I looked at her. “He did say there was another way to get the cure. I’m not going to do it, but there is another way.”
“Did he want you to sleep with him?”
I made a sickened face. “God, no. Ew. You should have seen him. Not the cream of anybody’s crop. No. He wanted to know where to find Thierry. Said he’d be able to sell the info to the hunters for big bucks. That he’d be some kind of a trophy kill because he’s so old and legendary and shit.”
“You’re kidding.” Zelda’s eyes were so wide I probably could have seen my reflection in them if I still had one. “And what did you say to that?”
“I played dumb, of course. Wasn’t hard.”
“And Quinn?”
“Same deal. He didn’t say anything. But then the guy said something about how Thierry was responsible for Quinn’s mother’s death. It was terrible.”
“He said that? What did Quinn do then?”
“I think he had a small stroke. But he still didn’t say anything. I think he was in too much shock. But all bets are off now. I don’t know what to do, Zelda. Tell me what I should do. Should I tell Thierry that this guy is spreading lies about him?”
She was quiet for a moment. “Why do you think it’s a lie?”
I blinked at her. “Because it has to be. Thierry’s not a murderer. He couldn’t have done it; there’s no way.”
She didn’t say anything to confirm that I was 100 percent correct. In fact, she wouldn’t even meet my eyes anymore.
“Zelda.” I felt panic rising in my chest. “Talk to me.”
“Thierry’s always been kind to me,” she said. “I told you he helped me out when I was a fledgling, right?”
I nodded.
“Not that he shared any of his blood with me”—she eyed me for a moment—“but I owe him, okay? He’s been good to me, and I’ve always felt a sense of obligation to look out for him and not do anything to cause him pain directly. I don’t want to say anything that’ll make things worse than they already are.”
“Things couldn’t possibly get any worse than they are.” My voice had turned shrill.
“Please, Zelda, tell me what you’re thinking about.”
She shrugged a little and shifted around in her seat. “Don’t you ever wonder why there are vampire hunters at all?”
“Just to make life interesting?”
She shook her head. “They all do what they do because, for the most part, they honestly think they’re doing the right thing. That they’re the good guys and we’re the evil hell spawn.”
“But they’re wrong. We’re not evil.”
She paused. “It hasn’t exactly always been that way.”
“Okay, Zelda, stop beating around the bush. Tell me what you’re trying to say.”
Her face was grim. She didn’t want to tell me whatever was on her mind. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to hear it, but there was no going back now.
“First of all,” she said, “try to remember that things haven’t always been as easy as they are now.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Look around. You’re in a vampire bar. For a few bucks you can get all the blood you need, with or without alcohol. We can live normal lives, interact with regular people, hold so-called normal jobs if we need to. Nobody has to know what we really are, unless we tell them.”
I clenched my fist. I wasn’t going to hit her, but it helped ease my stress a bit. Or maybe it added to it. I don’t know. “Still beating around the bush. Move away from the bush.”
“Hundreds of years ago things weren’t so simple. We need blood to survive. Not that many people are going to say—hey, you can have my blood. Sure, just sink your teeth in my arm or neck and have at it. When we feel the pain of true hunger, and I believe you’ve felt it yourself, we’ll do whatever is necessary to get what we need.”
My fists were so tight my nails dug painfully into the palms of my hands. “You’re going to have to spell it out for me, Zelda. I’m a slow learner.”
She sighed. “I’m not all that old, in the grand scheme of things. It was hard for me. Still is, actually. But before was much worse. The vampires took what they needed, and sometimes they took too much.”
“And bled people to death by accident,” I said numbly.
“Hunger is a terrible thing. Accidental deaths happened. And after a time it became accepted. I guess they had to rationalize it or they would have gone crazy.”
“What does this have to do with Quinn’s mother?”
“Nothing. But it tells you why vampires are now considered monsters.”
“Because they once were,” I finished, my heart thudding in my ears.
“Mostly, it was a select group that originated in Europe who gave us the bad name we still have. They were the partiers of that age. Drinking all they wanted and, after a time, not really caring if they took too much. A great deal of blood can be intoxicating, and if you’re constantly drinking… well, you get the idea.”
She took a breath and waited to see if I had anything to say. I didn’t, so she continued speaking. “So the vampire hunters gathered to rid the world of this group of murderers. Chased them out of Europe, but all it did was scatter them through the rest of the world. Most of them were killed over the next couple of hundred years, but I know of two that survive to this very day.”
“Let me guess,” I said dully. “Veronique and Thierry.”
She nodded. “They’re legendary. Oldest vamps I know personally, anyhow.”
“So you’re saying that Thierry may or may not have had a bit of a drinking problem in the old days. But that was then and this is now. Quinn’s mother would have been killed only around twenty-five years ago. Sorry, but I don’t buy that explanation.”
“You’re sweet,” Zelda said. “And so young. You look at him with rose-colored glasses because he’s so handsome and powerful. But don’t fool yourself. He’s also very dangerous and always has been. Anyone who gets in his path isn’t usually in his path very long, if you get my meaning.”
I felt my frown deepen. I wasn’t enjoying story time very much today. “Veronique told me about their lives back in the old days. She called him a coward. Somebody who’d hide at the first glimpse of danger. Doesn’t sound like somebody who’s all that dangerous.”
“Veronique told you that?” She laughed softly. “Well, consider the source, would you?”
“Huh?”
“Veronique has always loved to tell stories that make her shine and everyone else pale in comparison.”
“Are you saying that she was lying?”
“Hundreds of years can color a story. Just like an old photograph, the details fade, the edges get worn. I don’t think Thierry is, or ever has been, a coward. But I don’t know. All I know is the Thierry from today, and that’s nobody you want to mess with. I also know that he hates the hunters. Beyond that, I suppose I’d just be guessing.”