Read Online The Living Night (Book 2) by Jack Conner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jack Conner
Tags: Vampires & Werwolves
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haven't
thought of myself," he said quietly.
The Hunter nodded. "And you were right when
you thought it. So let's trace this aggression to its source."
"I've tried."
"And?"
"Nothing."
"It's simple, Ruegger. You despised your
parents for letting your dear Spanish Maria die of pneumonia when they could've
done something about it. So you torched their house and never looked back,
never even to find out if someone perished in the fire. Which
is one of the reasons why you go by only your family name; in some way, you
atone for what you did to them by using their name, keeping them immortal. At any rate, burning their house was the first time your ‘mean streak', as you
call it, fully showed itself. It was a righteous anger, too. Later, after
Amelia died, you retreated into that anger. And later , with my help, you came to embrace it, to love it."
"That's too simplistic."
"Feelings are more simple than we'd like them to be, Ruegger."
"So what's your solution?"
Kharker lit a cigar. "Answer me this. Have
you ever felt whole since you left me?"
"Danielle ...”
"I mean the anger. Have you ever felt
comfortable with it?"
"Of course
not."
"You've dealt with it quietly, privately. All in all, very British, really, although you've spent very little
time in the U.K.
to be sure."
"Your solution?"
"You need to embrace your darkness again,
my son. I've already given you a head start."
Holding the cigarette carefully so that it
didn't betray his tremble, Ruegger sat up slowly, carefully.
"What do you mean?"
Kharker smiled. "Those humans you've been
feeding from, the ones with the black collars. The only thing that separates
them from the other humans is the collars themselves."
The world tilted. "You mean ...”
"They're not murderers, Ruegger, not to my
knowledge. They're just as guilty or innocent as anyone down there in the
prison."
Ruegger rocketed out of his chair and towered
over Kharker menacingly.
The Hunter regarded him with pleasure. "The
anger feels good, doesn't it?"
Ruegger stormed out of the room, leaving Kharker
to sit and smoke in triumph.
The battle was far from over.
* * *
Later,
in his room, Ruegger reread the only thing Danielle had left him: a small note
on a yellow tablet. In a rough black scrawl, it read, I love you, baby, but
we both know I must do this. When it's finished, I’ll be whole, and we can have
a fresh start together. Until then, stay safe and don't listen to a fucking
word Kharker says. Below this, Danielle was written inside a small
black heart with an arrow through it.
He crumpled the paper in his hands and lit the
corner of it with a cigarette lighter. The flame consumed it fiercely, leaving
only a small burning fragment that he flung to the floor in disgust.
"God damn it," he muttered and
placed his face in his hands.
His skin was hot, burning, and behind his eyes
flared the almost alien sensation of tear ducs swelling up. Just as soon as he was aware of it, the ducs calmed themselves and left him dry-eyed and empty.
Someone knocked on the door.
Without invitation, Kharker opened it and
stepped inside. Seeing that Ruegger wasn't going to offer him a seat, he pulled
up a small wooden rocking chair and plopped down across from the Darkling, who
sat on the bed.
"I'm sorry, Ruegger," he said, his
voice soft.
"For what? I know you're not sorry
that you caused me to kill innocent people. Something I haven't done since the
War, you bastard."
"No, I'm not sorry for that. I couldn't
care less if there are a few less mortals in the world now than there were a
couple of days ago. But I am sorry that I hurt you. All I want is for you to be
happy."
"The road to Hell is paved with justifications."
"Be that as it may, it's up to you to help
yourself. Still, I can give you guidance."
"I'm sure you can."
"Don't be bitter. What you need is a symbol
of your change."
"My change?"
"From broken to
whole."
"From moral to
immoral. From good to bad."
"Please,
thought of myself," he said quietly.
The Hunter nodded. "And you were right when
you thought it. So let's trace this aggression to its source."
"I've tried."
"And?"
"Nothing."
"It's simple, Ruegger. You despised your
parents for letting your dear Spanish Maria die of pneumonia when they could've
done something about it. So you torched their house and never looked back,
never even to find out if someone perished in the fire. Which
is one of the reasons why you go by only your family name; in some way, you
atone for what you did to them by using their name, keeping them immortal. At any rate, burning their house was the first time your ‘mean streak', as you
call it, fully showed itself. It was a righteous anger, too. Later, after
Amelia died, you retreated into that anger. And later , with my help, you came to embrace it, to love it."
"That's too simplistic."
"Feelings are more simple than we'd like them to be, Ruegger."
"So what's your solution?"
Kharker lit a cigar. "Answer me this. Have
you ever felt whole since you left me?"
"Danielle ...”
"I mean the anger. Have you ever felt
comfortable with it?"
"Of course
not."
"You've dealt with it quietly, privately. All in all, very British, really, although you've spent very little
time in the U.K.
to be sure."
"Your solution?"
"You need to embrace your darkness again,
my son. I've already given you a head start."
Holding the cigarette carefully so that it
didn't betray his tremble, Ruegger sat up slowly, carefully.
"What do you mean?"
Kharker smiled. "Those humans you've been
feeding from, the ones with the black collars. The only thing that separates
them from the other humans is the collars themselves."
The world tilted. "You mean ...”
"They're not murderers, Ruegger, not to my
knowledge. They're just as guilty or innocent as anyone down there in the
prison."
Ruegger rocketed out of his chair and towered
over Kharker menacingly.
The Hunter regarded him with pleasure. "The
anger feels good, doesn't it?"
Ruegger stormed out of the room, leaving Kharker
to sit and smoke in triumph.
The battle was far from over.
* * *
Later,
in his room, Ruegger reread the only thing Danielle had left him: a small note
on a yellow tablet. In a rough black scrawl, it read, I love you, baby, but
we both know I must do this. When it's finished, I’ll be whole, and we can have
a fresh start together. Until then, stay safe and don't listen to a fucking
word Kharker says. Below this, Danielle was written inside a small
black heart with an arrow through it.
He crumpled the paper in his hands and lit the
corner of it with a cigarette lighter. The flame consumed it fiercely, leaving
only a small burning fragment that he flung to the floor in disgust.
"God damn it," he muttered and
placed his face in his hands.
His skin was hot, burning, and behind his eyes
flared the almost alien sensation of tear ducs swelling up. Just as soon as he was aware of it, the ducs calmed themselves and left him dry-eyed and empty.
Someone knocked on the door.
Without invitation, Kharker opened it and
stepped inside. Seeing that Ruegger wasn't going to offer him a seat, he pulled
up a small wooden rocking chair and plopped down across from the Darkling, who
sat on the bed.
"I'm sorry, Ruegger," he said, his
voice soft.
"For what? I know you're not sorry
that you caused me to kill innocent people. Something I haven't done since the
War, you bastard."
"No, I'm not sorry for that. I couldn't
care less if there are a few less mortals in the world now than there were a
couple of days ago. But I am sorry that I hurt you. All I want is for you to be
happy."
"The road to Hell is paved with justifications."
"Be that as it may, it's up to you to help
yourself. Still, I can give you guidance."
"I'm sure you can."
"Don't be bitter. What you need is a symbol
of your change."
"My change?"
"From broken to
whole."
"From moral to
immoral. From good to bad."
"Please,
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