Tangled Echoes (Reconstructionist 2)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  Not bothering with the lights, I retrieved some cold fried chicken and potato salad from the fridge. Even after all the years that had passed, I wasn’t certain that Rose could actually cook anything else, other than chocolate chip cookies, but I certainly wasn’t complaining. My aunt hadn’t updated the kitchen — bare wood countertops, white-painted cabinets, pink ceramic plates on open shelves above the apron-front sink — making the echoes of my childhood suddenly threaten to manifest before me in the moonlit darkness.

  But instead of ignoring the past, I stood at the counter and literally ate the only good memory I had of my youth — other than the moments Jasmine, Declan, and I snatched together. Though not for the first time, it occurred to me that by refusing to dwell on the bad memories, I also forgot the good. Or perhaps my mind just didn’t work the same way as everyone else’s, and I was simply better suited to living in the present.

  The vampire joined me as I was getting a second helping. He appeared in a pocket of moonlight filtering into the kitchen, gazing out the double French-paned doors that led to the back patio, then into the empty vegetable gardens beyond. The breakfast nook where Jasmine, Declan, and I had spent fleeting moments of our childhood stood behind him, to the right of the kitchen’s large, unused brick fireplace.

  I scraped and rinsed my plate. After placing my dishes in the dishwasher, I washed my greasy fingers, then crossed to gaze out the patio doors at the vampire’s side.

  “I have an associate looking over Jasmine’s files,” he said.

  “Jasmine traced the vampire she called Yale to Litchfield?”

  “By his credit card.”

  “Used at the hotel? So she booked a room to sit and wait for him?”

  “Apparently.” Kett was angry. His rage was subtle, a slight edge to his normally even tone, but it was there.

  “Why did she come without you?” I whispered the question, not completely sure I wanted to crack open another tense topic on less than two hours’ sleep.

  The vampire turned away from the window, gazing at me but not answering.

  I kept my gaze on the white-fenced garden beds. “Rose grows berries,” I said, filling the not completely uncomfortable silence that settled between us. “Blueberries over there.” I lifted my hand, pointing to the far right of the garden. The sleeve of my thick-knit sweater slipped back along my arm, revealing my white-picket-fence bracelet. It glinted with magic, not just moonlight. “Raspberries and strawberries. Jasmine and I often visited for the afternoon. Less so after Declan arrived and we all apprenticed with Jasper.”

  “I believe Jasmine might have been angry with me,” Kett finally said.

  “She’s not the angry sort.”

  “No?”

  “Not like that, at least.”

  “I don’t understand the distinction.”

  I turned to look at him. “You were dating?”

  “If that is the word you wish to use.”

  “Having sex, then?”

  He inclined his head imperceptibly, allowing but perhaps not wholly agreeing with my word choice.

  “And now you aren’t?”

  “It was enough.”

  “For you or her?”

  “For her. But by my assessment.”

  I tilted my head, waiting for a more detailed explanation. Kett didn’t offer one.

  “Jasmine doesn’t get angry at that sort of thing,” I said. “Breakups, who’s sleeping with who. Or, if you prefer, who’s having sex with whom, then not having sex anymore. Jasmine … loves, but she doesn’t possess. And she certainly doesn’t get any of it tangled up in her job. If she tracked Yale here without telling you, it just means she thought she could handle it. She was still gathering intel.”

  “My associate is combing her records for possible places of residence for Yale and his brood, and other patterns that might indicate their movements.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “But we will hear from the brood before sunrise,” he said.

  I nodded, thinking about retreating upstairs for another couple of hours of sleep, then dismissing the idea. “I’ll wait up with you.”

  “As you wish.”

  Kett slipped back through the kitchen, wandering out into the hall, then into the foyer. I slowly trailed after him, allowing him to pull me in his wake. The fire was still burning in the drawing room, bathing the far corner of the foyer in a warm, flickering light. Kett must have been feeding it. I assumed at first that the drawing room was where we were heading, but Kett turned in the opposite direction, crossing past the stairs into a little-used portion of the house.

  The ballroom.

  I had indistinct memories of my grandparents throwing grand parties in that columned space, but Rose had left it empty except for the white baby grand piano in the corner. The wood floor was still polished, though, and slick even under my bare feet.

  The entire far wall was filled with French-paned doors meant to stand open to the patio in the summer. So that music would spill out into the night while any breeze cooled the dancers within.

  Kett crossed to the glassed doors, lifting his face to the moonlight as he’d done in the kitchen. Though he might just have been gazing over the far hedge that marked the boundary of the property and effectively hid the house from the side street.

  I trailed my fingers across the exposed keys of the piano, but didn’t press them firmly enough to give voice to the instrument. I didn’t play. I wasn’t certain that any of the living Fairchilds played any instrument. Such magic might have been cherished in my grandparents’ day, but it was too subtle — perhaps too much work — for the current elders.

  “Why me?” I asked without even realizing I was going to voice the question. “What is it that you … see? You went to Jasmine, at her invitation, I assume. But you’d already crossed her out of consideration on the contract.”

  Though his back was to me, Kett tilted his head as if considering my query. Then he held out his hand to the side as if he wanted me to take it.

  I drifted toward him, slowly sliding each step across the smooth floor. He was even paler in the moonlight streaming in through the window. Almost ethereal.

  Yet he was the opposite of delicate. The antithesis of angelic. As was I. And that was why my name remained on the contract. I was certain of that. But I wanted him to confirm my suspicions. I wanted at least that much to be clear between us.

  I stood beside him, gazing out at the side yard of the house — the ‘park’ portion of the estate — but I didn’t take his offered hand. Beyond the white-painted patio on the other side of the glassed doors, wide rivers of grass wove through pockets of white-fenced rose gardens. Deep shadows played along the edge of the hedge and around the few winter-bare trees that speckled the yard.

  “I wasn’t given a choice,” Kett said finally, still offering his hand to me without looking in my direction. “And neither was my maker. My grandsire punished his children by forcing them to divide their power, so none would ever stand as strong as he.”

  The wooden floor was warm where my feet rested, but I could feel the cool air pressing against the glass only a foot or so from me. Without looking, I lifted my left hand, first touching, then trailing my fingers along Kett’s hand, which remained suspended between us. His skin was cool. Rougher at the fingertips than I’d thought it would be. And just as unyielding as I’d expected.

  “I understand,” I said, remembering to breathe.

  “I was made in a time when a monster could still hold court, openly embracing power in a remote region of the world. I was bred for the honor of being a sacrifice. The second son of my human family. Unnecessary in terms of the propagation of the clan, but a worthy exchange. Worth my weight in gold.”

  “You were born to die?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  He laughed quietly. “I died. But before that happened, I amused the monster for a dozen years. My magic intrigued him. He took me for his own, for blood, a
nd as his mortal companion. His youngest daughter, who’d held that position for over twenty years, loathed me for it.”

  I slowly released the breath I’d been holding, concerned I would break the odd tranquility building up around us. We both kept our gazes fixed to the yard beyond the glassed doors.

  Kett flipped our hands, tracing his fingers over mine, then up my wrist, as I’d done to him. My skin prickled but I didn’t pull away.

  “The daughter tried to kill you,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “And in retribution, her father forced her to remake you. Forced her to divide her power?”

  “It was more than that. She was relatively young, perhaps only a hundred and fifty years into her reincarnation. Unable to walk during the day, unable to read or control the minds of her victims. But she’d inherited one of her father’s gifts. A gift few of his offspring possessed. And by making me, she was unable to access that power for over a century.”

  “The gift made her valuable to him?”

  “Unique. Treasured. It took her many centuries to regain her standing in his shiver.”

  “He forced her to remake the source of her jealousy.”

  “Yes. To take me as her companion for the rest of her immortal years. And in doing so, she lost the privileged position she felt was her birthright. For a time.”

  Kett pressed his fingers against my wrist, feeling my pulse. It was completely steady.

  I glanced over at him, allowing myself a moment to trace his profile with my eyes. Looking at him as a man, not a monster. Not a being of terrible power.

  He smiled, still not looking at me.

  “And now your grandsire makes this demand of you? That you divide your own power? As a punishment? For what?”

  “My child will be formidable,” the vampire said, justifying his grandsire’s demands rather than answering my questions. “A shoring up of his legacy.”

  “But why me?” I whispered.

  “Tell me what happened, Wisteria Fairchild.” Kett’s tone was warm, inviting intimacy. “What happened to tear you away from your coven? You weaken them by your absence. Why would they bear it?”

  He turned, looking me in the eye. I didn’t look away, risking becoming ensnared by him. But some part of me wanted to be overwhelmed, to be whisked away from the seemingly endless hollowness of my existence.

  Thankfully, the larger part of me was anchored in the present. In the need to protect Jasmine.

  “Are you the reason Jasper Fairchild is in that wheelchair?” Kett asked silkily.

  “You already know the answer. Or so you indicated when you gave me the contract.”

  “I had heard rumors. Pieces of the puzzle.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “Guesswork? From the executioner of the Conclave?”

  He chuckled, stroking his thumb across my wrist.

  “Is that why you want me? Instead of Jasper? Because he’s damaged?”

  “You are the more powerful.”

  Dread shot through my chest, but I swallowed it down, determined to continue occupying the present. And at present, I was forming some sort of tentative bond with an ancient vampire. I wanted to be in this moment for a little while longer.

  I lifted my hand from his, smiling playfully. “If I tell you all my stories now, what will I have left with which to beguile you?”

  He stepped into my space before I’d registered him moving. His breath stirred the hair tumbling across my shoulders. “Forever. You will have forever, Wisteria.”

  “Stay out of my head, Kett,” I whispered. Though I wasn’t at all sure that was what I actually wanted.

  “Stop inviting me in, then.”

  “I’m looking for answers.”

  “I’m amenable to answering your questions.”

  “Why is my past so important?”

  “You make it so.”

  Closing my eyes, I took the last step that remained between us, turning my face toward his neck and jaw. I dropped my personal shields. An inch away from him, I could feel his magic dancing over my lips. I rubbed them together, relishing the feeling.

  He tasted like life.

  Which was exceedingly ironic.

  “And if I didn’t want it to be that way?” I asked, barely giving breath to the question. “If I didn’t want to be perpetually controlled by the events of my childhood anymore?”

  Kett skimmed his fingers across my palms, over my wrists, and up underneath my arms. Then he lifted my arms to the sides, all the while barely touching me.

  “Look at me,” he said, demanding my compliance without raising his voice.

  Still holding my arms up and out, I locked my gaze to his. Red shards of magic danced in the silver-blue of his irises.

  He moved, shifting his hips and tapping my foot back. I stepped back, then to the side at his bidding. He took two more slow steps. Then, touching the small of my back lightly, he spun me around.

  Then the vampire repeated the pattern of steps, guiding me gently and touching me no more than was necessary to direct my movements.

  He wanted to dance.

  With me.

  Not knowing where or how I picked up the steps, I curved my body into him, languidly matching his movements. The dance felt like some hybrid form of waltz, but I really didn’t know enough about dancing to be able to distinguish it further.

  I couldn’t hear whatever music moved him, but I didn’t need to. In Kett’s arms, there was no chance of a misstep.

  I settled one hand on his shoulder, allowing my other hand to rest fully in his, extended out to the side. The pace increased, until we were swirling and twisting around the room in perfect sync.

  We stirred the air. The floor vibrated underneath our feet, magic whirling in our wake. No one could stand against us, no power would stop us.

  We were the music.

  Then we abruptly stopped. My hands were clasped in his, stretched above our heads. Throwing my head back, I gasped for air. His mouth ghosted my neck. I clung to his hands as magic and the room continued to whirl around us.

  “That’s why I haven’t crossed you off the list,” Kett whispered against my ear.

  The room settled. He released my hands. But instead of stepping away, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and kissed him.

  His lips were cold and unyielding.

  I’d made some sort of miscalculation.

  I broke the embrace, ready to step away, but he brushed his fingers through my loose hair.

  “You have mistaken me …” he murmured. “I forget that humans equate so much with sex. And while we might be lovers in centuries to come when you are my equal, or as close as you are likely to be, that is not what I want from you now.”

  “You haven’t explained yourself terribly clearly,” I said, taking a half step back so I could give myself some space but not completely break the intimacy of the conversation.

  A smile flitted across his face. “Some things are still new to me. It’s a novel feeling after twelve centuries.”

  He paused, allowing me a moment to absorb how old he’d just admitted to being.

  “You’re still in love with Declan,” he said. “With Jasmine. As you’ve already admitted. You’re entangled within your past.”

  “I will always love them,” I said.

  “Yes. But when you come to me, you will be ready to move forward. I’m offering you a blank slate, Wisteria Fairchild.”

  He reached out, delicately tugging Jasmine’s necklace free from my sweater and allowing it to dangle between my breasts. He traced his fingers from the tiny reconstructions up my breastbone, pausing at the base of my neck as if watching me breathe. With the lightest of cool touches up my neck, he curved his fingers underneath my chin. Then, applying only the slightest pressure, he tilted my head back.

  “When I drink of you fully, you will drink of me. We will be more than lovers. We will … absorb each other. You will die and be reborn through my blood. When you open your eyes, the world will b
e wholly different. Is that what you want of me now, tonight?”

  I drew further away from him. He allowed me to step back.

  “Don’t misunderstand me, Wisteria Fairchild,” Kett said. “I’m offering you power. Centuries of accumulated strength and invulnerability. I don’t want to be your lover. I don’t want to simply drink your blood. I want to raise you above everything you’ve never been able to control, everything you’ve been too weak to fight. Immortality. Dominion over your enemies. By my side for as long as you need to be, but then you will walk the earth untouched, unscathed.”

  Kett paused. I held my breath, hoping that — uninterrupted — he’d continue. He did.

  “As my child, you will answer to no one but me and to the two others tied to me by blood. At this very moment, there are fewer than a half-dozen vampires as powerful as I am. With my blood in your veins, you will walk in the sun. You will choose when and how to feed. The limitations of a typical fledgling won’t apply to you. No vampire has ever been born with the power I offer you. I’m looking for an equal, not a lover.”

  I wrapped my hand around the cubes hanging from Jasmine’s necklace, anchoring myself in their magic while trying to absorb everything Kett was saying. “And if I don’t accept?”

  He shrugged. “I must remake someone. Someone powerful enough to survive the transition.”

  “The contract stipulates as much,” I said, pleased that my voice was steady and firm. “Though the penalty isn’t clearly defined.”

  Kett smiled joylessly. “But the due date is set in stone. I will not be allowed to remain as I am. In terms you will understand, I have collected too much magic. I hold too much, uneasily. When I make you, I will divide my power.”

  “And hate me for it? As your maker hated you?”

  “Hates. As my maker loathes me, still. Even more so, now that I have accumulated enough power of my own to throw off her yoke. She no longer holds sway over me.”

  “And your grandsire?”

  Kett bared his teeth, then chuckled nastily. On another night, I would have flinched away from him. But with the magic generated from our dance still settling around me, I didn’t.

  “He hasn’t tried to call me to heel,” the vampire said. “If I resisted him, it would undermine everything he’s spent over five thousand years accumulating, by his count.”