The tone of his voice suggests he might be thinking the pilot had been the lucky one. His thoughts are black with despair.
I’m glad you didn’t die, Lance. My life would be empty if you’d died. You have to know that.
He smiles at me, sadly, then looks away. “I was found by a peasant family. I didn’t speak Malagasy and they didn’t speak English. They tended to me the best they could, but I’d suffered a compound leg fracture in the crash and a couple of nasty cuts, one of which nearly took my right ear. Infection set in pretty quickly. I’ll never know why they did what they did next. Maybe they were afraid of what would happen if I was found with them. Maybe they thought they would be blamed for my death. But once it became clear that I wasn’t getting better, they took me to an area known as Tsingy. It’s a park now, but in 1942 it was nothing more than an isolated forest of limestone, mangrove swamps and lakes. They left me there. With water and a few scraps of food.”
Lance is rubbing at his left leg, at a ghostly ache from a long-healed wound. I put my hand on top of his to stop it. “What happened then?”
He shuts his eyes. “I was crazy with fever and delirium. I half crawled, half stumbled for days until I could go no farther. Finally, I just lay down on the ground and waited to die. I had no idea how far I’d gone or how long I’d been alone. The last thing I remembered was staring at a night sky. It was a sliver of a moon and a sky awash with stars. Suddenly, one of those stars became a fireball that moved across the sky. It flew in a rainbow arc with a glittering tail from east to west. A shooting star. Then it stopped. Seemed to hover right over me. I reached out my hand to touch it and a shadow passed between us. A shadow that became a figure, then a face. A shadow that became a man.”
Lance rubs his eyes, draws a sharp breath. “He leaned over me and asked one question. ‘Do you seek death or immortality? ’ Simple question. I had no way of knowing how complicated my answer would prove to be.”
Lance gives me a rueful smile. “I never told anyone the story before. Not even Stephen or the others. We were brothers but we each kept the secret of how we became. Julian never told us that we had to. Somehow, though, we knew it would make him unhappy if we did.”
“What was Underwood doing in a forest in Madagascar?”
He shrugs. “At the time, I was too sick to ask. Later, it didn’t seem important. He saved me. Or so I thought.”
Lance’s mood shifts suddenly. He’s anxious, as if realizing that sharing his story with me might make Julian unhappy, too.
I rub his arm, reassure him with a warm smile. “He won’t know that you told me. What happened after he found you in Madagascar?”
But he’s not reassured by my touch or smile. He frowns, begins once again to twist the cup in his hand, his thoughts turbulent and disjointed. He’s frantic with worry that he’s done something wrong, that Underwood will know, that he’s put me in danger.
“Lance.” I take him by the shoulders. “Julian won’t hurt you anymore. He won’t hurt me.”
His eyes are wild. “He’s too strong. He knows things. He knows about you. What you are. He thought I was bringing you to him last night. Delivering you to him. It’s why he got so angry. He realized what I felt for you. It’s why—”
His voice breaks off. A sob catches in his throat. He is shaking and afraid, and I don’t know what to do. I’ve never been exposed to anything like this before. Even Avery, the vampire who made my life a living hell in the weeks after I was turned, wasn’t able to exert this much control. He used the subtle power of seduction and then it only worked when we were together. Underwood is wielding his control like a sledgehammer and seems to be able to reach across time and space.
I realize I have only one way to fight it. Get Lance out of here. Sort through what I’ve learned and come up with a plan to break Underwood’s hold. My first impulse to kill him may be a good start. But Lance is in bad emotional shape. The most important thing now is taking care of him.
“Let’s go back to San Diego.”
Lance shakes his head. “It won’t do any good. He wants you. He won’t stop and he won’t give up. He needs you. It’s so close now. The prophecy will be fulfilled and you’re the one who will make it happen.”
Lance’s words come at me like stones launched from a slingshot. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about? When I make what happen? You’re not making sense.”
This time, when Lance looks at me, the cloud has lifted from his face, his eyes are clear. “You are the one.”
Oh god. I shut my eyes. Not Lance, too. I’ve lived the last year being regaled by those in the vampire community who think of me as some sort of uber-vamp. It’s why Avery focused his attention on me and Williams won’t leave me alone. I hate it. Until now, Lance was the one vampire who never pressured me to pursue the ridiculous claim.
Until now.
Lance grabs my shoulders, eyes boring into mine. “Underwood knows, Anna. It’s the reason he sent me to you.”
“He sent you to me?” I shake my head. “No, Culebra sent you to me. I remember. It was at that bar, Glory’s. You said Culebra sent you.”
Something flashes behind Lance’s eyes—shame, sorrow, remorse.
And the lie.
He looks away. It wasn’t Culebra. It was Julian. Him and Warren Williams.
CHAPTER 15
No. It can’t be true.
I jump up, away from Lance, not wanting to look at him, not trusting myself to be close.
I feel everything he’s feeling. A hurricane of conflicting emotions.
It doesn’t matter.
Because mingled with the regret, the fear, the love, is everything he’s hidden from me.
The lie that it had been Culebra who sent him to me as a distraction all those months ago. That Underwood and Williams were working together. They wanted someone to get close to me. Someone supernatural. Someone who could be controlled. Someone I would be attracted to.
They sent me Lance.
Bile burns the back of my throat. I clutch my stomach to keep from gagging.
How could I have been so naive? I think back to conversations I had with Culebra about Lance—I never once broached the subject of how he knew Lance. I never thought to ask. I didn’t care. I was gullible and accepted Lance as eagerly as a bitch offered a pork chop.
Oh, and how that fucker Williams played me. He made fun of my relationship with Lance. Made me defend it. Knew if he mocked it, I’d most likely stay with Lance.
And I did.
God.
I want to howl with rage.
How could I have been so stupid?
I have to get out of here.
Where are my car keys?
I dart frantically around the room. My head and stomach—my blood—is on fire. I sweep things off the nightstand, Lance’s mug, a book, a lamp. The sound of breaking pottery doesn’t quell the thirst for vengeance. I grab a chest at the end of the bed. Push it with so much force it slams into the wall.