Blood Ties Book Two: Possession. Jennifer Armintrout

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СКАЧАТЬ pulled another chair from the table and motioned to her to sit. “Were there specific words they said? Did they read them from a book?”

      She remained frozen in place, staring blankly at the tabletop. There was a ring from a cup there, and she seemed to have fixated on it. “I don’t remember.”

      He tamped down his impatience. It wouldn’t do to frighten her again, not when she’d begun to communicate like a rational human being. “It wasn’t that long ago. I’m sure if you take a moment, you’ll remember—”

      “I don’t remember!” She spun toward the counter, where a small stack of dirty dishes and utensils waited to be cleaned, and she swept them to the floor. The shock of her action outlasted the clatter it created, and she stood, her face a mask of disbelief as she stared at the broken shards on the tile floor.

      There were two ways he could react, Cyrus realized. He could lash out at her in anger and impatience, destroying any scrap of trust she might have left and any chance he might have to learn more about his dire situation. Conversely, he could ignore her until she was finished with her tantrum, and reserve his feeble strength for more important matters. He chose the latter, as his actions had caught up with him and he hadn’t the stomach nor the energy to do further violence to her.

      “Clean it up,” he said casually as he rose and headed for the bed. He settled in and pulled the blankets over himself, but found it difficult to sleep with the sun from the small, high window illuminating the room and the sound of the Mouse’s pathetic sniffles invading his ears.

      

      As soon as the sun set, Max and I stepped off the private jet and onto the still-warm tarmac.

      “I love this time of year. Not too hot at night, not too cold. If you were ever here in July or January, you’d know what I mean,” Max said, full of vim and vigor as he carried both our bags toward the sprawling, futuristic building that was the airport.

      I hadn’t slept well during the day. My dreams had been full of weird symbols I was sure I’d never figure out, the least of which being a weird trip into the woods bearing a pig under each arm. I was in no mood for Max’s crap. “We’re not here for a pleasure trip. We’re here to figure out what’s happening with Cyrus.”

      Max halted and dropped his duffel bag. “With who?”

      “With Nathan.” I stopped and glared at him. “We don’t have time to monkey around. Let’s go.”

      “You said Cyrus. ‘We’re here to figure out what’s happening with Cyrus’ is exactly what you said.”

      My mouth gaped. Had I really said that? My first sire had certainly been on my mind lately, but I didn’t usually make such obvious slips. “I didn’t say that.”

      “Yes, you did. I barely knew the guy. Why would I be mentally inserting his name into your sentences? Carrie, is something going on you’re not telling me about?” Max picked up the bag and motioned for me to walk.

      Good thing, too, because I was paralyzed with shock at my own stupid mistake. The quadrant in my brain that controls my feet recognized his gesture, and I plodded along beside him. “Not exactly.”

      Max let out a long, low whistle. “Uh-huh. Are you ‘not exactly’ telling me what’s going on, or is something ‘not exactly’ going on?”

      “A little of both.” I stopped again and faced him. “Right before the thing happened to Nathan, he’d confronted me about a dream I’d had. Apparently, I’d said Cyrus’s name.”

      “Nathan was watching you sleep again?” Another whistle. “That’s not good.”

      “I knew something was up, but I couldn’t have predicted this.” We started walking once more, in silence. After a few steps, I remembered my dream on the plane and the embarrassing consequences of it. “There’s something else, too.”

      “Shoot.”

      “When we were on the plane, I dreamed about him.” I looked at my feet so I wouldn’t have to see Max’s face. “When I kissed you.”

      “Well, that’s understandable. He’s your sire and all.” A few more steps, and Max realized what I’d meant. “Wait, you thought I was Cyrus, not Nathan?”

      “I was dreaming. I can’t control what I do in my dreams.” Did I sound defensive? I needed a hot bath and a long time to recover from the monotonous flight.

      Luckily, Max dropped the subject once we entered the building. The fluorescent tubes and pale yellow paint of the customs area made it seem less than friendly, and the stern faced police with automatic weapons didn’t help much, either. And I couldn’t even claim I’d packed my own luggage. I’d been so tired before we’d left, I’d trusted Max to do it for me.

      “Where did you bring me? Kazakhstan?” I whispered fiercely to Max as a customs agent rifled through my underwear. “And why did you pack so many thongs?”

      Max grinned. “Why do you own so many thongs?”

      Once we were cleared to enter the country proper, Max hurried me out of the airport, to a taxi stand.

      “Private jet, but no armored car with little flags to pick us up?” I grumbled as I slid into the back of the cramped, European-scale car.

      “The Movement doesn’t like to attract unnecessary local attention,” he said in a low voice. He handed the driver a colorful Spanish bill. “Plaza del Major, por favor.”

      Madrid, what I could see of it from the cab windows, was rather unlike my expectations of a Spanish city. There were no terra-cotta tiles on any of the skyscrapers we passed. Billboards for American products mingled with advertisements for Spanish movies. Except for the enormous aloe plants growing in the median of the boulevard and the signs I couldn’t understand, I could have been in Chicago.

      Then we passed the modern part of town. The glossy shops and illuminated theater awnings gave way to the terra-cotta and stucco I’d imagined. The streets were less smooth here. Wrought-iron railings surrounded tiny balconies overflowing with geraniums. Laundry hung to dry on lines stretching from one building to another. I figured we’d taken a shortcut until the cab stopped.

      The street was so narrow we could open only one door to get out. Max had barely pulled our bags from the backseat when the driver sped off, the taxi bouncing merrily on the cobblestones.

      “Are we…Where are we?” I asked, staring up at the sliver of sky between the buildings on either side of us.

      “He couldn’t drive us to the Plaza del Major.” Max pronounced it with a slight lisp, like platha my-or. “It’s a pedestrians-only kinda place.”

      I followed him down a maze of alleys, impressed that he could find his way so easily. For the most part, the streets we walked were empty and dark. Vampire or not, if I’d been alone, I would have turned tail and run back the way the cab had brought us.

      We emerged from one alley to find a more populated street. People enjoyed drinks on sidewalk tables in front of expensive-looking restaurants, and street performers danced and posed for the tourists. At the end of the street loomed a huge, dark wall with an arched doorway. On the other side was the Plaza del Major.

      I’d СКАЧАТЬ