Tangled Echoes (Reconstructionist 2)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  “I think we should go out for breakfast,” Jasmine said perkily.

  “You can’t even walk,” Declan groused.

  “I just need a cup of Aunt Rose’s tea,” she said. “Will you see if there’s any here? And boil some water?”

  Grumbling, Declan tugged off his jacket, throwing it over the back of a dining room chair as he retreated through the house and into the kitchen.

  “Nice that the family is so concerned for us, hey?” Jasmine said sarcastically. “Rushing to our rescue and all.”

  “I’m sure Kett texted Rose,” I said, hoping I sounded diplomatic.

  “Right. Because the executioner is so considerate like that.” She closed her eyes, pressing her head back against the arm of the chaise. “Don’t try to fix it, Wisteria. I know it’s always been broken. I’m just finally ready to admit it.”

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I leaned forward to reach for a fringed wool blanket that I was certain hadn’t been on the back of the chaise a moment before.

  “Brownies, huh?” Jasmine asked.

  “Apparently.” I tucked the blanket around her legs.

  She grabbed my hand before I could withdraw it, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Betty-Sue,” she whispered. “Don’t leave us. No matter what they say after all of this. No matter what they threaten. Don’t leave us again.”

  I brushed the curls away from her face. Her neck was still a mass of bruises in various stages of healing. “I’m not sure I could leave, Betty-Lou. Not now.”

  She gripped my hand, almost harshly. “Because you don’t want to? Or because you don’t think the coven will let you go?”

  Declan strode back through the dining room, leaning in the doorway to the parlor with his arms crossed.

  My anxiety spiked as the consequences of claiming the estate for myself, and for Jasmine and Declan, threatened to overwhelm my already beleaguered brain.

  Jasmine squeezed my hand again, anchoring me back in the present.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Except I don’t think voluntarily walking away is an option now. For any of us. We’re tied here, even deeper than before.”

  “Well, it never was an option for me,” Jasmine said, dropping my hand. “So it’s just you and Bubba who are going to be babies about it.”

  A comfortable silence settled around us, lasting until the faint whistle of the kettle emanated through from the kitchen.

  Declan pushed away from the door. “I’m good with it.” He crossed back into the kitchen.

  “So that just leaves you,” Jasmine said.

  I glanced down at my cousin, who was lounging back in the chaise with heavy eyes and a smug smile at her lips. I tugged the blanket up, covering her arms and shoulders.

  “What kind of breakfast do you want?” she asked sleepily.

  I laughed. “Anything with cheese. And bread.”

  “I know a place.”

  “Of course you do.”

  Instead of heading upstairs to a bedroom, Declan stole a cushion from one of the chairs and crashed on the floor beside Jasmine. He fell asleep almost instantly, snoring quietly.

  I listened to the two of them breathing for a few minutes, then began to get restless. I wasn’t a fan of sitting around and dwelling on the nebulous future, and I was far too invigorated to take a nap. Though it was slightly relieving that it wasn’t the past that was currently unsettling me.

  I wandered up to one of the guest rooms overlooking the front drive, finding my miraculously clean bag hanging in the walk-in closet, along with my pristinely pressed three-quarter-length wool coat. My four pillar candles occupied an empty shelf. Either Lark was brilliant at anticipating my actions, or she moved far quicker than I could up the stairs and through the house.

  I wasn’t interested in reclaiming the bedroom I’d spent seven years of my life in. In fact, I might ask Lark to refurnish it. If I was going to be staying at the manor at all.

  I shoved that thought away, opting to focus on stripping off my grubby, torn clothing and standing in a scalding shower for far too long. I took my time drying and pinning up my hair — and, of course, found all my clothing cleaned and repaired when I was done.

  I wandered back through the house, checking that Jasmine and Declan were still sleeping, then finding myself in the ballroom overlooking the side patio and the empty pool.

  The square footage of the manor’s ballroom was twice that of Fairchild Park’s, but there was no piano here. The oak floors gleamed as if they’d just been polished, though — and given the brownies’ declaration of having stripped all the darkness from the estate, it was likely they had been. Not a single hint of our long years of spellcasting practice was evident. Declan had set the ballroom’s floor-to-ceiling gold brocade curtains on fire at least three times.

  Crossing the length of the room, I systematically tugged the heavy curtains away from the windows, allowing sunlight to pour into every corner of the room.

  The house wards shifted around me. Then a vampire was suddenly standing before the windows, gazing out at the empty pool.

  I laughed instead of flinching. Apparently, Kett couldn’t sneak up on me in the manor.

  He glanced over at me, grinning. Then he held out his hand.

  I wandered back across the expansive floor but didn’t take it, choosing instead to stand shoulder to shoulder with him.

  “Your magic has settled,” he said, allowing his arm to rest at his side. “As I predicted it would.”

  I laughed. “Yes, Kett. I completely believe that you contrived the entire situation just so I would claim the ancestral magic of the estate.” But though he chuckled, my own tone turned serious. “I don’t believe you would have put Jasmine in harm’s way.”

  “No. That I didn’t knowingly do.” He angled his shoulders toward me. “But it was my fault nonetheless.”

  “And Yale?”

  “Contained. I’ll take him to London.”

  I met his silvered gaze. “Will you take me to London?” I whispered.

  Some emotion flitted across his face that I couldn’t identify. “We will avoid London for as long as possible. But we will not be able to avoid it altogether.”

  I nodded, letting the subject drop. “The three of us are going to breakfast … well, brunch now.”

  “Before you go …” The vampire held out his hand to me again, offering a slight smile.

  I placed my right hand in his without hesitation this time, realizing he was being careful to not move too quickly around me. He rotated my hand palm up, brushing his fingers from my wrist to my fingertips. The gesture was contemplative, as if he were the one who was hesitant.

  “I understand … more so now … that you’ve had much taken from you.” He shook his head as if rethinking what he wanted to say. Then he lifted his gaze to meet mine. “I would … I offer you a drop of my blood.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It identifies you as mine to any other vampire. It declares you to be under my protection.”

  “The token that Yale kept mentioning?”

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t question him any further. It was enough to simply think through the implications of his request.

  “I’ve never offered such a thing to anyone before,” he said quietly. “I’ve had my blood taken forcibly, of course. But I’ve never given it willingly.”

  “You thought … in the graveyard, you thought a single drop might possibly kill Ben.”

  “But not you, Wisteria.”

  Ever so slowly, Kett lifted his hand from mine, giving me space to step away if I desired. Then he brushed his fingers against my neck, caressing the skin he’d punctured when he bit me.

  A wash of euphoria ran down my neck and through my chest, settling in my belly. My nipples hardened. I involuntarily gasped.

  Then I took a step back.

  “That … I …” I pressed my hands to my flushed cheeks, taking a moment to organize my thoughts. “You said that … vampire venom … wi
th Nigel …”

  Kett rescued me from my incoherent attempt to question him. “Yes. Vampires’ venom contains certain euphoric properties.”

  “But when you bit me, I didn’t feel … that … what you just made me feel when you touched me.”

  “You were rather preoccupied,” he said, smiling wryly. “But since observing you in your childhood environment, I have come to understand that I might have assessed our potential relationship erroneously.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning … I’ll give you whatever you want, whenever you want it.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “And if that means going into competition with Declan for your affections, I’m up for it.”

  I laughed despite myself. “Oh, you are, are you?”

  “I was perfectly content to build that part of our relationship. From master and child, then perhaps to lovers. But if it will help you make a decision, if it will sway you …” He gestured his hand offishly. “I’m willing to progress at a quicker pace.”

  I stared at him. “So you’re offering me immortality, invulnerability, and …”

  “Pleasure.”

  “And did you offer the same to Jasmine?” I whispered the question, knowing it was out of bounds and that it was unlikely the vampire would answer me.

  He stilled. “You know I did not.”

  “And if you had? If you offered her a drop of your blood?”

  He looked surprised, as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him.

  “Wouldn’t that have protected her from Yale?”

  Kett tilted his head. “Perhaps. Though it likely wouldn’t have made a difference. Yale wanted to play games with the executioner of the Conclave. To triumph over the vampire who destroyed his sire.”

  “And she wasn’t powerful enough to protect,” I said, ignoring Kett’s justification — and surprised by the sudden anger in my statement.

  “Or perhaps Yale had another reason to get my attention. Another motivation yet to be revealed.”

  Dread replaced the anger as quickly as it had come, though. I voiced the lingering doubt I’d been carrying with me for days now. “An alliance with the Fairchild coven. With Jasper, specifically? Did he say so? Did you … did you drink from him?”

  “I quelled him,” Kett said smoothly. “Further investigation into his involvement will have to wait until he has recovered from your assault. His reserves were rather low.”

  “And you wouldn’t want to destroy him,” I said sarcastically.

  “Indeed. A waste.”

  “Because he remakes vampires easily.”

  Kett nodded. “And you noted how each of his brood retained a large portion of their Adept abilities.”

  “I did … specifically while I was vomiting the results up.”

  Silence fell between us. I turned to stare out the windows, though I could still feel the weight of Kett’s gaze and his question.

  “I had another reason,” he said. “For not making Jasmine the same offer. I thought it might … displease you.”

  “Jasmine being protected would never displease me.”

  “And I was concerned …”

  “About?”

  “The … internalized darkness.”

  I glanced over at him. He’d returned his attention to the view, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “I don’t know what you mean. Jasmine isn’t … dark. If anything, I’m the one steeped in darkness. I thought that was what you …” My voice trailed off.

  “What drew me to you?”

  I nodded.

  Kett lifted his hand, turning it before us as if it were an object he was examining. “The transformation is never the same from vampire to vampire. I have seen its effect numerous times. And even for those it doesn’t kill or consume, it changes them. Often latching on to innate characteristics and amplifying them.”

  “So Jasper wouldn’t make a good vampire, because he’s …”

  “Set in his ways. Mired in darkness. Too close to the edge. I might remake him, expending my own magic to do so, only to end up destroying him when the transformation drives him to madness.”

  “And that would be a waste.”

  “Do you doubt it?”

  I shook my head. I was allowing myself to be angry, and therefore irrational, when I should be listening carefully. “Then why cross Jasmine off the list and not me?”

  “You acknowledge the darkness,” Kett said. “You fortify yourself against it. While Jasmine …” He shook his head. “Even a single drop might alter her, turning her from something lovely and vibrant to something … not.”

  “And if you remake me? I won’t change?”

  “You will change. I cannot say how. Only that you are strong and fierce. You won’t be manipulated by internal or external forces.” Kett laughed quietly. “And you are calm, collected, and poised when you should be terrified.”

  “Some would call that a psychosis, rather than an attribute,” I said wryly.

  He didn’t answer.

  I shifted my gaze out to the empty pool, pressing my palm to the window. It was colder outside than it had been for the last couple of days. Cold enough to snow if there’d been any precipitation.

  “When we were younger,” I said, “Bluebell used to freeze the pool in the winter so we could skate on it. When Jasper was away for a few hours, of course. We could have used spells, but instead we strapped on old skates that we’d convinced Rose to buy us from a thrift store. The skates didn’t really fit us properly, but …”

  “You could be Betty-Sue, Betty-Lou, and Bubba for an afternoon,” Kett said.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “Normal.”

  “You will never be normal, Wisteria. Remade or not, you will be yourself, but never normal.”

  I nodded, not looking at him. “Still. I wish it was snowing.”

  “That I cannot give you,” Kett said quietly. “Though I could take you to the snow.”

  “After you take Yale to London,” I said wryly, dropping my hand from the window.

  He chuckled. “Yes. Perhaps best to keep you two separate for some time. A few decades should do. That is, if my grandsire ever allows Yale his freedom again.”

  I nodded, though I was still largely incapable of understanding ideas or plans presented in terms of decades or centuries. Other thoughts and emotions churned around in my mind, but none of them were currently within my ability to articulate.

  “You’re wrong,” I finally said.

  “A rare but possible occurrence.”

  I laughed, looking over at Kett. He was smiling to himself. The sunlight streaming in through the windows lent a golden kiss to his skin. He looked human. Dangerously, deceptively human. And obtainable.

  “You’re wrong about needing to compete with Declan,” I said. My heartbeat ramped up, settling only after I glanced away from him.

  “Declan the younger, then,” Kett said. “If the elder is using your shared history as justification of his own cowardice.”

  I snorted. “Cowardice isn’t a word I’d associate with Declan.”

  “We all have things that we allow to hold us back.”

  “And what holds you back?”

  Kett laughed again, but it wasn’t a warm sound this time. “Besides humanity?”

  I didn’t answer, wrapping my left hand over the bracelet on my wrist and feeling the tiny whirls of magic from the reconstructions attached to it.

  “Drink from me, Wisteria.” Kett whispered the words against my neck, causing me to shiver with pleasure once again. I hadn’t seen him move closer.

  I shook my head, then softened my refusal. “Ask me again when I’m not so angry.”

  “I will.”

  Then he was gone, once again leaving me with unanswered questions. The wards shifted, informing me that he’d left the property.

  I pressed my hand to the window again. The chilled glass was fortifying, invigorating. But … this wasn’t my home, at present or in the future. Whether or not I took Kett up on hi
s offer, it wasn’t my place to attempt to build a life in Jasper’s domain.

  I dropped my hand, turning toward the warmth I knew the fire in the parlor would offer. Hopefully, Jasmine would be awake soon and feeling well enough to eat.

  Chapter 13

  Contrary to Declan’s concern, Jasmine’s phone was not a clone. My cousin had an extended fit of laughter over the idea that the vampires would even know what cloning a piece of technology entailed, let alone that they’d be capable of doing so. The bite marks left over from Valko’s repeat feedings continued to fade, but Jasmine’s emotions remained close to the surface. Even more so when she discovered that the magic I’d called forth from the estate had ruined her and Declan’s cellphones as thoroughly as she’d ruined mine.

  Thankfully, Jasmine’s computer, satchel, and clothing miraculously appeared in her room at the manor while she was showering. Lark must have found them in the cottage. And conveniently, there was an Apple Store in West Hartford, Connecticut — only forty-five minutes in the wrong direction on the way to brunch, which then turned into lunch.

  Jasmine bought three new phones, grumbling about billing the Conclave for the replacements. Then she obsessively booted each of them through her laptop and iCloud, all the while directing Declan back into Litchfield to the Saltwater Grille for lunch.

  The restaurant was situated in a tiny red house tucked between two larger buildings in a retail-dominated area, with white trim and French-paned double front doors. Before we’d even sat down at the table tucked beside interior red-painted French doors that led to the currently closed back patio, Declan had ordered the steak sandwich — a rib-eye with grilled onions, peppers, and mozzarella, along with fries, of course.

  Quickly scanning the menu as I settled at the far side of the smooth wooden table, I opted for the shrimp scampi pasta — sauteed shrimp and sun-dried tomatoes in a white-wine garlic sauce over fusilli. Hopefully it was served with a generous topping of Parmesan. Jasmine ordered the fish and chips without even glancing at a menu or up from her phone. Though she needed sustenance more than Declan or I did, food wasn’t currently a priority for her. And that, more than anything else, said a lot about her state of mind.