“Then why are vampires evil? Most of them,” I corrected.
“It’s the power, the blood lust. It’s very difficult to overcome. Once a vampire crosses a certain line, like taking a life without provocation, it’s almost impossible for them to rid themselves of the evil.”
“How many good vampires are there?”
“Only a handful. Very few choose to live our way.”
“What of Lucien? Do you know him?”
Henry looked past me. “I’ve watched Lucien for a long time, hoping. But he seems to be stuck.”
“What happened to him?”
“He changed history.”
“What do you mean?”
His gaze returned to mine. “It is not my tale to tell.”
“Then do you know why I’m drawn to him?”
“It’s the ancient power within you both.”
“I’ve felt it before with someone else, but it was an evil feeling.”
“Boaz,” he said, surprising me. “All of your lives are connected, including Lucien’s to Boaz’s and even to mine.”
“How is that possible?”
Henry’s jaw tightened. “There is a long history between all of our families. I wish I could say more, but there’s too many unknowns right now. One day I will tell you everything.”
This revelation surprised me, and I leaned back into the cushions.
“I find it interesting that the good in you is drawn to Lucien,” he said. “It gives me hope.”
“Why?”
“If the good in you is drawn to him, then that means there is still good in him, too. The problem is he doesn’t know it.”
“How can I make him see it?”
“I don’t know if you can.” He stopped and tilted his head slightly as if listening to something far away. “I need to go. You’ve come a long way. I’m proud of you.” He pointed to a refrigerator behind me. “There’s food in there if you need it.”
I glanced at it briefly, but when I turned back, Henry was gone.
Chapter 40
It was a long night. What Henry had said about all our lives being connected had kept me awake, so I rose early to search the many books on the shelves, trying to bide the time before I could go downstairs. Most of them were history books, all dedicated to the dark creatures of the world.
I turned down the third aisle of bookshelves and scanned the titles. I stopped when I recognized a symbol that had been burned onto the outer spine of a brown book. It was a picture of the same fighting lions at my grandfather’s house. I removed it from the shelf.
It was a faded leather book, loosely bound; several of the pages were no longer connected. Carved on the front was the Whitmore family crest. Unfortunately, most of the words inside had faded, but from what I could decipher, the book had been a Whitmore journal handed down for generations. The Segurs were mentioned many times, and the passages I could read were always negative. It was true what Boaz had told me: the Whitmores had hated the Segurs.
Only two other names were mentioned: the Bradys and the Archers. None of these names were familiar, and since I was unable to read the full text, I couldn’t determine their connection to my family.
Boaz’s name was mentioned just once. In dark ink, on the last page of the book, a heading read “In Service to Boaz”. Beneath this, several names followed, most of which had been crossed out. The final entry was on January 12, 1889. This must’ve been the time when the Deific came in possession of the book. I closed it and placed it back on the shelf.
By five o’clock the next day, I could wait no longer. I returned to the elevator and, after listening carefully through the wall, slipped into the empty break room. I stuck my head into the office and looked around.
Desks had been pushed back into their rightful positions and the cubicle walls stood upright, only a few missing. The smell of roses was stronger than usual, but not strong enough to cover the smell of smoke from the explosion. A cold breeze swept through the office stirring up several loose papers. The wall the vampires had blasted through must be covered poorly, if at all.
Only a handful of people were working. No doubt Charlie had offered everyone the day off. Those who were working were somber and lifeless. One man, I remembered his name as John, leaned against the wall, staring at nothing as if he was sleeping with his eyes open.
I moved into the room and made my way through the maze of cubicles to Sarah’s desk. She was organizing a file cabinet with her back to me. Every now and then, she would reach up and wipe a tear away with a tissue.
“Sarah?” I asked.
She jumped, turned around, and gasped. Her arms flew around me, nearly knocking me over. “You’re here! We thought they took you!”