“He’s a little more than that,” his wife added, but her gaze was still fixed on Tain.
Samantha couldn’t look away from him either. Tain had sprung out of nowhere, looking as devastating as ever, though he bore a half-healed gash high on his cheekbone.
He would choose this moment to walk back into her life, where Samantha couldn’t take him aside and ask what had happened to him. Or take him aside to hold on to him and reassure herself he was truly back—if he was, and this wasn’t some quick visit between disappearances.
Human servants began trucking in carts of food, and the family dispersed to take seats for dinner. Everyone seemed to know where to sit, with Fulton at the head of the table. A place to Fulton’s right had been left clear for Samantha, but there was no seat for Tain, and no one offered to bring him one.
Tain made a little gesture for Samantha to sit, then silently took up a stance behind her chair. Questions about what he’d been up to and why would have to wait. Samantha looked nervously around at her family, who’d started eating the first course.
It didn’t help that what the servant carefully laid on Samantha’s plate was long, gray, and unidentifiable. It was also very gently pulsing.
“Haggert,” Tain leaned down and murmured into her ear.
“What?”
“It’s haggert,” Fulton said, his dark eyes unsurprised. “A beast found only in certain death realms, hard to bring down. A delicacy.”
“Why is it moving?” Samantha asked, gingerly poking it with her fork.
Her uncle Parker answered. “It takes a long time for them to die. Often, their pulse still goes even after they’re sliced and roasted. Better that way—full of life essence.”
Samantha sat back, letting her fork drop. Parker’s wife leaned forward. “You mean you’ve never had haggert? It’s wonderful. Although I suppose you’d rather stick to dead cow?”
“Maybe a salad,” Samantha said hastily.
“Salads are good,” her aunt agreed. “Especially with mushroom grubs and vampire blood.”
Parker guffawed as Samantha flinched. “I have the feeling the new matriarch will be ordering out Chinese.”
“Oh, I love Chinese,” his wife said. “Koreans are quite good, too . . .”
The doors banged open, breaking conversation. The demon who entered wore a tailored suit, but Samantha sensed him ready to burst out of it and shift into a snarling monster at any moment.
“Tristan,” Fulton said under his breath. “Your cousin.”
“So this is Samantha,” Tristan said, gazing down the table at her. “Our half-blood.”
In the course of Samantha’s career she’d faced down plenty of hot-headed, belligerent, out-of-control criminals. Tristan reminded her of every single one. He looked into her eyes, unapologetic, angry, and unremorseful.
“Sit down, Tristan,” Fulton said.
“Who is that?” Tristan demanded, glaring at Tain. “What have you brought into our house, Fulton?”
Fulton squeezed Samantha’s hand under the table and gazed calmly back at Tristan. “If Samantha becomes our matriarch, it is her choice to bring in Tain to guard her. Considering what happened to our last matriarch, I welcome his help. Are we all still agreed?”
Samantha expected reluctance and resentment, but to her surprise the whole family except Tristan nodded, including Samantha’s aunt with the strange food preferences, who smiled at her across the table.
“I can see that Fulton has brainwashed you all, as usual,” Tristan said. He moved to the foot of the table where an empty chair waited but he didn’t sit. “You would put a half-demon and her pet thing over us, instead of my candidate?”
“Candidate?” Samantha asked her father. “This is the first I’ve heard about another candidate.”
“Her name is Ariel,” Tristan answered in a loud voice. “A pure demon who knows how to stop the harassment of demons going on in Los Angeles.”
“Oh, really?” Samantha said. “How interesting.”
“Demons are stronger than humans, no question,” Tristan said. “There was a time when humans were nothing but food for demons, and Ariel will bring those days of glory back to us.”
Samantha’s aunt nudged Parker. “With him on top . . . of her.” Parker chuckled, and Tristan glared at them.
Fulton observed calmly, “Ariel is from a rival family and is a protégé of the matriarch’s majordomo.”
Samantha saw distrust of Tristan and dislike of this Ariel on every face at the table, and pieces fell into place.
“I see,” Samantha said to Fulton, her anger rising. “You all want me, because better the demon you know . . .”
Fulton nodded without shame. “Exactly. Although there’s much more to it than that.”
No doubt there was. Samantha, young and inexperienced, could be told to put the needs of her demon family over the others in the clan. They wanted Samantha, because they thought they could control her.
Anger flowed through Samantha’s body, clean, strengthening anger that chased away the last vestiges of doubt. She knew now what she had to do. She glanced at Tain and saw the same grim realization reflected in his eyes.
Tristan was rambling on. “We demons have stayed hidden too long—assimilating, adapting, letting humans rule us.”
“They don’t rule us,” Fulton said calmly. “Sit down.”
Tristan stretched a long finger toward Samantha. “She works for those who arrest us, imprison us, humiliate us.”
“Only when you’re stupid,” Samantha said in a hard voice.
Tristan’s eyes glittered with dislike. “Half-breed females are good for only one thing. You should serve us whatever we want—on your back, on your knees, however we please.”
Tain moved, and Samantha in that moment understood that he’d been holding in the full extent of his power since he’d arrived in Los Angeles.
His life magic whipped through the room in a blinding flash of light. It found and destroyed every warding and death-magic spell that had been placed in here, bursting them with little pops, then it flowed through the house to find all the others. Tain replaced the demon magic with his own white-hot power—strong, protective, deadly. Samantha heard groans of dismay and fright from her family. Even Fulton, who had seen what Immortals could do, shivered.
Tristan tried to launch a stream of death-magic at Tain to stop him, but the small trickle splintered and died in the face of Tain’s overwhelming force.
Tain reined in his magic without even breathing hard. The light vanished, and the guests at the table let out their breaths in relief.
“Well,” Parker’s wife said. “That was a display.” She picked up her drink again, pretending nonchalance, but her hand was shaking. “Do you lend him around, Samantha?”
Down the table Tristan declared in a loud voice, “You had no right to bring that life-magic creature here, Fulton. He killed the matriarch, and I can prove it!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The guests gasped or looked disbelieving, and all swiveled their gazes to Samantha and Tain behind her.
“You were misinformed,” Tain said calmly to Tristan.
“Was I?” Tristan said. “That’s not what the vampire told me.”
“What vampire?” Samantha demanded. If Septimus had leaked the information about Tain, he’d see the sharp end of a stake, Old One or not.
“A vamp who works for the one called Septimus,” Tristan said. “He followed your lover all over town and sold me the information—I have it here.”
“The little rat made copies,” Samantha cried, her fury mounting.
Tain’s gaze snapped to Samantha, the cold in his eyes chilling. “Show me,” he said.
With a smile of glee, Tristan reached into his coat and pulled out a large manila envelope, which he tossed to the middle of the table. No one seemed to want to touch it, recoiling from it the same way Samantha had recoiled from the haggert.
Fulton at last stood up, walked down the table
to retrieve it, then pulled it open and unfolded papers and photocopies of pictures. He laid them out on the table in front of Samantha, and Tain leaned down to look.
Tain was clearly visible in the photos, which were time and date stamped, catching him at various places around Los Angeles. Tristan waved a hand at them.
“Behold the killer of our clan matriarch and family leader,” he said. “Why he did it, I don’t know. Maybe he just likes to kill demons, or maybe Fulton put him up to it, to promote his own daughter.”
No one answered. Tain said to Samantha, “You knew about these.”
The noise of the room receded, and for the moment none of this mattered—not the matriarch’s death or the family Samantha was meeting for the first time, or the fact that Tain had popped back into her life as suddenly as he’d vanished from it.
“Septimus gave them to me,” she said.
Tain’s breath was hot on her ear. “And if I told you I was not in those places in those times, would you believe me?”
Do you trust me?
Samantha looked up at him, meeting his blue gaze, then she returned to the photos spread before her, the evidence of a camera’s eye. It was possible Septimus’s vampire had faked the whole thing, but she didn’t think Septimus would have used him if he hadn’t been reliable. Samantha also suspected that the vamp’s decision to sell the information to Tristan came after the fact—an opportunity seized, not a planned event.
She looked up at Tain again to see the darkness in his eyes. Something had changed about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on what. His shaved hair was still in that silky red buzz she found incredibly sexy. She kept envisioning running her hands through it while he slowly slid his coat and shirt from his body.
“Your hair,” she whispered.
Tain’s brows twitched together. “What about it?”
Samantha grabbed the photo of him taken inside the matriarch’s grounds, time-stamped the evening of the matriarch’s death. “I knew something bugged me about this. Look at your hair.”
The photo was black and white, but it clearly showed Tain’s thick hair rolling back from his forehead to his shoulders.
“The matriarch died after the fire at Merrick’s,” Samantha said. “Your hair had burned, and you’d cut it off. This can’t be you, or else the date stamp is wrong.”
Tain leaned over her shoulder to examine the picture. “It looks like me.”
“Maybe it’s a Chameleon,” Samantha suggested. She wanted to dance around the table and wave the photo under Tristan’s nose, but she retained her dignity.
“Or a demon casting a glam,” Fulton said. His gaze went to Tristan, and Tristan’s eyes widened.
“Don’t look at me,” Tristan said indignantly. “I bought all, as is, from a vampire, I swear it.”
“I believe him,” Samantha said. “I think Tristan bought these in good faith, happy he had something with which to incriminate Tain and me.”
“I don’t think I need to ask why,” Fulton said.
Samantha heaved a resigned sigh. “Dad, if I don’t let you put me forward as matriarch, what happens?”
“Tristan and the majordomo back Ariel, the only other candidate.”
Samantha’s head began to ache. “The majordomo must have been horrified when the matriarch talked about grooming me to take her place. I wonder if she faked the photos to make it look as though Tain and I had something to do with the matriarch’s death.”
“She could have,” Fulton said, looking thoughtful. “She’s a ‘demons should dominate’ type. She’s not happy with us trying to play well with others.”
“But didn’t you tell me the majordomo is from one of the lowest classes of our clan?” Samantha asked. “No matter who is matriarch, she doesn’t really get any of that power.”
“The under classes are amazingly old-fashioned,” Fulton answered. “And the majordomo enjoys being the power behind the throne. The matriarch only let her get away with so much, but if a matriarch the majordomo herself has mentored comes forward . . . she pulls all the strings.”
Samantha swallowed, her throat tight. “And that’s why you asked me to do this?”
Fulton gave her a quiet nod. “One of the many reasons.”
Samantha saw her life abruptly splitting into two paths. One led back to her job as a police detective, where she’d arrest vampires accused of turning more people than allotted or do stakeouts on demon bars suspected of dealing Mindglow. Her father’s family and clan would remain under the thumb of the majordomo and her trained matriarch, the consequences of which, if the new matriarch gained enough power, would be felt in the world.
Or Samantha could take the other path, fully embrace her demon family and their world, and keep the clan from becoming nothing but a gathering of evil. She could figure out what the old matriarch had been up to and why she’d died, and prevent demon sacrifices in the future. She could come to terms with her need for life essence and figure out a way to get it without hurting others. But the possibility for Samantha to have any kind of normal life would be gone.
She glanced up to find Tain’s gaze still on her. If she became matriarch, she’d be swallowed by her clan and their problems, by the people who were Tain’s enemies. She couldn’t predict what he would do once she was the matriarch, but Samantha knew she’d fallen in love with him. These past few days without him had been unbearable.
Tain said nothing, only watched with his enigmatic blue eyes as Samantha made the most difficult choice of her life. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
Samantha anchored herself with Tain’s gaze, which was the most steady and solid thing in the room, as she slowly got to her feet. “All right,” she said to Fulton, who watched her anxiously. “I’ll be your matriarch.”
Tain thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful than Samantha standing in front of her father, her black dress as sleek as water, quietly declaring she’d change her life for the good of her clan.
Tain had missed her more than he ever dreamed he would. He’d needed to leave town to clear his head, and he didn’t regret going, but when he’d ridden back into Los Angeles with Adrian, his heart had lightened, knowing he was on his way to Samantha again. For the first time since his escape from Kehksut, he’d looked forward to something.
He’d learned from Logan that today Samantha was meeting her family at a formal dinner in Santa Barbara, and Tain knew he needed to be there. So he’d changed into a suit at the Malibu house, and Hunter had driven him to Santa Barbara and dropped him off. Tain had told him not to stay. Hunter hadn’t liked that, but he’d let Tain have his way.
At Samantha’s declaration, the entirety of her aunts, uncles, and cousins cheered, except for Tristan. Samantha looked down and away, but not before Tain saw the tears in her eyes. The decision had been difficult for her, and Tain was no stranger to hard choices.
“What happens now?” Samantha asked her father.
“We have a clan muster,” Fulton answered. “And the clan decides whether to accept you.”
“And if they don’t?”
“You go home, and we seek another.”
“As simple as that?”
Fulton looked uncomfortable. “Not really.”
“I see. Will Mother be able to come to this muster?”
Fulton shook his head. “The clan isn’t that open-minded. No non-demons allowed in our realm beneath.”
“So when will this muster be?” Samantha asked. She spoke in a calm voice, but Tain heard the tremor in it. “I’ll have to resign; there’s a process . . .”
“The muster is right now,” Fulton said. He put his hands on Samantha’s shoulders, kissed her cheek, and then moved to the richly paneled wall opposite the fireplace.
“Right now?” Samantha’s voice went sharp. “Can’t I have time to prepare, or at least fix my hair?”
“Candidates are not allowed to prepare,” Fulton said, facing the wall. “Matriarchs have supreme power over clans when they take
up the mantle, but before that, the clan has supreme power over them.”
Samantha faltered, though her shoulders remained square. “I wish you’d have mentioned this. I’d have worn more comfortable shoes.”
Fulton didn’t answer. Tain saw in his stance worry that his daughter wouldn’t be accepted, his need to protect her warring with his need to placate his family and follow the ancient traditions.
The wall in front of Fulton dissolved to reveal a darkness beyond and a waft of death magic. Tain went cold. He hated the death realms, the lands of demons. Mortals could go there, but only with a death-magic creature as a guide. There were realms beyond these surface death realms that were only for the dead, true hell dimensions where Old Ones ruled. Tain had been to those deepest hells, and had survived, but they’d scarred him.
He drew a breath, forcing himself to take in the air of the tainted place, willing the blackness that rose in his mind to dissolve.
Beyond the wall Fulton had opened lay a hall of carved stone, with white marble arches flowing down the cavernous room. The pillars seemed to glow from within, bathing the place in a luminous white light.
Fulton walked by himself to the middle of the room, where a small table with a chime and a mallet on it waited. He picked up the tiny mallet and struck the chime, sending a sweet note through the stone hall.
Fulton turned back and held out his hand to Samantha. “It is time.”
Samantha, fists clenched at her sides, stepped into the room, and Tain moved to follow. Samantha’s uncle Parker put himself between Tain and the opening.
“No non-demons at a muster,” he said sternly.
Tain gazed down at Parker, immobile. “I go, or she does not.”
“Tain . . .” Samantha began.
“I won’t let you step into a death realm without me at your side,” Tain said in a hard voice. “They manipulated you to get you this far—what else might they have in mind?”
The spark of anger in Samantha’s eyes flared, not at him, but at the truth of his words. “He has a point, Father.”
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