by Rye Brewer
“She’s beautiful.”
I turned with a gasp at the sound of a familiar voice, clutching the baby tightly.
My sister stood in the arched doorway, looking more beautiful than I had ever seen her. And blond, her hair almost as light as mine.
“Sara!” I got to my feet, baby still in my arms, and ran to her. “How did you get away from your training? I thought you would be there for much longer than this.”
She didn’t answer me at first, choosing instead to turn her attention to Elena. “Who is this? Don’t tell me she’s yours—it hasn’t been that long since we last saw each other.”
I faltered. What was different about her? Something was, for certain. She had Sara’s eyes, her smile, her voice sounded the same—but different, too. There was a formality to her. That was it. We were sisters, the closest thing the other had in the entire world, but she stood as stiff as a board. She hadn’t even tried to hug me.
“N—no,” I stammered. “This is Elena. She’s Sirene’s daughter. And Fane’s.”
“Oh, now I see it.” She smiled, wiggling her fingers in greeting. Now she was the old Sara again. “Yes, she definitely has Fane’s coloring, but Sirene’s hair. A beauty. She looks much older than I would expect, though.”
“That’s the problem we’re currently dealing with.” I explained about the tainted blood, how Elena must have drunk from the supply which had caused her to develop elemental powers. “We have an elemental infant on our hands. She’s no more than a few weeks old.”
Sara gasped. “She might as well be almost a year!”
“I know. She grows bigger every day. At least it seems like her intellect is developing at the same rate. She already has a few words, she tries to sing along when I do my best Elvis impersonation.”
Sara snickered. “Oh, yes. I remember your obsession with Elvis, from way back when.”
I wished I could understand what had changed. There was still an invisible wall between us, no matter how she smiled or how she tried to sound like the sister I knew. “What brings you here? Did Elewyn give you a day pass?” I tried to keep my voice light as I sat on the edge of my bed, placing the baby in the center so she could play with her toy while we talked.
Sara stayed where she was, even when I patted the bed as a way of inviting her to sit.
“No. Not a day pass. I have some work that needs to be done.”
“What kind of work? Does it have to do with your training?”
She shook her head, and her hair caught my eye again. I was almost afraid to ask what had turned it that color—it was easier, and maybe safer, to chalk it up to her powers and leave it there. I’d never felt like there was anything I couldn’t ask her, anything I shouldn’t bring up. Until now.
“It’s got something to do with a wrong in need of righting.” She folded her hands in front of her. “I intend to hunt the Starkers and wipe them off the face of the planet.”
I waited for the punchline. None came. She didn’t even flinch when she said it, speaking of certain doom in the same casual way she might talk about the weather. As if it meant nothing.
“What are you saying? You’re going to kill them?”
She stared at me. “And what have they been doing to vampires all this time?”
“I understand, but you’re only one person. There are likely dozens of them. Maybe more. This could take a long time, tracking them down. I assume that’s what you intend to do.” It was as if I was clawing my way to understanding, struggling to figure out what my sister had in mind—and why she would ever consider taking on a task like this.
“As it happens, they’ve centralized their activities to one certain spot. Oh, there might be a few here or there. Stragglers. I can take care of them easily, but first I’d like to take their heart out by destroying the center of their operations.”
It was time to ask the obvious question. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why not?”
“Sara, you’re not being fair.”
“Fair? I'm not fair?” Her hair began to move even though she stayed still, like an electrical charge was building in her and standing it on end. The air took on that strange, metallic taste I knew so well, thanks to my time with Elena.
The baby whimpered, clearly aware of the change in the air. I reached over to soothe her while still staring at my sister. I might as well have been staring at a stranger.
“I only meant that you aren’t answering my questions. You’re only answering with another question. That’s all.”
She seemed to accept this, judging by the lessening of the electric charge.
I could breathe a little easier, too.
“I don’t like to be questioned. For the first time in my life, I’m in control of my destiny. I don’t have to be afraid of anything.” A smile played over her lips. “They are the ones who need to be afraid. Of me.”
They weren’t the only ones. I was started to develop a very definite fear of my sister, and it broke my heart. “You’re serious about this?”
“Absolutely.”
“Will I see you again?”
Only then did a tiny sliver of regret cross her face, and I wanted to hold onto it with all my might. Sara, I love you, please come back to me. Please, don’t leave me. I know you’re still in there, still the sister I love and miss and would do anything in the world for. I killed for you, that you might never have to kill. We’ve both sacrificed for each other out of love. Please, don’t turn your back on me now. Don’t forget us.
I didn’t say any of it. I simply sat there and waited for her to respond.
“I don’t know,” she admitted with a slight lift of her shoulders. “I wish I could give you a definite answer, but I can’t. I don’t know.”
“I understand.”
“It doesn’t seem as though you do.”
“Because I don’t, damn it!” My fists clenched the bedspread, twisting and pulling, as I wished with all my might that Elewyn was somewhere nearby. I would’ve loved nothing more than to try out some of the tricks good old Marcus had developed in me, back when I was his personal assassin.
“You don’t have to understand. It isn’t your place to understand. It’s only your place to accept that our paths are diverging and might never converge again. This happens sometimes. You have your life, I have mine. We have our own priorities.”
“Your priorities involve killing others.”
“You’ve killed.”
“For you. And to protect myself.” I ignored the charge in the air as it built again. I might never get another chance to say what was on my mind and in my heart. “I love you. I’m what’s true. Our history is what’s true. Our shared blood. What we’ve been through together. Not this… obsession.”
“You’ve gone too far.”
“I don’t think so.” But I didn’t continue to argue, because I saw what a waste of breath it was. I might as well have been talking to a wall.
We faced off for a long, charged moment, staring at each other. Willing the other one to back down. She broke first, which came as a surprise.
“I came here to tell you that I’ll never forget what you did for me. I don’t take it lightly, and I will always love you.”
“I love you,” I whispered even as my throat tightened. “And I will always love you.”
“I do hope you’re happy with Jonah,” she added. “No one deserves it more than you. I mean that.”
When she backed away, instinct pushed me to my feet. I couldn’t let her go. Not like this, not forever. “Wait. Please. There are so many things for us to talk about—do you really have to go right this minute?”
She opened her mouth, as if ready to answer. There was longing in her eyes. Sadness.
But it disappeared in an instant—so fast, I asked myself whether I had imagined it. Maybe I only wanted to believe she would regret this, that she might change her mind and come to her senses. Maybe I needed to believe it.
“Goodbye,” she whispered befor
e disappearing with a swish of her robes. I knew better than to follow or to try to hold her back. She had always been one to stand by her decisions, no matter what anybody else said.
I stared at the wall, imagining her still standing there. I could almost see her if I tried hard enough. But that wasn’t my sister, was it? Not really. My sister was already gone, lost in some fanatical need to get revenge on the Starkers. There was no helping her now.
“I see you met with your sister.”
I turned to Stark, who had just entered the room.
“What happened to her?”
“I have an idea,” he grimaced, coming to the bed and lifting the baby into his arms. She cooed and giggled and patted her uncle’s cheek. Even she didn’t seem to be enough to lighten his mood, which was saying something.
“Elewyn?” I asked.
“Indeed. Who else would have fed her obsession this way? It’s Elewyn’s attempt at getting even with me for rejecting her. I’m certain of it. I should never have allowed her to be alone with that scheming, conniving—”
“Now, now,” I reminded him with a glance at the baby, cutting off what he was about to say. It wasn’t only foul language I didn’t want her picking up, either. She had to learn to control her urges, and watching her uncle give in to rage wouldn’t help matters.
His shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what to do. How to help her.”
“I don’t think there is any helping her now, terrible a thing as it is to say. She’s my sister. Shouldn’t I be willing to move heaven and earth for her sake?”
He looked me up and down. “From what I understand, that’s exactly what you’ve done. There is only so much a person can do to save another. It might finally be time for you to focus on yourself. And Jonah. Your life.”
I flopped back onto the bed with a sigh. “If only that were possible. It seems that no sooner do we mend one problem, than we find two more in its place.”
Someone cleared their throat in the doorway. I turned my head.
Branwen stood there, lingering just beyond the threshold, and it was clear at first glance that she was working very hard to avoid looking at Stark.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she murmured, eyes downcast, “but we have a problem.”
6
Genevieve
“Who are you?” I asked the curvaceous blonde, sizing her up as she entered the cabin. Her clothing was top-of-the-line—Dior, I thought, sleek and refined. She was immaculately groomed, which struck me as rather amusing given our surroundings.
I had once been so immaculate. Not a hair out of place, not a smudge of lipstick. Perfect. Now, here I was, chained to a wall with dried blood on the back of my head.
“It doesn’t truly matter who I am, does it?” Her ruby lips pulled up at the corners. “We won’t be acquainted long enough for you to ever use my name, or to speak it to anyone else.”
She intended to kill me. That much was clear.
“Just the same, I prefer to know the names of those playing host or hostess. While my accommodations leave something to be desired, you are still my hostess.”
Her face went slack, but only for the briefest of moments before she laughed. “You are something. I’d heard you were, mind you. You are virtually a legend among your kind.”
“I always strove to make a legend of myself, though it surprises me that a shifter would know who I am.” She could only be a shifter—a wolf, at that. She reeked of dog, and not in the pleasant way I’d grown to love on Anton’s skin.
“I make it a point to be aware of all creatures whose sphere of influence brushes against mine.”
“How do our spheres brush, pray tell?”
“You are involved with my fiancé.”
She was bluffing. I knew she was. Had it been any other man in the world, I might have questioned whether she was truly lying, but not Anton. Not my Anton. I had never trusted another as I trusted him. In fact, I had never trusted anyone, period.
That had to mean something.
“Your fiancé,” I murmured, striving to conceal my inner thoughts. “I see. And who would that be?”
“You know who. You slept with him two nights ago, did you not? And you were on your way to another tryst, hiding from his parents, when my men captured you. I knew you were there. I could smell a bloodsucker roaming the estate, even from all the way in my own home.”
“You make your home near Anton’s, then?” This might at least give me some understanding of where I was. If I managed to escape her, I might be able to course in a safe direction.
That was, if I had the strength. I wouldn’t know until I tried.
“My family does,” she confirmed. “Has Anton never mentioned the Bertrands?”
“I cannot say that he has, though I have heard the name. Very powerful. The sort of name that opens doors.”
She smiled again, this time in a more genuine manner. Yes, women such as we were susceptible to flattery.
I saw a great deal of myself in her.
“Indeed. And imagine how much greater the power will be once our family and the De Clerqs are united in marriage. We’ll unite our lands, as well, and no one in all of Europe can touch us once we do.” A fire burned in her eyes as she imagined this. The greedy thing.
“An arranged marriage, then,” I couldn’t help but clarify.
Just as I had suspected, she didn’t like this. “Arranged marriage is the custom, and it has been for generations among our kind. We move in the upper echelons of power, bloodsucker. You would never understand.”
“I understand power very well,” I corrected her, keeping my tone light and playful even as I longed to tear her limb from limb. She believed herself worthy of my Anton. She thought she could marry him, trap him in a loveless marriage. That she deserved to touch a single hair on his head.
Her eyes narrowed to slits. She was no longer the beautiful, if cold, creature she had been only moments earlier. She was ugly now, twisted and grasping. “You destroyed any hope of this going smoothly,” she spat with such venom I nearly recoiled.
“Me? What have I done?”
“You turned him away from me. We were always meant to be wed.”
The gears in my mind clicked away when she said this. Something wasn’t right. “You mean Dietrich,” I ventured. “You were always meant to wed Dietrich.”
“What of it?” she snarled, tossing back her white-blonde hair. It was so striking against her tight, black dress. “I was meant to marry the heir to the De Clerq line.”
“Anton wants nothing to do with this.”
“You do not need to tell me, bloodsucker. I know my own business, thank you very much.”
“Yet you insist on forging ahead with this.”
“Silence,” she whispered, eyes bulging.
I bit my tongue. I was in the presence of a truly unhinged mind, and there was nothing I could do to defend myself from anything she planned.
Judging by the way she glared at me, the way I would have glared at a cockroach who dared venture across my path, I had the feeling she had quite a lot in store.
“Margaux understands,” she whispered, rubbing her hands together. “And she knows her son is involved with a bloodsucker. Filthy, disgusting monster.” She spat on the floor, leaving a pockmark in the dust.
“He loves me.”
“He is deranged.”
“Yet you wish to be his wife—I know, for the money,” I added when she rolled her eyes. “I’m certain your parents are utterly behind your plan.”
“Not that they have it in them to do what needs to be done,” she sneered. “They have no idea you are even here. No imagination whatsoever. Everything is up to me, always up to me. Our family would go under if it weren’t for the sacrifices I’m willing to make.”
“Such as marrying for another’s fortune?”
“Such as deigning to align with one who would dare touch a creature like you,” she sneered, disgusted. “I only need him for another heir, h
owever. He’s free to do what he likes once I’m secure in my position—so long as he understands that I intend to do what I like, as well.”
I asked myself how long it would take for me to kill her if I were at full strength. Even if she managed to shift, I had more than enough strength of my own and would relish the sensation of her blood washing over me like crimson rain.
“What do you think Anton feels about this?” I asked. “Do you imagine he would go along with your marriage plans? You might not be aware of this, as you were promised to his older brother, but he has quite a mind of his own and does not take kindly to those who believe they have a say in his affairs.”
“Leave that to me,” she chuckled, folding her arms as she stared down imperiously at my prostrate form. “His mother is good for something, I’ll give her that. I wonder if she’ll teach me how to keep a man in line—after all, she’s managed to all but keep her husband on a leash. I suppose all of the De Clerq men are nothing but weak little boys at heart.”
“I think you’re wrong about that.”
“I don’t recall asking you what you think,” she spat. “You disgust me. You and all your kind.”
“The feeling goes double,” I assured her. “You stink like a wet dog, and you always will. It doesn’t matter how you dress yourself up, how many times a month you have your hair or your nails done. You will always be an animal. Nothing more than a filthy, flea-bitten dog.”
She trembled, but not with fear. “Oh, I will enjoy watching you die.”
“You don’t intend to do the dirty work yourself? Unsurprising,” I yawned. She might have been mere minutes from ending my life, but I would be damned if I’d go out without tearing her down bit by bit. It felt good to get a little of my own back.
“I could tear out your throat right now.”
“Why don’t you, then? Afraid of destroying your dress? I admit, it’s gorgeous, but I’m sure you could afford another one.”
“I will, then.” She charged at me, eyes wild, teeth bared.
“Do you think he’ll stay here if he knows you murdered me?”