Gaslight (Crossbreed #4)(54)
The world rippled in front of me like tiny waves in the water, and I became a spectator in my own body.
Houdini turned away and disappeared from my line of vision. The pipe squeaked when the faucet turned on in the bathroom, and I heard him collecting all the broken glass before pulling the rest off the wall. He casually strode by with a bloodstained towel in one hand and a trash can in the other. Powerless to break his magic, I watched him leave the door wide open as he left the room. The air smelled different, and I imagined myself running through the door. But my feet remained glued to the floor and my body catatonic.
Moments later, he returned and moved the mattress back to its original spot. He must have run his fingers through his hair, because there was blood smeared through his white locks. His nose had healed, and no more blood soaked through his tank top.
Once Houdini cleaned the room to his satisfaction, he approached me and examined my wrist. The gash on my palm was deep and went all the way to the bone. Blood continually trickled off my fingertips, creating a puddle on the floor.
When his fangs punched out, my heart thumped wildly against my chest—a cry of protest. He pierced his index finger with a fang, a drop of blood pooling from the puncture hole.
Houdini held his finger to my lips, searching my eyes with an indiscernible look on his face. “I can’t read your mind, but just remember that my blood is already inside you. One more drop will hardly matter.”
I couldn’t close my mouth when he pushed his finger between my teeth and fed me the falling drops. His finger swiping my tongue made me reflexively swallow, and the familiar taste made memories of our blood exchange resurface. I’d been so enamored by him back then that all things seemed possible.
“There,” he said, looking down at my healed hand. “You’ve always had good instincts, but there’s no point injuring yourself if it won’t lead to victory. Even without the bracelet, I could pin you.” He stripped out of his tank top and bent down, wiping up the small pool of blood on the floor. “You’re more interesting when you’re alive. Remember that.”
After a final look around, he swaggered out of the room. “You can move now,” he said, closing the door behind him.
My entire body came unglued, and I stumbled forward like a child using its legs for the first time. No wonder I’d always hated the idea of Vampire magic. All the times he’d charmed and controlled me were buried in my subconscious even if I couldn’t remember them.
I turned around and glared at him through the glass divider. “If you’re so fascinated by me, then why did you leave me?”
“Truthfully?” He approached the glass. “I don’t get attached to humans. Once I turn them, they go right into the hands of their new master. I do it right before the exchange so I don’t have to deal with… sentiment.”
I sat down in the wobbly chair, my eyes staring vacantly at his laptop. Houdini hadn’t cared about me enough to search. “But you promised I was going to be a companion—a friend.”
He tossed his bloody tank top into a wastebasket. After wiping down his chest with a towel, he turned the stereo on low and returned to the desk. The singer on the stereo crooned “Your Heart Is As Black As Night,” filling the empty space in my soul. Houdini didn’t have any visible ink on his body.
Following a long sip from his thermos, he calmly seated himself. “Remember our conversation about choices? Sometimes they don’t always go as planned. You vanished that night, Raven. I went to the morgue, but you were gone. What was I to do?”
I laughed mirthlessly. “I didn’t vanish. I was taken.”
“By your Creator, I presume. After I made you, it occurred to me how dangerous it was for you to know your maker, so I scrubbed your memory of my face and our conversations. Faking your death in the human world was necessary, but abandoning you had never been my intention. Don’t you see how wonderful chaos can be? Had you stayed with me, you wouldn’t be half as interesting. You’d be just another Vampire with a sad heart.”
Disheartened, I folded my arms on the table. The truth was far worse than living in blissful ignorance. Even worse was knowing he planned to erase it all again, and yet part of me wondered if that wasn’t for the best.
He pecked a few keys on the laptop. “Someday you’ll look back and appreciate the gift I’ve given you.”
“I’d rather not be psychoanalyzed by a psycho.”
“How much does your partner love you?”
My stomach did a flip-flop, and I quickly averted my eyes after I glanced up and saw him staring right at me.
“That’s a curious pairing,” he remarked. “At first I thought it was just a working relationship, but the necklace suggests otherwise. Do you ever wonder how much you’re worth to him? Let’s find out.”
I sat back. Houdini wasn’t going to scrub my memory and send me home. No, he was going to put me on auction and make Keystone pay. How high was Viktor willing to bid for a scavenger like me who’d only been part of the team a short time? Probably not much.
“I think it’s romantic,” he continued. “Don’t you want to see how much he loves you in dollar signs?”
“Not really, Vamp.”
“The word doesn’t offend me.” Houdini leaned closer to the computer screen and frowned. “That’s interesting,” he murmured. “There’s a second bidder.”