He froze for a moment, his muscles tense and tight, as if he were going to pounce on it.
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.