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“He’s not a boy. He is a dog. Tell me, Madis. Should I whip you now, or later?”
“It makes no difference. It will change nothing.”
“Perfectly insolent,” Gideon laughed. “Nobody has whipped you in centuries, have they? You’ve forgotten what it is to be disciplined. It is time you were reminded.”
Maddox bristled. “I have no intention of allowing you to strike me, Gideon. You saw what I did to the last people who hit me. That might have been thousands of years ago; however, I assure you my rage has not cooled.”
“It hasn’t, has it.” Gideon cocked his head. “You have held onto that pain for thousands of years. You have allowed it to burn you from the inside out. I am surprised you ever allowed yourself to love again. Actually, I am shocked you still had the capacity for it. What a creature this wolf must be.”
It was almost a compliment.
“Is that what this is about? You made me, Gideon. You gave me your dark life. You made me yours. You loved me. I have loved you in return. Is that not enough?”
“It is not your love I question. It is the inevitable aftermath of that love. He has, at best, seventy years left. Does that mean at the turn of a new century the world will be struck down with the fury of your grief, given your increasing involvement in human affairs, your police and military connections, and how much deeper they will grow in that time? I am not worried whether you love me or not, Maddox. I am afraid that when Will dies, you will end the world for everyone.”
Maddox laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Gideon grabbed Mad by the hair and hauled him close. The genteel act had now been dropped. Two pairs of fangs flashed before Maddox’s nose, and claws rended at his clothing, ripping it from him in harsh tatters. His maker was not trying to hurt him. Gideon was trying to strip him of his disguise.
“This house. These suits. These are trappings of modernity you use to hide yourself. I am sure all these modern people are very impressed with you. You always knew how to play the gentleman. But I was there in the beginning, when you turned your village red with rage. I still see what nobody else can see. You are my progeny. You are the blood of my blood. You fear my destruction because it is the same destruction you carry. You are dangerous. To yourself and to all mankind.”
“You are…” Mad was not allowed to finish his sentence before his maker choked his voice away by slightly clenching his hand.
“You were a good boy for a very long time,” he said. “Longer than most. I waited almost three thousand years for your rebellion, and now it is here I am only surprised it is over a pup.”
“He is not a pup. He is a man I love. He is a character of strength and perseverance.”
“You say you are in love with this dog. But you know what happens to dogs, Maddox. It is the same tragedy that strikes them as that strikes us. They never live as long as we want them to, and they take something from us when they go. If I let you keep him, you will only grow more attached. And with every passing year, you will become more desperate to hold onto him, even as he ages slowly at first and then all at once. You will cling to what he was, and not what he has become, and you will suffer his death for the rest of eternity. Make connections with your own kind, Madis. I told you that at the outset.”
Gideon was truly at his most dangerous when he was at his most compassionate.
“Think on this in your chamber.”
Maddox was being sent to his room. His initial reaction was, of course, horror at the indignity of it all, but it was quickly followed by a flash of realization at how amusing Will would have found this if he was here.
If he was here.
Was he not here, in some way? Being carried in Maddox’s own memories, making his reactions softer and safer?
Maddox left Gideon’s presence, all too happy to get away. He looked ridiculous in the remnants of his suit which remained intact only around his shoulders and below his knees. He needed to change. And he needed to make a plan.
9
“What do you think Maddox is doing right now?” Will asked the question with a sad, hang dog sort of yearning. It was the middle of the day, and he had volunteered to stay with Lorien while Henry went out to gather firewood. Lorien’s misery had not gone unnoticed by Henry, or by Will, for that matter.
Will didn’t often feel sorry for Lorien, but he knew what it was like to have to choose between what was safe and what kept one close to one’s lover. At least, he wished he knew what it was like to choose. Maddox hadn’t actually given him any choice at all. In some ways, that had made it easier for Will. Lorien was suffering out of loyalty and love.
“Trying his best to get you back, I imagine,” Lorien sighed. “He’s obsessed.”
The vampire was sitting beneath a shoddily constructed umbrella made of sticks and leaves. He’d made it himself, saying he wasn’t going to try to burrow underground like a mole anymore. It was safe to say that the woods were testing Henry and Lorien’s relationship. Basically, the vacation from hell for the both of them, as far as Will could tell.
“You know, there’s no reason you couldn’t go back,” Will pointed out. “Gideon isn’t trying to kill you.”
Lorien’s expression brightened for the first time since Will had gotten to the forest. “You know… that’s not wrong.” His face fell again. “But I’d have to leave Henry. And I’m not doing that.”
“Are you going to spend the rest of your life in exile, getting progressively hungrier?”
“Vampires can go weeks and months without feeding if they have to. We might not be as strong as we were, and we might get sleepy…” He yawned. He should have been asleep now, but he was restless and out of sorts. Will was actually starting to worry about Lorien. There was a sallowness to his skin and a hollowness to his eyes. Vampires were eternal, but they were also, well, dead. Lorien was starting to look like the latter.
