by Rye Brewer
“Now I’m begin selfish? Wanting the best for my daughter makes me selfish?”
“Doing everything in your power to keep me from him is what’s selfish. How far do you think you can push me? Any of us? You want me to stay alive long enough to cure me, if such a thing is possible? Great. Leave Gage here. Unrestrained, like the rest of us. And we won’t have any trouble.”
“I will not allow it.”
“Then say goodbye.”
“Carissa, you don’t have to do this.” He held his hands out, pleading now. His normally smooth forehead—so smooth it usually looked like he’d injected it with something—now furrowed deeply, his eyebrows drawing together over his nose. His eyes even looked shiny, like he was fighting back tears.
I didn’t know whether to believe him. That was the worst, really. Not knowing if he was putting on an act just so I would fall in line. “You’re right. I don’t. You’re the one who controls whether or not I blow my brains out all over this nice, comfortable, calming little room. Which will it be?”
He took a step forward, closer to me, making me press myself even closer to the wall. He held up his hands, like he wanted to show me he didn’t mean any harm. “We can talk about this.”
The gun didn’t so much as tremble in my hand. “There’s nothing to talk about. Leave Gage here. It’s as simple as that. I won’t let you take him away.”
“We wouldn’t do anything to him elsewhere that we wouldn’t do right here, in front of you.”
“Lies,” I hissed. “You’re lying, even now. Even when I have a gun to my head. I know what you’re doing. I know how you’re thinking. And I know you want to separate us because it kills you that I love him. You can’t stand the thought of it.”
“Enough.” His eyes darted back and forth. Uncomfortable.
“Oh, I get it. They don’t know, do they?” I looked at each of the men in the room, most of whom hadn’t moved a muscle since I took the gun. “He hasn’t told you that I love him. Gage. I love Gage. Does that embarrass you, Dad?” Laughter started to bubble up in my chest, but even I knew it was hysterical laughter and would hardly help my case any. The point was not to look hysterical. I wasn’t doing myself any favors if I lost it.
And if I started laughing, I might never stop. I might completely lose my mind and fall right off the deep end. I had been holding it all in for too long, ever since we were first locked up. Doing everything I could to convince myself and the others that we would be okay. Staying strong.
Even while I fell apart inside.
My father stared at me. I stared straight back. He was between a rock and a hard place, no doubt about it. I could practically read his thoughts. Would he lose face if he gave into my insane demands? Would he lose me forever if he refused to give in?
Was there any point in researching a cure when I was no longer alive for him to treat?
“Well?” I demanded. “What will it be? Leave Gage here, or watch me kill myself.”
His tongue darted out to lick his parched lips while sweat beaded on his brow. He knew I wasn’t joking, anyway. I had gotten my point across.
“Fine,” he blurted out, the word jumping from his mouth like it had been forced. “Leave the bloodsucker here for my daughter to consort with. She’s already debased herself further than I ever could’ve imagined. Why not allow her to destroy what’s left of her soul?”
“Charming,” I whispered, and I wondered if I could believe him. “And funny, coming from you. All this talk about souls, when I’m starting to question whether you even have one.”
“Don’t press me any further,” he muttered. “Next time, I won’t stop you.”
“Then you’d better see to it that there isn’t a next time, Dad.” When he held out his hand, palm up, I knew what he wanted. Only when Gage was back at his bed—looking a little dazed, the way Raze did—did I hand over the gun.
He looked away first—another victory for me, though I didn’t exactly feel like celebrating. In fact, now that it was over and Gage’s handlers let go of him before leaving the room, all the strength left me until I was barely able to stay on my feet.
My father was the last one out of the room, and he closed the door a lot harder than he needed to. It didn’t matter. I had won.
Gage caught me before I slid to the floor.
“What did you think you were doing?” he whispered, holding me up and half-carrying me to a bed. “Don’t ever do anything that crazy again.”
“Crazy?” I laughed, still weak and dizzy. “I’ll remember that, next time you’re about to be taken away, and I’m desperate for them not to hold you by yourself. Jeez. He calls me crazy.”
“It was a little bit of a gamble,” Raze murmured when he joined us. He ran a hand through his hair, standing it up on end. “Man, that reminds me of something an old friend of mine would’ve done—and I was no more a fan of her antics than I was of this.”
“I’d appreciate it very much if the pair of you wouldn’t lessen what I just did, okay?” I laid back on the bed, exhausted and shaking. But I was victorious. I had gotten at least a little of my own back.
“You’re right,” Gage sighed, kissing my forehead. “You did it for me, and I shouldn’t bully you for it—even though I was half scared out of my wits, if you don’t mind my admitting it. What do you think I would’ve done if you had gone through with it? Don’t you think it would’ve killed me, having to live without you?”
I did what I could not to scoff at this, though I did think he was going a little overboard. “You wouldn’t have to live without me, because he never would’ve let me go through with it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I know him.” I closed my eyes and remembered the look on my father’s face. “He didn’t want any of them to watch it happen. His men, whatever he wants to call them. That would’ve been worse than their thinking he was weak enough to cave. If he let his own daughter kill herself, whether or not she’s a vampire, that would’ve been it. His credibility would’ve been shot.”
Raze snorted. “No pun intended.”
“Hilarious.” I smirked.
“I would say you’re being too hard on him, but that would be disingenuous. He deserves everything he gets.” Gage kissed my forehead again, smoothing back my hair. “And I’m grateful for what you did, don’t get me wrong. It would drive me out of my skull, not knowing what they were doing to you. Even so, I don’t want you taking such huge risks.”
“Too late.” I couldn’t help but smile, no matter how exhausted I was after all that emotion.
“I mean it.” He leaned in closer, speaking directly into my ear. “There’s no living without you. Don’t push his hand again, because he might push back. He’ll think you’re trying to take advantage of him now. Seeing how far he’ll let you go.”
I saw the truth in this, and my smile faded as his meaning sank in. I had probably used my trump card. I wouldn’t get another one. “You’re right. I’ll be careful.”
“Thank you.”
“Though it works both ways.” I opened my eyes to look up at him and found him frowning. “I didn’t go through with it this time. Who’s to say I won’t go through with it the next time he pushes me?”
“Yes, well, I doubt you’ll get the opportunity again. There won’t be any disarming one of the men, not anymore. They’ll be more careful with us than ever.”
I winced at the implications and tried not to let my imagination get the best of me. It was no good trying to foresee what might happen, or else I might lose myself in despair. Instead, I nodded. “Okay. I get your point. But if he pushes me…”
“We’ll just have to hope he doesn’t.” He bent down, touching his forehead to mine. “You’re impossible.”
The bathroom door opened, and my reflexes sent me sitting straight up.
Good thing Gage was just as fast as I was, or we would’ve knocked our heads together.
He and Raze both jumped in surprise.
Naomi s
tepped out, wearing a sweatshirt and pants, toweling her hair. She stopped, eyes wide, when she took in our reaction. “What? Did I miss something?”
19
Branwen
“What is taking him so long?” I turned on my heel and walked over the same twelve paces I’d walked countless times while waiting for Stark’s return.
“I’m certain he’ll return the moment he’s able to.” Sirene was calm, ever-centered, and as always I wished I might possess even a fraction of her serenity. Even now, knowing her child was in danger of starving and having not the slightest inkling of where her own mate might be, she all but radiated peace.
I scowled. “I’m afraid he got himself into trouble. You know what a talent he has for that.”
Sirene chuckled, not unkindly. “I do, but those days are long past. I’m sure you will agree that he’s calmed his wild ways quite a bit.”
“Quite a bit too late,” I grumbled for the sake of grumbling. For someone in such a hurry to get to the Carver mansion, he was taking his time returning from this business he simply had to settle.
I had my suspicions as to where this business happened to reside and who the business was conducted with, but he’d given me nothing more than a cryptic smile when I’d asked, flat-out, where he planned to go when there was something so important awaiting us. A much more important task.
Elewyn had always managed to one-up me, and I supposed this was no exception. He’d gone to her. She always found a way to bring him back to her.
“You have Anissa’s map?” she asked, bringing my thoughts back to the present and away from that vile witch.
I hoped she was happy on her island, surrounded by everything she’d ever wanted. Except for him.
I held up the folded sheet of paper. It seemed simple enough. We were to follow the tunnel which Anissa had so often used to slip in and out of the mansion unnoticed, one which had originally been created for the transport of illegal beverages in the days when imbibing was against the law. It opened up at an old door just inside the acreage’s borders and led to a pantry inside the unused kitchen.
Beyond the kitchen was a door which led down to the dungeons. We were to use the passageway running the length of the mansion’s lowest level the take the stairs at the other end. The reasoning behind this?
“Marcus is dead,” Anissa had explained, “and if his son, Will, has taken his place there’s a much lesser chance of there being anyone in the dungeons. He’s his father’s son in many ways, but he never struck me as the type to lock vampires away for little more than his amusement.”
“Did Marcus Carver behave that way?” I’d asked, aghast.
Anissa had nodded, wrapping her arms about herself as if struck by a sudden chill. “Oh, yes. He did it to my sister. Did no one ever tell you that? I guess there wasn’t much of a reason to. No one would offer us protection or support after our parents died. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I now know it had to do with my being half-fae. Our clan couldn’t forgive my hybrid status and so punished both of us by virtually ignoring our presence. I suppose they thought they were being charitable even allowing us to stay in the mansion.”
“That’s terrible,” I’d murmured, stricken.
“Sara broke clan law in an attempt to see to it we were fed. Nothing more than that. We were struggling, starving, hopeless. Marcus learned of her transgression and locked her away in a silver cage, then allowed her to starve until there was nothing left of the sister I remembered.” She’d stared off then, as if by looking at the wall she could see her suffering sister once again. “She was a shrieking, raving thing, begging for even a drop of blood. I hardly recognized her and—truth be told—I don’t think she recognized me when I visited. She was too far gone by then. I begged Marcus to please, please end the starvation. I vowed that I would do whatever it took to balance the scales. Anything, so long as he promised to end the torture.”
“Did he?”
“Certainly.” She’d blinked rapidly, the vision dissolving, before turning her focus back to me. “He trained me to become an assassin on his behalf. I killed his enemies for Sara’s sake. So long as he kept feeding her, I did as I was told. I couldn’t imagine letting her suffer like that.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about everything she’d described. The torment it must have been, not just for Sara but for her. How it had shaped both of them into who they’d become.
After we climbed the stairs three flights we were to push on a door mounted flush with the wall. This was a secret door in what were one Marcus’s chambers, which he had once used that he might visit the dungeons at any time without anyone else noticing. Just why he would have taken the care to obscure his actions was a mystery to me, though I supposed he’d been twisted enough to have any number of reasons.
All of which sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine.
We would find another such door on the opposite side of that very room, which had been his bedchamber. Why a vampire needed a bedchamber was yet another mystery that I had no time to delve into. That door led to a secret room, a vault of sorts, in which he’d stored a great deal of synthetic blood. The room was chilled to protect the blood’s freshness.
“I saw him duck in there dozens of times—maybe as a way to remind me of everything he had to offer my sister, if I played along. It pains me to think of how easily he twisted me to his bidding,” Anissa had mourned.
That was the past, and I’d done all I could to remind her of the fact. She couldn’t blame herself for the evils of another.
“So long as this Will Carver doesn’t have guards posted at every dozen feet, we ought to be all right,” I assured Sirene, trying to smile. “We can leave as soon as your brother returns.”
“Her brother has returned.” Stark strode into the courtyard outside the fortress, the remnants of the portal he’d used vanishing behind him. His expression was blank, holding not a single clue as to the nature of his meeting with his former love. Just the thought of the two of them together was enough to wrinkle my nose in disgust.
“I’m sure I speak for Sirene when I say we’re sorry to have pulled you away from where you would so obviously prefer to be.” I could no longer contain my frustration, it would seem. “You led me to believe this was a matter of importance, yet you leave me waiting all this time.”
I thought I caught a flash of a smile from Sirene, though she rearranged her expression in much blander lines in the blink of an eye.
He, on the other hand, appeared taken aback. “Pardon me,” he murmured, a hand over his chest. “I only thought that with such a dangerous mission upon us, any lingering business ought to be seen to.”
Awareness thrummed in my blood, pushing its way through my veins. “You don’t believe this will end well for us?”
“I have reservations, of which you’re well aware,” he snapped. “Yet it matters nothing to you.”
I opened my mouth to argue the point, but Sirene was faster than both of us. “You had better be going,” she advised. “When you arrive outside New York City, it will be full dark. All the better to conceal your actions outside the mansion.”
“Of course,” I agreed, and I was grateful for her intercession. Words were about to be exchanged that neither of us could have taken back. I gave her a brief, strong hug before marching through the new portal which Stark had created.
In an instant, brilliant sunlight changed to darkest night. The air was chill, damp, dew coating the grass beneath my feet. It was a stroke of brilliance on Anissa’s part to lend me more sensible clothing for a task such as this. I tugged the zipper pull to close the hooded sweatshirt.
Stark noticed this. “I’ve never seen you in human clothing before.”
I couldn’t help but frown. “What would you call what I normally wear? Do humans not dress as I do?”
He sputtered. “I didn’t mean that. I meant, you dress as our kind does. Not as humans do.”
“Anissa isn’t human.”
“All
right, enough. You seem intent on misunderstanding me.”
Not truly, but it was enjoyable to see him coming undone as we crouched, hidden in the shadows, working away at the dirt and dead leaves caked along the door’s outer edge. She’d warned us of this—as far as she knew, she’d been the only person using the tunnel, and a great deal of time had passed since she’d taken refuge with the Bourke clan.
Before long, with us working silently as a team, we freed the door from its confines and Stark pried it open. “I’m not accustomed to using physical strength to do things,” he admitted, grunting with effort.
“You know what Anissa said,” I reminded him. “They’ll catch on to the presence of witch energy much more easily if we—”
“If we use our powers. I’m not a child for you to remind of these things.” He opened the door, which protested every inch of the way, wide enough for us to slip through.
The inside of the tunnel was black as pitch. “How did she manage her way through it?” I wondered as we made our careful way down the unlit passage. I kept my hands out to the sides, brushing my fingers against the rough, earthen walls to avoid walking into them.
“At least we’ll be able to portal out of here once we’ve obtained the blood,” he reasoned. “At that point, it won’t matter if they know we’ve been through—and there is no way for them to portal to Hallowthorn Landing. Not as mere bloodsuckers.”
I clicked my tongue in disdain. “Bloodsuckers such as your niece? As Anissa?”
“I didn’t mean them.”
“Oh, I see. You only feel disgust toward vampires who aren’t friends or part of your bloodline.”
“I wish you would stop twisting everything I try to say.”
“Your words do not require twisting,” I murmured as I followed close behind him. “There is little need for interpretation. I wonder just how far away your extremist views truly are. If they are as far in the past as you make them out to be. When you refer to bloodsuckers as you just did, for instance…”
“You are right. Is that what you wish to hear? You make a good point, and I ought to take better care with the words I choose. Especially with Lena growing by leaps and bounds every day. Soon she’ll be able to understand, and I wouldn’t want her to hear me speak that way about her or anyone like her.”