Wrath was getting desperate. He couldn't get Beth to come around.
And her skin was getting colder by the moment.
He shook her on the bed again. "Beth! Beth! Can you hear me?"
Her hands twitched, but he had a feeling the spasms were involuntary. He put his ear down to her mouth. Air was still coming out, but the intervals were alarmingly long. And the force of the exhale was alarmingly weak.
"Damn it!" He bared his wrist and was about to score himself with his fangs when he realized he wanted to hold her if she was able to drink.
When she was able to drink.
He stripped off his holster, pulled out a dagger, and removed his shirt. He felt around his neck until he found his jugular. Placing the point of his knife against his skin, he cut himself. Blood came out in an obliging rush.
He took his fingertip, got it wet, and brought it to her lips. When he dipped it inside her mouth, her tongue did not respond.
"Beth," he whispered. "Come back to me."
He brought more of his blood to her.
"Damn it, don't you die!" Candles flared in the room. "I love you, damn you! Goddamn you, don't you let go!"
Her skin was turning blue now; even he could see the color change.
Frantic prayers fell from his lips, ancient ones in the old language. Ones he'd assumed he'd forgotten.
She wasn't moving. She was far too still.
The Fade was upon her.
Wrath screamed in fury and grabbed her body. He shook her until her hair tangled. "Beth! I will not let you go! I will come after you before I let you . . ."
A moan came out of him, and he pulled her against him. As he rocked her cold body back and forth, his blind eyes stared at the black wall before him.
Marissa took special care as she got dressed, determined to go down to the first meal of the night looking her best. After reviewing her wardrobe, she chose a long gown made of cream-colored chiffon. She'd purchased it the season before from the Givenchy collection, but had never worn it. The bodice was tighter and a little more revealing than she usually favored, though the Empire waist ensured that the overall effect was entirely modest.
She brushed out her hair, leaving it free to fall over her shoulders. It was so long now, reaching her hips.
The sight of it brought Wrath to mind. He'd once mentioned its softness, so she'd grown it out under the assumption that the more of it there was, the more he'd like it. And the more he'd like her.
Maybe she would cut off the blond waves. Hack them free of her head.
Her anger, which had simmered down, flared again.
Abruptly, Marissa came to a decision. She was through keeping everything inside. It was time to share.
But then she pictured Wrath's towering height. His cold, hard features. That awesome presence of his. Could she really confront him?
She'd never know if she didn't try. And she wasn't about to let him waltz off into whatever future waited for him without speaking her mind.
She glanced at her Tiffany clock. If she didn't show for dinner and then help out in the clinic as she'd promised, Havers would be suspicious. Better to wait until later in the night to go to Wrath. She had sensed he was staying at Darius's. She would go there.
And she would bide her time until he came home.
Some things were worth waiting for.
"Thanks for meeting me, sensei."
"Billy, how are you?" Mr. X put aside the menu he'd been idly looking at. "I was worried when I got your call. And then you didn't make it to class."
As Riddle slid into the booth, he didn't look so hot. His eyes were still black and blue, and exhaustion hung off his face like loose skin.
"Someone's after me, sensei." Billy crossed his arms over his chest. There was a pause, as if he wasn't sure how far to go with the story.
"This have something to do with your nose?"
"Maybe. I dunno."
"Well, I'm glad you came to me, son."
Another pause.
"You can trust me, Billy."
Riddle sucked in a breath, as if he were about to dive into a pool. "My dad's in D.C., as usual. So last night I had a few friends over. We were smoking some blunts¡ª"
"You shouldn't do that. Illegal drugs are bad news."
Billy shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with the platinum chain around his neck. "I know."
"Go on."
"So me and my friends were by the pool, and one wants to go hit it with his girlfriend. I tell them they can use the cabana, but when they go over, the door's locked. I go up to get the key from the house, and when I'm walking back, a guy steps in front of me, like from out of nowhere. He was fuck¡ªer, freakin' huge. Long black hair. Dressed in leather¡ª"
The waitress came hopping over. "What can I getcha¡ª"
"Later," Mr. X snapped.
As she disappeared in a huff, he nodded to Billy.
Riddle grabbed Mr. X's glass of water and drank. "Anyway, he scared the hell out of me. He was looking at me like he wanted to have me for lunch. But then my friend calls out, because he's wondering where I am with the key. The man said my name and then just kind of disappeared, right as my friend came up the lawn." Billy shook his head. "Thing is, I don't know how he got over the wall. My dad put one all around the back of the grounds last year because he's been getting terrorist threats or something. It's, like, twelve feet tall. And the house was all locked up in front with the security system on."
Mr. X looked down at Billy's hands. They were gripped tightly together.
"I... ah, I'm kinda scared, sensei."
"You should be."
Riddle looked vaguely nauseated at having his fears confirmed.
"So, Billy. I want to know. You ever kill something?"
Riddle frowned at the abrupt change of subject. "What are you talking about?"
"You know. A bird. Squirrel. Maybe a cat or a dog?"
"No, sensei."
"No?" Mr. X leveled his eyes on Billy's. "I got no time for liars, son."
Billy cleared his throat. "Yeah. Maybe. When I was younger."
"How'd that make you feel?"
A flush crept up Billy's neck. His hands came apart. "Nada. I didn't feel anything."
"Come on, Billy. You've got to trust me."
Billy's eyes flashed. "Okay. Maybe I liked it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Riddle drew out the word.
"Good." Mr. X lifted his hand and caught the waitress's eye. She took her time coming over. "We'll talk about that man later. First, I want you to tell me about your father."
"My dad?"
"You ready to order now?" the waitress said in a snotty tone.
"What do you want, Billy? It's on me."
Riddle recited half the menu.
When the waitress left, Mr. X prompted him. "Your dad?"
Billy shrugged. "I don't see him a lot. But he's... you know... whatever. A dad. I mean, who cares what he's like?"
"Listen, Billy." Mr. X leaned forward. "I know you ran away from home three times before you turned twelve. I know your father sent you to prep school the minute your mom was in the ground. And I know when you got yourself kicked out of Northfield Mount Hermon, he packed you off to Groton, and when you were tossed out of there, he put you in a military academy. It sounds to me like he's been trying to get rid of you for the last decade."
"He's busy."
"And you've been a lot to handle, haven't you?"
"Maybe."
"So would I be right in assuming that you and Daddy Dearest don't have some kind of Leave It to Beaver thing going?" Mr. X waited. "Tell me the truth."
"I hate him," Riddle blurted.
"Why?"
Billy crossed his arms over his chest again. His eyes went cold.
"Why do you hate him, son?"
"Because he breathes."
