Mark of Betrayal (Dark Secrets #3)(128)
Author: A.M. Hudson

He dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around me, lifting me slightly off the ground. “Thank you, Ara.”

“Don’t thank me. Just…make sure you send a postcard every ten years or so. Okay?”

“I will, I promise.” He grinned.

“I love you, Eric. I’ll miss you.”

“You too, Ara.” He swallowed, his throat moving with the size of the lump, then picked up his bag. “I’ll see ya ‘round.”

“Yeah. See ya ‘round.” I nodded, slipping my hands into my back pockets as Eric hopped into the taxi, closed the door and disappeared out of my life.

Mike’s solid form came up beside me.

“Thanks for telling me, Mike.”

“I knew you’d wanna say goodbye.” He looked into the distance and waved.

The manor was dead quiet—all the vampires sleeping. Not a creature was stirring, not even a ghost of the past. I wandered through the open spaces, down lengthy corridors, bare feet over cold ground, carrying a sandwich and a cup of juice. When I reached the stairs, the grandfather clock in the common room down the hall sounded the hour of midnight, and the front door popped open, eyes of surprise meeting mine.

“Ara, what’re you doing out of bed this late?” Jason said, closing the door.

“I could ask you the same thing.” I stepped back off the stairs and wandered over to him. “Are you okay now?”

“Yeah.” He wiped his thumb over his chin, removing a splotch of blood. “Not mine.”

“Whose is it?”

“Dinner.” He shrugged, popping it in his mouth. “I went hunting.”

My lips fell apart with the drop of my jaw, and I stood motionless, looking at my sandwich then at Jason. “Well, I’m not hungry anymore.” I shoved the plate into his chest and dumped the cup in his hand.

“Ara?” he called out.

“Don’t talk to me,” I said.

“Why does it bother you so much for me to kill?”

“I don’t know, Jason.” I spun around to look down at him. “Maybe because I used to be your prey!”

The heartbreak across his face made me feel awful. I didn’t mean to say that, but I guess that’s how I felt. I spun on my heel quickly, running up the stairs to my room, and slammed the door.

By the time clocks all over the manor sent two loud chimes into the air, my guilt had not settled, and only seemed to grow as three, four, five and six chimed, too. The sun came up, shining pink light over my ankles, my legs and my nightdress, where I sat on my settee, repeatedly seeing the look on Jason’s face. He already suffered enough guilt for what he did to me in the past, why did I have to go and make matters worse?

“Hey, Ara.” Quaid stood above me, holding out a sandwich; I didn’t even hear him come in.

“Quaid. Hi.” I sat up a little, taking the plate.

“Jason dropped this off for you.” He sat down on the coffee table in front of me. “He told me what happened.”

I thumbed the bread, checking the filling. “Yeah. I feel awful. I shouldn’t have said that to him.”

“He’s okay, you know.” He grabbed the blanket from behind me and wrapped my shoulders. “He’s not mad at you.”

“I know. It’s not him being mad I was worried about.”

“Hurt?”

I nodded.

“He might be a little hurt. But he knows you—we all know you, Ara. You didn’t really mean that—especially not if you were getting a sandwich at the time.”

I smiled at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re hell grumpy when you’re hungry.”

“Yeah, true, I guess.” I popped a bit of bread into my mouth.

“Hey, where’d you get that?” He nodded at my collarbone.

“This?” I grabbed my locket. “Jason had it. David gave it to me when we were younger.”

He smiled warmly. “My mum had one just like it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I bought it for her thirtieth birthday.”

“Thirtieth? I don’t think I was even crawling when my mum was thirty.”

He laughed. “Mum was pretty young when she had me.”

“Where is she now?”

His eyes wandered away. “She died.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was her time.”

I nodded, breaking off another small corner of my sandwich. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure.”

“How come your name is Shamus? I mean, isn’t that kind of a weird name for a guy who’s…”

“Black?” He laughed, nodding. “Yeah. My mother was Irish.”

I frowned to myself. “Really?”

“No.” He laughed louder. “I uh…I actually changed it when I fled the US a few years ago.”

I nodded. “Yeah, Mike told me you were accused of ‘crimes against your country’.”

“Yeah. I was…am innocent, though.”

I nodded. “I know. Mike wouldn’t have you in the Core if he didn’t believe that.”

“He’s a good guy—Mike,” Quaid said. “I know you two haven’t really seen eye-to-eye lately, but he cares for you.”

“I know,” I said, sitting up a little more. “So, why did you choose Shamus?”

He shrugged. “Who’s gonna come looking for black guy named Shamus?”

I laughed. “True. What was your name before?”

“Kamau.”

“Nice.” I nodded. “Why not change it back then? You’re free here. Nothing to run from.”

He sniffed once, his eyes thoughtful. “Most people call me Quaid now. Not much need to change it, I guess.”

“Okay then.” I smiled. “But, can I call you Kamau—when you’re off duty?”

He nodded. “You most certainly can.”

“Quaid?” Mike said, tapping on the door.

“Yeah, Chief.” Quaid stood to attention.

“At ease.” Mike leaned into the room. “Just checking you hadn’t left your post.”

“Never do, sir.”

I smiled at Quaid then at Mike. “Yeah, wouldn’t wanna waste taxpayers’ money on a guard who’s not doing his unnecessary job.”

“I was just delivering a sandwich, sir.” Quaid’s eyes remained forward.

I stood up and dumped the sandwich on the table where Quaid had been sitting. “Don’t worry about it, Quaid. Mike’s just afraid he might miss out on two seconds’ worth of gossip.”