by Lindsey Iler
What happens if we allow those hidden bones to rise from whatever dark hell they’ve been placed? Our mothers, our families, have made a great deal out of keeping secrets. All was well during their reign because no one cared enough. They were safe, untouched.
And now? Well, now they have me to deal with.
The girl who never wanted any of this.
The girl who may be the only one capable of bringing down whatever plagues us.
“Nothing is ever out of our hands.” I tuck Mrs. Saville’s hair behind her ear. “I will find out what it is you three have done, the secrets our families have kept tucked away, if it means Amilee and Emerson will never be plagued with them.”
“And what about you?”
“I grew up with a bitch of a mother who loathes me. I was born for this exact reason. My mother happened to be too dumb at the time to know it.” I turn around, knowing my silent threat has paralyzed Mrs. Saville. “Alive or dead. It doesn’t matter, but I am here to govern over Belle Meade. Prepare to be governed, Mrs. Saville.”
Once the front door slams behind me, I clench my trembling hands to stop the shaking.
It is simple to act brave, but to be brave, that’s a different thing entirely.
*****
“Explain to me again why we’re having dinner with the Blackstones?” I ask, following my father up the path.
Sarah Beth fiddles with the hem of her pretty blush dress. It fans out at the bottom, making her appear every bit the part of the sweet and innocent daughter.
Not me though. I refused to change, opting for a less traditional outfit for a fancy dinner party.
“You could’ve at least worn different shoes. Those God-awful boots are hideous.” My mother spews her hate, because it wouldn’t be an evening of fun unless she’s digging at my skin.
“Why do you care what they think? Don’t you despise the Blackstones?”
She glares at me.
“Care to explain why we’re mortal enemies, Mother?” Oh, yeah, I have her right where I want her, angry and concerned. By the tick in her jaw, my guess is I wasn’t meant to know about the hatred running through our blood for Edric’s family.
“Be on your best behavior, Lennox,” my father instructs.
I falter when his eyes burn into mine over his shoulder, silently affirming my current position in this family—the bottom.
“Well, hello,” Mrs. Blackstone says, the door opened wide behind her. Her long black gown reveals the part she’s playing. The diamonds around her neck blind me, glistening like the water on the ocean during a sunny day.
Quietly, I follow behind my parents, heeding my father’s warning to be on my best behavior. What does that even mean? Am I meant to be seen but not heard?
Sarah Beth stretches her hand behind her, realizing my need to be grounded. She’s my anchor, my reason for not fleeing at the first chance of trouble.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispers to me.
“Sarah Beth,” my mother barks, extending her own hand to pull my sister close.
A wink to Sarah Beth lets her off the hook. She’s too worried about all of us getting along, and I never want her to feel like she needs to choose. Sarah Beth and I have two different mothers who wear the same face. Hers is tender and motherly, and mine, well, mine is everything but. Still, I’m happy Sarah Beth has a mother who adores her, even if I’m never shown the same affection. If someone asked if I could flip the tables, offering myself Sarah Beth’s version of our mother, and vice versa, I’d willingly endure the hatred I’ve felt my entire life to save my baby sister the hurt.
Sometimes the things I’ve experienced at my mother’s words and coldness are painful to relive. It hurts like a certain kind of hell, the place only the damned are sent.
When I was young, I remember lying in bed at night, staring at my ceiling, and telling myself enough times that I’d be okay.
No one is given anything they can’t handle. My mother, I can handle. There came a point when I no longer let her words cut into me. Over time my skin grew tough, impenetrable, yet still, every once in a while, it softens just enough to let her slip through.
“Stop moping about, Lennox.” Mother’s hand hits my shoulder. “Stand up straight and be respectful.”
“Did I miss something?” I shake my head, realizing I’ve been dragged down and sabotaged by my own daydream.
“Oh, no, sweetie, please, don’t worry at all.” Mrs. Blackstone wraps an arm around my shoulders, seeing me to my chair at their dining table. “You have a lot on your plate. It’s no wonder you’ve lost track of your own mind.”
There are moments when you meet someone, and they say just the right thing, yet you are certain their intentions are not well. This is one of those moments.
Mrs. Blackstone’s hands rest heavily on my shoulders, forcing me to sit. Her energy radiates off her as she gestures for the remaining members of my family to take their seats.
We’ve been ushered to our slaughter.
“You haven’t had the pleasure of meeting my husband, now, have you?” Mrs. Blackstone steps to the side and what stands directly behind her steals the breath from my lungs. “Sweetie, come meet the girl who has stolen our Edric away.”
There’s a thick, unrelenting energy in the air. Its hands wrap lightly around my throat, and no matter how much I fidget, its presence remains.
Mr. and Mrs. Blackstone sit across from each other at the ends of the long, rectangular table. I flank Mrs. Blackstone’s left, with my mother to her right, across from me. Sarah Beth is left of Mr. Blackstone with my father between her and my mother. The two empty seats beside me draw my attention. Edric should be in one of them.
“We don’t know where he’s at. After expressing the importance of tonight, to get to know you better, Lennox, I suppose our son has reprioritized his choices,” Mr. Blackstone says. Sinister laughter barely leaves his lips, but I hear it. His voice is gravelly, arrogant, as if he knows he has the upper hand.
“Let’s cut to the chase.” I glare between Edric’s parents, daring them to lie to me. “You don’t like me, and I’m sure there is some sick reason as to why. Am I right?”
“You’d be correct,” Mrs. Blackstone says. She places the pristine white napkin on her lap, running her hands over the cloth.
“Dare I ask what it is.” My attention returns to Mr. Blackstone. His eyes skirt to his wife. “I guess we know who controls this household, now, don’t we?”
“Lennox, stand down,” my father barks, playing his part. The thing about growing up under Dax Callahan’s roof is I know his tones. What he said was loud and domineering, but at the end of his command, a hint of pride seeped through.
An unamused, menacing laugh escapes Mrs. Blackstone. “Oh, sweet girl, if you only knew who was truly in control.”
“Is that a threat?” I rise from my chair, straightening my spine in my own way of exuding dominance.
“Now, now.” My father stands, raising a calming hand toward me. “I think both families can agree Lennox and Edric should keep as much distance between them as possible.”
“Why?” I demand an answer, slamming my fist on the well-dressed table. A candle stick falls, setting a small fire amongst all the beautiful decorations. “Give me one good reason why.”
Mrs. Blackstone stares at me, resting back in her chair which appears to be more of a throne. This is her palace, after all. She rules over everything, and it seems, my family has been ordered here to remind us she won’t have our two families mixed together.
“Don’t you get it, sweetheart?” Mrs. Blackstone pushes the heavy chair back from the table and looms over me, one hand tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “My son isn’t like you. He’s built with strong genes, thick lineage that matters, while you”—her eyes scan up and down my body—“you are below him. Trust me when I say, you don’t want to be close to someone like Edric. He carries a lot inside he doesn’t let anyone see, but it’s there. Is that the kind of life you
want, always wondering when the beast will be unleashed? He’s capable of ungodly things, little girl.”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Blackstone, I know exactly who your son is. It must be unbearable to know your son has used his talents on such a bottom feeder as myself.”
“That boy touched you?” My father leans forward, his teeth grinding to the point of combustion.
“Touched isn’t exactly what I’d call it, right, Mrs. Blackstone?” I taunt her, quirking my eyebrow up. “No, her son has a different set of talents. Underneath the beast she speaks of, he’s gentle and capable of quite a bit of magic.”
“You little bitch!” Mrs. Blackstone shouts.
“Oh, what’s the problem? Afraid a little Angel will disrupt your precious life here in Belle Meade? I’m here to tell you, I don’t care about the bones you keep buried in your walls.” I spin to my parents, ready to strike them where it hurts. Their lies. “Our families have enough of them to put yours to shame.”
There’s now a line drawn in the sand. Us against them. Still, somehow, I feel like I’m against us. No one has the Angels’ best interests in mind. None of the adults in this town are willing to spill the secrets plaguing our traditions, so I’m going to give them no choice.
Suddenly, I remember Sarah Beth’s presence. I scurry to her side, dropping to my knees. “They’ll get you home. Stay close to them. Everything will be okay.” My glance shifts between my mother and father, knowing they’ll never let anyone hurt her.
I offer my pinky, and she wraps her sweet one around mine, squeezing them close together.
“No secrets. No lies.”
“No secrets. No lies,” I whisper before standing to my full height and dropping my chin to Mrs. Blackstone. I turn my back, not worried of the ramifications of my actions tonight.
She needs to know I hear her words, but I’ll never stand down to her.
I’m an Angel. I don’t bend at the knee for anyone.
The cool metal front door heats under my touch. A familiar burn aches in my forearm, and I lift my sleeve to see the blood pulsing through my veins. It will seek relief in a few seconds, and I don’t want to be under the Blackstone roof when it comes to collect.
Out in the cool air of the night, I begin to walk, my pace quickening.
A black car skids to a stop in front of me, appearing out of thin air. The passenger door opens, and I dip low enough to peek inside.
“Victor,” I sigh with his name still fresh on my lips. “How’d you know?”
“It’s my job to know, Lennox.” He grins. “Now, get in.”
I do as he says, and the second I’m tucked safely in the car, he speeds off. I don’t tell him where to go, or what has my fingernails digging into my thighs. He already knows. The red stone is tossed into my lap, and to find the relief I need, I grip it in my hand. A cool sensation soothes every pinch and poke the Peacekeeper brings on.
When we pull up to The Archives, I check over my shoulder before exiting. “Please go back to the Blackstones. I’ll be no good here if I’m too distracted by my sister’s safety.”
“I’ll do everything I can.” He nods, and just as I’m about to turn around, his hand rests over mine. “Follow your instincts. You were born with them for a reason. They’re strong. You are strong. Don’t trust everyone.”
“That’s your pep talk?” My eyes widen. “You have to give me more than that.”
“No, I don’t. You already have everything you need to survive anything which crosses you.” He flicks his fingers toward me. “Now go.”
Chapter Seventeen
Edric
Lennox walks into the museum and stops, her body jolting from the movement.
“What are you doing here?” She’s suspicious of me, and I can’t necessarily blame her.
The door behind me opens, and Mr. Reynolds comes to my side.
Earlier tonight, I was certain something wasn’t right. Never did I imagine how accurate I was. Mr. Reynolds hadn’t been too surprised to find me on his porch.
Tradition is his top priority. He’s been the keeper of the Angels of Belle Meade for centuries, taking the position from his own father. Unbeknownst to the citizens of Belle Meade, Mr. Reynolds is an Evermore. He can take the place of a body no longer being used and can never be killed. He’s lived many lives within the walls of this town.
“He’s here to keep you safe,” Mr. Reynolds says, drawing her past me.
“Let me guess. From your family?” She glares at me, shoving her fingertips into my chest. “You left me alone with them. Is that your definition of protection?”
“Don’t you get it, Len? If I saw my mom leering at you like some common whore, I would have lost all control.” I pace in front of her. At the thought, my fingers dig into my scalp until my skin breaks.
“Relax, cousin,” Garrison says from the table.
At his presence, Lennox jolts. “What are you doing here?”
Recollection of their first meeting sets in. She doesn’t know it, but my aunt sent Garrison there as a dangling piece of fruit, which was part of their plan to keep her quiet.
She didn’t bite.
“Besides risking my place at the family table, I’m here doing what’s right.” He crosses his arms and inspects Lennox.
“Why would you go against your own family?” she questions.
Garrison leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Because Edric is the only person in the Blackstone family who doesn’t look at me like I’m nothing but a half-breed.”
“Half-breed?” She sits across from him.
“Angels aren’t the only ones out there.” He winks. “I’m considered a half-breed because my biological father was a shifter, and well, the rest of my family obviously isn’t.”
“And your mom is?” Lennox swallows heavy, fearful of the answer.
“My mother is what Edric is.”
“Nice.” I shake my head. Fucking asshole.
“Shift, like into an animal?” Lennox scoffs. “Prove it.”
“That’s not exactly how it works.” Garrison grins. “You surprised you aren’t the only one with a rich family history? Wait till you hear his.” Garrison looks at me and shrugs. “I assume you haven’t fully told her what you are. You two seem more like the kind to dance around the important things.”
“I don’t know his official title, but by that weirdness, I really hope someone starts talking.” Lennox thumbs the crack in the middle of the table.
“So, I’m right, then. He knows you’re an Angel, but he’s never been kind enough to explain to you just how different you two are?” Garrison’s smile widens as his stare shifts between us.
“I couldn't bear to hear the words from him. If he spoke them out loud, it would make them real, and then I'd know what I always thought was actually true." She looks back at me, her blue eyes softening like no matter what I am, nothing can keep her away from me.
“You’ve got to be shitting me?” Garrison lets out a howl of laughter. “This is going to be good. Does mortal enemy mean anything to you two?”
The color drains from Lennox’s face, and her chin drops to her chest. When she dares to glance up, I break down the middle. If she didn’t trust me before, this should solidify my standings in her life.
“You can’t be . . . There is no way you are what Garrison is insinuating you are.” Her words halt while the blue of her irises darken with a calmed realization.
Lennox has been in denial, not willing to see what has been in front of her eyes this whole time. She had asked me not to tell her for fear of this changing, leaving her with nothing.
“I am,” I whisper.
“But you are so . . .” She pinches the bridge of her nose, groaning. “Gentle and kind.”
“That’s sort of the point, Lennox. Most aren’t willing to open the door to a visible beast, but this”—Garrison flashes a hand over to me—“they’re all too easy to invite him in. I mean, you’re sort of living proof of that. Your mort
al enemy, the kind of person you are born to hate, waltzed into your life, and you never second guessed his being there.”
“My intentions were never malicious, Lennox. You have to know that.”
“I don’t know what I know anymore.” She reaches up, covering her throat with her hand, soothing the stress from her body.
“Amilee and Emerson should be here soon,” Mr. Reynolds says, his full attention on Lennox. “How are you feeling?”
“My guess is I’d be lying on the floor if I didn’t have this. Thank you for sending Victor for me.” The glowing red rock with my family emblem pulses in her hand. She turns to me, and with her foot, pushes the seat beside Garrison, inviting me to join her, a small symbol of trust.
Even with the kind gesture, she keeps her eyes on me. They narrow, proving she isn’t positive of the role I play in her life. Am I the enemy? Or am I just a boy who fell for the wrong girl?
“Once the girls get here, we have plenty to discuss. Until then, hold tight to that. You’ll need it,” Mr. Reynolds states, leaving us alone.
We stay quiet for too long, until Lennox can’t handle it any longer. She stands and paces back and forth in front of the window. Her mind is miles away, evident in the slow rhythm of her blinks. Something out the window catches her attention, and she presses her forehead against the glass. I stand to investigate whatever has her eyes widening to the size of saucers.
Shoulder to shoulder, we watch a flock of crows circling the sky above the museum. Every dip or swoop the leader takes, the others follow.
“They did this the other day,” she whispers. My heart nearly stops when she stares at me with pleading eyes. “Something isn’t right.”
Her hand warms under my touch, her other gripping the red stone. I’d like to think I have some magical way of calming her, but I don’t think it’s that easy. There’s a thickness in the air. Nothing about what is happening is simple. This will not be an easy fix.
“My parents sent for your family to prove a point, some strange power play,” I admit. “I knew that was the plan, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”