by Tricia Barr
Her sincerity touched him. She wore her true feelings like her dress, and it did mean a lot to Leif. But his clarity was still there, and he knew that Beatrice was responsible for the conflicting thoughts about Gemma now pervading his mind. She was trying to turn him against his fiancé.
“I don’t know what I did to gain your interest,” he said softly. “Back then, there might have been something. And while that might feel like a blazing bonfire in your soul, that little spark in my heart went out long ago.”
“Let me reignite it, then,” she pleaded. “Let me in so I can show you my love. What I feel for you... it can’t be explained with words.”
Burning at his wrists indicated that more copper was being pushed into his body, and he grimaced. To say he was used to the pain at this point would be a lie, but he at least knew what to expect.
His head lolled and his body loosened on the couch. Leif could still feel Beatrice’s hands in his, but he held them limply.
“It hurts,” Beatrice said. Leif barely heard her through the burning, but he nodded his affirmation. She continued. “No, it pains me to see you hurting like this. I want to take those torture bands off. I want you to make a commitment to me.”
Leif nearly agreed to her terms, just to get some relief. But through the foggy haze his mind was swimming in, he knew he couldn’t just say what she wanted to hear. If there was one quality he truly valued about himself, it was his loyalty. He’d been loyal to the Frosts, and had managed their orchard for ten years because of it. He’d been loyal to Camilla, loving her like she was a sister. He’d even been loyal to Draven before the destruction of the previous shifter school in South Dakota. More recently, Leif had been loyal to Oberon and the shifter cause.
But always, he’d been loyal to Gemma. Through life and death. And despite his conflicting thoughts about her, she was still his guiding light.
Beatrice would never replace her.
“No,” he mumbled. “If you care for me”—Leif raised his quaking arms, the metal rattling at the effort—“even a little bit... Remove these and let me go.” He lifted his chin and looked into her brown eyes. “Please.”
Sorrow spread across Beatrice’s face. “Why? The woman you loved has been gone for so long, while the woman who loves you is standing right in front of you. Why can’t you see that? You act as if the torture you feel is only caused by your bonds, but you can’t even tell that the real torture you’re experiencing is caused by your mind. You desire that which you can’t have, and it tears you up inside.” She tapped her chest. “I can fix that. Just let me.”
Leif wagged his head back and forth. “There’s... nothing to fix. Please let me go.”
Beatrice stared at him for a long moment, her eyes blazing with... anger? Hatred? No, those weren’t the right emotions. Jealousy.
“I can’t let you go, Leif,” she said. “I’ve tried to be reasonable with you, and it hasn’t worked. That leaves me only one other option. I must continue breaking you into submission. I’d prefer your affection to come willingly, but it’s clear to me that such a wish is impossible. But I will have it, even if it kills me.”
Leif looked away from her, but made no reply. It wasn’t worth the effort to tell her the same things he’d told her before.
Beatrice grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look at her. She looked down at his mouth, and he was sure she was going to kiss him. Instead, she squeezed a little harder, forcing his mouth open, then with her other hand, she grabbed the cup of bloodmix and began pouring it into his mouth.
Leif didn’t fight back, but swallowed the small flow of the drink as it tickled his taste buds. It was sweet and soothing, and while it didn’t cast away the fog in his mind, the blood at least made it more bearable. He closed his eyes and fell into the intoxicating effects of the drink.
“At first, you didn’t want to drink this,” Beatrice said as he gulped away. “But see? You’ve tried it, and you just keep drinking. The same will happen if you try me.”
He barely heard her words, too caught up in the blast of flavor bombarding his mouth.
“How do I explain my desire to break off our engagement?”
It was Gemma. Leif’s eyes focused on her, just over Beatrice’s shoulder.
They were no longer in Beatrice’s quarters, but back in the boarding house. Upstairs, in Gemma’s room. It was just as he’d remembered it: meticulously well-kept and clean. The familiar scent of fresh herbs spiced the room.
Next came Camilla’s voice. “The better question is, why did you agree to marriage in the first place?” Their cruel laughs followed.
“What was I supposed to say?” Gemma said. “Leif is tough, but had I rejected him outright, that would have broken him entirely. And I could not do that to him.”
“Your plan is to lead him on, then?” Camilla asked. “That seems more cruel than a rejection.”
“At least this way I can let him down slowly,” Gemma replied.
“I have learned how to maintain the orchards,” Camilla said. “Perhaps I can persuade my father to evict Leif from the premises. The boarding house could use somebody more worthwhile.”
Camilla looked tangibly real. Her voice and mannerisms were spot on. The scene playing before Leif seemed authentic.
Except it wasn’t.
Bringing his eyes back to Beatrice’s, he said, “Stop this.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Stop what?”
“These games you keep playing with me,” he replied. “These false memories.”
“How do you know they’re false?” Beatrice asked. “Camilla and Gemma were close. Surely they had conversations about you in private.”
Leif gritted his teeth. “Not these conversations.”
“You weren’t there for them,” Beatrice countered. “You don’t know what they discussed.”
“Neither do you,” Leif said. “So stop twisting the personalities of the people I love the most. Making a mockery of them will not break me, but will only increase my resolve to resist you.”
“We have eternity to work through these charades,” Beatrice said. “Eventually, you will break.”
He was already physically broken, but his mind was a protected fort of determination. Willing control over the substance that clouded his brain, he cast the images of Gemma, Camilla, and the boarding house away, leaving him once again in Beatrice’s room. For a brief moment, he recalled how he used to have frequent flashbacks where he experienced his memories—the good and the bad. Draven had seen to their end back when Leif first joined the vampires. There were days he wished he could get lost in those memories again.
Staring Beatrice in her eyes, Leif said, “My eternal love is for Gemma MacLugh, and for her only. Whatever you do to me will only make me resent you further. So keep it up, and let’s see whose resoluteness wins.”
Beatrice got to her feet, throwing the empty cup to the ground. The force with which she cast the glass caused it to shatter into hundreds of pieces, sounding like hail pattering against a window.
“I am your only door to freedom,” she said. “And you should know by now that I don’t give up until I get what I want. You will submit.”
She turned to walk away, but stopped short, turning her head and peering at him from the side. “One of the greatest experiences of my life was drinking the blood of the one I loved. Your blood.”
Leif recalled the hypnotic moment as if it were yesterday. She’d bit him, lulling him into a stupor. He’d felt his blood drain and the pleasure her sweet venom brought on before turning him into a vampire.
“Did Gemma ever let you taste her blood?” she asked.
Leif shook his head. “I would never have asked her.”
Beatrice snorted. “So honorable. Now you can say that you’ve tried her relative.” She pointed at the broken glass. “Half of that bloodmix came from Kenzie. And you seemed to really enjoy it.” Beatrice shrugged. “Maybe it had a hint of Gemma, seeing as they’re both MacLughs. And she gave it so w
illingly.”
Leif looked down at the broken glass, panic striking his heart. Kenzie had given up her blood for a bloodmix? Knowingly? The panic streaming through his body turned to shame and guilt. He’d never intended on drinking her blood. Never. Surely Beatrice had purposely done it.
Anger and resentment blotted out the rest of his feelings, like two black storm clouds slamming into each other and encompassing the sky. But as he brought his attention back to where Beatrice had been standing, he found himself alone.
“Beatrice!” Leif yelled. At least, he thought it was a yell. In his weakened state, it came out as a half-hearted grumble.
His shoulders dropped, and so did his gaze. In the candlelight, Leif saw a single red drop dangling from a jagged shard of glass. He stared at it for some time, waiting to see if it would drip to the polished floor. It held onto the glass resolutely, defying the gravity trying to bring it down. He tried to place an analogy to it, but Kenzie’s betrayals blocked his attempt.
Kenzie. Leif had placed so much hope in the selkie girl, but she’d ended up doing the unthinkable to him.
Movement at the doorway caught his view, and he looked up to find her standing there, looking so much like Gemma. She had the red hair—albeit far too short—and the facial features, but her eyes were wrong. They weren’t the emerald green of his betrothed. They were hazel—tinged with a little more brown. And they were filled with pity.
Taking a quick look behind her, she entered quietly. “Can I come in?”
He shrugged weakly. “It looks like you already have.”
As Kenzie drew nearer, she sucked in a breath. “You’re still not healed?”
He looked down, observing the wounds still peppering his arms. They’d come a long way, but he wasn’t entirely healed yet, thanks to the copper injected in his body.
“Yeah, thanks for that,” he mumbled. “You’ve really made things better for me, Kenzie. A fine rescue operation.”
“I know you hate me right about now, but you have to listen. Please?” She appeared to be considering turning around and walking out the door, depending on his reaction.
Sighing, he nodded his head.
Kenzie looked over her shoulder once more, then muttered, “Aonrúgh.” Leif recognized it. Gemma had used the spell several times as she’d attempted to make him a daywalker. It placed a soundproof bubble around the spell weaver and whoever she was talking to—in this case, himself.
She looked back at him, the pity still solemnly hanging there. “I’m really sorry. For everything. I know I messed up.”
Leif looked away. The look in her eyes revealed that she was speaking the truth, but it was hard for him to swallow. “Yeah, well, an apology doesn’t make the pain stop.”
Looking back at her, he saw Kenzie nod as she brushed her fingers along fresh bite marks in her neck. “I know.”
Leif’s eyes widened. “Kenzie? Are you...?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question. She wouldn’t have gone so far, would she?
“A vampire?” she said with a laugh. “No, my magic is far too valuable to Draven for him to allow that. But I’m an Initiate to a brand-new vampire who’s as thirsty as the Sahara.” She rubbed at her arm. “Beatrice took some of my blood, too. For you.”
Leif looked down at the broken glass. “I’m sorry she did that to you. I know blood puts you on edge.”
She swatted a hand through the air. “It wasn’t so bad. Beatrice made it tolerable. Did you drink it?”
Leif nodded, unable to hide the guilt. “I didn’t know it was yours until after, though.”
“I wanted you to have it,” she said. “Okay, so it’s kind of weird. But I wanted you to... I was hoping it would help....” She waved a hand in his direction, encompassing all of him.
He didn’t know how to properly respond to that, so he went with, “Thanks.” It seemed like such a small repayment for the terrible things she’d done.
“Look, I don’t have much time, but I talked to Myreen,” she said. “We’re planning an escape.”
He laughed weakly. “You’ve had your fill, too, huh?”
“I didn’t come for laughs and giggles,” Kenzie snapped. “But being here has still been an eye-opener.”
“To what?” he asked.
She stepped closer, avoiding the broken shards of glass on the floor. “Just how bad things can be. Just how bad vampires can be. I feel like I’ve been falling down the black hole of evil with them. It’s a miracle you’re so... you.”
Leif chuckled. “I’m glad I’ve finally proven that point. What’s your grand plan for escaping Heritage Prep?”
Kenzie sat next to him on the couch and tucked her legs under herself. “It’ll probably happen within the next twenty-four hours or so. We’ve got to verify a few things first. But it’ll be a lot harder to do anything if you’re dead weight... Get it?” She laughed, but quickly sobered. “Never mind. Sorry.” She swung her bag around and placed it on her lap. She muttered something under her breath—Leif couldn’t quite make it out—and suddenly, Gemma’s grimoire appeared.
“Nice trick,” he said.
“I’ve come a long way since getting this thing.” She flashed a warm smile, wearing a confidence that surprised him. She used to be so timid when it came to her abilities.
“Is that so? I hope you have something that can remove these shackles from my wrists.”
“I’ll do you one better.” Kenzie eagerly flipped the old pages of the grimoire and ultimately came to a stop on one of them. She held the book up to show him. “See this spell? Recognize the handwriting?”
Like a magnet, Leif reached his bound hands to the book, brushing his fingertips along the strange words he couldn’t understand. Long ago, Gemma had touched this same page with her hands, and for a brief moment, Leif felt as if he’d touched his fiancé.
“Gemma,” he whispered.
Kenzie held the old book steady for a few more seconds, then pulled it away and placed it on her lap. “I thought you’d like that. Okay. From what I’ve been able to decipher, she was working on a spell designed specifically for you.”
Leif furrowed his brow. “What spell?”
“It’s an immunity spell,” she said. “Immunity to copper.”
His mouth widened, threatening to drop to the floor like the empty glass had. “Gemma was working on the spell?”
“Yep. She wasn’t able to finish it, but I think I’ve been able to fill in the gaps. Thanks in part to Adam.”
Leif raised an eyebrow. “You think?”
“Well, I haven’t exactly been able to test it out,” she said. “It won’t work on anybody but you.”
“That sounds extremely specific,” replied Leif.
“This spell is different,” Kenzie explained. “There’s one component I’m not sure how to integrate.” She paused a beat and met Leif’s eyes. “Love.”
Love. He was too scared to ask whose love the spell must be infused with—Kenzie’s or Gemma’s?
“I think Gemma really loved you, Leif,” she said, looking back at the book. “And I know how much you loved her.” There was a wistful note to her words, maybe even hopeful?
Leif bit his lip. Kenzie made it seem like that love was gone now, that it’d only existed while Gemma had been alive.
“I still love her,” he said. “And always will.” He wished he could feel the weight of Gemma’s brooch in his pocket.
“Right. Of course,” Kenzie said, keeping her eyes on the spell and clearing her throat. “Should we give this a shot?”
Leif breathed in deeply, then exhaled. “Let’s do it.”
“Okay, here we go,” she said with a nod, clearing her throat once more and placing a finger on Gemma’s handwriting. “Chumachtah co’parm, asfaíl-day...” Kenzie trailed off and narrowed her eyes at the grimoire.
A small light was radiating from her body as she spoke, and Leif found himself squinting.
“Well, that could’ve ended badly.” She scratched her for
ehead, then said, “Scrioságha.” Immediately, the gentle light around her disappeared.
“What is it?” he asked.
Kenzie looked at him and gave a nervous laugh, her cheeks reddening. “I messed up the spell—the light’s not very good in here.”
“I’d offer to open the window, but I really don’t want my skin to burn to a crisp again.”
“Right,” she said, her cheeks flushing further. She took a deep breath, then said, “Let me try again. Ready?”
Leif nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
This time, he closed his eyes and pictured Gemma as the one reading from the grimoire, trying to feel her love. To his joy, it worked. It was her voice, and he could feel her love pounding in his heart.
Her voice was rich as she spoke in a chant. “Chumachtah co’parm, ascaíl’do nímah. Consúilé le’bainech mácharth, a thibhairn ach’saole.” Gemma—or Kenzie—paused, and he heard a sob of emotion, which caused him to open his eyes. He found Kenzie looking at him, tears pooling. The glow about her increased, but didn’t cause him to squint this time. His heart swelled—Leif could see the love in her eyes, could feel it mingling with that of Gemma’s within him. With a sniff, Kenzie continued. “Cheanghail le’moghránsh, le’mochroísh, Leif.”
The glow around her pulled away, slipping through the air, then enveloped him and he could feel Gemma. Like she was embracing him, causing his skin to tingle all over. He closed his eyes again, getting lost in the moment. The fogginess of his head cleared entirely. The painful burns that hadn’t yet healed all the way subsided, and as he looked back up, Kenzie was staring at him with wonder.
She rubbed her nose, her cheeks wet with tears. “Leif?”
Strength returned to his limbs, and he sat up straight, his eyes widening. Looking at his arms, his skin had returned to normal. There was no blemish or wound marking his time in the sun.
“It worked,” he mumbled, hardly believing it was true. “Bless you, Kenzie, it worked!” Without even thinking about it, he swung his arms outward, snapping the metallic bonds in half, then pulled Kenzie into a hug, and she hugged him back, her body trembling against his as more tears fell from her eyes.