As he did, his shirt collar moved a little, and I saw red bite marks on his neck, over his jugular.
Just like before, when he was little. When he hadn't had a choice.
I took an involuntary step forward, eyes fixed on the bite. "Jason," I said. "Jase. Who did that to you?"
He twitched the collar of his shirt back into place and kept working without a reply.
"Jason!"
"Why the hell do you care?" he asked sullenly, and pressed a cartridge closed. "Thought you were all into the recreational biting now. You want to hear all about my sex life? Kinky, sis."
"You're letting someone bite you," I said. "God, Jase, why would you do that?" Because I knew what he'd been through in his childhood. My parents had known and hadn't stopped it-hadn't even tried.
I had, once. Just once. But I was scared out of my mind, and I failed him. And I still, always, owed him for that.
"I'm not stupid." He glanced up then, and the shine of his eyes was bitter-bright. "I'm not going to be on the wrong side of the fang for long," he said. "And when I'm one of them, you better believe that I'm going to be taking my fair share. Money, sex, blood. Whatever I want."
Jason and Shane were two sides of the same coin. Both had come from abuse, both had felt vulnerable and frightened and alone, abandoned by everybody who was supposed to protect and care for them. But Shane had come out of it forged into something strong, something that wanted to fight to protect others.
My brother was just a carbon copy of his own abuser, ready to pay his pain forward. And I couldn't stop him, couldn't help him. Couldn't do anything except what I'd done for him my whole life.
Walk away.
"Who is it?" I asked him. "Who's biting you?"
"Why?"
"Because I want to know."
"She's really pretty," he said. "Blond. I think you already know her. I've seen her with you."
Not Amelie, obviously; the whole idea she'd stoop to this was ... just no. "What's her name?"
He bared his teeth. "Why should I tell you? What are you going to do, report it? That'd be a first for you."
"Jason, you never wanted to be a vampire. Neither of us did."
"Why not? You think I'm not worthy or something?"
Worthy didn't enter into it. The idea of my brother on a permanent vampire power trip was a really bad one. I felt sick, and anxious, and afraid; whoever was biting him had to be feeding him a line of bullshit. The vamps didn't like to turn new recruits. It was some kind of a risk to them, and a burden. Michael had been the first one turned in a very long time, though there had been some complications to that. Nobody had been made a vampire since.
Why Jason, of all people?
"I know you don't believe this," I said, "but I do care about you. I always have. You scare the shit out of me, but I think deep down you know this is wrong. You still want to be ... better. I know you can do it, I've seen it. You helped people. You even saved our lives. Why do you want to-to become this?" Not a vampire, but something worse.
Something truly without a soul.
He stared at me for a long second, then picked up the shotgun he'd laid aside and began slotting cartridges in with solid, even thunks. "Because it doesn't hurt as much," he said, and racked the shotgun with one hand. "Time to go, sis. Reunion's over."
He meant it, and I was acutely aware of what that shotgun he held could do to me, to fragile human flesh and bone. I didn't think he'd do it, but I didn't know. I didn't really know him at all anymore.
"Who is she?" I whispered. "God, just tell me."
I didn't think he would. Maybe he didn't think he would, either. But finally, as I was leaving, he said, "Naomi."
I forced myself to keep going.
But walking out of that room, leaving my vampire-to-be brother making weapons of vampire mass destruction, made me feel sick and helpless and-worst of all-guilty.
Again.
I found that blond vamp-bitch talking to Oliver, in his office. And it was on.
They both heard me coming, of course, and whatever serious conversation was under way was cut off before I heard a word; I didn't care, at all, because bloodsucking politics was the least of my concerns or interests at the moment. Oliver had guards, and one of them stepped into my path. He was big.
I didn't care.
"You!" I yelled, and pointed around him at Naomi. "Blondie. Get your room-temperature ass out here!"
"Well," Oliver said, "this is an interesting development. By all means, Naomi. Go. I assure you, we're quite done with our conversation."
She glared at him. I was used to seeing the nice, mannered Naomi, the one who seemed so sweet and buttery-soft; this one looked almost dangerous. "You're a fool," she told him. "We're far from done. You can pretend to the throne all you like, but you're nothing but a usurper, and always were even in your breathing days. You're no king."
"And I assure you, I know your origins as well. Amelie was generous with you, and kind, but rest assured that I will not be so well mannered." He smiled the thinnest smile I've ever seen, and maybe the most dangerous. "Come near her again and I will end you. See to your noisy little ... guest."
The guard stared down at me impassively as he held me off; he must have been almost seven feet tall, and his shirt was big enough to make three dresses, and not cocktail-length, either: formal wear. I tried to give him my war face. "Better step off, Tiny," I told him. "Me and the princess have business."
"Do we?" Naomi laid a gentle hand on his arm, and Tiny moved for her. She gave him an absent smile and took his place in front of me as Oliver slammed his office door behind her. She winced a little at the noise. "Oliver might have been nobly born, but he has the manners of a pig farmer."
I didn't waste any time. She was turning on the charm, and I couldn't afford to let her defuse the ticking bomb of anger inside me. "It's about Jason-"
The kind glow in her eyes died instantly and turned into something about as warm as an iceberg. Her hand flashed out and fastened around my arm in an unbreakable grip, and she turned to Tiny with a sudden, brilliant smile. "There's no need to disturb others with this nonsense. I'll take her to my quarters."
"Ma'am," he said.
"Hey! Not agreeing!" I tried to pull free, but of course that didn't do any good at all. "Let go, bitch!"
"I stand corrected," she said smoothly, with another apologetic look at Tiny. "Oliver's hardly the only one with the manners of peasants. You should respect your betters." I tried to drag my feet, but she pulled me effortlessly down the hallway, opened another unmarked door, and pushed me inside.
Then she locked the door behind herself and leaned against it as she let me go. I backed off, holding my sore arm, watching her with wary intensity. It was really hard to see her as a threat. She had a certain ... delicacy that made her seem vulnerable and breakable.
That probably worked really well for her.
"You're biting my brother," I said. "And he says you're going to turn him vamp. Are you?"
She said nothing. It was as if I hadn't spoken at all. She swept a gaze over me, head to toe, then back up again. "Of all the clothing you could have chosen." She sighed. "Why is everything you wear either cast off by some ridiculous mummers' show, or filled with sharp edges? You could be attractive, in your way. It pains me to see Michael wasting his potential on you."
"Hey!" I'd expected a lot of comebacks, but not ... fashion critique. "Excuse me, Project Runway, but I asked you a question! Are you biting my brother?"
"Jason," Naomi said thoughtfully, as if she was running the name over in her mind. That could take a while. She was about a gajillion years old. She walked away from the door and over to a beautiful old sofa, something in bone white wood and pale silk that matched the rest of the antiques in the room. The whole place looked like it had been ripped out of some French palace before the guillotine had gotten started-and so did she. I could actually imagine her with those high powdered wigs and giant sideways skirts from the movies. "Jason-ah, the felon." She shrugged and settled herself on the sofa, gracefully, of course. "He's of no concern to you."
"Did you hear the part where he's my brother?"
"According to Jason, you've rarely acted the part of family," she said, and shook her head a little, sadly. "Abandoning him in his hour of need. Turning your back. Hardly the actions of a devoted older sister."