Incubus Dreams - Laurell K. Hamilton [212]
“I would not have had you see that.”
“I’ll bet.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “We were young and knew no better. Belle Morte was our God.”
“You bled them to death so you guys could have some marathon sex session,” I said it, and my voice wasn’t horrified, in fact, it sounded empty. Because I could still see the memory, not in livid detail like it had been, but now it was in my head, too. God, I did not need someone else’s nightmares.
“There are many things I have done, ma petite, that I would not have you know. Things I am ashamed of. Things that burn inside of me like bile.”
“It was your memory, remember. I felt what you were feeling. There was no regret.”
“Then I pushed you out too soon.” He didn’t pull me in, he simply stopped pushing me out, and I was back in that room. Back in that bed. I was inside Jean-Claude’s head when he noticed the man on the bed that wasn’t moving. He crawled across the bed and touched the cooling flesh. I felt his sorrow, felt his shame. Had his knowledge that these were humans that trusted us. Humans that we had promised to protect. Give us your blood and your bodies, and we will keep you safe. I looked back at Belle Morte stretched nude and luscious, under Asher’s body. Asher’s body before the human church had scarred him. I watched Asher’s face lift up, meet our eyes, and in the middle of what Belle thought was the most sensuous of nights, the seed was sown that we must escape. That there were things that you did not do, and lines you did not cross, and she was not a god.
And I was back in his office, with my blood drying on my body, and my breast beginning to ache, and I was crying.
He stared at me, dry eyed, and he expected me to run. To turn away, and run. Like I had so many times in the past. Nothing was pretty enough for me, nice enough, clean enough. I didn’t like messy people in my life, and once that had been true, until I woke up one day and realized that I was one of the messy people.
My voice was steady, and didn’t sound like I could have tears drying on my face. “I used to think I knew what was right and what was wrong, and who the good guys are, and who the bad guys are. Then the world got very gray, and I didn’t know anything for a long time.”
He just looked at me, his face closing down, hiding from me, because he was certain where I was going, what I would say.
“There are days, hell weeks, when I still don’t know anything. I’ve been pushed so far outside what I thought was right and wrong, that somedays I don’t know my way back. I’ve done things in the name of justice, in the name of my version of justice, that I wouldn’t want anyone to know. I can look a man in the eyes and kill him, and I feel nothing. Nothing, Jean-Claude, nothing. You didn’t mean to kill, and you felt bad about it.”
“You take life to protect life, ma petite. I have taken lives for pleasure, for the pleasure of she whom I served.” He shook his head and slowly drew his knees into his chest, hugging himself tight. “Did you ever wonder why I did not replace the vampires that you and Edward, and even I later, killed, when we destroyed Nikolaos?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I said. “I know we’re suddenly lousy with vamps when we seemed a little empty before.”
“I called vampires home to me, because I had taken them long ago. But I have not made a new vampire since I became Master of the City. It had kept us dangerously low. If we had truly had another territory’s master declare full war, we would have lost. We simply lacked the manpower.”
“So why not make more?” I asked, because he seemed to want me to ask.
He looked at me, and there was something in his eyes that reminded me of someone else. It was a look of pain and confusion, and centuries of hurt. I’d never seen his eyes so raw, so human. “Because, to make them vampire, I must first take away their mortality, their humanity. Who am I to do that, ma petite? Who am I to decide who will live on, and who will die in their appointed time?”
“Who are you to play, God?”