by Rye Brewer
“I need your help,” Fane announced, standing across from him on the other side of the desk.
A mountain of paper stood between them.
“I’ve already told you, I have no intention—”
Fane cut him off. “Yes, I know. You’re not going to offer your services to anyone, ever again. Even so, I wanted to present you with this request.”
“If you’re so determined to waste your time.” He waved a hand. “Get on with it.”
“Valerius currently inhabits the body of Vance, who was Lucian’s son. I wish to free Vance by getting Valerius out of his body.”
Elazar and Elewyn exchanged a look at the mention of Valerius, but said nothing to each other. I didn’t like that look. They already had ulterior motives. I wanted more than anything to take Fane by the arm and lead him out of the room. He was in deep enough as it was.
“And why would you want to do this?” Elewyn asked. I caught the note of intrigue in her silky voice.
“Because Vance means a lot to my daughter, and I know it would make her happy.”
The witch stopped just short of rolling her eyes. Was she that cold and unfeeling that she couldn’t understand the importance of love? And yet, she had gone to great lengths to free her brother—but that had benefitted her, too, I reminded myself.
Elazar removed his feet from the desk and replaced them with his folded hands. “Why would I do this for you?”
“I would owe you for it.”
“You already owe me.”
“I know it,” Fane growled, “but I would accept greater debt if it meant my daughter’s happiness.”
I glared at him. Was he insane? Had he lost his mind along with his vampirism? Personal feelings for Philippa aside, he was going too far.
“You realize we would need a caster to replace Samara,” Elazar murmured.
“I’m sure we could find one in Duskwood—and it would behoove you to hide there for a while, at any rate. You may believe you’re safe here, but when the rest of the witch world finds out you were released before your sentence passed…”
“I would like to see them make an attempt to attack the island,” Elewyn declared with a toss of her hair.
She had a great deal of pride in her abilities, didn’t she? I remembered studying literature back in my other life, my “normal” life, and reading about characters with fatal flaws. Hers would be pride, most definitely. I wondered if it would mean the end of her one day and thought that day couldn’t come soon enough for my taste. Whether or not Stark wanted her to train Sara, I didn’t trust her.
Elazar shook his head. “I wouldn’t put you to such trouble, sister. Perhaps Fane is correct, and it would be best for me to leave the island for a short while. Anyway, I would only distract you from the work you have to do. I cannot have you worrying about my protection along with everything else.”
He looked at her, and she at him, and again they exchanged a look I didn’t like.
An understanding passed between them, and she nodded.
He smiled nastily at Fane. “When shall we leave?”
32
Gage
If there was one good thing about our having a fight, it was how much more attentive and sweet Cari was in the days after. Not that I didn’t make just as much of an effort to smooth things over, but it seemed as though she was trying twice as hard.
I couldn’t help but wonder what happened between her leaving with Micah and when she’d found me in our room later that night. She’d thrown herself into my arms and offered tearful apologies, begging me to forgive her when there was nothing to forgive.
We were on our way back from the Louvre, walking hand in hand.
Cari couldn’t stop going back over everything we’d seen, and I couldn’t stop smiling. She was like a little girl, flushed and grinning from ear to ear. I would’ve taken her back there every single day, just to see her so happy. It felt as though we were truly turning a corner in our relationship—and her new life. It was possible for her to be happy with more than just hunting, especially since she needed it less and less as her hunger became easier to control.
She linked her arm with mine and leaned against me as we strolled through the dark streets, still vibrant with the city’s nightlife.
“No matter how much grief I’ve given you since we got here, I want you to know that I consider myself lucky to be with you. I’m glad it was you I found that night outside the club—or, that you found me, rather.”
“In spite of what happened because of it?”
The Euro-shifters would never have done what they did if it hadn’t been for me. She could’ve still been living as a human, with a cat, and an apartment, and a future as a normal woman.
“I’m happier now than I was then. I mean that. It’s easy for me to act like a child, when I’m feeling frustrated or confused or guilty about what I’ve done here, in Paris. Overall, when I’m thinking rationally, I’m loving you, and I’m grateful for the sacrifice you made.”
I stopped and cupped the side of her face in my hand, kissing her gently in front of everyone on the sidewalk. Not that it mattered—I’d seen more couples exchanging embraces and kisses in the past couple of weeks to last a lifetime. It was affirming, really. A reminder that love took many forms.
“I do love you,” I whispered, touching my forehead to hers. “I would do it again and again, if it meant having you in the world. Without you, there would be no reason to breathe.”
We walked on, a little more slowly, with my arm around her shoulders. After a little while, she murmured, “That reminds me of something Micah said.”
My arm went stiff, though I made it a point to keep my voice sounding carefree. “Oh? What did he say?”
“He told me about Georgina. What a sad story. He loved her so much.”
“Yes. He did.” I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. “What else did he tell you?”
“Nothing much more than that. He told me about her death, and how lonely and heartbroken he’s been ever since.” She shivered. “That was what reminded me of what you had sacrificed for me, and that I couldn’t take it for granted. I had to find you after that. I suppose I should thank him for reminding me what really matters.”
“I’ll thank him for you,” I promised, kissing the top of her head while sour bile rose in my throat.
I saw exactly what he was trying to do, even if she didn’t. It was probably better that she didn’t. She could stay innocent and believe the best about him.
She didn’t have to understand that all he’d been doing was play on her sympathies as a way to draw her even closer. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have added all the loneliness and heartbreak and such. He would’ve encouraged her to find me instead of telling her his sob story.
Not that I discounted what he’d been through. It was only painfully obvious that he wanted Cari.
Amazing, the way I’d been so grateful to him for taking us in, and how fondly I had remembered him. And how much I was beginning to hate him.
I had one of three options to choose from. I could confront him, which would inevitably lead to fighting and saying things we couldn’t take back, and would mean having to leave. I could let it go, which was against everything in my nature. No way was I about to let him make a fool of me, courting my woman right in front of me as though I were some sort of joke. Or, I could take her and get the hell out of Paris.
A very risky decision, too. While I didn’t doubt that we could survive successfully, just the two of us, I did doubt the odds of her willingly going with me.
It would take a little work to extricate her from the clan. I’d seen how close she was with Naomi, especially, the two of them always giggling together. Cari had a sweet personality and naturally drew people to her. This would serve her in Rome, though, or wherever we decided to settle.
It was Micah who worried me. And her feelings for him.
By the time we reached the Catacombs, my temper was near the breaking point.
No, I didn’t, even though tearing the throat out of a human might help quell some of my anger. But the satisfaction wouldn’t last long, since it wouldn’t be the throat I really wanted to shred. Still, he would be looking for any opportunity to spent time alone with her. He’d already opened the door to a new level of intimacy in their relationship by telling her about Georgina. It was only a matter of time before he went all-in with his seduction.
“Certainly. I want to speak with Micah for a bit before we go.”
“Great—and let him know we’re going too, in case he wants to come along.” She stood on tiptoe to brush her lips against mine, a sweet smile lighting her up when she finished. “Thank you for tonight.”
“Always.” I was genuinely happy as I watched her walk down the tunnel which led to our room—once she disappeared, however, it was another story.
I marched down the next tunnel, the one which led to Micah. He’d be there, likely waiting for us to return.
And he was. He sat in a chair with a book open in his lap. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile which I knew had been intended for her, one which faded when he saw who truly wanted a minute of his time.
Damn him.
“It’s long past time for us to talk, old friend.”
He looked up at me with something like surprise, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. They were knowing, almost expectant. He knew this was coming. He had to.
“What can I do for you, Gage?”
He sat back in his chair, extending his long legs until they crossed at the ankles on a padded footrest. His hands were folded over his midsection, fingers tapping against the backs of his knuckles.
I wanted to break every single one of those tapping fingers, letting me know how bored he already was with a conversation which hadn’t yet begun.
It didn’t have to begin, did it? Not when he knew what he was in for.
“What do you honestly think is going to happen with Cari? I mean, really. What do you think you’re doing to her?”
“I don’t think I’m doing anything to her. I’ve only ever been friendly, kind…”
“Oh, yes. Friendly and kind.” I clenched my fists against the rising tide of rage. “Why don’t you drop the pretense and admit you want her?”
His gaze was as cold as any I’d ever seen. “I want her.”
“How dare you?”
“How dare I?” He was up in one quick movement, standing eye-to-eye with me. “How dare I? You bring her here, beg me for assistance. I grant you that assistance, I grant you sanctuary which never would’ve been granted me when our positions were reversed.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you could’ve done something to help me back then, damn you.”
I held his gaze, glaring back at him as my mind raced. What was he talking about? I couldn’t come up with anything.
“What are you talking about? I gave you the money to get you out of the country. You would’ve died back in America. They would’ve found you.”
“I know that. And you could’ve bent your father’s ear if you’d tried.”
I let out a sigh when the sad, painful truth hit me. “So that’s it. All these years, you’ve labored under the delusion that there was something I could’ve done to spare you.”
“Or Georgina, at the very least. She deserved to live.” He nearly shook with barely-suppressed emotion.
I remembered her. She was a lovely girl, and she’d loved him.
“What makes you think I didn’t speak to my father about you two?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You assume I never did, but you’re wrong.”
“You’re lying,” he sneered, eyes searching my face for the truth.
“I’m not. I pleaded with him on your behalf. I begged him to speak to Lucian and stand up for you. The girl was going to be your wife. She wasn’t to be used as a slave, she wasn’t stolen from her family for the sake of being your consort. You did what you did out of love for her.”
“I did,” he whispered through clenched teeth.
“I know now what I didn’t know then,” I explained. “Lucian hated my parents, my father especially. I don’t know if my father ever went to Lucian when I asked him to—but even if he had given his opinion, that the two of you should live, Lucian would’ve overruled him simply on principle. Lucian is dead now, I’m glad to say. He was a bloodthirsty, ruthless monster. He’s the one who killed Georgina. Not my father, not me.”
“It’s so easy for you to say that now, isn’t it? There’s no way you can prove you tried to act on my behalf. Even if you did, it didn’t do me—or her—any good.”
“I didn’t even speak to Dommik for nearly a year after she died,” I admitted. “It may have been more than that. The memory is a bit faded now.”
“Poor you. Georgina didn’t speak to anyone, because she was burned to death.”
I cringed. “You don’t think I know that? You don’t think it haunted me, knowing there was nothing I could do to help my best friend? But I did what I could, damn it. I helped you get away. I did save you.”
“Oh, yes. What a sacrifice you made, too. As though you didn’t have all the money in the world. Throw a few bucks to your friend and send him on his way—along with your guilt.”
He pressed his hands to my shoulders and shoved me against the wall, a surprise move which took my breath away and sent books clattering to the floor around me.
I rebounded quickly, throwing myself at him, slamming him into the wall with my hand around his throat. “I did not come here as your enemy, but you’re creating an enemy through your stupidity.”
He only smiled, even as the pressure from my hand began cutting off his air. “All the money and connections you have aren’t enough to keep someone like Cari. You’ll see for yourself.”
Hatred seeped from him, poisoning the air around us. I could hardly believe my eyes or my ears. And I thought he was my friend for so long. Those days were over. He’d agreed to help me, but that had been before he first laid eyes on Carissa. All bets were off once that had happened.
I let go of him and wiped my hands on my pants. “I’ll be leaving, then. And I’m taking her with me.”
He shook his head. “I promised you could stay here, under the clan’s protection.”
“What is wrong with you?” I almost laughed. It was all so ridiculous. “Why would I stay here? You’ve made it plain that you resent me for what happened back then. I can never trust you now. I’ll start looking into other arrangements immediately.”
“What about her?” he asked as I was leaving.
There was a note of desperation in his voice. Did he love her? No, that wasn’t possible. He didn’t have it in him to love. Not somebody like Cari.
Even so, I wouldn’t rub it in his face. “I’ll wait until my plans are solidified before I tell her about it. But we will be leaving as soon as possible.”
33
Anissa
“So, that’s your plan?” I asked Fane as we walked down the stairs together. “You’re going to Duskwood?”
“I am.”
“I wish I felt confident that this was a good idea,” I admitted.
“It’s a lucky thing that you don’t have to come with me, then.” He kept his tone light, friendly, but there was an edge to it.
He was reminding me that this was none of my business, only not in so many words.
I received the message loud and clear, just the same.
“I can’t help but be concerned. You’re Jonah’s father.”
And I’ve already seen what can happen when you rush headlong into a plan without thinking it through. I wouldn’t have spoken that out loud, but it was the truth.
“I appreciate your concern, but I have things well in hand now.”
Did he?
&n
bsp; We reached the entry hall, where Elena’s body still rested. Scott was kneeling over it, his hand on top of hers. When he registered our presence, he shot Fane a nasty look.
Oh, yes, things were well in hand.
I pulled Fane aside. “What about him?”
He frowned. “I see no choice but to bring him along, whether he wants to come along or not.”
“How’s that?”
“If I allow him the freedom to return home, I run the risk of him telling everyone he meets about what went on here.”
I glanced Scott’s way, considering this. “Do you think he would?”
“Before the scene he caused out in the courtyard, I wouldn’t have imagined he was capable of anything like it. I clearly don’t know him as well as I thought I did.”
“None of us do, so don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m sure Sara wouldn’t have imagined it, and the two of them were joined at the hip for months.”
“Do you doubt, then, that he would spread the word of my… change?” He averted his eyes.
I could feel his pain. It wasn’t as though I’d ever dare mention it or ask him about it, but it was there just the same.
Like the elephant in the room, as the saying went.
“No. I don’t doubt it, though I wish I could.” I felt horrible for him.
He couldn’t trust his son. Hatred was what did that. And immaturity.
He shook his head, looking mournful. “I can hardly blame him. If anything, I blame myself.”
I could only sigh and wish it were possible to shake sense into him. “You can’t blame yourself for everything. I know how it feels to heap blame upon myself—there have been too many times when I did the same thing. But you aren’t responsible for your son’s actions.”
“He’s the youngest. He never got as much attention as the others. Gage and Jonah, well that was a battle between them, who would lead. One was older in human years, the other was turned first.” He shrugged.
I knew of his dilemma. I’d seen the friction between Jonah and Gage first hand.