«You're not evil, William.” Simple words. Honest words. He could see the sincerity on her face, hear it in her voice.
Those simple words pierced him to the core. “There are those who would disagree with you,” he said, his jaw clenching. Sometimes, when he slept, he could still hear the whispers of the villagers. He could still see the fear and revulsion that filled their gazes. “They called me the Devil's bastard.” The words slipped out without violation.
She gasped, her face paling. “Who said that?»
He remembered the little boy, not more than ten years old. The old hag. The blacksmith. “Everyone said it. They whispered it each time that I passed them. Every person on my father's land thought I was cursed. And they hated me.»
«I don't understand.” Savannah shook her head in confusion. “Why? Why would they say that about you? Why would they hate you?»
He sighed. “Because I was my father's son.»
Confusion and disbelief filled her gaze. “That's crazy! Your father wasn't—»
He held up his hand, halting her speech. “Their stories were wrong, of course. My father wasn't the Devil. Although at times he certainly acted the part.” His father, Baron Guy de Montfort, had been a cruel, sadistic warrior. He'd had no place in his life for weakness or sentiment of any sort. He'd tolerated William. He'd ignored Geoffrey. And he'd despised Henry.
«My father was obsessed with power,” William told her. “He wanted control, absolute control of everyone and everything. He was a strong man. He commanded a vast army with a steel grip. No one could go against my father's might and survive. No one. The villagers said that he'd traded his soul to the Devil in order to get his power.»
«Had he?” Savannah asked.
«My father never had a soul.” Cold, harsh words. “He never cared about anyone, certainly not me or my brothers.” Geoffrey had grown to be a man exactly like his father. Hungry only for blood and power.
Savannah sat quietly, her gaze fixed upon him.
He began to stroke her arm lightly. He wasn't even aware of the gesture. “By the time I reached manhood, my father's strength had started to wane, and he hated it.” He could still hear the sound of his father's angry screams. Guy had been enraged by his body's betrayal, by the onset of the weakness in his limbs. “He began to shake. To have spasms. He couldn't lead his armies anymore. He became desperate.»
William swallowed, seeing only the past. “He couldn't stand what was happening to him. So he began to … seek out the counsel of others. Doctors.” He paused, and then he said, “Witches. Seers.»
«What did he find out?” she whispered.
«He found out that he could live forever.” William remembered his father's wicked glee. “He found out that he could transform himself into a new being. An immortal.»
«Your father became a vampire?” Her shock was clear.
William shook his head. “No. You see, he wasn't sure the ritual would work. He wanted someone else to go through the change first, just in case something happened. Just in case his famed seer was wrong.»
«Dear God,” she whispered. “He made you do it, didn't he?»
He nodded, his jaw clenched. The scar on his cheek was a vivid white. “He imprisoned Henry. He never cared for him. He thought Henry was weak. Henry hated our father. He couldn't stomach his evil. He wouldn't march with Guy in battle, and Guy viewed his actions as a betrayal. He told me that the punishment for betrayal was death.
«He tortured Henry. Kept him captive for days without my knowledge. Then, when he was barely alive, Guy brought him to me. I was training with my men, and Guy dragged Henry's battered body into the courtyard. Henry was hardly recognizable. He told me that Henry was dying. That if I wanted to save him, I would seek out a dark creature. A vampire. And I would take his power.»
She stroked his cheek gently. “Oh, William. I'm so sorry.»
His eyes flashed at her. “I don't need your pity, Savannah.»
She flinched and dropped her hand.
His jaw clenched. He knew he'd hurt her. But he wasn't used to someone caring about him; he wasn't used to someone trying to comfort him.
He took her hand in his, a silent apology. After a moment, he kept talking, needing to tell the story, the whole story. To finally tell the dark story to someone. No, needing to tell her. “I followed the seer's instructions, and I found the vampire. It was a man.” He shook his head, remembering his first sight of the vampire. “He looked barely eighteen. I thought he was just a lad. I remember that he had blond hair and light blue eyes.” Sad eyes. Eyes that had seen too much of the world. Eyes that had seen too much death. “I told him about Henry, I told him that he had to transform me.»
«And he agreed.»
William nodded. “He looked into my mind and gave me the gift.»
She licked her lips. “And then you returned home.»
«I returned to hell,” he corrected softly. “I returned to find my father's butchered body. Geoffrey had killed him. Gutted him. And left his body waiting for me.»
She closed her eyes. “What about Henry?»
«You read the diary. Don't you know?»
«No.” Her shoulders lifted and fell. The sheet dipped slightly. “The entries ended with your father's death. On the eve of the New Year. Henry noted that you went to seek out the vampire, but he never said what happened when you returned.” Her lashes lifted, and she met his gaze. “When I read the diary, I suspected that you'd gotten the gift. I just … knew.” She swallowed. “I got my friend Mary to research you. Mary's a whiz with computers. She found a reference to a man named William Dark in 1101. And then again in 1290. And in 1670 … All of the descriptions of William were the same.»
She lifted her hand and touched his scar. “This scar. It was mentioned every time. So I knew, I knew that you'd become…»
«A vampire,” he finished softly.
She nodded. “But I didn't know what had happened to your family. To Geoffrey, to Henry—»
«Geoffrey found out about my father's plans, and he went in search of the vampire on his own.»
«Was he trying to save Henry?»
«I don't know,” William said. And he didn't. He didn't know if Geoffrey's original motivation had been Henry or if he'd just wanted the power of an immortal. “Geoffrey was always hard, cruel. He thought nothing of slicing off the hand of a peasant who touched him. And my father encouraged such acts.»