by Brewer, Rye
“Dad—I mean, Fane.” It came out as a sigh of relief. Finally, somebody was there who might help me understand what was happening.
At least, I thought so until I noticed the change in him. It was subtle, nothing I could put my finger on right away. He was himself… but not himself. How was that possible? “What happened to you? Something’s different. Where have you been?”
“Since when do you ask so many questions?”
“Since when do you answer a question with a question?”
He opened his mouth to throw back a response, but nothing came out. “Touché,” he murmured with a half-smile. “My clever girl. You haven’t changed.”
For one brief moment, things were the way they used to be. There was no stretch of empty time between us, no lost past. I had forgotten how much we needed him. No matter how strong a leader Jonah was, our father would always be the rock of the family.
Even if there was something very strange about him. Something off.
He jerked his head toward the glass doors. “I’ve been waiting out there until you were alone.”
I wrapped my arms around my waist. “How long were you out there?” I asked, more than a little unnerved to know he was watching. Listening.
“Long enough to know you know something is wrong. You do, don’t you?” He looked at me with a mixture of concern and pity. If it had come from anyone else in the universe, I would’ve lashed out and sworn I didn’t need either from anyone.
Coming from him, I felt relief. “You saw it, too?”
“Of course. Because that isn’t Vance.”
“No. That’s not true. You don’t know what you’re saying.” I shook my head, backing away, like that would distance me from the bitter truth of his words.
He sighed. “Philippa, please. Think about it. You saw and heard how different he is.”
“How could you possibly hear what was happening in here? Even if you had your ear pressed to the glass…”
“I didn’t need to. I could watch your body language together. I saw how his words hurt and stung.” He held out his hands, reaching for me. “Philippa, if Vance were really back with you, after having been through so much, do you think he would hurt you that way?”
My chest clenched in recognition of this, since I had been asking myself those very questions. Why was he acting so unlike himself?
“He’s changed a little, is all,” I insisted. “He’s been through so much.”
“Why are you so determined to believe him?” he asked.
“Because it’s better than the alternative. Knowing he fooled me.” I turned away, my hands over my face. It was true. It had to be. I only wanted Vance to come back to me, wanted it badly enough to ignore everything different about him. I had willfully led myself into being hurt, all because I was so determined to have Vance back.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his hands around my upper arms and turned me to face him.
Before I knew it, I was against his chest and sobbing my heart out. A little girl all over again. The relief of being there, held by my father, made the tears flow harder than before.
“I… oh, I’m so disgusted,” I sobbed. “I kissed him… and…”
“You love him. Of course, you did,” he murmured, stroking my hair. The sweet moment didn’t last long, however, before he stiffened and pulled back. “We don’t have much time. He’ll be back soon. He hasn’t gotten what he wants yet.”
Naturally. “The body,” I whispered, still crying. “That’s why he wants it. He wants to get back into it.”
“Right. And it is...?”
“Still in the vault. I’ve been keeping watch on it all along.”
“Good.” He looked at the door, as though he were waiting for Vance—no, Valerius—to come bursting in. “You’re going to pretend to believe him when he comes back.”
“What?”
He nodded, glancing out toward the balcony. “I’m not alone. Scott is with me, and a couple of others.”
“Scott’s out there?”
“Yes, and others who can help us.”
“With what?”
“Putting Valerius back into his body so you can have Vance back. The real Vance.”
My heart soared when I realized he was there for me. My happiness. But… “Why would we need any help with that? He wants to get back into the body. Otherwise, why would he be so intent, on finding out where it is?”
“Think about it: why would he want to possess that old, decaying body again when he could stay in Vance’s young, healthy body?”
The realization sent a cold chill through me. “He only wants to know where it is so he can protect it, keep watch on it. Make sure no one harms it.”
“Precisely. He wouldn’t go back willingly—at least, I’m betting on it. We’ll have to do it for him.”
“Who will?”
“You’ll see.” He hurried back to the glass doors. “Remember: when he comes back, we never had this conversation, and you have no idea he isn’t really Valerius. Apologize if you have to. Whatever it takes. But be sure not to overplay your hand, either. He’ll be wary, ready to pounce on the slightest indication that you’ve changed your mind too quickly. You’re going to offer to show him the body.”
“And then what?”
“Take him down to the vault. We’ll take care of the rest.” He opened the door, ready to step outside.
“Fane. I…”
“There’s no time,” he whispered, eyes on the front door. “Just remember not to give yourself away. Don’t be too, eager to get down there.”
“All right.”
I wanted to thank him for what he was about to do, whatever it was. I wanted to apologize for anything I might have said or done when he first came back that might have given him the idea I wasn’t happy to have him in my life again. It would have to wait.
Once he was outside again, I rinsed my tear-streaked face at the sink in the bathroom Valerius had used for his shower. Would it be possible to burn the entire room down but leave the rest of the penthouse unscathed? To think, I had let him touch me. I had let him…
The hinges squeaked as the door to my place swung open.
I looked at myself in the mirror over the sink, willing myself to play my part. I was used to pretending to feel differently than I did, wasn’t I? I’d been doing it for most of my life.
For once, Valerius was about to find out he wasn’t the cleverest one in the room.
17
Anissa
“I’m back,” I breathed, almost laughing as I hurried into the penthouse with my bulging backpack. “I can’t imagine how many laws I just broke. Human laws, I mean.” Adrenaline poured through me—no matter how accustomed I was to slipping in and out of otherwise locked buildings, it never ceased to excite me.
Jonah held a finger to his lips as he paced the floor, holding the baby the way a man would hold a live bomb he was afraid might explode at any second.
And he held a bag of blood in one hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I whispered, frozen in a mix of horror and amusement.
“Getting ready to feed the baby,” he replied, like I was asking the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “We always keep the refrigerators stocked with at least one bag, even in these unused apartments. Just in case. I’m glad I remembered.”
“That’s good to know,” I murmured, approaching slowly so as not to wake the baby. “But babies need more than blood. In fact, I imagine that’s the last thing this baby needs.” I’d been thinking it about this the last few minutes, and had come to a pretty reasonable conclusion. At least, I thought I had.
“How would you know?”
“Because when Sara was born—and she was full-vampire—our mother gave her bottled formula. Not blood.”
“Oh.” He looked like a little boy whose balloon was just busted.
“You didn’t know.” Plus, I could be wrong... “First, even more important.” I pulled out a pack o
f diapers, wipes, and cream from my backpack and brought them to the sofa. He watched in awe as I fumbled my way through diapering a newborn. This, I had never done.
At one point, our eyes met, and we both smiled. How surreal, doing this together. It felt for a second like she was ours. We had brought her into the world together, after all. No matter where I went after this, I’d always feel a connection to the sweet, squirming little baby who looked up at the two of us with her wide, innocent eyes.
After she was swaddled up again—we needed clothes, and I’d probably have to actually purchase them in a store versus stealing them—I waved him into the kitchen, which was essentially a smaller version of the one upstairs. Very modern, very sleek. It seemed a waste, though. Why have a beautiful kitchen when vampires didn’t eat food? And only vampires lived here.
One of many questions I had never thought to ask, and didn’t have the time to think about right now. Not when a baby needed to eat.
I pulled out a can of formula and a pack of bottles. “They only had powdered formula back when Sara was a baby,” I explained, rolling up my sleeves and washing my hands before washing one of the bottles. “Things have come a long way.”
“You’re not that much older than her, are you?”
“Old enough to remember. And I was at that age where a kid wants to be helpful,” I smiled, remembering the way I’d insisted on helping make up Sara’s bottles, then insisting on being the one to feed her. I followed the instructions on the side of the can and poured out a couple of ounces.
“That’s it?”
“I think so.” I held out the bottle, smiling hopefully. “Do you want to do the honors?”
“Oh. I don’t know.” He winced, looking down at her like he’d never seen a baby before. “Should I? Maybe you should; you’ve done it before.”
“There’s nothing to it.” I had to turn my back on him or else risk Jonah seeing me struggling not to laugh.
There he was, the leader of a clan. The leader of all the clans, for the time being. Smart, trusted, wise. And terrified of giving a baby a bottle.
I led him to the sofa and handed him the bottle once he sat down, then wedged a pillow under his arm. “Here. Be comfortable.”
It was a joy to watch him cautiously guide the bottle into the baby’s mouth. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.
That was it. He was hooked.
A look came over his face that I’d never seen, even when he looked at me. Awe was the closest thing I could come to when trying to decide what it reminded me of. She’d always have a protector in her big brother.
“You’re a natural,” I whispered, smiling as he grinned.
“Do you ever think about this? For us, I mean?” He managed to pry his eyes from his new best friend long enough to look my way.
“Of course. All the time,” I admitted. “When I’m not thinking about necromancers and elemental witches and…”
“Understood,” he chuckled. “So do I, in case you ever wondered.”
“I guess we should get through the wedding, first.” A wave of sadness washed over me as I thought about my mother not being there. I tried to push it away so he wouldn’t see it.
“Why not? They didn’t wait,” he pointed out, referring to Fane and Sirene.
“What can I say? I’m an old-fashioned vampire-fae hybrid,” I winked.
Once feeding time was over and we fashioned a makeshift bed for the baby out of blankets and pillows, I went to check on Sirene. She was smiling in her sleep, even though every breath sounded like she was underwater.
“She may have bleeding inside,” I murmured when Jonah joined me. “There was so much trauma. Pushing the baby out for her and everything.”
“I did this?” he asked, staring at her.
“No, I didn’t mean that. It’s just a fact. No wonder they say this is so dangerous for witches. I can’t believe she survived it.”
“But I did,” came the whisper from the bed.
I gasped, embarrassed, as her eyes fluttered open. I didn’t know she could hear me.
“I’m sorry if we woke you,” I murmured as I went to her side. “I didn’t want to. I only wanted to check on you.”
“To see if I was still alive?” She was barely smiling. “I understand.”
“I brought something for you.” I emptied my pockets on the bed, boxes spilling everywhere.
“Anissa? Were you trying to get arrested?” Jonah asked as he looked over my haul.
“I didn’t know how much we’d need and I wanted to help Sirene with the pain.” I picked a box at random, opened it and read the directions. “Sirene, do you think it’s all right if you take one of these? It won’t hurt you, will it?”
“I don’t think so. We prefer more natural means, of course, but I’m in no position to be choosy.”
Jonah helped her sit up enough to swallow two pills with a sip of water. She rested with a sigh, exhausted from that small bit of movement.
“At least you won’t hurt anymore,” I whispered as I stroked her hair, wishing there was something else I could do. As always.
“Where’s the baby?” she asked, eyes already closing again.
“Sleeping. Fed, diapered, contented.”
“That’s good. I knew I was leaving her in good hands…” She was asleep again.
I met Jonah’s worried gaze. He motioned for me to join him in the hall.
“We have to get a witch for her,” he fretted when we were alone.
“She’s still talking like she’s going to die.”
Just putting it into words turned my heart heavy. She expected to die. She seemed ready to go, even. Resigned. It might have seemed like a better alternative to the pain she was living in.
“I know,” he whispered, wrapping me in a tight hug. “Which is why I want to do something to make it not turn out that way. Would you be all right with me leaving you alone with the baby?”
“If it means finding someone to help us, yes. Of course.” I pulled back, searching his face for confirmation. “What are you thinking?”
“I wish I knew. If I could only find Fane. He’d know what to do. Otherwise, I’ve been wracking my brain, but I’m coming up with nothing. Where’s Allonic? Do you know? He could create a portal.”
I sighed. “I don’t know, and it’s bothering me. I haven’t seen him for far too long, now. He could’ve stopped in upstairs, looking for me.” I wanted to talk to him about our mother. Another thought I had to push away, for now.
“If Philippa is still up there, she would know. I’ll go up and check.”
“And if you could bring more blood, that would be great,” I added as we went to the front door.
“Sure. I’ll be right back.” He turned and pressed his lips to my forehead before he went.
“What was that for?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know why, but I feel the need to kiss you, or at least let you know I love you every time we’re about to be away from each other.”
That was sweet, but… “You’re only going upstairs,” I teased.
“And after everything we’d been through, you think that makes a difference?”
18
Philippa
“Vance?” I breathed, jogging out to the living room. There he was, staring at me with wide, hopeful eyes I wished I could gouge out.
Stop thinking that way. He’ll see right through you. This is Vance. You love Vance. You just got him back. You’re thrilled that he’s returned.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, throwing myself into his open arms. “I don’t want to fight with you. We’ve lost so much time already.” Vance, I know you’re in there, somewhere. I love you. We’ll get you out.
When I looked up into his eyes, I wished there was a way to get through to the real Vance, to let him know I knew what was happening. To assure him it would all be over soon.
I hoped it would, at any rate.
“I don’t want to lose you again,” he whispered, running his fin
gers over my cheek, stroking it with his thumb before cupping my chin and pulling me in for a kiss.
It was sheer force of will that got me through it without screaming as his mouth moved over mine. I was right. His kiss wasn’t the same at all. How could I have been so determined to believe him?
Because I loved Vance and wanted the lies to be true.
“You’ll never lose me.” I forced a laugh when the kiss ended, and we stood in each other’s arms, foreheads touching. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to pretend I was talking to the real, true Vance. “You know how we are. We fight, we snipe at each other, but we always find a way back to what matters.”
“I love you.”
My skin crawled, but I focused every bit of concentration I possessed on pretending. “I love you, too, Vance. I always have.”
It was a relief to pull away, to end the moment. I wasn’t sure how long I could pretend his touch didn’t nauseate me. “And you know what else?” I asked.
“What?” He was still so tender, so gentle.
Vance had to know what was going on, didn’t he? What was he going through? Anything like what I was suffering?
I forced a smile. “I was wrong to be so stubborn. There’s nothing wrong with you knowing where the body is; it makes perfect sense. I’m sorry I started a fight. You don’t deserve that.”
If he sensed something was off, he didn’t show it. “You’re sure? I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you.”
It was almost enough to make me laugh, the whole charade. Did he feel the same way? I would’ve bet it was all beneath him, having to pretend this way, debasing himself when he was the most powerful and fearsome of the Ancients.
“I’m sure. I don’t want anything standing between us now. Let’s start off with a clean slate, and this is the perfect way to do that.”
“All right. If you want to.”
Was Vance looking through his own eyes, or had Valerius pushed him back into some dark corner of his own mind? I searched those familiar eyes for some hint, some trace of him, and found nothing. How did I ever believe him? It was a sad example of what a person in love was willing to explain away if it meant having their loved one back.