The Brethren - Dark Hunger Part 10

"He still does the pie thing, huh? Jesus," she said, then looked up at the waitress. "Give me the pancake platter, please, with a side of sausage links."

While Lina ordered for Brandon, Tessa caught sight of Rene emerging from the restroom. He walked back toward the table, but when his eyes momentarily met hers, he looked away.

I'm sorry, Tessa thought unhappily. Please stop being angry with me, Rene.

"You and your pie," Lina remarked as he sat down again. When he just looked at her, clearly at a loss, she laughed again. "Tessa ordered for you. Three slices of cherry pie. You've always been a pie junkie. I remember you used to make special detours in the squad car just so you could hit this one bakery on East Twenty-second street and get-"

"I think today I'll have eggs," Rene interjected, holding up his hand to flag the waitress back to the table. When she returned, he said, "Eggs, ma chere. Hard-scrambled, with hash browns, b.u.t.tered toast and bacon."

"No pie?" the waitress said, and he shook his head.

"No thanks." He spared Tessa a momentary, withering glance. "I'm not really in the mood."

By the end of the meal, Tessa had barely touched her oatmeal, letting it grow cold, hardened to near-mortar consistency in the bottom of her bowl. She moved robotically, sullen and quiet, as the four of them left the restaurant together and exchanged good- byes in the parking lot.

"We'll see you in Rillito," Lina said, giving Tessa a hug and a smile. If she noticed anything tense or strained in Tessa's demeanor, she didn't mention it, but Brandon did.

What is going on? he thought as Lina and Rene conferred over the map one last time. Brandon hooked his hand against the crook of her elbow and led her aside, looking her in the eyes, his brows furrowed slightly in concern.

Nothing, she replied.

Tessa... he began, but she shrugged away from him. It's nothing, Brandon. I told you-I'm just tired.

He wasn't buying it, not one bit. He'd known her too long and too well, and she could tell just by looking at him that he knew she was feeding him a line of s.h.i.t. His feelings were hurt; she could tell that by looking, too, and felt badly. During the four years of her marriage, he hadn't understood why she'd kept herself so distant, both emotionally and physically from everyone in the n.o.ble family, but most of all from him.

When the Grandfather had broken Brandon's hands, Martin had begrudgingly agreed to let Tessa return to the great house to help tend to her twin, a concession he'd offered because Tessa's father, Sebastian, had come and practically pleaded it from him. She'd often imagined that Martin had enjoyed that moment of her father's anguish and had reveled in not only the opportunity to watch Sebastian beg a favor of him, but to be in a position of power enough over the n.o.ble house to grant it. During her brief return, however, Brandon hadn't wanted much to do with her. Unable to write or sign, he'd refused to use psi-speech much, no matter how much she'd tried to initiate conversation with him. He'd told her once, in a quick exchange, that the Grandfather had forbidden him to use his telepathy and he was in trouble enough without inviting more on himself. But she'd known the truth-he had been angry with her for her absence and hurt by it.

I stayed away to protect you, Brandon. She wished so desperately that she could make him understand. And myself. I didn't want you to think badly of me, or worry about me, and I knew if you realized what Martin was doing...the way he treated me...that you'd try to protect me somehow.

They were only just now reconnecting, rediscovering the closeness that had always bound them to each other, and she could tell from his expression he felt wounded that she wouldn't confide in him.

It's not because I don't want to. I'm ashamed, Brandon. I'm ashamed of what I did and it's bad enough Rene won't talk to me now. I don't want you to be angry with me, too.

She made herself smile for him; forced herself to hold it until his expression softened, the worry in his eyes fading.

You'd tell me, wouldn't you? he asked and he reached out, brushing the cuff of his newly mended fingers against her cheek. If there was something wrong? Whatever it is, Tessa, I'd be here for you. I love you.

She hugged him, holding him fiercely for a moment and closing her eyes as tears flooded her eyes again. I know, Brandon. I love you, too.

She sat rigidly in the pa.s.senger seat of the Audi, her shoulders hunched, and flinched as Rene lowered himself into the driver's side, slamming the door hard enough to rock the little sports car.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" she asked in a small, hesitant voice. "With your hand, I mean?"

"I'm fine." He fired up the engine and dropped the car in gear. She didn't miss the way he gripped the steering wheel lightly, gingerly with his injured hand, or the wince that momentarily twisted his brows.

The tension in the car was thick enough to stifle. Rene drove out of the restaurant parking lot and across the street, pulling up to a gas station and killing the engine. "I need to fill up," he said, reaching for the door handle and wincing again as he forced his fingers to grasp it.

"Rene." Tessa caught him by the sleeve. All she'd said was his name, but already, she could feel tears welling up, threatening to choke her.

He glanced at her, his brows narrowed slightly, draping his eyes in stern, disapproving shadows. It might have been her imagination, but at the sight of tears glistening in her eyes, some of that severity in his face seemed to abruptly falter."I want to talk to you about this morning," she said, forcing her voice out. "About what happened. I...I didn't mean..."

"Don't worry about it." He drew his arm away.

"But you're upset," she protested. "I just want to explain. Please, Rene."

He looked at her for a moment, his face unreadable. "What's to explain, pischouette?" he asked at length. "It's happened before.

Plenty of times. I'm used to people staring at my leg."

Tessa blinked in surprise. "What?"

"And while I don't normally keel over in the bathtub like that, it doesn't mean I'm not used to people gawking," he continued, his voice growing sharper, his brows narrowing again. "I mean, after all, it does come with the territory and all-good ol' Rene, half a man, the poor cripple gimping around on his Tin Man leg, no?"

What? Tessa thought, so caught off guard, for a moment, she couldn't speak. "What are you talking about?" she managed finally.

"The Tin Man-you know, from The Wizard of Oz," Rene told her dryly, leaning over to rap his knuckles demonstratively against the t.i.tanium shaft of his prosthetic calf. "What? Is that too far before your time, pischouette? You don't have TNT on your cable channels out there in Kentucky?"

He hadn't realized after all. He has no idea, she thought.

"I don't care about your leg, Rene," she said with a frown, feeling her own anger stoking slightly at the confrontational edge to his voice. When he uttered a mean little bark of laughter, her frown deepened. "I don't give a s.h.i.t about that, Rene."

"Ah, vraiment?" he asked, arching his brow. Oh, really? "Then what were you gawking at this morning, pischouette? Cause if it wasn't my stump, your eyes were sure bugging halfway out of your skull over something."

He has no idea, she thought again, and in that moment, she clammed up, pressing her lips together, too ashamed to admit the truth: I was looking at your blood, Rene. I wanted to feed from you.

When she said nothing, his brow raised all the more. "Voila," he said and he pivoted, opening the car door and swinging his leg around.

She watched him get out of the car and slam the door behind him, sending another shudder through the Audi's sleek frame. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek; she rubbed at it with her fingertips. How could things have gone from so wonderful last night-like something out of a dream-to this, like something out of a nightmare?

She got out of the car and stood beside it for a long, uncertain moment, watching as he pumped gas and deliberately kept his eyes turned away from her. The longer he ignored her, the more incensed and hurt she became. Why would he think his leg matters to me? Didn't last night prove anything? Didn't it mean anything to him?

And then it hit her with all of the shocking force of a slap in the face.

It didn't. It didn't mean anything at all to him.

Rene cut her a glance over the Audi's roof. "Get in the car, pischouette."

No different than anything he's ever done with his hookers, she thought. That's how he sees last night. That's how he sees me-no different than one of his hookers.

Another tear fell and again, she swatted it away. "You know something, Rene?" she said, trembling with sudden outrage, pain and shame. "You really are the Tin Man, but it doesn't have a G.o.dd.a.m.n thing to do with your leg. Neither one of you has a heart."

She turned and marched toward the convenience store entrance. Her tears spilled out along the way, despite her struggle to contain them. She rubbed her cheeks furiously with her hands as she stepped inside the shockingly cold, air-conditioned store.

"You okay, honey?" the woman behind the counter asked, even though Tessa knew it was pretty d.a.m.n apparent that, for the moment at least, she was anything but okay.

"Yes." She sniffled, dragging her finger beneath her nose and struggling to compose herself. "I'm fine, thank you." She grabbed a Snickers from a nearby candy rack and pushed it toward the register. She hadn't swallowed two bites of her oatmeal, and her stomach was grumbling. If ever she'd needed a chocolate fix, it was now. "Just this please."

The cashier rang up the candy bar and waited while Tessa dug through her purse for spare change. "Where are your restrooms?"

Tessa asked, dolling out quarters and nickels.

"Outside and around the corner to your left," the woman replied, reaching beneath the counter. "Here. You'll need the key."

The bathroom was a tiny, dingy room on the far end of the building, away from the gas pumps. Lit by a solitary fluorescent fixture that buzzed and flickered overhead, it sported cracked, gray linoleum floors, a beat-up toilet with hard-water stains, a sink with a perpetual, steady drip and a wall-mounted machine that offered latex prophylaxes in a wide variety of neon colors and tropical fruit flavors. Tessa didn't want to touch anything, but plucked a slip of toilet paper from a roll on the back of the commode and stood in the middle of the room to dab at her eyes.

d.a.m.n you, Rene Morin, she thought, blowing her nose. You absolute a.s.shole.

Of course Brandon and Lina had already hit the road. Of course Rene would wait until they were gone to pull something so downright mean-spirited and nasty, leaving her with no other recourse than to spend yet another miserable day trapped in the car with him for unpleasant company.

I can't believe I let him touch me, she thought. I can't believe I thought he cared. I can't believe I thought I cared!

The worst part was, she did care about him, even now. She'd let him touch her because she had wanted him to; she'd wanted him.

She still did.

I love him, she thought. G.o.dd.a.m.n him.

After a few moments, Tessa tossed the wadded up paper into an overflowing trash can and left the bathroom. She paused, squinting against the bright contrast of the sun's glare, after having stood in the relatively dim restroom for so long. She also wiped her hands against the thighs of her cargo pants before pulling the Snickers out of her purse, because it hadn't been dim enough to hide how filthy everything had been.

As she walked toward the front of the building and the gas pumps again, she felt a peculiar, tickling sensation inside of her mind that immediately sent the downy hairs along the nape of her neck rising. It was the same sort of feeling that would come upon her whenever Brandon or Rene drew near-or any other of the Brethren, for that matter. They could sense one another, even at great distances sometimes; the way that she and Brandon could sense the Elders coming after them. This was nothing like sensing the Elders-which felt in Tessa's mind like a heavy, looming shadow threatening to engulf her, swallow her whole. Instead, it felt like someone close by, maybe even standing behind her, and she realized.

Rene. He just stepped out of the men's room.

She turned around, unsure whether or not she meant to chew him a new a.s.s or simply grab hold of him and kiss him, and noticed for the first time, out of her peripheral vision, the streamlined silhouette of a maroon Jaguar sedan parked immediately outside of the restrooms, just beyond a brick wall meant to shelter the doors from view.

That's funny, she thought. That looks like- And then she realized who had stepped out of the men's room behind her, who now stood less than a foot away, his eyes sharp and filled with menace, the corner of his full mouth hooked in an icy smile. The Snickers fell from her hand and she gasped. h.e.l.lo, Tessa, Martin Davenant said inside her mind. I've missed you, darling.

Chapter Thirteen.

"Martin...!"

That was all Tessa had time to breathlessly gulp before Martin's hand clamped against her throat, snapping her windpipe shut.

Practically hoisting her off her feet, he forced her backward in skittering, clumsy tow, opening the door to the women's restroom again and pushing her inside. He shoved her against the far wall hard enough to rattle her brain momentarily. Her purse slipped from her shoulder and fell to the floor, spilling coins, loose peppermints, her cell phone and lipstick across the battered linoleum.

"You b.i.t.c.h," Martin seethed, his face flushed with rage, his brows knitted deeply. "You G.o.dd.a.m.n stupid, sneaky b.i.t.c.h!"

"Please...!" she croaked, pawing desperately at his hand, struggling for air. "Martin...please...!"

"Did you think I wouldn't find you? You stupid f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h, did you really think you could get away from me?"

He raised his hand to slap her and she mewled weakly, holding out her own to try and stay him. "Wait...!" she gasped. "Martin, please...! The baby...!"

He hesitated, and the palm against her throat pulled away, leaving her knees to buckle. She collapsed to the bathroom floor, clutching her neck, gagging for breath. "Please...please don't hurt my baby..." she wheezed.

Pain ripped through her scalp as Martin closed his fist in her hair, wrenching her head back and forcing her to look up at him. "It's not your G.o.dd.a.m.n baby-it's mine," he snapped, and now he did slap her, striking her hard enough to whip her head sideways, bouncing against the dingy cinderblock wall. "It's my baby, you stupid f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h, and you'd better f.u.c.king believe me-once it's born, you'll never see it again. You'll never see the G.o.dd.a.m.n light of day again for this, you lousy f.u.c.king wh.o.r.e."

He jerked her by the hair again and she cried out. "I know you took my money," he seethed, leaning over to speak against her ear, his breath hot, his spittle spraying her face. "I want it back. My ledger, too. Where is it?"

She'd taken both from his secret cache in the library when she'd fled Kentucky. A ledger had been tucked inside the manila envelope along with the thick bundle of cash, and it wasn't until some time later that she'd curiously peeked inside, discovering what appeared to be thick stacks of invoices and bank records for a company called Broughman and a.s.sociates, of which she'd never heard. As she thumbed through them, puzzled, she realized the Brethren's distillery, Bloodhorse, had paid in excess of three million dollars to the company over the last ten years.

How did Martin get all of this? she'd wondered. Martin worked in the accounts payable department for Bloodhorse Distillery, but beyond that scope, his interaction with humans was strictly prohibited. So why would he have all of these financial records for this company?

"I said where is my G.o.dd.a.m.n ledger?" Martin demanded, smacking her in the face again, this time hard enough to b.l.o.o.d.y her nose.

"My purse," she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I...I put it in my purse...please don't...!"

"Shut up." He shoved her away from him, knocking her head into the wall again, leaving her crumpled on the floor. He turned and stooped again, s.n.a.t.c.hing her fallen purse in hand, then turned it upside down, spilling the rest of its contents. When the manila envelope plopped to the floor, he grabbed it, tossing the purse aside. She watched him through a bleary haze of frightened tears as he opened the envelope and pulled out the ledger, the money that remained.

"You spent some of it." He glared at her, his eyes so filled with murderous rage, she cowered. "It's coming out of your hide, Tessa.

So help me Christ, it is."

"Please don't hurt me," she pleaded, trembling. "Please, Martin...the baby...!" "The baby?" He snorted, closing the distance between them in one broad stride. Again, his fingers closed in her hair and again, she cried out as he jerked her, stumbling, to her feet. "The only reason you're still drawing breath at the moment is because of that baby. Do you understand? The only G.o.dd.a.m.n reason."

She nodded, pressing her lips together to stifle a terrified whimper. She could have called mentally to Rene for help, but kept her mind shut tightly. Obviously Martin had followed her, but she didn't know if he knew about Rene-and even if he did, she was willing to bet that he didn't realize Rene was like them, of Brethren descent. She hadn't, either, the first time she'd met him; she'd been able to sense him, as she'd sensed Martin outside, but she'd dismissed it as having only been aware of Brandon. Martin probably thinks he's just sensing me. He doesn't know yet who Rene is-what he is. If he did, he'd kill him.

Please stay where you are, Rene, just stay outside, she thought. Please, G.o.d, don't go trying to prove you're not really an a.s.shole and come knocking on this door to apologize.

"What are you going to do?" she whispered to Martin as he let go of her hair.

He arched his brow. "Do? I'm going to drag your sorry a.s.s back to Kentucky, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to tie you to the G.o.dd.a.m.n bedposts until that baby's born and after that, I'm going to wear out your sorry G.o.dd.a.m.n hide."

Oh, G.o.d! Tessa's mind raced as she struggled to think of some way out of this, some desperate hope of escape. She couldn't let Martin return her to Kentucky; she couldn't leave Brandon alone to face the Elders. And I can't leave Rene.

"Wait," she said. "Martin, please...listen to me."

His hand clapped roughly against her throat once again, and he pushed her back against the wall. "And why would I want to do that, Tessa? You stole my car, my money, my baby, for Christ's sake. What makes you think I want to listen to anything that might come out of your lying, thieving G.o.dd.a.m.n mouth?"

"I did it for you!" she gasped. "Please, Martin...I was trying to find Brandon for you!"

"Oh, give me a f.u.c.king break," Martin said with a laugh. "You were trying to find your pansy-a.s.s, deaf-and-dumb brother so you could protect him somehow. You wanted to escape right along with him!"

"No!" She shook her head, clutching at his hand, trying to pry his fingers away from her windpipe. In that moment, with tiny pinpoints of light dancing in her line of sight as she strained for air, she decided to take a desperate chance. "I...I followed Caine and Emily to find him. Caine wanted to bring him back, impress the Grandfather, but I was going to bring him back for you! Caine told me he and Emily were going to leave the farm, so I followed them. I was going to bring Brandon back, let you deliver him to the Elders."

Martin didn't say anything, but he removed his hand, leaving her to choke and wheeze again.

"I just...I wanted to please you," she said. "I wanted you to think of me...like you think of Monica. I wanted you to be pleased with me like that." She looked up at him, shuddering. "I know where he is-where Brandon is going. Please, I was following him and I can take you there. He won't run from me. He trusts me. Think of how pleased the Elders would be-the whole Brethren council. I can show you where he is. I can take you there, Martin."