by Rye Brewer
I was still too stunned to speak. He took advantage of my silence.
“If you’d like to hear a story or two, I would be happy to share. But you must promise to keep your naïve, inexperienced mouth shut. I don’t care how old you truly are. You might as well be a babe in the woods.”
I rankled at his insulting words and tone but wasn’t stupid enough to argue.
My curiosity was stronger than my pride.
15
Scott
Elazar drew a deep breath and seemed to settle himself in, as though he’d been waiting for this opportunity.
I was a captive audience, after all, and he’d had a lot of time to go over his memories, but no one new to share them with it seemed.
“If anything, I must admit there’s not much I could’ve done without Samara’s assistance,” he began. “Not that I blame her for anything which took place once the Senate captured me. It took the two of us, with our abilities combined, to perform the feats we were so renowned for. I knew from a young age who I was, what I was,” he continued, staring into space as he had before. “I was hardly looked on favorably once my abilities revealed themselves, to put it mildly. No matter the creature, no matter how reviled or excluded they might be in the eyes of others, they were always searching for someone to look down upon. One would think they’d be more likely to accept others, wouldn’t you think?”
He didn’t wait for me to answer.
“My mother was an elemental witch, as my sister is. Possibly one of the most misunderstood of our kind. I was once naïve enough to believe she would be capable of relating to me as a result of this. Not so. She threatened to banish me. I disgusted her. But not Elewyn; she loved me, always, and was always faithful to me. She urged our mother to at least allow me to remain under her roof and her protection. And Elewyn was a rising star, possessed of skill even our powerful mother revered. She may as well have hung the moon and stars, that girl.”
I didn’t so much as raise a brow. I did nothing that would interfere with his storytelling.
He chuckled fondly. “There was never any rivalry between us. We were both powerful in our own way and content to leave it at that. She expressed concern when I began taking my skills… public, shall we say. When those aware of my powers came to me with questions about loved ones who had already passed through the veil between life and death, my reputation grew quickly.
“Elewyn wanted me to exercise more caution. She wanted me to tamp down the full depth of my power, but there was no controlling it. Nor did I want to. I’d spent more than enough time denying myself for the sake of sheer survival in my family. No more.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I brought my mother’s greatest rival back from the dead and used the reanimated corpse as a weapon against her. Mother didn’t last long, even with all her considerable power. You see, it was she who had killed the unfortunate witch in the first place. She didn’t think we knew. That was her mistake—one of many.”
My stomach turned. The way he spoke of it, so matter-of-fact, as though he were reporting the weather.
“I quickly grew tired of reanimating the dead, however. A messy business. Enough to turn even the strongest stomach. No, it was much cleaner and more interesting to transport spirits from one body to another. When I met Samara, I knew I had found my purpose. I couldn’t begin to tell you how many we assisted this way.”
“Assisted?” I spat.
“Yes. Assisted. You know—the way we assisted Nivia and Valerius.”
“It’s disgusting, what you did.”
“In your eyes. Not in theirs. They needed us. We provided a service.”
“I’m glad you can explain it to yourself that way. It must make being you a lot easier.”
He laughed, the sound falling flat as the sound did, rather than echoing off the marble walls. “It does, in fact. But, as you know, the Senate felt much the same about my services as you do. They caught up to us and felt it best to sentence me.”
Something about that didn’t add up. “What about Samara? Why did only you receive a sentence, when it took the both of you to do what you did?”
He didn’t answer right away, but the shadow of emotion which seemed to move over his face confirmed my suspicions. He had taken the blame for all of it because he’d loved her. “It wasn’t difficult for me to convince the Senate I’d held Samara under a sort of thrall, forcing her to do what she’d done. Necromancers are so detested, and the Senate wanted so badly to punish me until the end of time, they were eager to believe whatever it took in order to justify their sentence.”
He rolled his head on his shoulders, his eyes boring into mine. “You see what I mean, now? She could’ve left me, taken her lucky break and run. Instead, she moved her life to Shadowsbane and lived in the shadow of that prison until the day she…”
His voice left me cold and shaken to my core. The images his story had brought to mind. The recognition that he was right, that Sara had never loved me enough to make such a sacrifice for me though I would’ve done what Elazar did for Samara, if it would’ve meant her freedom.
She had come to me at a terrible time, a time of weakness and fear. She’d needed someone with strength, stability, the promise of comfort after the torture she’d been through. I had been there for her, and available. It was all she’d needed.
When she’d no longer needed me, she’d moved on. And changed. Had she ever changed?
I was better off without her. Just listening to the stories of Elazar’s life, his history, proved I was right about witches and their ilk. Evil, nasty, heartless things. Capable of the vilest aberrations. His mother, an elemental witch like Sara, had murdered her rival. What would Sara be capable of?
I didn’t want to know.
We didn’t hear the footsteps until Fane, and the small, black-haired witch who followed him were almost inside the mausoleum.
I jumped to my feet. “That didn’t take very long.”
“I was fortunate.” Fane glanced at Elazar, who stood and looked the witch up and down. “This is Branwen. She is a caster, and she’s agreed to assist us.”
She was slight, delicate, with large eyes that seemed to take up most of her face. Her robes were long, deep burgundy, swallowing her tiny body. I had to remind myself of how dangerous she was—it would be too easy to underestimate her.
“I’m glad to meet you.” Elazar smiled.
Her still expression didn’t shift an inch. “I’m well acquainted with you, Elazar. I’m not one for false compliments, so you will forgive me if I don’t return the warmth of your greeting.”
I almost laughed at the way Elazar’s face fell. He hadn’t been expecting that, the fool.
Fane cleared his throat, stifling a smile of his own. “Branwen is an old friend of Sirene’s—it’s only fair I tell you the strength of their friendship is the reason she’s agreed to help us, and nothing more.”
“I know Sirene would want me to assist you,” she added, never taking her eyes from Fane. “And now that you are one of us, it becomes easier for me to fulfill her wishes.”
I glanced at Fane in surprise, only to find him appearing just as surprised as me.
“One of you?” he choked out.
“Well, yes. The change in your aura is obvious. You’re now a warlock. Is that not so?”
He looked at Elazar, who was all innocence. “Yes,” he replied, his jaw tightening until muscles jumped there. “That is so. It’s a rather recent occurrence, not one I’ve had time to grow accustomed to yet.”
Disgust threatened to choke me again. My father, a warlock. Because of the evil necromancer, I still wanted nothing more than to kill someone. Slowly.
“And you.”
I realized she was speaking to me. Our eyes met. She seemed to stare through me—an unnerving experience.
“Me?”
“You’re very angry, aren’t you? I sense a great deal of turmoil in you.”
“And?” I cha
llenged.
Fane’s disapproving sigh only made me grit my teeth.
She chuckled softly, never breaking the hold of her gaze on mine. “If I can’t trust you to behave yourself, I don’t know that I’ll be able to help you.”
“You’re having a little fun with me, aren’t you?”
“Perhaps.”
“I don’t appreciate it.”
She tilted her head to the side. “I don’t recall asking whether or not you did.”
I growled under my breath. “No filthy witch talks to me that way.”
Just like that, the air left my lungs as though an invisible iron band wrapped itself around my midsection. I couldn’t breathe, much less speak, no matter how hard I tried.
She only glared as her spell or whatever it was took control of me. “I think it would be best for you to recall who’s truly in power here, bloodsucker. You need your fangs in order to work your will on others. I don’t need to touch you or even lift a finger to steal the air from your very lungs.”
“Branwen. Please.” Fane touched her shoulder as I struggled for air, doing everything I could to keep from making my struggle visible.
It grew more difficult by the second.
And then, just as immediately as it had come on, the hold she had on me disappeared, and I could breathe again.
I glared at her as I caught my breath.
Fane pulled me aside. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” I replied. “She’s really something. You run in all the right circles, don’t you?”
“Watch what you say,” he snarled. “I’ve about had my fill of your attitude and your inability to control it and your mouth. No matter how many times I remind you how important it is to Philippa that we make a success of this, you insist on making a fool of yourself.”
“Why did you bring me along, then? You could’ve let me go home, and everything would’ve been fine.”
He sighed. “I thought this would be different. I was wrong. I also thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now, based on what happened back on Shadowsbane. What needs to happen for you to finally understand how wrong you are about so many things? You can’t keep allowing this ignorance and anger to rule you, or the time will come when I won’t be there to help get you out of the hole you’ve dug for yourself. No one will.”
He didn’t understand and never would. He was one of them. It felt as though we were speaking two different languages, just missing one another. And there would never be time for us to arrive at an understanding, because there would always be some new challenge or danger to focus on.
There would never be time for us to get back what we’d lost.
When I didn’t answer, he went on. “This is important for Philippa. Can you remember that, at least?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I need to know you’re going to hold your tongue and behave for her sake, if for nothing else.”
Right, because he cared so much for his little girl. She’d always been his favorite. I hated myself for caring so much, for begrudging my sister her happiness, but it didn’t help at the moment that he cared so much more for her happiness than my misery.
“I will,” I promised, swallowing my resentment. “Really. I’ll be all right. We should get going, this place unnerves me.”
He chuckled. “We can agree on that, at least. I’ve never quite gotten used to this world.”
16
Philippa
Having Vance back was a dream come true. Something I had wished for, worked for, put all my hopes into. I didn’t think I had ever wanted anything more, not even back when I was a little girl, and the entire world had been made up of nothing but me and what I wanted.
I should’ve been happy.
I wasn’t.
And I didn’t know what to think.
What was worse than anything was the way he didn’t seem to notice. Or care. Didn’t he know me at all? I thought he did. There was a time when we were closer than any two people had ever been, or so I used to tell myself.
He had always been able to pick up on my slightest change before. I used to have to tell him to stop watching my face, because every time I’d have a thought that made me frown, he’d think I was frowning at him. Vance had a lot of shortcomings, but attentiveness was never one of them.
Had he changed so much in the time we were apart?
I guessed it was possible. It had been forever since we’d been together, and that amount of time could change anyone. I had mellowed out a lot since those days. Even more in the short time since we’d met Anissa and Sara, I had grown a lot. Not that it helped me dislike them any less.
That had to be why he was so different. That, and how much he’d been through when Valerius took over his body. I had no idea what that was like and knew I’d never understand even if Vance tried to explain it.
Why was his kiss so different, though? Wasn’t that something that shouldn’t have changed? Why would it have? A kiss was something unique to each person. It didn’t change just because time had passed. Did it? It was almost like…
Like he wasn’t there.
No. That wasn’t possible. I had spoken to Valerius while he was in Vance’s body. I remembered it. That was nothing like this. He was a completely different person.
Wasn’t he?
“Are you all right?” I asked when I found him staring out the window.
He seemed so tense, with his shoulders up around his ears and his hands clasped behind his back.
Nothing.
“Vance?” I crossed the living room, almost afraid to startle him.
He’d been through so much already. He must not have noticed my reflection in the door, because when I touched his back, he whirled on me like he’d turn on an attacker.
I jumped back, pulling my hand away.
For a split second, no longer than the blink of an eye, he looked like a different person. His features were his, but they weren’t. There was something wrong with the way he held his face. He was harder, angry, even violent.
And then, he wasn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, hands held up with the palms facing out. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
When I found my breath, I said, “I didn’t mean to startle you either. I’m sorry.”
More than anything, I was confused. Would he always be this way? Was I supposed to get used to him being so jumpy, so unpredictable? So not him?
“I was a little too deep in thought,” he explained, giving me that Vance shrug I knew so well. That tiny gesture I had seen so many times went a long way toward soothing me.
“You don’t have to think about any of those things anymore if you don’t want to. You can leave it in the past now. I hope you know that.” I slid my arms around his waist as I spoke, just for the joy of touching him. I was so sure for so long I never would again—and for even longer than I would never want to again—that I couldn’t get enough.
“That’s an easy thing to say when you haven’t killed your own father.”
“That wasn’t you,” I whispered, pulling him a little closer. “I wish you could forgive yourself.”
“You and me both.” He chuckled. His eyes were so troubled, so much older than they used to be.
I wanted to wipe all of that away and bring him back to what mattered. Would that ever be possible?
“You know,” he continued with a frown, “there’s still something you haven’t told me, though I’ve asked. I feel as though you’re trying to keep something from me.”
Talk about feeling like a deer in headlights. I blinked slowly before asking, “What is it?”
“Where is the body? Valerius’s body?”
Another blink as my thoughts spun around in circles. “I don’t understand the obsession with where his body is. I’m telling you, it’s safe. There’s absolutely no reason to worry about it.”
“Valerius had to go somewhere when he left me, right? He could be walking the earth, back in his own body.�
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“You saw his body,” I reminded him. “I don’t think he’s walking anywhere.”
He frowned, and again, for around the length of the blink of an eye, he was someone else. His nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed, one corner of his mouth curled into a sneer. As though there was still a piece of the evil, ancient one in there, wanting to lash out at me for insulting him.
“He’s pretty powerful,” Vance pointed out, calming down again. “I wouldn’t put anything past him. I hate to think of you going to check on him and him…”
He had a point. Where had Valerius’s—was it his soul—gone? He could be anywhere. I wished there was someone I could talk to about it, but who would have experience with something like this?
There was no one to help me. Not even anyone from my family. I had never felt so alone, not ever. I was all alone, handling everything that everybody else used to think was important.
And I had done well so far. I could do well with this.
For starters… “Considering where he is, I know he’s all right. Completely safe.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I do. Just trust me. You have to.”
“Why do I have to? Why can’t I see for myself?” He pulled away, taking a few steps back. “Why are you keeping this from me?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes, please.”
I braced myself for what might happen. “Because it seems like you care too much. I don’t understand why my word isn’t enough.”
He snorted. “Because you haven’t always been the most responsible person in the world, Philippa. I think we both know this.”
I winced. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to cry. He had never insulted me like this before—he was always completely aware of his faults and never tried to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. Which meant he never dug at the faults of others. Especially not mine, not even when things had been at their worst between us.