to know if Jerome was the type to focus on and stalk particular prey, or if he tended to be dangerous only when cornered. She wondered why the information had been left out.

There wasn't a note about who had recorded this page, though it was old enough to have been included in the ma.s.s of entries Dominique had typed when she had reorganized the book. The handwritten note must have been added after that, so someone in Adia's generation probably knew more.

Her nerves were strung so tight she jumped when Jay appeared in the doorway to the tiny kitchen.

"Sorry," the Marinitch said, pausing in the doorway, probably because there was little s.p.a.ce to come further forward. "Do you have a minute?"