by J. D. Brown
“Damn it.” Anthony coughed through the thick layer of cinders dusting his hair and face. He moved slowly, his features grimaced in pain. I offered him my hand when the scent of human blood crashed into me. He’d scrapped his chin and a thin trickle of red seeped through the stubble, darkening the soot on his skin to an oily black texture.
I stood frozen in terror. A war between instinct, hunger, and pregnancy hormones waged in the pit of my stomach. The hormones won and bile climbed my esophagus. I withdrew my hand to cover my mouth, and then ran to the bathroom where I flung open the toilet lid and retched into the bowl. For once, I was grateful to be vomiting my guts out. Anthony’s blood could have caused a much more horrendous reaction—one that my fangs longed for.
Anthony came into the bathroom and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s wrong with you?”
“You’re bleeding,” I said between fits of spittle.
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. His hazel eyes widened, but he seemed completely unconcerned with his chin. The scrape was shallow and had already stopped bleeding. Instead, he reached up and lightly touched the tips of his loose curls, causing the dusting of soot to sprinkle over the sink.
“Black hair,” he murmured. “Is that how it starts? How long before my eyes change color?”
“What are you talking about?” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand then flushed the toilet and stood.
“You’re different,” he said, still staring at his reflection. “How long before I change too?”
I rolled my eyes and found a towel. “Okay, that’s enough. Stop the theatrics.”
“I’m not stupid, Ema.” He turned to glare at me. “I know what’s going on.”
I tensed. “You do?”
“Duh. I know how a cult works. No windows, no contact with the outside world. Just enough food to keep me from starving to death.”
I winced. “That’s my fault. The vam—I mean, the people who live here have very specific dietary needs. I should’ve asked them to do a little more grocery shopping, but Dad picked up some things. I’m sure he’ll share.” I ran the faucet and drenched the towel before wringing out the excess. “Here.”
Anthony scoffed. “Whatever. They’ve obviously already brainwashed you, but they’re not getting me. I’m busting out of here.”
“Through the chimney?” I laughed, unable to help myself. His brow furrowed and something like hurt welled in his gaze. I sighed and then offered him the towel again. “Sorry. I’m only laughing because I thought the exact same thing when I first came here. But it’s not a cult. I swear.”
“That’s exactly what a cultist would say.” He reached for the towel and his hand covered mine. The rush of blood in his fingertips thumped against my knuckles. The feel of it echoed all the way to my ears, where the beat seemed to increase ten-fold, and I gasped. The hairs on his arm stood on end, and my throat thickened as I glanced up at him. He was staring at our hands, a look of shock and unease pinpointing his pupils. He didn’t know what I was, but it didn’t matter. His instincts could sense it. In his soul, he knew the predator I’d become.
I yanked my hand away and threw my gaze to the side. “No one’s keeping you here,” I said in a rush. “They’re going to send you home. They’re just... working out the logistics.”
“Oh yeah?” Anthony huffed. “And who are they? Why are logistics even needed? Why can’t I just walk out the front door? What is this place, if not a cult or some kind of deranged asylum? Why do you look like that?” He gestured to me, indicating my charcoal hair, black-red eyes, and pale skin. The last time Anthony and I saw each other, I had box-dyed red hair, bright brown eyes, and a natural tan—and I was human.
I lowered my gaze, unable to answer his questions. “Look, you will get home, okay? But right now, I need you to cooperate.”
He tilted his head in suspicion. “I’m going home. Just me. You’re staying here.”
It wasn’t a question, but an observation. I nodded in answer anyway.
“This is my home now.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Come back with me. Or with your parents at least.”
Go back to what? There was nothing left for me in Chicago. “They’re going to call you down for questioning. They just want to know how you ended up in Panama. All you have to do is answer them honestly, and then you’ll be on your way home.”
He looked bewildered and swallowed hard. “Who’s they exactly?”
I knew a straight answer would help ease his nerves, so I gave him two. “Brinnon and Tancred.”
He thought for a moment. “Will you come with me?”
“Absolutely.”
Anthony sighed. “All right, I’ll answer their questions. But I’m not drinking the Kool-aide.”
“No Kool-aide, just tropical punch.” I ribbed him. Anthony rolled his eyes and a smile touched his lips. Feelings I thought were long gone crept forth. I swallowed the emotions—stomped them down low—and turned away.
CHAPTER 6
I kept my head down while entering my room, anticipating the blazing candlesticks and Mom’s putrid stench. Sure enough, Mom was awake, calmly sitting on the foot of the bed, awash in a yellow glow bright enough to rival the sun. I turned away to close the door and grimaced. My eyes wouldn’t adjust. Neither would my nose, for that matter. The stuffy castle air smelled of wet dog. I pretended to scratch my nose as I faced her and smiled.
“Hey, Mama. Mind if I blow out a few of the candles? I have a migraine and the light is kind of...” I waved a hand while approaching the mantle, as though the gesture explained the blinding white light piercing my pupils. I blew out over half the candles.
The bed was freshly made, but Mom still wore the centuries old nightshift Maria had lent her when we got back from Panama. Mom’s frail arms were tightly crossed over her chest and her mouth puckered in a sour line.
I frowned. “Is everything okay?”
Now that the lights were dimmed, I could see an increment better. My gaze slid to the side, where a plastic vitamin jar rested against her hip. Panic curled in my gut, and I drew a sharp breath.
My prenatal vitamins!
Heat rose to my cheeks, but I tried to play it cool. “Um, where did you get that?”
Mom narrowed her gaze to thin slits as she undoubtedly dug up every argument we’ve ever had since the day I was born. “When were you going to tell me?”
I hugged myself and jutted my hip to the side, feeling sixteen years old again. “You went through my stuff?”
She squared her shoulders. “I’m your mother, it’s my right.”
“No, Mama, it’s not. Not when I’m an adult.”
“I was looking for a sweater. It’s so cold in here.” She gave me a sidelong glance. “You weren’t planning on telling me, were you? You’re only upset that you got caught.”
Every part of me wanted to deny it for so many reasons. First, because that was my M.O. when it came to arguments with my mother. Second, because she’d never leave if she knew I was pregnant. She couldn’t stay here. It wasn’t safe. My gaze slid to the door and my thoughts went to the guards in the hall. They could hear everything we said.
Wincing, I knelt in front of my mother, took her hands, and looked into her eyes. “Mama,” I whispered, knowing it made no difference to the vampyres outside, but I hoped it would get the urgency across to her. “I wasn’t hiding it from you, I was hiding it from... well... everyone else.”
Her brow arched in disbelief. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No,” I grumbled, lowering my gaze.
She pulled her hands away and gently pressed her palm to my cheek. “You’re so pale.”
Her tone softened as her dark eyes searched mine. Panic prickled beneath my skin. Could she see the little flecks of red in my irises? How could she not? Even Anthony noticed how different I looked. When I met Jalmari, his eyes glowed. He said it was my Romani heritage that enabled me to see him for what he was even before I kne
w vampyres existed. Did my eyes appear to glow red in front of my mother? Why didn’t she ask? How much did she know?
“You’re not eating enough.” She said it with a condescending tone only a mother could master. I closed my eyes a moment and sighed. Opening them, I took Mom’s hand from my cheek and lowered it.
“Mama, listen. You can’t tell anyone about this. No one in this castle can know—not even Dad or Anthony.” Denying the truth seemed moot when I couldn’t think of any other viable reason to have a bottle of prenatal vitamins in my possession. And maybe, just maybe, I really wanted to tell my mother. I expected her to argue and braced myself for the worst. She looked at me... and nodded.
“I understand.”
I blinked. “You... you do?”
“Of course. I’m not an idiot, Ema.”
I bit back the urge to inquire further and decided to count my blessings. “Okay. Good. Thank you.”
“Have you been to a doctor?”
“Shh!” I stood and gestured to the door. “They can hear you.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Don’t be absurd. There are walls between—”
“No, Mama, trust me; they can hear us through the walls just fine.” Crap, how I was going to explain supernatural hearing? “We can’t talk about it at all, okay? Not while we’re in the castle.”
“What, at all?” She balked and then stood and put her hands on her hips. “I will not be silent about my own grand—”
I pressed a hand over her mouth. “You will be silent, or I’ll tell them to lock you in the dungeon.” It was an empty threat, but it worked. Her gaze widened in dread and her lips pressed together, but when I lowered my hand a declaration of war passed over her stern features.
Great.
I decided to change the subject. “Brinnon wants to question you and Dad and Anthony about what happened in Panama. He’s going to call you to his office after breakfast.”
Mom paled. Her nervousness rose through her pores, a pungent perfume that entered my nostrils and itched at my fangs. I dug my fingernails into my sides.
“It’s no big deal,” I said. “I’ll be with you the entire time.”
“Okay, but he can’t have my blood.”
I almost choked on my own breath and turned away, coughing. She does know! But how much? To what extent? “Why on Earth would he want your blood?”
Mom shrugged and then went to the dressing nook, murmuring as she passed. “I’m old. I’m anemic. I need my blood.”
My stomach felt hollow and my heart crumbled in my chest. If she knew, why didn’t she say anything before? I released a breath and my lower lip quivered. I wouldn’t cry, simply because I couldn’t, but I wanted to. More than anything, I wanted to cry big ugly tears and fight and scream and break things. Instead, I stayed rooted to the marble floor. Numb.
Mom knew.
And now she knows I’m pregnant.
Sara delivered an entire loaf of black toast, a pint of peanut butter, and a plate of sardines. I gently suggested blueberry muffins for tomorrow.
“Muffins?” She blinked, wide-eyed.
“Er, I’ll talk to Maria about it. Thanks for the toast.” I grabbed a slice and then reached for the peanut butter, feigning enthusiasm. Sara beamed as she closed the door behind her. I promptly set the bread down—it was hard as a rock—and grabbed a spoon instead.
Mom didn’t mention another word about grandchildren or blood, or anything that rhymed with empire. She dressed, combed out her hair, rolled it into a bun, and then spent the rest of her time making crude remarks about how a pint of peanut butter was not a sufficient breakfast.
She ate the sardines. On the loaf-shaped charcoal.
As far as I was concerned, fish was not a sufficient breakfast.
We finished clearing off the serving tray when I sensed Tancred in the hall. I went to the door and opened it just as he was about to knock. Seeing me, he lowered his fist and cleared his throat.
“It’s time.”
That’s not ominous at all.
“Mama,” I called over my shoulder. “Brinnon’s ready for you.”
Mom tensed as she peered at the large commanding vampyre in the doorway. I pushed past Tancred and knocked on Anthony’s door, then Dad’s. The guys emerged slowly. Anthony sucked on a piece of burnt toast slathered in peanut butter. Dad sipped something hot and steaming from a Styrofoam cup—it smelled like coffee. Anthony suddenly looked as if he might cry. Dad noticed, sighed, and then handed him the cup. My ex happily took it and dunked the remainder of his toast into the liquid before taking a long swig.
The four of us trailed Tancred as he descended the winding, stone tower to the landing in the upper level of the foyer, then down the gleaming, wooden staircase with its oversized banisters expertly carved into the likeness of various woodland animals—all of them predators. My family gawked at the lavish architecture; the swirl of marble, the arched corridor leading to the ballroom, the mighty tapestries and the majestic mural that covered an entire wall. Dad was the only one who seemed to notice the pale faces and suspicious gold eyes of the other occupants. Nikolas’ family watched mine the way a pride of lions might watch a small group of gazelles—but even Dad’s gaze kept wandering back to the castle décor.
“Where are we?” Anthony’s gaze went up, up, up to the candelabra chandeliers and the vaulted ceiling.
I pressed a hand between his shoulders and urged him forward before a couple of hungry-looking servants could decide whether or not Anthony would be worth losing their jobs.
Tancred disappeared behind the hidden wall without waiting. I led my parents and Anthony the rest of the way to the bend at the end of the ballroom and into the corridor that led to Brinnon’s office. Tancred stood before the door, his hands behind his back.
“He wishes to speak to them one at a time.”
I nodded and then faced my parents. “Dad, can you wait out here with Anthony? Mom, you’ll go first.”
Mom took a small step forward, looked at Tancred, and then wrinkled her nose. Tancred ignored her and opened the door, ushering us inside.
Brinnon sat behind the massive mahogany desk, in his father’s armchair. His elbows rested on top of the polished wood, his hands folded together as he regarded Mom with a look of curiosity. Mom’s gaze went around the room, darting from one trophy mount to the next, as we took our respective seats across from the Prince. She seemed to miss Brinnon’s existence entirely, as her attention wandered over the exotic animal heads on the wall and the lush furs lining the floor, her frail lips puckered into an “O.”
The office door closed with a sound of finality. Tancred took his place next to Brinnon. His brow pinched as he watched Mom’s reaction to the room, but neither man seemed bothered as they patiently waited for her to acclimate, and I relaxed a little.
Thank God they’re on my side.
“Ahem.” Brinnon cleared his throat to get Mom’s attention. She looked right at him, narrowed her gaze to slits, and straightened her spine. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you properly,” Brinnon began, his tone polite yet businesslike. When Mom only stared at him, Brinnon continued, “I am sure this must be difficult, and I do not mean to cause unnecessary strife, but I must ask how you came to be locked in a cell on Escudo de Veraguas?”
Mom pulled her lips between her teeth and lowered her gaze. “I... I’m not sure.”
Brinnon tilted his head slightly. “How about we start before the island? Where were you when all this began?”
“I was home,” she said slowly. She clasped her hands together in her lap and lifted her gaze, but she seemed to look through the vampyres, into space. “With my husband.”
My brow furrowed. Home with her husband? Dad hadn’t lived with us for the past thirteen years, and we hadn’t heard so much as a single word from him in all that time. What did she mean she was home with her husband?
“There was a knock at the door,” Mom continued. “I answered it. It was Anthony, but he wasn’t alone. An eld
erly woman was with him. He said her name was Lily.”
My pulse sped. Why did that name sound familiar?
“And a young man. I didn’t catch his name, but he had the most unnaturally violet-colored eyes.”
I lifted a hand to my chest and stared at my mother. An elderly woman and a man with violet eyes? That had to be Lilith and Valafar. Did Anthony know Lilith as Lily? How was that possible? I assumed Apollyon and his cronies had kidnapped my family to hurt me. That made more sense. Why on earth would Lilith?
“Was there anyone else with them?” I asked.
“Ema, if you could please leave the questioning to me,” said Brinnon.
At the same time, Mom said, “No. Just Anthony, Lily, and the young man with the violet eyes.”
Apollyon still might have been the one to send Lilith. I didn’t say this out loud though. I kept my mouth shut and let Brinnon do his job, because I knew this was going on paper and would be read by the R.E.D. I didn’t want to stick my foot in my mouth and make Mom’s chances of going home any slimmer than they already were.
“Did they say anything to you?” Brinnon inquired. “This Lily or the man she was with?”
Mom shook her head. “Anthony did most of the talking. He said Lily knew where Ema was, that she could take us to her. My husband...” Her voice cracked and she blinked to the side. “My husband said it was a lie. He told me not to listen to them, but...” She faced Brinnon with a tight-lipped smile. Moisture glossed her eyes, and my heart felt heavy. “She’s my daughter. My only child. What would you have done if your child was missing?”
“Mama.” I reached across the small space between us and folded my hand over hers. I wanted to say something, to apologize, but the words wouldn’t come. It was my fault. I was gone and didn’t even try to contact her, to let her know I was okay. Of course she worried. Of course she was desperate enough to trust a stranger—a succubus. She would have trusted anyone with any clue as to my whereabouts. Lilith and Apollyon could have killed my parents a thousand times over before we got to Panama. I could have found them dead in those cages, and it would have been all my fault.