Blood Bred - From The Heart Part 12

He nodded. He did remember her saying that. More than once. He took another sip of tea.

"I've become a monster, Deirdre," he said softly. "You shouldn't be with me."

"A monster? Hardly. The men you killed were in the wrong. All of them. Antyn might be alive right now were it not for them."

Baris winced at hearing the name. He couldn't get the young man from his thoughts. "We shouldn't have just left him there. We should have notified someone. He deserved that much."

"You gave him more than he ever deserved." She was annoyed again. "He was a street thief. He dealt in illegal drugs. He was an addict himself. At least he's at peace now."

"I wish I was."

Deirdre gave him a wan smile then took the mug from his hands. She set it aside and straddled him, wrapping her arms about his neck. Her kiss was warm and gentle, stirring Baris' pa.s.sion awake. He embraced her, burying his head against her shoulder.

"How can you still care for me after all that I have done?"

"What have you done, Baris? Protect me? Protect Antyn? You gave us both a chance to live a life we could only have dreamed about. I'm grateful and I'm sure Antyn was as well."

"I don't think so," Baris returned. "I made him a slave, Deirdre. He wasn't free to do as he pleased. He had to answer to me. I controlled his every move."

"If that were true, he wouldn't have been in that alley getting beaten up."

Baris had not thought of that. Still, it didn't negate any of the other facts. He had controlled Antyn. Had used his Vector magic to possess the youth. He hadn't known why at the time, though he did now. It was as Deirdre said. He was addicted to hack just as surely as if he had used it himself. Mere thoughts of the drug made his mouth water and he closed his eyes, trying to turn his mind to other things.

He was well aware of Deirdre's soft, warm breath upon his neck, of her curvaceous body pressed against his, of her slight movements meant to arouse him. But he simply couldn't respond. His heart was too bogged down with grief, disgust and self-recrimination.

Anika. The name popped into his muddled mind at the same moment it escaped his lips. Deirdre jerked back as if she had been stung.

"Anika!" she snapped. "Anika!" She got to her feet, her face dark with anger. "After all that I have done for you, all that I have helped you with, you still think of Anika?"

He frowned, puzzled by her outburst. "She is my wife, Deirdre." As the words left his lips, they seemed to settle into his heart. His wife. It seemed he finally understood what that meant to him. "She is my wife," he repeated.

"Wife? She kicked you out, Baris! Remember? She told you to leave. She doesn't want you anymore. Can't you understand that?"

The words hurt and Baris averted his gaze. "I still love her," he whispered. "I still want to find her, to help her. I--still want to be with her."

An awkward silence fell over the two. Deirdre whirled and began shoving supplies back into the pack.

"Fine!" she seethed. "If you are still so devoted to Anika then I won't stand in the way. I hope you find her and get your cozy little love nest back together!" She threw the pack over her shoulder and stomped away.

Baris leapt to his feet. "Deirdre! Stop! Where are you going? You can't leave. I need you!"

She spun on him, dug something from the pack and hurled it his way. The pouch of hack fell at his feet. "All you need is that. It's the only friend you have now," she said and stormed away.

He stared after her in shock, expecting her to turn around at any moment. But she didn't and soon disappeared into the woods. He started after her then stopped. What did it matter? He could do nothing but hurt her further. He could never love her as she wanted, never become her mate. His heart was pledged to Anika for eternity. He glanced at the hack pouch, then bent and picked it up. His thoughts went again to Antyn. Was it possible his death wasn't an accident, that the young man had taken his own life with the hack? Had his despair been so deep that death was preferable to serving Baris? Was it just one more death to add to his conscience?

He sagged to the ground before the small fire, staring at the pouch. Slowly, he opened it and took out a small pinch of the ground leaves. Deirdre had said it was too soon but he didn't care. He placed the leaves on his tongue and let them dissolve. The response was almost immediate. His trembling stopped and he drew a deep steady breath. Now, he could think more clearly, could make some decisions on what he would do. He closed his eyes, delighting in the peaceful tranquility that flowed through him. If only he could stay like this forever.

He was wakened by Anika's soft voice. Confused, he sat up, blinking into the darkness surrounding him. The fire had long ago burned out but the effects of the hack were still warming him.

"Anika?"

"Baris." The voice seemed to carry on the breeze that rustled the treetops.

"Anika? Where are you? I can't see you."

"Baris." The voice wrapped around him, caressed him, stroked his face and neck. He shivered, reaching out as if he could grasp it.

"Ani," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I hurt you. Please, Ani, please forgive me." He shook with his sobs as tears trickled down his pale cheeks.

There was no answer and Baris felt the presence leave him. He sighed, lay back down and stared into the cold ashes, the pouch of hack clutched to his chest.

When he next woke it was to the light of mid-morning. A misty rain fell, bringing a chill that seeped into his very bones. He shuddered and drew his wet cloak tighter. There would be no chance of restarting the fire and he rose, grimacing at the stiffness of his joints. He was hungry and thirsty, but saw no source of water other than the rain. He cast his gaze about, looking for a plant where the precious liquid might have gathered. He found it in a broad-leafed flowering shrub. He hunkered down and carefully tipped the leaf, letting the small stream of fresh, cold water flow into his parched mouth. It took several more leaves to quench his thirst but at last he straightened.

He had no clear idea where he was. When he and Deirdre had fled Timmora, he had not paid attention to their direction. He had been too upset over Antyn's death to notice much of anything. That and the effects of the drug had left him hopelessly confused. Now, he regretted not being more alert. He glanced up at the gray skies with a frown. He had never been good at reading the skies, not even at night. And here in the thick forest, with no hill to afford a territorial view, he had no idea which way to walk, which way was north and Nowles.

He needed to clear his muddled thoughts, to focus. He knew what would allow that. He opened the pouch and placed a pinch of the leaves on his tongue, then stood still waiting for the euphoria to claim him. He frowned when it didn't. Maybe the leaves had gotten wet. He examined the pouch carefully, but found no tears or holes in the leather. He shook out a small amount of the leaves...they were dry. Frowning, he placed another pinch onto his tongue and waited.

Finally, the euphoria washed over him, soothing him, easing his anxiety, calming his muddled mind. He sighed with contentment and replaced the pouch inside his tunic, where it would stay dry and safe. All right, so he didn't know which way was north. And he risked stumbling back into Timmora. He couldn't stay here, in the middle of the forest, with no food or drink. He had to find a town. If Timmora were the only one nearby then it would have to do. Without Deirdre along to identify him to others, he could enter the city in any number of Illusions. The thought actually pleased him. Timmora was a huge city. A man could stay lost there for a good long time. There were plenty of places he could satisfy his need for blood as well. And, he thought with a small smile, he could get more hack there. He began walking with an urgency of step, his mind focused on returning to the very city he had just run from.

As he walked, his thoughts returned to the events of the previous night. Had it really been Anika's voice calling to him? Or had he only imagined it? Was it merely the dream of a grieving man? He reached up to touch his cheek where the wind had brushed against it the night before. Had that been Anika's gentle touch? If so, that meant she was looking for him. But why? To find out where Thale was? To force him to take her to the Lair? To beg him to return?

He snorted at the last thought. Why would she take him back? After all he had done? Memories flashed through his mind like sunbeams through swaying tree branches. They brought him nothing but more grief. The man in the alley who had attacked Deirdre, the four men who had beaten Antyn, the youth's resigned face, the man at Quentin's party as he had fallen to the floor. And then there was Deirdre. Beautiful Deirdre. She had helped him, encouraged him, loved him. And his actions had forced her away, too.

He stopped walking, suddenly too fatigued to continue. He lowered himself slowly to the dry ground beneath a heavy-branched fir, then rubbed the water from his face. Another small pinch of hack took the gnawing hunger pains away. He shook the pouch, a.n.a.lyzing how much of the drug was left. Not much. Antyn must have used a great deal in his attempt at dulling his own pain. Or committing suicide, whichever had been the case. Baris knew he needed to get to Timmora, find another source of the drug. He decided that he preferred to get it through a user's blood rather than ingesting the leaves themselves. Taking it through a feed seemed to intensify the effects and he could accomplish two things at one time. He leaned his head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.

Yes, that was what he would do. Return to Timmora and disappear into the darkness of the city. The thought pleased him and he slept for a time.

Baris walked the cold woods for two more days. He picked berries or munched on fern leaves to stave off the intense hunger pains that eventually even hack could not thwart. He saw no signs of Deirdre. What surprised him was that he also harbored no concern about her condition or whereabouts. He simply accepted the fact that she, too, had left him.

His supply of hack was dangerously low and he had been attempting to slow his intake of it but it seemed the less he took, the more he craved it. It was the only thing that got him moving in the morning, gave him the energy to keep going in the hopes of finding Timmora. It was the only thing that kept him warm at night and consoled him in his nightmares and loneliness. It was as Deirdre had said. It was his only friend now.

He had not even tried to access his Vector magic. He hadn't fed for days and was too exhausted and weak to even think about pulling the magic. He had not heard Anika's voice again, nor felt her presence, which only added to his despair. His mood had deteriorated into one of anger, disgust and grief, and he stomped through the woods daring anything and anyone to get in his way. Nothing did.

Finally, at mid-morning of the third day, he found a river. Relief coursed through him and he hurried to the bank to drink. The water was cold and fresh and he gulped great mouthfuls of it. His empty stomach churned at the onslaught of sudden substance and returned the offending liquid. Baris retched again and again, then fell to the ground in a cold sweat. He lay still, shivering, for a few minutes, then sought out the hack pouch. He opened it with trembling fingers and reached in. His fingers brushed against the bottom of the pouch, finding no leaves. Panicked, he sat up and tipped the bag. A solitary leaf, no bigger than an ant, fluttered out. It caught on the breeze and drifted out over the river and away. Baris watched it in disbelief. With a roar of anger, he hurled the pouch after it.

He didn't need it. He didn't need anything. He staggered to his feet and stumbled alongside the river, following it downhill. Twice he had to stop to heave and rest but he forced himself to continue. He was convinced that this river would lead to Timmora. It had to.

By late evening, he had given up. His trembling was so bad he could barely walk and the cold seemed to penetrate to his very soul. At the same time, hot flashes plagued him, leaving him wet with sweat, which then further chilled his body. He found a sheltered spot under a giant fir and lay down, pulling his dirty, wet cloak around him. There was no place else to go, nothing left to do. It was time for death and Baris wondered how long it would drag out because of his Vector blood. He had been told that there were few things that could kill a Vector. Poison, fire and drowning were the three he knew about. He had none of the first two, but there was always the river. In his weakened state, he was sure he would never last the rapids. But drowning? Just the idea made him shudder. He cast his gaze about for berries. He remembered from his youth someone telling him that red berries were often poisonous. Should he find some and ingest a handful? What if they did nothing more than make him sicker? Besides, he didn't have the strength to go looking.

He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift to his wife and son. He brought up mental images of their faces, tried to remember how it felt to hold them, tried to hear again Thale's sweet little voice calling him Papa. All was lost to him forever and he could not stop the tears that spilled from his eyes and left streaks in the dirt beneath his cheek.

"Ani, Thale," he moaned aloud. "I failed you. I am so sorry. Know that I love you both with all my heart."

CHAPTER 16.

Toward morning, he heard movement on the other side of the brush. He sat up slowly, his head spinning, and peered though the tangled branches. In a few moments, a middle-aged man leading a donkey ambled down the path almost directly toward him. The traveler sang quietly and carried an axe, though it dangled loosely from a leather loop at his waist. His hat was tipped back on his head, shadowing a tanned and well-wrinkled face.

Baris had not fed for days and the sight of the bulging veins on the man's neck called to him. He took a deep, slow breath, struggled to his feet and stepped into the man's path, blocking him. The man stumbled back a step then tipped his head in greeting.

"Mornin'," he said, grimacing.

"Good morning," Baris returned. He could only guess at what the man saw. Baris had been days in the woods, with no bath, no clean clothing, no food. He was filthy, gaunt, and weak. But even in his emaciated state, it took Baris only moments to hypnotize the man. He approached slowly, his breathing rapid. The man remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on Baris'. A second later, Baris had him. He drank deeply and drew back satisfied, though not satiated. Thoughts of hack raced through his mind. If this man was out here, looking so fresh and well-tended, he must not have been traveling long. A village should be nearby. A village with a tavern district, and hack.

"Where are you from?" Baris asked.

"Er...Erster," the man managed, though he swayed dizzily.

"Erster?" Baris looked past him as if the village would materialize in the forest itself. "How far is it?"

"A league or so. Not far."

Baris looked back at him. "Can I get hack there?" He felt shame at the terrible hunger in his voice when he asked the question, but he pushed it away.

The man averted his gaze. "Why? I...I don't know nothing about that stuff. I done nothing to break any laws."

Irritated, Baris shook him. "I am not the law. I simply want to know. Can I get hack in Erster?" When the man failed to answer, Baris' irritation blossomed into anger. Without another word, he pulled the man to him once again and took all the blood he needed and craved. He left his victim lying in a pitiful heap alongside the trail. He didn't even check to see if the man was dead or alive.

Baris entered Erster not more than an hour later. It wasn't as large as Timmora but he guessed it would serve his purposes. He could get lost in the teeming populace and he was certain that he could find hack in the dark alleys. He studied the men he could see from his place of hiding, then Illusioned as a contemporary and headed directly to the tavern districts. It didn't take him long to find a person selling hack, a young man not much older than Antyn had been. Four other, middle-aged men huddled around him in the dim light of a back alley. Bins of rotting garbage fouled the air and rats scurried back and forth, oblivious to the business going on about their furred heads. Several drunks were sprawled in the dirt and debris, eyes closed, bodies twitching in unknown dreams or delirium. Baris picked his way cautiously toward the young man and waited for the other buyers to disperse before he approached. The young man looked up at him, obviously startled by his sudden appearance.

"Can I do something for you?" he asked, his tone wary.

"You can sell me what you sold those others."

"Sold?" The youth glanced about, then shrugged. "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

"No?" Baris tightened his jaw in anger, fixing his gaze on the youth's eyes. "Tell me, do you use the hack or just sell it?"

The youth drew back, his face going ashen. "I...I...no, I don't use it," he managed. "I...I don't sell it..." He broke off at Baris' guttural growl and backed away. "Please, sir, perhaps you are lost. Your clothing suggests that you should be..."

"Enough!" Baris roared. Understanding gripped him. He had mistakenly Illusioned as an upper-cla.s.s citizen of this town. It was apparent that this youth sold only to those he knew. Baris decided to use his wealthy appearance to his advantage. "I am prepared to pay well. I need the drug to a.s.sist a friend of mine. He is in exquisite pain and cannot get relief from anything the healers have to offer. I was told that hack might afford him the peace he seeks. I was also told that you had a pure form. Am I mistaken?"

The young man hesitated a moment, studying him.

"I have nothing on me," he said slowly. "But I can direct you to someone who might."

Baris swallowed his growing rage. "Then I take it that you have no desire to make money yourself?"

"Money is always welcome," the young man said. "But I do like to come by it honestly."

"And you were selling these four men what?"

"Tobacco, sir. Just tobacco."

Baris exploded. He gripped the young man by both wrists.

"I say different. You will give me what you have. Now." His gaze bored into the young man's. The youth's eyes grew wide, his mouth slackened and he nodded numbly. Baris released one of his wrists and the young man reached into his tunic to pull out a large, leather bag. Baris s.n.a.t.c.hed it away from him, opened the tie with his teeth and sniffed the contents. Satisfied that it was indeed hack, he released his grip on the young man.

"Thank you," he said calmly. "Now wasn't that easier than the alternative?"

"The alternative?"

Baris ignored the frightened question. "Don't you have someplace else you need to be?"

Without a word, the man stumbled away, his gait awkward at first, as if he were only just learning how to walk. By the time he reached the end of the alley, he had recovered from Baris' spell and broke into a full run, disappearing from sight. Baris waited only a moment before placing a pinch of the hack leaves on his tongue. They dissolved almost instantly. The euphoria rushed through him like an old friend and he leaned against the dirty stone wall with a sigh of relief. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground, closing his eyes in ecstasy. This was what he needed, this was his salvation.

He sat in the alley as the skies overhead grew darker, the air cooler. Finally, it was the rumbling of his stomach that forced him to his feet. He needed food and a place to stay. He forced himself to the end of the alley and peered into the crowded streets beyond.

The wide lane was littered with all sorts of degenerates, as well as some fairly decent-looking folk. He centered on them and watched where they went. Most seemed to be heading toward an establishment on the fringe of the tavern district and that was where he went.

It was an alehouse, at least three stories tall. Most likely it offered rooms as well as refreshments. Perfect. He climbed the three narrow wooden steps, crossed the porch and entered. Smells a.s.sailed him, setting his stomach rumbling once again. Plates on wooden tables were piled high with some sort of meat-and-potato mixture. Hot bread rested on long platters, and tankards filled to overflowing were stacked almost end-to-end along the bar. Baris drew a deep breath and approached the barkeep. The big-bellied man eyed him with distaste.

"What kin I get you?"

"I would like to inquire about a room," Baris said, raising his voice over the din of rowdy customers. "Do you let rooms here?"

The barkeep studied him a moment, then jerked his head toward an inside door. "Through there. Payne'll help you."

Baris tipped his head and went in the direction the barkeep had indicated. It was a smaller room, more like an entry. A narrow, tall counter claimed one wall. Behind it stood a small man with thinning hair and a long, pointed nose, and a look of perpetual distaste on his thin face. Baris stepped up to the counter.

"I would like a room, preferably one with a bath."

"We're full," the man said, without bothering to look at his roster.

"Check again," Baris said tightly.

The man stiffened. "I said we're..." He broke off with a gasp as his gaze met Baris'. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "I ...that is..." He reached beneath the desk and practically threw a key at Baris. "Room 300."

"Thank you." Baris spun and took the rickety stairs at a slow, calculated pace. It was only when he was well away from the innkeeper's panicked stare that he relaxed.

He clutched at his temples as his head reeled. He was in no shape to keep expending magic the way he was. He found his room, unlocked it and stumbled inside. It was large and as well-appointed as this section of town likely offered. Thick chunks of blackened wood lay in the hearth but Baris was too fatigued to light them. Instead, he looked toward the large, iron bathtub that stood discretely behind a part.i.tion.

The tub was empty, no coals lingering beneath it. The whole room smelled musty, as if it had been closed up for some time. Baris wrinkled his nose, threw off his cloak and slouched onto the wide bed. He brought out the pouch of hack and opened it. There was a goodly amount of the drug in the pouch but Baris didn't take any. Instead, he stared at the gray-green leaves wistfully.

Ingesting the leaves produced the peaceful tranquility he sought, but he could not forget the intensity of the feeling when the drug was mixed with human blood. That was what he wanted, what he craved. But where would he find such? He rose and stepped to the window to peer into the dark streets below.

What he needed to do was find a user, someone he could befriend, feed on. He drew back from the window with a start of disgust. And kill. Another Antyn. He shook his head and rubbed his face. No! He wouldn't do it. Not again. He couldn't have another death on his conscience.

He turned toward the tub. He wanted a bath, then dinner, then a good night's sleep in a decent bed. He went to the tub and began to pump the water. It came out rusty and foul smelling, falling into a tub with at least an inch of dirt in it. Baris stared at the grimy water for a moment, then shook his head and once more sagged onto the bed.

How had he come to this? A filthy room in a rundown inn in a town where he knew no one? Tears p.r.i.c.ked his eyes and he brushed them away with a shaky hand. Once again, he sought out the hack pouch. A large pinch of the leaves removed his despair and he fell backward on the bed to sleep.