I glanced at him in surprise. “You don’t have to read it if you feel weird about reading your friend’s thoughts about you. At least, I assume that’s what he’s talking about in here. Did he meet you when you guys were both chasing reapers?”
“Yes,” he said, but it was an afterthought. He stared down at the journal with a wooden expression for a moment; then slowly that melted into abstracted horror.
“What’s it say?” I asked, peering over his arm at the text. “I don’t read Latin. Is it something gruesome?”
Emotions swamped me, thick and hot, a sudden explosion that told me he’d been trying to keep them under control, anger chasing fear, followed by a deep, dark fury that had his fingers clenching around the book.
“Kristoff? What’s the matter?” I asked, my skin crawling as the horrible emotions roiled around inside him. “Dear God, what does it say?”
“He was there,” he managed to say, his accent more pronounced.
“Who was where? Alec? Where was he?”
He slammed closed the journal, unmindful of its age and delicate state. I flinched as his knuckles turned white, trying to make sense of the emotions that burst from him like lava, burning and searing everything in their path as they spilled out. “He was there at the beginning. At my beginning.”
“At your birth? Is he an old friend of your family?” I asked, remembering that he had said Alec was something around eighty years older than Kristoff.
“No.” His jaw worked for a few seconds.
“Then what . . . ?”
His eyes met mine, and I had to keep myself from flinching, so deadly were they. They were pale as an iceberg against snow, and the depth of the fury in them stripped the breath from my lungs. “He was there at my rebirth.”
“Oh.” Enlightenment dawned. “He was there when the vampire had you turned into one, too? He must have known him, then.”
“He knew him.” Kristoff’s face twisted into an agonized sneer for a moment. “He knew him because he was him. Alec is the one who turned me, Pia. My old friend.”
The last word was spit out with a venom that left me staring in horror. “Alec? You can’t be serious-”
He leaped to his feet, snarling under his breath as he glared at the journal for a moment before shoving it at me. “Put that damned thing away.”
Hurriedly, I shoved it in my purse, following him as he stalked off, heedless of the sunlight and what it would do to him if it caught him full in the face. “Kristoff, wait a minute! What about Magda and Raymond? Boo!”
He didn’t stop; he just ran across the road, almost getting himself run down in the process. I waved an apology at the irate driver who was cursing him out as I dashed after him, confused, worried, and very, very angry at Alec.
That bastard had known what he was doing when he told me to have Kristoff translate the journal. He had to know what effect it would have. I made a few mental promises about introducing Alec to the wrath of a pissed-off Beloved as I followed Kristoff into a small, square building that sat behind the Brotherhood headquarters.
It was evidently some sort of a warehouse for paper products, huge pallets of plastic-wrapped bales of paper peppered around the nearly empty building. I trotted after Kristoff, whose long legs were making mincemeat of the distance, finally catching his hand. He didn’t brush me off, but neither did his fingers stroke mine as they normally did.
“Where is he?” Kristoff bellowed, his voice echoing in a grotesque parody of his normally velvety smooth tones.
Andreas and Rowan were squatting, peering down at a square hole in the floor, a grate lying between them. It was obviously some sort of a plumbing or electrical access point to the guts of the building. They both glanced up in surprise as the last of the echo died away.
“I told you that we’d let you know once we were sure the way in is safe,” Andreas said, getting to his feet. “Alec was just going to check that it was clear before we started.”
“Alec is doing nothing of the kind,” Kristoff said, his voice a snarl.
Rowan pursed his lips for a moment, glancing at the two brothers. “What’s happened?”
“Alec gave me his reaper journal to read. Kristoff says that it proves that Alec is the one who made him into a vampire,” I said quickly, tugging on Kristoff’s hand. Hello, remember me? I’m the woman who saved your soul. Stop thinking about decapitating Alec. Maybe there is a reason he did what he did.
There is a reason, he answered, and for a moment a bleak despair filled him. He quickly pushed me out of his mind.
Both men stared at me as if I had turned into a particularly unbelievable form of kumquat.
“Alec did?” Rowan said at last, shaking his head. “You must have read it wrong. Let me see the journal.”
I started to open my purse, but Kristoff grabbed my hand. “No,” he snapped. “I did not misread it. Alec was there. He was responsible.”
“Even if he was, there’s nothing you can do about it now,” I said with what I thought was a whole lot of reason. “Yes, it was nasty, and yes, you have the right to have some issues with him about it, but it really has no bearing on things now, does it? What’s past is past. It’s not like it’s going to harm us in any way. Besides, we have bigger fish to fry.”
The two men looked at Kristoff, neither of them saying anything while he struggled with his emotions.
Boo, I know it hurts. I know you feel betrayed. But really, this is not the time to be pissed at him. We need a solid force if we’re going to tackle Frederic. Besides. I nudged his hand. Maybe this was his way of atoning for the whole thing.
Kristoff’s gaze, which had been focused on the black hole before us, swiveled to meet mine. His eyes were still far too light for my happiness. “He is not atoning, Beloved. He is attacking. And I will not allow him to win. Too much is at stake.”
He jumped down into the hole without another word.
“Well, so much for reason.” I crouched down at the edge of the hole, grateful I’d chosen jeans to wear for the day’s activities. I glanced up at the two men standing with identical surprised expressions on their faces. “Magda and Raymond are still at the café. Could one of you get them? It looks like Attack Plan Alpha is kicking into high gear a little early.”
I didn’t wait for their response, just swung my legs over the side and jumped, praying I wouldn’t break a leg in the process.
Luckily, the drop was only a few feet down, the subterranean area obviously used by maintenance personnel. Dim yellow lights hung from the walls, buzzing dully in the closed, sour-smelling area. Kristoff was doubled over in the confined space, about thirty yards ahead of me, heading in the direction of the Brotherhood building.
By the time he stopped and I caught up to him, sweat was beading on my forehead, and I had a painful stitch in my side.
“Kristoff, we need to talk.”
“No, we don’t. Do not try to stop me, Beloved. You have no idea what this means.”
“Like hell I don’t.” I gasped, following him up a row of metal rungs that were embedded into a cement wall. To my intense relief, the ladder led up through another hole in the floor. I hoisted myself up, almost blind in the darkness, but I could tell from the vague black outlines visible by a faint strip of light that we must be in some sort of a storeroom.
Kristoff grabbed me under the arms, pulling me to my feet.
“Are we in the Brotherhood building?” I asked in a whisper.
He nodded. “Stay here while I look for reapers.”
“Oh, no. Where goes my Dark One, so goes his Beloved,” I said, grabbing on to the back of his jacket. “That’s my new motto, anyway.”
A noise behind me heralded the arrival of Andreas. His silhouette moved against the bulky shadows as he climbed out of the hole. “Rowan went to get the others. What do you think Alec is doing?”
“Just what he said he’d do,” I said before Kristoff could answer. “He had no reason to do otherwise. The business in the journal is personal, and doesn’t have anything to do with the mole you’re trying to catch.”