by Rye Brewer
“Because you would only serve as a distraction.”
He snorted and shook his head.
I argued the point, “Haven’t you ever read the old stories? The ones the humans wrote? I used to read them for a laugh—although some of them are closer to the truth than others. And whenever a truly special creature such as your Sara trains to develop their skills, they must live sparsely. Monastically. With no distractions, nothing to steal focus from what matters most. Away from everyone they love.”
He pursed his generous mouth, clearly considering the truth of my reasoning. “How long do you believe this will take?”
“To be honest, I’m uncertain. I saw some of what she could do during the battle, and I must admit, I’m impressed. You did admirably well in her early training.”
“Thank you.”
“Even so, until I have the chance to witness the extent of her abilities, I won’t know how long her training will take.” Hundreds of years, if I have my way. “I’ll be happy to reach out to you in order to update you on her progress.”
“How generous.”
“I do what I can,” I smiled.
He raised his chin, looking down at me with the same expression he’d used back in the entry hall while Elazar wept over that insipid Samara. That look chilled my blood. “Are you certain there isn’t anything you’d like to get off your chest?”
“I really don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do. Just the same, I wouldn’t want whatever it is to get in the way of the training you’ll be providing Sara with. Strain can do terrible things to the mind.”
“Strain? Why would I be strained? I have things well in hand here.”
“I don’t mean in the prison, or even the entire island. There’s not a doubt in my mind that you’ll make a formidable leader. I mean here.” He tapped the side of his head, then moved his hand lower until his fingers made contact with his broad chest. “And here.”
That area had been strained for as long as I’d known him, but it had never seemed to matter before. “Why would that be a problem?”
“It’s only that I have some experience in the area of living with my decisions. Things I thought I could live with grew heavier with time. I came to understand what regret was.”
“That’s fascinating, Stark, but I have nothing to regret.”
“So you believe now,” he shrugged. “And I believe you believe it. I only hope for your sake that you don’t prove me right. I hope a lot of things I think I know aren’t right. I’m not sure what I would do if they were.”
I quaked inside and wished I could lean against something for support as my knees turned to water. He knew. He knew, and he hated me for it. No—he was disappointed in me. I wasn’t sure which was worse. All that was left for me to do was double my resolve.
I blew out a breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, or what you think you know. I thought we were talking about Sara, but you seem to have changed the subject.”
He nodded slowly. “I’m still talking about Sara, and her training. And the fact that she had better be trained well, thoroughly, and safely. Otherwise, I may have to let a few things off my chest. I don’t think you would want that to happen.”
“I wouldn’t?”
“I don’t believe you would.” He took a step back, folding his arms. “Do we have an understanding?”
I only nodded. He nodded in return with a slightly triumphant smile.
I felt him slipping further away than ever.
He knew he had won. I hadn’t admitted anything, but that didn’t matter.
He’d seen enough to put it together. He would never love me. It was the price I’d have to pay for finally having what I wanted.
23
Sara
The last thing I felt like doing at that moment was explaining things to Anissa. Would she understand? Sure, maybe she’d get that the Starkers needed to pay for what they’d done—but she’d never forgive Stark for being the one behind it. And knowing her the way I did, there was no question that she’d have plenty to say.
Before I said anything, I made sure Scott wasn’t listening, first. There was nothing to worry about there, judging from the way he stared at that closed door like it was his only lifeline.
If he had only kept his mouth shut and not made such a mess of things, our situation would be very different. He wouldn’t be waiting to see whether his father lived or died, for starters.
What did I ever seen in him?
Anissa glared at me. “Well?”
“Well… You’ve heard of Starkers,” I whispered.
She looked as though I had just lapsed into another language. “Yes. They’re just a myth or something. Aren’t they?”
“Why would I mention them to you if they were only a myth?” I didn’t intend for it to come out so sharply, but there it was. I couldn’t take it back.
She visibly recoiled.
My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“For more than just you,” she muttered.
“I said I was sorry.” I glanced over her shoulder to confirm that we were still as alone as we could be before continuing. “They’re real. I’ve seen them myself.”
“How is that possible?”
“He showed me. Stark.”
“He showed…” Understanding washed over her. “No. Oh, Sara, don’t tell me this. Don’t tell me you would align yourself with somebody like him. He named them after himself!”
“I know,” I hissed. “I know, and don’t think I haven’t considered this. I have. Quite seriously.”
“Not seriously enough, I think.”
“Think what you want. I know how I feel, and I know what I’ve been through. And I know he regrets beginning the group. They turned into something he’d never predicted.”
“And why did he start them, Sara? Because he hates vampires, right? Only somebody who hates us could put together a group whose sole purpose is to kill us.”
“He lost his sister to a vampire, four hundred years ago. And you’re one to talk. I know the sort of things you did for Marcus.”
She reeled back. “I did that for you, and you know it.”
“He did it for his sister, too.”
“That’s not the same thing. Avenging a murder and killing in order to keep my sister alive aren’t the same thing.”
“I wonder how the loved ones of the vampires you killed for Marcus would feel about that. I’m fairly sure they’d think it was the same.”
We stared at each other for a long, heavy moment.
I had never spoken to her that way before, and vice versa. I didn’t enjoy it.
And then… I thought of our mother. When I did, nothing else mattered as much. When my eyes filled, and my chin quivered, Anissa’s did, too.
“I’m sorry. She wouldn’t want us to do this.” I shook my head with my hands over my face, deeply ashamed. What right did I have to attack her when everything she’d done, she’d done for me? And what would our mother think about that?
“No. She wouldn’t. And I don’t want to.” She briskly rubbed my arms, then pulled me in for a hug. “I’m sorry. I’m only upset because I love you. I don’t judge him. Not really. I want the best for you. And she would want us to work together, always.”
“You’re right.” I let my hands drop and looked her in the eye. “I need you to work with me on this. I need you to understand. If there’s ever going to be a chance of fighting these sick monsters who are killing vampires—killing people like you and Jonah—it’ll have to be me.”
“Why does it have to be you? Why can’t it be somebody else? Aren’t you tired of all the danger yet?”
“You should talk. Aren’t you?”
“We’re not getting anywhere,” she sighed. “And I’m sorry for that. I don’t want to push you away when you’re considering doing something this big. And it’s big. We both know it. You’re turning your back on who you are.”
“No. That’s exactly what I’m not doing. I’m embracing who I am and protecting what matters most.” I would’ve gone on, but Stark rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and started coming down.
I looked at my sister, warning her without saying a word, and she gritted her teeth—but kept her mouth shut when Stark approached.
“Still nothing?” he asked, jerking his head in Scott’s direction.
“No. It’s been at least an hour, hasn’t it?”
“At least,” he muttered. “Who knows what they’re doing in there? I’m not sure I want to.”
I noticed the look Anissa gave him, but didn’t know if it was disgust for what he’d done in the past or something else.
“What’s going on with Elewyn?” she asked.
He grimaced. Only for the most fleeting of moments. “She seems to have things well in hand. And I asked if she would still consider training Sara.”
“You did?” My heartbeat sped up. “What did she say?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Try me.”
I wasn’t surprised. I doubted there was much she could do that I would like. This didn’t bode well for my training, but the ends justified the means.
He heaved a heavy sigh. “She wants me to leave the island for the duration.”
“I don’t like it,” Anissa muttered.
“Nor do I,” he agreed. “And I told her so. I don’t want to leave Sara alone here.”
They were talking about me as if I wasn’t there. “Why don’t you try asking Sara how she feels about this?” I asked, waving my arms between the two of them.
It was good to see them agreeing—I hadn’t been sure until that moment that Anissa would even speak to him—but I didn’t like that it was me they were talking about as though I was absent. Or as though I were a child for them to argue about.
“Sara, how do you feel about this?” he asked.
“I don’t like it, but I accept it.” I braced myself for their reaction.
“What?” Anissa’s voice echoed like a bullet, bouncing from wall to wall. “You can’t be serious. You just can’t be.”
“I know what I’m saying, and I’m serious,” I insisted, shooting her a dirty look. “I hate it when you tell me I can’t be thinking what I’m thinking.”
“It’s not advisable,” Stark warned.
“Why would you bring me here, to train with her, if you felt it was dangerous? Why would you bring me into this if you didn’t feel I could handle it?” I challenged him with my stare, not even blinking until he did.
“I thought… a lot of things,” he murmured. “But things have changed. They’ve changed considerably.”
“How?”
“They just have. I would feel more comfortable if I were here with you.”
“If there’s something you think I should know, tell me. Please, Stark.” I searched his face, looking for a clue.
There was nothing but a deep sense of trouble there. Disappointment. Maybe sadness.
He hesitated—then shook his head. “It’s nothing you need to worry yourself about. Believe me. I shouldn’t have burdened you with my misgivings. I don’t want you to influence you.”
“You’re actually going to do this?” Anissa hissed.
“I am.” I glared at her. “You know how important this is to me. I only ask that you respect my decision—you don’t need to understand it, but I would appreciate your respect.”
“It’s not that I don’t respect you. Truly.” She looked up at Stark, who closed his eyes with a brief shake of his head.
They knew something I didn’t know and were holding out on me. Just as I was trying to decide whether or not to explode on them, Scott let out a gasp of surprise.
The lock on the door clicked.
We rushed over as one, all conversation dying in the light of the new development.
I glanced at Anissa and took Stark’s hand, chewing my lower lip to pieces.
Even so, I was in better shape than Scott. He looked as though he were about to come apart, waiting for Elazar to show him his father. Or tell him he’d died.
The door swung open.
Slowly.
Did all necromancers possess a flair for the dramatic, or was it just this one?
Elazar came into view, but only him.
Alone.
He filled the doorway, looking at all of us in turn without saying a word. Taking his time. Drawing out the suspense until I was sure I’d scream.
“Well? Where is he? How is he?” Scott demanded.
And still, Elazar was silent.
24
Gage
“The only thing we’re missing is champagne. Or at least a very good wine.”
Cari nestled herself under my arm, against my chest. Her giggle was soft and sweet, making her sound like the girl I first fell in love with. “I was never a fan of champagne, anyway. So you’re off the hook there.”
“You weren’t?”
“Come on, Gage. You saw where I lived. Did it look like I could even afford good champagne?”
We chuckled together, and I released an exhale as I looked out over the City of Lights from the top of the Eiffel Tower. The streets glowed like they were paved with gold.
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered, letting out a sigh. “Seeing it all from way up here, it’s exquisite.”
“I told you I would bring you up here, didn’t I?”
I hated remembering that night on the banks of the Seine, even though my blood-driven instincts had been sated for the first time in a long time. At the moment, I’d loved it. I’d finally reconnected with my real nature as a vampire. No one could punish me for doing what was in my blood. No one could tell me it was wrong to do what kept me alive—not just living and breathing, but fully alive and in touch with who I truly was.
The other side of me, the one which had ruled my decisions for almost as long as I could remember, recoiled in horror at the memory of my viciousness. I tried to push it away from the forefront of my memory, but it kept coming up.
I had to focus on her. This was a gift, a moment to treasure. Having her in my arms, content for the first time since we’d arrived. Not content because of a good hunt or because she’d satisfied her thirst for the time being. Content with being together. The only thing I truly wanted.
I kissed the top of her head. “It’s so different from New York. No skyscrapers.”
“I don’t miss them,” she decided. “I prefer the architecture here.”
“So do I. The narrow streets, the little cafes. It’s a big city, but it feels so much more…”
“Intimate,” she concluded. She extended her arm, pointing to the Arc de Triomphe. “And we don’t have anything like that. We only have a recreation of it.”
“Stanford White modeled the Washington Square Arch after it, that’s true.”
“You know so many things,” she marveled. “Wait. Stanford White. Isn’t he the one who was murdered over the affair with Evelyn Nesbit?”
“Hey. You know a lot of things, too.”
“I saw it in a movie,” she admitted with a giggle. “It’s not like I went to the library to look up New York history.”
“As if you wouldn’t have.”
“Shut up.”
Her rich laugh warmed my heart as nothing else could. I knew she was still in there, the real Carissa. The one who had interests outside of hunting. She was slowly showing herself again, as the early days of her vampirism passed and the bloodlust lessened to a more reasonable level.
“We could go to the Louvre some night soon,” I offered. “You could see how small the Mona Lisa actually is.”
“I would love it,” she grinned, craning her neck to look up at me. “I really would.”
I wondered what else I could convince her to do as our mouths met in a sweet, lingering kiss.
She was mine and always would be. We were meant for each other. But as long as we spent time within Micah
’s clan, there would be a wall between us. A wall I couldn’t seem to breach, especially when Micah was in the vicinity.
What was it about him? As if I needed to ask myself that question. He held an allure for her. He reached into the side of her I’d created by turning her, and he indulged her dark needs. There was a sensuality to everything he did.
I told myself it was his nature, not to mention the instincts he’d honed over a century of open hunting. He knew how to lure his victims, how to seduce. He was seducing her, that much was blatantly obvious.
To everyone but Cari.
“There’s so much more, all over Europe,” I pointed out once our kiss ended. “I mean, if you’re a fan of architecture, Rome would blow your mind. We could spend weeks there, and you’d never grow tired of exploring.”
“I would love to see that.” Her smile faltered, however. “Would it be safe? To be that far from the safety of the clan?”
And there it was. “We could find a way to make it work. I’m certain of it. The clan isn’t what keeps them safe. It’s the fact that they hunt in a large city and hide out where no one can find them.”
“Where would we hide in Rome?”
“It’s not even that we would need to hide,” I explained, reminding myself to keep my voice calm and even.
This was not the time to have a fight. The night had been so perfect up to this point.
I tucked her hair behind her ear. “If it was just the two of us, we wouldn’t do enough damage to bring attention to ourselves. We could find a hotel where nobody asks questions and stay there during the day. I’m certain there are places like that in existence. And wouldn’t you rather stay in an actual hotel than in a cave?”
“I’m comfortable there.” Even though tiny lines appeared on her forehead when she said it.
She was lying to me. Worse, she was lying to herself.
“Carissa.” I swiveled her in my arms until we were facing each other. “I realize that you feel comfortable, but are you sure it’s not just because you feel accepted there? We can’t use them as a security blanket forever.”