Early on, Erik convinced them any murder he committed was to preserve their obscurity—that his victims in some way threatened their lifestyle—and so his contacts covered his tracks. But ultimately, he had been using those stolen years of life to extend his own . . . so he might live long enough to experience what he’d been seeking since he was treated as an abomination by not only the world, but by his very own mother: unconditional love.
“You’re right,” Thorn answered at last, sympathy tugging at his resolve. “There’s no need to fear mankind. But our own kind? That’s a whole other level of culpability, isn’t it? Our subterranean alliances wouldn’t appreciate the complications such inquiries would present. It goes against our vows to keep our kind hidden. It would pose a threat to the anonymous mass feedings made possible by your club. The club they poured all their money into, so you could make their lives cushy and comfortable. You wouldn’t wish them to discover the other reason for your grand design. That you had to find a way to absorb extra energy for her.” Thorn shifted his gaze to the cryogenic chamber, fighting that tinge of bitterness again. Why would Erik put everything in danger for her . . . when he already had the unconditional love of a son? “Should our investors feel threatened, they will pull the plug, and she will suffer most of all.”
Erik tucked his hand into a pocket—putting away his Punjab lasso.
Thorn let out an indiscernible sigh of relief.
“Let us be clear.” Erik barely spoke above a hissing whisper. “She’s already suffering. How could you look at her all these years and think otherwise? And it’s not that you led Rune’s friends away. You led her away. Last night was set up to be her final downfall, so she’d be desperate to escape the torment of her conscience. It’s our one chance to trick her into compliance, since somehow she’s overcome her fear of the music itself.” He flashed an accusatory glare at Thorn who turned his gaze to his boots, dulling any emotional reaction so his aura wouldn’t give him away. “But we still have her uncontrolled appetites. That is our ace. Tell me you at least allowed her to feed. And be aware: Your answer determines more than the fate of your animals tonight, my son.”
Thorn paused, pulling his gloves into place and working out the wrinkles in the dark leather. “I let her feed off one of her companions.” Duel emotions wrestled within him each time he remembered watching Rune attack her friend so viciously: one part impressed, the other part sorrowful. “The blond boy. Just enough to taint her relationship with her friends. But I stopped her before she could kill him. She wouldn’t do us any good in prison.”
“Fair point.” Erik stood, hand still rested in his pocket, and dragged his feet over to the glass chamber. Ange fluttered down to stand beside him. He propped his slumped frame against the metal counter, raising one corner of the tarp so he could glimpse inside. “What upsets me is you took her before I could provide guidance and comfort. Before I could get inside her head so that on All Hallows’ Eve, she would beg to make the sacrifice. You’ve made ill-wrought choices over the past few weeks that are coming to light, and I am not pleased. However, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt one final time. You have served me well over the years. You’ve brought her this far when no one else could have.”
Thorn narrowed his eyes. There was a pointed, underlying message within the mock praise that he couldn’t quite grasp. But he didn’t dare push. With the mood Erik was in, he’d risk never getting out tonight.
“Go free your patients,” his father said. “You must be thrilled it’s the last time you’ll have to do it.”
Every muscle tense and alert, Thorn drew up his hood and retrieved the cages. He started toward the tunnel leading to the exit route.
“Thorn . . .”
He stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn around.
“Do you remember my reasoning?” Erik baited, his voice a lyrical, hypnotic menace. “When you were young and I insisted you never keep a beautiful, wild creature caged for your own purposes for too long?”
Thorn tipped his head, weary of the passive badgering. “You said the animal would either lose the ability to function in the world without their keeper, or would turn feral and attack the one who feeds and cares for them, and have to be put down.”
Erik’s ensuing pause felt interminable, his silence louder than the plasma’s crackle. “Yes, my lovely wild-boy,” he said at last. “In hindsight, I realize I’ve kept you caged in darkness for far too many years. Now we face the consequences, and I fear the fates that will befall us both.”
A surge of impending doom raised the hairs along Thorn’s arms. Squinting to suppress the burn behind his eyes, he ducked into the tunnel. He followed the phosphorescent guidelines painted along the walls. His footsteps didn’t slow until the buzzing and popping of that artificial heartbeat faded to the soles of his boots scraping across pebbles on the way to his freedom—however tenuous it was.
19
CLIMBING TO THE STARS
“A poet is a man who puts up a ladder to a star and climbs it while playing a violin.”