As she closed in on the manor, she spied movement near the toolshed. She frowned to see Conrad. What was he doing out there?
She blinked for focus. Because it looked like he was holding an ax at the cutting stump. What the devil is he doing? Why would he -
The horrific answer dawned on her; the ax dropped.
Everything began to spin.
The sound of the strike was still echoing as the blood spurted... he staggered silently. Silent, doesn't want to alert me with a yell, doesn't want me to stumble upon him quietly removing his own hand in the dark.
Mère de Dieu. Her energy flared and dimmed. He shoved a towel to the wound. The white cloth was red and dripping with blood in seconds.
Madness... A storm soon boiled overhead. Too much. Just as the rain began to fall, she finally had enough air to scream.
His head jerked up, and his big body lurched. He was gritting his teeth against the pain as they made their way to each other.
"Don't be upset, koeri," he bit out, his eyes rapt on her face. His expression was drawn in agony - but not over his own pain. "It will... regenerate."
She could barely hear him over the roaring in her ears. "But... but... "
"I did this for us."
"Oh, God... " The pain he must be suffering!
His face was wet from the growing storm, his black hair lashed over his cheeks. "Can you... do you think you can help with the other one?"
"Conrad, no!"
"You can do this, Néomi. It will save days... of healing time. Have to get these goddamned things... off me."
"Why?" She began weeping in earnest.
"This is the first step. I made a conscious decision. You're looking at me... like I've gone completely mad again." His voice faltering, he asked, "H-have I?"
"I... that's not why I'm so upset!" Rose petals swirled around her body. Her hair began whipping, yet not in time with the strengthening wind.
"Then why are you looking at me like this?" He narrowed his eyes, realizing her reaction was more than horror. "What is happening to you? To the sky?"
She gazed up at him, her eyes awash in tears. "Conrad, c-come inside so I can tend to you. I have to t-tell you something. D'accord?" Lightning struck close by.
"No. Tell me now." Even after what he'd just done, he got that stubborn look on his face.
"S'il te plait, let me just tend to you - "
"Now, Néomi!"
"I... I'll be back." She unsteadily traced to her studio. It took three tries before she could get hold of the key. When she returned, fear for him sat cold and heavy inside her. "I-I was giving it to you tonight," she whispered, offering the key.
His brows drew together as if he couldn't comprehend what it was. Then his eyes went wild. He threw back his head; his unholy roar of fury echoed in the night.
She gasped, energy funneling out of her.
"What is this? Néomi, what the f**k is this?"
She focused on his face, trying to keep the world from spinning. "J-just let me help you."
"Don't come near me!"
"Conrad, please, listen! I was going to give it - "
"Bullshit! Cease your lies!" he bellowed.
She squeezed her eyes shut, only opening them once she heard the rattle of chains. He flung the manacles to the ground in front of her.
And then she learned what rage truly was.
Can't comprehend... what I've just learned...
Fury threaded through his veins, drowning out the pain. She'd willfully kept him here. Lied about the key. Again and again.
Not her. I didn't want her ever to betray me.
He could hear himself beginning to speak, but didn't register the words, just had this rage he had to unleash before it seared him inside.
As the rain fell harder, the sparks glittering off her grew more intense. With each word, her face paled, her image flickering even more. Her lips parted as if she was horrified, as if she didn't recognize him at all.
He dimly heard her say, "Y-you're going to say something you regret, something you can never take back... ."
And then he must have.
"Oh," she murmured, looking like he'd struck her. Tears spilled from her eyes. Just before she disappeared, she whispered, "Good-bye, vampire."
Somewhere out in the night, he heard her crying harder. An answering roar of pain was ripped from his chest.
24
Free of the chains, Conrad could finally trace. He ignored the throbbing from his injury and returned to his cabin deep in the Estonian marshes.
Inside, he peered around. I'm glad she'll never see this.
It looked exactly like a madman's home would - the product of a disordered mind. Esoteric writing was crudely printed on the walls; belongings lay broken, destroyed in countless rampages. Scattered on the floor were books with the pages stripped and crumpled.
Dark sheets haphazardly covered the windows. Demon skulls hung nailed over the door. His furniture consisted of a threadbare couch, a table with one chair, and a mattress on the floor. The only things organized were his weapons, and there were hundreds of them.
Atop the table were the notes he'd kept on his search for his brothers. With his remaining hand, he flipped through them. Just as this cabin didn't fit Conrad anymore, neither did these writings.
He'd tracked the three all over the world, from Mount Oblak in Russia all the way to Louisiana. But the writings no longer made sense to him whatsoever. Because he was different. All Conrad could discern from the pages was an all-consuming need for revenge.
Even that was extinguished.
He lay back on the mattress, but couldn't sleep for hours. Vivid red streaks had begun slashing up his arm as his hand began to regenerate; the pain was punishing.