Briar

by Ripley Proserpina

“Yes, well…” Clearing his throat, the doctor glanced at each of them uncomfortably. “Speak to the charge nurse, they usually have rules about things like visitors.” Turning his attention to Briar, he smiled. “Briar. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  “Thank you,” Briar replied, sinking down the bed as if her head was too heavy for her to hold up anymore.

  The doctor left the four of them alone with Briar again. “Who stays and who goes?” Sylvain asked. “I’d like to stay.”

  “I think I should stay,” Hudson replied. “I know what the doctors are talking about and can explain it to Briar if I need to.”

  “I understand them, too,” Briar replied, a little saucily. “I’ve been through this before. If you have work, you can go. All of you can. I’m going to be unconscious for a while. You don’t have to stick around and watch me sleep.”

  The idea of standing guard between her and anything wishing to harm her appealed to Valen more than he’d admit aloud. “It’s not a problem,” he assured her. “We’ll stay here the rest of the day. After your surgery, depending upon how many people are allowed to visit, some of us will go to your apartment to get your things, and the rest of us will stay.”

  “I like that,” Sylvain nodded, and Valen nearly fell over. He must have looked as surprised as he felt, because Sylvain glared at him. “Shut up.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” he replied.

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “You really are brothers.” Briar laughed. “I almost expect you to put him in a headlock and give him a noogie.” She pointed at Sylvain before she turned on Valen. “And stop teasing him. He’s being kind.”

  Holding up his hands, Valen shook his head. “Me?” Perhaps his face wasn’t as innocent as he tried because she huffed. And then yawned.

  “Take a nap,” Marcus said.

  The skin on her neck mottled red, the appealing color staining her throat and cheeks. It embarrassed her to have them here while she slept.

  Valen understood, but she’d have to get used to it because he wasn’t leaving her alone. Possessiveness roared through him, and his fangs descended, causing him to spin around and stare out the window into the hall. Deep breaths helped him calm, but it was tenuous. Apparently with this girl, it didn’t take much to have him slipping the reins.

  Sure that he had control of himself once again, he faced the bed, only to catch Sylvain’s glare. His brother really had all things moody perfected, except in this case, Valen got his concern.

  “Hudson.” They needed to put her at ease and accept their presence. All of them, without the other ones knowing, had begun to forge a relationship with Briar, but they hadn’t reached the place where she could let her guard down around them. The only way to show her this was possible was with time. Valen might as well start now. “Hudson,” he said again. “Are you still living out of your office?”

  “No.” Hudson sniffed. “I haven’t done that for years. I have an apartment now.”

  Light dawned in Marcus’s eyes, and he nodded, smiling at Valen. “When you say apartment, do you really mean lab?”

  “I’m not squatting in my lab!” Hudson said. “At least I’m not in some hoity-toity brownstone like Marcus.”

  “Did you use the word hoity-toity? What year is it?” Marcus glanced between him and Valen. “Did I blink and it was the turn of the century. Gonna throw out anymore blistering insults, Hud? How about dandy?”

  “You said it, not me.”

  Briar giggled, her eyelids drooping. “You guys are so mean to each other,” she said and yawned again. It was working.

  “I’m kidding,” Marcus said. “Speaking of my beautiful brownstone, did I tell you about where I found the mahogany for my floors?”

  Sylvain groaned. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

  “I was next door at an open house, and their foyer had mahogany. I thought, maybe it’s in my foyer, too, and beneath the disgusting tile, there it was…” He ended with a whisper, smiling at Briar who’d, in seconds, fallen fast asleep. “Home decorating. Guaranteed to put you to sleep.” Marcus bowed. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m going to her apartment,” Sylvain whispered. “I want to see who was there. See if I recognize the scents around the building. I’ll grab her things while I’m there, though I have no idea what the hell I’m getting.”

  “I’ll go, too.” Marcus straightened. “I met his soldiers. I’ll recognize whether it was Asher, or one of his minions.”

  “Or one of his sons,” Hudson whispered.

  Valen stood, walked to the bed, and brushed Briar’s hair out of her face. “You think he’s made more vampires?”

  “He’s spent generations with soldiers and crawlers, but we weren’t the first vampires he sired,” Hudson answered. “When he made me, there were three others with him. They were brothers by birth, but disappeared not long after he turned me. Those days were such a haze, I have no idea if they ran or he killed them.”

  “He was happy with you for a while,” Marcus mused.

  “I was the perfect son: bloodthirsty and amoral. It took years for the bloodlust to abate, and I’ve plenty of time to repent my sins. Not that there’s any making up for the horror I inflicted.”

  “We’ve all made mistakes,” Sylvain replied, and Valen shut his mouth with an audible click. Sylvain was the last person he expected to be making personal revelations. “It’s decided then,” he went on. “Marcus and I are going to her apartment, Valen and Hudson stay.”

  That was more than fine with Valen. Many of his old instincts were flaring to the surface. Keep her in sight. Protect her. If he was away, he couldn’t do any of it. “Yes,” he agreed.

  “Yes.” Hudson sat at the head of the bed, leaned back, and fixed his gaze on Briar. “I’d like to stay.”

  “All right. Let’s go, then.” Sylvain slapped Valen’s shoulder on his way to the door. “Stay vigilant.”

  Valen knocked his fist into his side. As if he needed to be told what to do. “Got it.”

  Sylvain smirked, and Marcus followed him out, leaving Valen to smile after them. It hit him all at once. He had his brothers back.

  Chapter 17

  Sylvain

  Sylvain couldn’t help the smirk on his lips. Not even Asher’s reappearance could ruin the changes he felt happening. He had his brother at his side, and the girl healing in that bed would be important, if he let her be.

  Together, he and Marcus dashed through the city, back to Davis Square. As they approached Briar’s neighborhood, they slowed, taking in the scents and sounds. The closer he got, the stronger the scent of decay and rot became.

  “I thought it was garbage,” he stated, realizing he’d dismissed the signs of soldiers and crawlers that were right in front of him.

  “We’ve all become complacent,” Marcus replied. Frowning, he came to a halt outside Briar’s apartment, green eyes examining every inch of the exterior. He pointed to the side of the house where a ladder was nailed from a window to about three feet above the ground. “Look.” It wouldn’t have been visible to the human eye unless the light hit it just right, and then, they’d probably dismiss it as a trick of the sun. But to Sylvain and Marcus it was clear. “Slime trail.”

  Like a snail, crawlers left physical evidence of their path. In this case, the trail led from the backyard to the ladder, and then along a small part of the visible roof. Sylvain shook his head. “It makes no sense. Crawlers aren’t effective if Asher wanted to kill Briar. They’re quiet, but slow.”

  “But they’re more in control of themselves. If Asher told a soldier to enter her apartment, he’d have a much harder time denying his instincts. He wanted a warning to us, something to catch our interest, not push us so far we become irrational.” Marcus had a point.

  “We haven’t shown any sign that killing her would do that to us,” Sylvain countered.

  “We didn’t have to. All we’ve shown is that all of us have an interest in her. Nothing more was necessary. When was
the last time we did anything together?”

  “Besides come to Boston every six months for a dosing?” Sylvain retorted. He left Marcus, going through the rusted chain-link gate and into the backyard. It was a mess, with overgrown grass and ancient lawn furniture. Separating this apartment house from the neighbors was a rotting, gray, wood fence, a huge hole in one corner. Flattened grass, along with the slime trail, led directly to the hole.

  “Well, we know which direction they came from,” Marcus remarked, but Sylvain cut him off.

  “Listen!”

  The next door neighbor was crying into her phone, relating the story of finding her dog dead, early in the morning. “Poisoned!” the neighbor wailed, and Sylvain grimaced. A vampire’s bite was toxic, containing within it the venom which would turn a human if combined with their blood.

  A crawler’s bite was venomous as well, but its saliva contained a paralytic and neurotoxin. It was evolution’s way of keeping down anything that was bigger and faster than a crawler, giving them a chance to feed. Rarely did anything bitten by a crawler get away.

  “Poor puppy,” Marcus whispered, and Sylvain silently agreed. A crawler bite was a distinctly unpleasant way to go.

  “I’m going up.” Without further explanation, Sylvain went to the ladder, climbing up to the window where it reached. The frame was rotted, the wood so soft he could dig his fingers into the sill and it crumbled into chunks. “Nice.” Holding onto the ladder, which was groaning worryingly under him, he slid the window up, the glass rattling. Sylvain eyed the space, and peered down to the ground at Marcus. “If I get stuck—”

  “Don’t worry,” Marcus interrupted. “I’ll kick your ass through. You can count on me.”

  “Thanks,” Sylvain replied through gritted teeth, and hefted himself through, arms first. At his shoulders, he had to suck in a breath and extend his arms, trying to narrow his upper body. No way was he doing this gracefully. He pushed off the ladder, trying to propel himself through until he landed on his head and rolled to the floor.

  The window went right into Briar’s room, and there was the trail, skirting the perimeter of the studio. “This place is…”

  “I know.” Marcus landed beside him, rolling to his feet in a move that had Sylvain narrowing his eyes. From the smug look on Marcus’s face, Sylvain hadn’t been able to hide his displeasure as well as he hoped. “Student apartment.”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” Sylvain replied. To his eyes, it looked like a place that was bordering on uninhabitable, and he’d used an outhouse. It was clean, spotless, except for the pile of curtains. Obviously someone had spent a lot of time making it livable, but with the stained tiles and curling laminate, there was only so much cleaning could do.

  But it wasn’t even the age of the place that worried Sylvain, it was the give in the floor he felt every time he took a step. Rotting floorboards. It was the stain at the base of the heating registers. Mold. And it was the spark and smell of burning rubber that zipped through the apartment when whoever else was on their floor flipped a light switch.

  The apartment was a death trap and needed one good electrical surge to send it up in flames.

  “Pack everything,” Sylvain directed. “She’s not coming back here.”

  “Thank God,” Marcus agreed. He opened a door, and stopped. “Not a closet.” Stepping back, he examined every edge of the room. “I don’t see a closet.”

  “There’s a bureau and a bin.” Sylvain pointed to the huge plastic tub sitting against one wall. “I think that’s it.”

  Marcus shook his head and pulled out his phone, arranging in a matter of seconds for a mover to come within the hour.

  Sylvain lifted his eyebrows. “How much did that cost?”

  “Why?” Marcus spat. “You offering?” Lifting both hands to his head, he sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… This place just pisses me off. She’s probably paying something ridiculous like two thousand dollars a month, and one wrong move, and it’s… I don’t understand humans. How are places like this allowed?”

  “Remember tenements?” Sylvain began collecting books from the bed and stacking them. He opened the bin, and finding it empty, placed the books inside.

  “I do.” Marcus grimaced. “Rooms half this size. No running water, no bathrooms. Families sleeping together, eating together. Some didn’t have windows.”

  “Is this better?” One cupboard above the sink was the extent of kitchen space, and he opened it. Kitchenware—cup, plate, and bowl along with a small frying pan and pot—was all that was inside. “Won’t take long to pack.”

  “Do you see a laptop anywhere?” Marcus asked, studying the floor and diving beneath the bed.

  “No.” He checked inside the bathroom and on top of the bureau, pausing to lift the framed photos knocked over. This must be her family. Briar had on her hat—the floppy, wide-brimmed one—and wrapped her arms around someone who must be a brother. Lips puckered, she tried to kiss him, but the older boy held his hand against her face while arching away from her. Sylvain chuckled and folded the stand to stack the pictures on top of each other and place them into the bin.

  “I wonder if one of the cops took it,” Marcus muttered. “Though I don’t know why they would.” He ripped the sheets off the bed, rolling them into a ball and tossing them to Sylvain. “Oh, here it is,” he said as the sheets flew through the air.

  Sylvain caught them and froze. The scent was overwhelming, and he couldn’t help burying his face in them. The apple blossom smell was strong, but there was something else, a constellation of scents he hadn’t caught before, heat, and sunlight, and ice. All of it swirled around him, and when Marcus placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him, he growled, yanking the sheets closer.

  “Okay. Keep your blankey.” Marcus put his hands in the air. “What’s your problem?”

  Hadn’t Marcus smelled it? He’d held them. Sylvain stepped toward him, a smile tugging his lips. “Smell.”

  Marcus’s pupils expanded until they covered all the green of his irises. A rumble rose in his throat, and his upper lip swelled, pushed out by the descent of his fangs. For all his teasing, Marcus was riding the edge of control as closely as Sylvain had. He’d just been trying to hide it.

  Grabbing the pillow off the bed, he shoved it in Marcus’s face. “What do you smell?”

  His eyelids fluttered shut, and he inhaled and held his breath, keeping the pillow to his nose. “Heat,” he whispered, voice muffled by the pillow. “Wildflowers, and apple blossoms. Sunshine and snow.” His eyes popped opened, and he dropped the pillow. “Those are…Valen said he smelled snow and ice. The ocean…”

  “I smelled apple blossoms,” Sylvain answered.

  “Wildflowers…” Marcus choked and began again. “I smelled wildflowers the first time I met her.”

  “I’ve never scented so many things at once. When Annie…” Sylvain shook his head but forged on. “Annie’s scent was sweet, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t all these different things rolled into one that reminded me not only of things I love, but my brothers.”

  “It’s as if she’s made for us.” Marcus grimaced and eyed him warily. Fair enough. Just a few hours ago, Sylvain would have punched him in the throat for suggesting such a thing, but now?

  “To share,” Sylvain added. “With all of us, or none of us.”

  Wide-eyed, Marcus nodded. “She’s modern, and this sort of thing isn’t normal.”

  “We’re vampires, Marcus, and you’re worried about normal? Which part do you think she’ll run from? The undead part or the fall in love with four brothers part?”

  Barking a laugh, Marcus turned away at the same time his phone chimed. “Movers are here.”

  Sylvain examined the room. “I think we’re done for the most part.” He stuffed the blankets he still held in the bin. “Let them in.”

  Hesitating a second, his brother nodded. As if he couldn’t help himself, he lifted the pillow to his nose one more time and dragged in the scent. “Ama
zing,” he whispered and tossed it to Sylvain. “Be right back.”

  ✽✽✽

  It took no time to get Briar’s meager belongings packed into the moving van, and then unpacked into Marcus’s spare room. In fact, it took them longer to find a parking space to unload then it did to put everything away.

  Sylvain had to give Marcus credit. He’d found the way to live. The vampire wanted for nothing. But for all the expensive material items, there was still an emptiness to the house, a loneliness that permeated each room. Strangely, Briar’s things, even in the one room, lent it a warmth. Her scent lingered in the air now.

  “You don’t think she’ll be angry, will she?” Marcus said, glancing distractedly at the bed as he smoothed the sheets.

  “Why would she be angry?” There was no reason to be. “She lived in an apartment that wasn’t fit for human habitation. We’ve provided her with a safe alternative. I expect she’ll be grateful.”

  Tension drained away from him. “You’re right,” Marcus said. “She’ll understand. And—” He went on. “We’ll be able to help her with after care. Drop her off at classes. Hang out. Take her to lunch.”

  “Occupy every moment of her day?”

  Marcus missed his sarcasm. “Sure. You and Valen can take the time Hudson and I are in our labs.” He stopped. “You’re joking.”

  Sylvain touched the side of his nose and headed downstairs. As he stood in the foyer, he studied the house. If Marcus’s scent didn’t mark it as his, Sylvain wouldn’t have known it belonged to his brother. There were no personal touches.

  “Where are you staying?” Marcus asked, pausing a few steps above him.

  “Here and there,” he hedged. “Valen usually turns up.”

  “Do you want to stay here?” Sylvain regarded his brother, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. The tension was back in his shoulders. He fully expected Sylvain to turn him down, and do it cruelly.

  “Do you have room?”

  Marcus’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he laughed. “I have three floors of rooms. There is space for all of you.” He cleared his throat. “If you want.”