Twice Bitten: An Argeneau Novel

by Lynsay Sands

Elspeth nodded in agreement. Her mother had left without saying anything once there was no chance to control her. Obviously, taking control of her had been the whole point of her coming to the room. But why? What had she wanted to make her do?

  “She wanted to make you leave with her,” Alex said as if she’d asked the question aloud, and Elspeth grimaced as she remembered that new life mates had a tendency to lose control of their thoughts so that it seemed almost as if they were shouting them to any immortals nearby.

  “Leave where?” Elspeth asked. “This room?”

  “More likely Canada,” Alex told her solemnly. “One of your father’s planes has landed on the airstrip behind the Enforcer House.”

  “What?” Elspeth squawked with alarm.

  “It’s true,” Sam said with a nod. “I gather Martine ordered it last night. It landed about half an hour ago. Mortimer and a couple of men went out to find out who they were and what they were doing there. The pilot said Martine called the head office of Pimms International and ordered them to send a plane at once. He and the copilot were called in to fly here and back. They’re expecting four passengers for the return flight—Martine, Julianna, Victoria, and you.”

  “The bitch,” Elspeth breathed, thinking that if she hadn’t stabbed herself, she’d probably be in a vehicle on the way to the plane even now. Victoria had been right—her mother did intend to take control and force her back under her thumb. Only instead of moving to Canada and making her live with her again here, Martine was going to force her back to England. If she could get control of her.

  “So, last night’s fire didn’t make you decide to return to England where you would be safer?” Sam asked.

  “What?” She blinked at her in surprise. “No!”

  “That’s what I thought,” Sam said quietly. “But that’s what she told Mortimer when he called her about the plane. He immediately called me and asked why I hadn’t given him a heads-up about this.”

  “And then Sam woke me up,” Alex announced, “and we came to find you and make sure Martine hadn’t got control of you somehow.”

  She hadn’t, but that was pure luck. If Elspeth and Wyatt hadn’t finished eating when they had and started to . . . Well, Elspeth was sure that was the only reason her mother hadn’t been able to take control of her the minute she walked in. Their shared passion must have prevented her mother taking control of her for just long enough for Elspeth to get to her knife and stab herself.

  “You look pale,” Sam said now. “I’m guessing you haven’t had any blood since we arrived?”

  Elspeth shook her head. “No. I wasn’t hurt, and was so distracted with worrying about Wyatt I didn’t even think of feeding before I lay down to try to sleep,” she admitted.

  “And now you’ve stabbed yourself,” Alex said dryly. “I’ll go grab half a dozen bags. Sam and I could use some as well.”

  Elspeth let her go, but wasn’t sure she should have any of the blood when Alex did bring it back. She had no doubt her mother would try to control her again, and it looked like hunger, pain, and passion were the only way to fight her off. Elspeth had no intention of ending up back in England under her mother’s control after working so hard to escape.

  “I wonder if she’s already taken control of Julianna and Victoria,” Sam said suddenly. “I’m pretty sure they don’t want to go back to England with her. They didn’t even want to ride in the same vehicle as her to come here.”

  Elspeth frowned at the words, wondering that herself. She knew her sisters didn’t want to go back to England. And while she had initially been annoyed at their dragging their mother here to Canada, she had calmed enough since then to understand. Especially now that she knew the depth of the control her mother had kept over them all. How much of what they’d done and thought had been their own decisions, and how much had been their mother? She didn’t know, and it wasn’t fair. She, Julianna, and Victoria were all adults. They should be allowed to live their lives, and make their own choices as well as their own mistakes.

  “Are Julianna and Victoria still up?” she asked Sam.

  “No, we were all wiped last night when we got here. They went to bed right away just like us,” Sam said explained.

  “I wasn’t wiped,” Alex said with amusement. “I just didn’t want to deal with your mother.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Elspeth said with a sigh, and then moved around the bed. “I’d better go wake up the twins and warn them, then.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Sam asked, following her. “Your leg is already healing. If the pain eases enough and your mother is able to get control of you—” Her words died when Elspeth paused abruptly and swung back to return to where she’d been and grab the steak knife off the table.

  “Why don’t you let me get the twins,” Sam said, grabbing her arm as she made to stab herself again. When Elspeth started to shake her head, Sam added, “I really can’t stomach watching you stab yourself, Elspeth. You wait here with Wyatt and I’ll go get Julianna and Victoria. You can tell them what your mother is planning and we can decide what to do from there.”

  “Let her do it,” Wyatt said quietly. “Your leg has taken enough abuse for now.”

  Elspeth hesitated one more moment, but then gave in and set the knife back on the bedside table. She really didn’t want to stab herself again anyway. It was freaking painful.

  “I’ll be right back,” Sam said, heading for the door.

  “Sam,” Elspeth called after her. When the other woman paused and glanced back in question, she grimaced, but said, “Fair warning. Julianna can get pretty cranky when she first wakes up, especially if she hasn’t had a lot of sleep.”

  Sam smiled crookedly and shrugged. “My sister Jo was the same way. I can deal.”

  Elspeth watched the other woman leave, thinking that she definitely could deal. Sam was extremely competent, a perfect mate for Mortimer in life as well as in dealing with the Enforcer House and the rogue hunters who worked out of it. When the door closed behind Sam, Elspeth sat down on the mattress next to Wyatt again as he shifted back to his side of the bed. She then carefully drew her legs up onto the mattress, moving slowly and carefully to cause herself as little pain as possible.

  “Does it hurt very much?” Wyatt asked with a frown.

  “Probably not as much as it seems to me it does,” Elspeth admitted with a grimace, and then admitted apologetically, “Unfortunately, I’m a wussy when it comes to pain.”

  “No one would know it from the way you keep plunging knives into yourself,” Wyatt said dryly.

  Elspeth shook her head, but then peered at him solemnly and murmured, “I’m sorry about all of this.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” Wyatt countered, and when she raised her eyebrows in question, he explained, “For losing you that first time four years ago. None of this would be necessary now if I hadn’t lost you then.”

  “That was hardly your fault,” she assured him with a frown.

  “Yes, it was,” he countered solemnly. “I realized afterward that while we’d talked and laughed and joked and teased as we toured the tower and had dinner, we didn’t talk about anything useful. I knew that you liked tea, chocolate, puppies, and action movies, and that you disliked pears and cottage cheese, but I never asked for your address or your phone number or anything that would have helped me find you when you didn’t show up the next day. If I’d asked more questions the first time we met, I would have known where you lived and could have gone there and—”

  “Mother would have taken control of you and sent you on your way,” Elspeth interrupted firmly, and then added, “And probably minus any memory of our time together. Neither of us would have known just how far she would go to keep me under her control.”

  Wyatt’s eyes widened as he recognized the truth of that, and then they both fell silent for a minute before he said, “My being in pain didn’t stop Lissianna from taking control of me and making sure I didn’t feel the pain. Does that only work for immortals?
”

  “I don’t know,” Elspeth admitted solemnly. “I discovered that it worked for me by accident the morning I arrived home to find they’d arrived for a visit,” she admitted, and then considered the matter before saying, “It may be that I was growing resistant to her control, though.”

  “Resistant?” he asked.

  “Yes. Like a mortal’s body can become resistant to a drug with constant use, I might have been growing a resistance to Mother’s control,” she explained, and then told him, “Aunt Marguerite’s husband wasn’t a true life mate and used to control her, but she started to become resistant to his controlling her after a while. Actually, I think I heard once that in a situation like hers, the one being controlled usually begins to be able to resist being controlled after the first century or so. I guess I’m just a little slower than most. Or perhaps it took longer because Martine is so old and my mother,” she added, paused briefly to consider that, and then went on, “But anyway, I think perhaps I’ll eventually be able to resist her control even without the pain, and it’s just helping me do now what I would have naturally been able to do soon enough anyway.”

  Wyatt nodded, and then asked, “Do you know when your mother is controlling you?”

  “Not usually until afterward, and not always then,” she admitted.

  “The night we had dinner with Oscar and Violet, she was controlling you then, wasn’t she?” he asked and when she appeared surprised, Wyatt said, “She was holding your wrist at first, and your expression was blank, but when she released it so that you could eat, that blank look was gone.”

  “Yes. The blank look is a sure sign someone is being controlled,” she admitted, leaning back against the headboard. “Most immortals don’t bother to give the person they’re controlling a facial expression. I suspect they often just don’t even think of it. Or perhaps it is distracting enough to be difficult to do while controlling their minds.”

  “So whenever I see someone with that blank expression, they’re being controlled?” he asked.

  “Yes, but the reverse isn’t true.”

  “How’s that?” he asked.

  “If you see someone with a blank face, they’re being controlled, but everyone being controlled won’t have a blank expression,” she explained. “Some immortals do control the expression along with the thoughts of the one they’re controlling. Usually when they’re trying to hide their control from others.”

  “I see.” Leaning back as well, Wyatt was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful as he peered at her, and then he asked, “How much do you hate her for controlling you?”

  Elspeth hesitated, and then avoided his gaze as she said, “I try to remember that there is a reason for her behavior, and that she doesn’t mean us harm.”

  “Right, a reason,” Wyatt murmured. “Something to do with your brothers dying, you said?”

  “Yes,” Elspeth murmured. She peered down at her hands briefly and then said, “My father is Aloysius Pimms.”

  Wyatt nodded solemnly, obviously not understanding the subject change, but willing to go with it.

  “But he’s not Mother’s first life mate.”

  His eyebrows rose at that. “I thought a life mate was a once in a lifetime thing?”

  “It can be, but there have been cases where one life mate has died and the surviving life mate was lucky enough to meet another. It often takes a long time. My uncle Lucian’s first life mate died in Atlantis. He waited thousands of years to find Leigh, his second life mate.”

  “And this happened for your mother too?” he asked.

  Elspeth nodded. “Her first life mate was Darius Valens. They had eleven sons together, but eight of those sons, plus Darius himself, were ambushed and slaughtered.”

  “Ambushed and slaughtered?” he said slowly, and then guessed, “Trapped in a building that was set on fire?”

  Elspeth shook her head. “Beheaded and left on the side of the road by a business competitor who wanted to be free of the competition. By the time they were found, it was too late to save them.”

  “Damn,” Wyatt breathed, a frown forming on his face. “Eight sons and a husband . . . I can see how that could make her a little crazy when it comes to her remaining children.”

  “Yes,” Elspeth sighed.

  “When was this?”

  “They were killed in 230 b.c.”

  Wyatt blinked, and then shook his head. “I’m sorry. I thought you said—”

  “Two hundred thirty b.c.,” she repeated.

  “Right,” he breathed, and then pointed out, “That’s over two thousand years ago, Elspeth.”

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  “Nearly two thousand two hundred fifty years ago, really,” he added.

  Elspeth nodded, and then tilted her head and asked, “Is there a time limit on grief?”

  “I don’t know,” Wyatt admitted. “But do you really think it stands as a good excuse for her to ruin the lives of her daughters all this time later? Don’t you think it’s well past time she got over it?”

  Elspeth struggled briefly with her answer. She wanted to say no, it wasn’t past time, and yes, Martine’s grief was a good excuse for her behavior, because Elspeth didn’t want to hate her mother. But the truth was, she didn’t think it was a good excuse. She understood that her mother had suffered a great loss. Losing eight children and a life mate in one afternoon must have been crushing. She didn’t know how Martine had survived it. But the way her mother hovered over and controlled her living children was just . . . Well, frankly, it was a nightmare to be her daughter. It felt more like their mother was punishing them for being alive when those sons weren’t than that Martine was trying to protect them, as she claimed.

  “Yes,” Elspeth said on an expelled breath. “It is well past time she got over it. For her sake as well as ours. And I am beginning to hate her,” she added with regret. “Perhaps I already do.”

  Wyatt nodded solemnly, not seeming at all surprised. Reaching out, he took her hand and said, “I’m sorry.”

  Elspeth smiled and shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”

  “No, but—” He paused as the door opened, and they both glanced over in time to see Julianna and Victoria rush in with Sam. Alex followed behind, several bags of blood gathered in her arms.

  “I can’t believe she’s going to try to force us to leave,” Julianna cried, rushing around the bed and throwing herself at Elspeth. Hugging her tightly, she said, “Thank you for the warning. After the way I’ve been acting, I’m surprised you didn’t just let her take us away.”

  Elspeth smiled faintly, and hugged Julianna with one arm while opening the other for Victoria to join the pile as she followed her twin. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry I didn’t confront her about all of this years ago and save you guys suffering the same crap I did growing up.”

  “How could you?” Victoria asked solemnly. “She can control all of us, including you. Or at least she could, until now, and you have to hurt yourself to keep her from controlling you.”

  “Yeah,” Elspeth said with a grimace.

  “What are we going to do?” Julianna asked, pulling back to look at her anxiously. “I really don’t want to go home and be controlled for another hundred years. This is no way to live, Elspeth.”

  “No, it’s not,” she agreed.

  “It’s not really living at all,” Victoria said solemnly. “It’s more like being a marionette in someone’s puppet show. She pulls the strings and makes us do what she wants, regardless of what we want or how we feel.”

  “I know,” Elspeth said quietly, hugging them both tightly.

  Wyatt watched Elspeth with her sisters and felt a pang of envy slip through him. As a kid, he’d always wanted a brother or sister, or both. Hell, a couple of each would have made him happy. Most of his friends had at least a couple of siblings and, being an only child, he’d always envied them that. Wyatt had actually put a baby brother or sister on his Christmas list several years in a row before he’d learned
that there really wasn’t a Santa Claus. Once he had found out, he’d given it up, though. Even at that age he’d known his parents were too busy with their careers to even consider having another child, and since one wasn’t going to be dropped on their doorstep, or down the chimney, he was out of luck.

  “What are we going to do?” Julianna repeated, drawing his attention back to Elspeth and her sisters.

  “I think Mortimer should report her to the Council,” Sam said when Elspeth stared at her sisters helplessly. “Then they could . . . do something,” she finished weakly, apparently not sure what the Council could or would do in a situation like this.

  “I don’t think not sure the Council has laws against controlling your own children. In fact, I’m pretty sure most immortal parents do it to some degree,” Elspeth said solemnly. “Just not to the extent that Mother has, and certainly not for as long.”

  “Well then, he could call Lucian and tell him,” Sam suggested, apparently not willing to let it go. “Surely he could do something? Talk to her and make her see what she’s doing is wrong, or just order her not to?”

  Wyatt frowned slightly at the name Lucian. He felt sure someone had mentioned it to him before, but he couldn’t place whom the name belonged to when it came to people in Elspeth’s life. Then she said, “Uncle Lucian is in Venezuela. I can’t bother him with this when he’s trying to save all those missing immortals. I’m sure he has enough on his plate at the moment.”

  “Yeah,” Sam said on a deflated sigh. “He’s probably super stressed out.”

  “Especially now that some of his hunters have gone missing,” Alex commented unhappily, offering Elspeth one of the bags of blood she’d gone to fetch.

  Wyatt watched Elspeth reach automatically for the bag of blood, but then she froze before her hand was fully extended and asked sharply, “What? Hunters have gone missing?”

  “You weren’t supposed to tell her!” Sam snapped, turning on her sister furiously.

  Alex’s eyes widened with dismay. “I know. I’m sorry. I forgot. I mean, not forgot exactly. I just didn’t mean to say it. It just slid out.”