Bring Me to Life（Time Walkers 1）(12)

Gregori handed him the clear cellophane-like material. Vincent sat down on the corner of the bed and watched the last three events that led up to Bryna’s death.

With Derrick she’d been caught by a vampire named Draven. He was using the vampire’s power of enthrall to force her into luring Derrick out into the open for the slaughter, but she was able to ignore it because of the vampire mark on her throat. Bryna opened a vein before she’d ever been able to make the call, and a powerful demon had been right there to cart her soul off to Oblivion.

With Caleb it was the same vampire again, only this time Bryna hadn’t been able to end herself before making the call. The vampire anticipated the move and blocked the suicide, but he hadn’t been able to stop her from warning Caleb as he arrived to pull her ass out of hell. The vampire slaughtered her before Caleb had been able to fight off the horde surrounding her, and once again, a powerful demon had been there to take her to Oblivion.

With Gregori, it was the same damn vampire. Draven blocked every attempt Bryna made to keep Gregori alive, to the point the large man was being beaten to a pulp by the horde. Bryna pulsed, taking out enough vampires to give Gregori a chance to have Felix recall him. Gregori was going down fast, and Bryna used the last bit of energy she had to pulse a second time, sending Draven to Oblivion. The powerful demon had been right there to drag her down with Draven.

Two things struck him. One was he recognized Draven as the vampire who had delivered the death blow that killed him. The second was so obvious he knew he’d be sending Felix into Oblivion for not showing him sooner. By like oh, maybe one hundred and ninety years. What he’d believed about Bryna wasn’t only gut-wrenchingly false, but only compounded the suffering she’d endured to the point Vincent wasn’t sure his assumption was forgivable. Ever.

The clear film fell to the floor as he dropped his head into his hands. What was the point of letting him believe she’d betrayed him? He’d talked to Felix about it and the damn bastard only shrugged and told him he needed to figure it out on his own. He’d been young enough and stupid enough to think if she’d really loved him the vampire’s thrall wouldn’t work on her. He’d seen women and men fight past it to save the people they loved. It was one of those things he depended on in his line of work. Only a few times the vampire had been stronger than the victim.

Draven had to be a powerful vampire. There was some way he’d been anticipating her moves and orchestrating his actions to counteract hers.

“The room’s shaking,” Gregori said. His powerful arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall.

Vincent nearly came up off the bed after him. “Don’t push your luck. I need all of you out of here, but stay close. I might need you to defeat this Draven fucker.”

The three brothers all exchanged looks and then shrugged. “Sure,” Caleb said. “Any idea where we can find a little pleasant entertainment?”

Vincent snorted at him. Of course they’d be thinking about recreational sex if he didn’t need them right away, but…Ah, forget it. Let them have their fun. He didn’t need them sticking their noses into him fucking up the best thing that ever happened to him to the point he’d never be able to fix it. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find what you’re looking for in the yellow pages. Just get the fuck out of here while you do it. She’ll be out of the shower soon.”

Gregori’s brows went up, and it looked like he was going to object to being kicked out, thought better of it, and nodded. “You know how to get a hold of us if you need us. Keep her alive this time. She’s too pretty to die.”

Gregori made it out the door before Vincent was able to catch him. He watched them walk off into the rain for a moment before he closed the door and swallowed hard. He turned to stare at the bathroom door like it would somehow make everything magically better.

He took a few seconds to fix his dilapidated clothing. Being dead had its perks, along with a few tricks he’d learned over the years. One was how to get his clothes dry, mended, and his body cleaned without having to go through the process of showering and changing. He’d already abandoned his cloak and weapons on the chair beside the door. His sword was propped up in a corner. He had nothing left to do besides take up pacing the length of the room as he waited for her.

It felt like an eternity before the bathroom door opened. She appeared with damp hair and dry baggy clothes. He was sure those sweat pants were familiar, and he remembered the shirt being the one she’d stolen from his drawer so she’d be able to wear it at home when her Uncle Ron had a week when he wasn’t allowing them to see each other.

The vibrancy of her emerald eyes had faded. Her shoulders were hunched over, and her arms were wrapped protectively around herself.

“Hi,” she mumbled.

He let out a slow breath and met her gaze. “We need to talk. Will you sit down?”

She studied him for a moment before she nodded once and moved to perch on the end of one of the beds in the room. “What are we talking about?”

He crouched down in front of her and reached up and took both of her hands into his. He forced a calm into his voice he wasn’t feeling. “I need to know how you think you killed me.”

Her mouth opened, and then shut before she turned her head with her eyes closed. “The pulse. I couldn’t control it. It killed everything in that clearing but me,” she whispered.

His jaw started a slow ticking. It looked like there was one vampire who’d developed the ability to block it. It didn’t matter. He’d find a way to send that son of a bitch into Oblivion. Right now, he had more important things to deal with.

“Look at me, sunshine.”

She hesitated for a moment before she looked at him.

“A rod iron bar killed me. It’s what caused the scar. The pulse turns what it kills into ash.”

*

Bryna stopped breathing. “I’m sorry.” Her mind went reeling. “But don’t you hate me for killing Vincent?”

He let her go and rubbed at the back of his neck. He sat down on the floor across from her and worked the muscles of his jaw before he looked at her again. “What I saw when I got there”—he looked down and picked at the lint in the carpet before he growled low and his eyes met hers again—“I thought what I was seeing was real.”

Bryna scrambled off the bed and into the bathroom. She crashed down in front of the toilet, dragged her hair away from her face and emptied the meager contents of her stomach. Even when there was nothing left, she heaved and coughed and then heaved again until she was sure her stomach was going to expel itself from her body.

Vincent’s gentle hand stroked down her back as the other one took up the task of holding her hair back. He murmured soft words until she was able to get herself settled down. Then his strong hands were around her waist, helping her up and to the sink so she could brush her teeth before he directed her back into the main part of the room and didn’t let her go until she was settled back on the edge of the bed.

Her body trembled viciously, and she refused to look at him. “I killed you.”

“No,” he said with much anger. “I was killed by a vampire named Draven. He smashed my skull in while another one tormented you.”

She shook her head. No. It was better to believe she’d killed him than to know he’d believed she’d betrayed him. “Wraith—”

“Do not call me that. I am Vincent. The fucking idiot who—”

“Don’t!” she yelled as she hopped back on the bed. “Don’t you dare let me believe anything different than what I think happened. Don’t you dare!”

“You’re killing yourself for a lie!” he roared at her.

She went up on her knees. “But the alternative is that you think I betrayed you! I love you. I’d never do anything to hurt you. I needed you too much!”

“I know,” he said, his voice raw. He crouched down at the end of the bed. “I know. I should have known that all along. A vampire’s thrall would have been too powerful for a fifteen-year-old to beat. I’m sorry. I—”

“Shut up!” she screamed. She scrambled backward until her back was pressed up against the headboard. Her life was one disgusting mess after another since his death. The men, the booze, the drugs, and everything else she’d used to try to destroy herself. Even if she’d gotten the pulse right, he’d have been dead anyway. “You died on me, and you think it’s because I handed you to a vampire!” Her hand slammed down on the night table next to the bed, and she picked up the only thing not nailed down. The alarm clock. She drew it back. Then he was on the bed next to her, confiscating it before she could throw it at him.

“Give that back, you son of a bitch!”

“No,” he said in an infuriatingly calm tone as he tossed it onto the other bed. “You’d hurt yourself later for hitting me with it.”

“How could you think I’d willingly hand you over to a vampire?”

He sat back on his heels in front of her. His shoulders drooped. “Because I am a bastard. That night was so confusing, and I woke up dead from the ordeal.” He was quiet for a moment. “They were all dead? You killed them?”