"Father is indeed like son." Nathan suddenly turned serious. "They are very much alike, Carrie. If something happens, if things go wrong… if you're forced to confront him, don't underestimate him. He is very manipulative and seductive."

Seductive? I'd seen the Soul Eater a total of one time in the flesh. He'd been half-decayed and reeking of death, calling out for blood and souls in an inhuman chorus of horror. I'd seen him in memories, but he'd been a filthy peasant then, and dung is not a look I find attractive on a man. "I'll try to resist his charms."

Nathan didn't laugh with me. "It isn't a joking matter, Carrie."

For the first time, he purposely forced his own memory into my mind. At first, I didn't realize what was happening. I was used to the feeling of sharing memories with Cyrus, and seeing them through blood. I'd even seen Nathan's memories via his dead wife's soul, but I'd never in all the time I'd known him, actually seen something Nathan had chosen to show me.

In an unpleasant flash, I went from sitting calmly on the living room floor to running half-naked across a vast lawn.

The rain slashed Nathan's face and his feet slipped on the grass. Behind him, the sound of barking dogs increased as they gained ground. The tall iron fence, impossibly faraway, mocked him with the chance of freedom. He was doomed.

The dogs were at his heels now. He turned, flashing his fangs at them, feeling guilty and absurd at having to use the tools that monster had given him. More guilty at the thought that he could kill one of these animals and feed. Hunger gnawed his guts, the intensity mounting as his steps slowed and he admitted defeat on the cold, wet lawn. Despair crashed over him. He would never survive here.

Not that he wanted to. Not after what he'd done to Marianne. He thought of her body, still lying in the ballroom, and he fell to the grass weeping, heedless of the dogs that tore at his flesh. They wouldn't bite for long. They didn't like the taste.

Rough hands dragged him to his feet. "Take him in to the master," a voice ordered. Nathan knew they were tiring of his constant escape attempts.

He didn't resist as they dragged him across the lawn, up to the house. I didn't recognize the place, but I assumed it was still the house in Brazil. The palm trees lining the walk gave it away.