Creed

by Marie Johnston

  New roots and leaves had sprung up. The vines and twigs from before when she’d lost her temper with Fyra were still withered, not quite gone, but new life had developed along their length.

  So, she hadn’t taken the babysitting news as well as he’d hoped.

  The selfish side of him sought a way for Melody to keep her power, but they had families living at the compound. If she couldn’t handle it…

  The deeper issue was not others getting hurt, but what the demon aspect was doing to Melody. Horns, claws, fangs—all physical. Would she reach a point where her personality became irredeemable? A wall fell—who the fuck cared? Who’d she tear apart this time?

  Melody’s appearance could alter all it wanted and it wouldn’t diminish her appeal. But her personality was critical. He expected a change after what she’d been through. More somber. Sorrow behind her darkness. Or maybe a newer zest for life after the near miss. But not violence. Not from Melody.

  He kicked snow at the wall. “Shit.”

  Within seconds, he was in the garage bay, choosing a black SUV to meet Zoey. She’d texted him the address. He knew the area. His family’s manor wasn’t far away. Prime families dominated that side of Freemont. Heavily wooded, with lakes scattered all over the landscape, it was ideal for the rich vampire families to build and keep to themselves, trying to orchestrate their own little empire.

  Creed and his team had been dealing with the area a lot since the demon infiltration was uncovered, but they had yet to run across his parents.

  Were they involved?

  Would he be surprised if they were—or if they weren’t?

  He destroyed their organization once, he’d do it again.

  Weaving through Freemont, he pondered his dilemma. Save Melody, lose her. Lose Melody, save her. Trees grew thicker, their bare branches tangling under the moonlight.

  A slight form was walking farther up the road. Creed let off the gas. A vampire enjoying a midnight stroll wasn’t unusual, but a prime doing something for themselves, like walking somewhere, was unheard of.

  As he got closer, the form stayed slight. Again, unusual for vampires.

  But he recognized who it was. Ophelia.

  Slowing even more, he scanned the trees. Shadows moved and danced as his SUV rolled forward. He saw no threat.

  Ophelia didn’t glance at him. She wove with each step. What the hell happened?

  He pulled to a stop and hopped out but didn’t run to her side.

  She was tiny, but throwing down with Ophelia was pure stupidity.

  “Ophelia?” He treaded carefully, on sharp alert.

  She paused. “Creed. How’s it going?” She kept walking.

  He pulled even with her. “I’m well. You?”

  “I had to get some fresh air.”

  She wasn’t lying, but her scent was off, not her usual jasmine smell. Tiny shreds of bark and bits of branches clung to her clothing, which was nothing but a pair of regular blue jeans and a pale green knit sweater.

  “What’s going on?” He kept his tone firm, no nonsense. She wouldn’t respond to anything less without playing the same game right back.

  “Personal shit.”

  Fair enough. He had enough personal shit that everyone knew about, he could respect her wish to keep it private. Except his team didn’t know about his history with Mary Margaret, or the circumstances that prompted his coup. They didn’t even know how much of a hand he’d had in his family’s business.

  “Zoey, Stryke, and Quution came looking for you. Called me because they were worried.” He waited for her to stop and turn. To assure him she was okay. Hell, to berate him because she was frustrated with the rest of the team being in her business.

  She continued walking. “They could’ve interrogated Nadair.”

  Nadair Moiré, the closest thing to a boyfriend she had, hadn’t been able to help them. “He wasn’t there, either.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  He gave her a sidelong look. Were they going to talk in circles all night? The vehicle was getting farther behind them. “Are you walking back to the Moiré manor? We can drive.”

  She stared straight ahead. “Nope. I’m gonna walk.”

  The haunted look in the bright brown eyes of his normally cool and collected longtime friend alarmed him. Something had happened to Ophelia, and she wasn’t dealing with it in her typical way.

  “Okay,” he said, spinning around to head back to his vehicle. “I’m going back for my ride. But I’m hanging even with you until we get to Nadair’s.”

  “It’s not Nadair’s no more.” She might’ve gone for flippant, but her words were faint, tortured.

  He twisted back, but she kept walking. His alarm grew as he jogged back to hop in the driver’s seat. Before he put it in drive, he called Zoey, let her know he found Ophelia.

  “Good. You two are coming back here?” Zoey asked.

  “Yes. I’ll drive along next to her. She’s wandering to the manor.”

  “Good. How’s she look?”

  Zoey was usually straightforward, no-nonsense.

  “What’s going on?”

  He could picture her on the other end. Severe bun, serious expression, pursed mouth. “I’m looking at Nadair, I think.” A male’s voice spoke to her, but Creed couldn’t make out the words. “Stryke just found his head.”

  Creed processed the information as he put the SUV into drive. Keeping his gaze glued to Ophelia, he assessed her. “Ophelia’s acting odd, but she’s not covered in blood.” Would she have had time to shower? A decapitation was messy. If she’d really wanted him dead, she would’ve staked him. Nothing remained after a good staking beyond ashes.

  “I don’t know what to think. There’s nothing here but a den smothered in blood.” The phone got muffled and he heard, “You found his body where? Shoved in the trunk in the sex room?” She came back on the line. “Get here as soon as you can, but Creed…be careful.”

  “Will do.” He shoved the phone in his pocket and idled next to Ophelia. He rolled the window down but didn’t say anything.

  She was frowning at the pavement in front of her. Every third step or so she veered off track but righted herself. If he were a human police officer, he’d think she was intoxicated. Vampires had their own drugs to cause inebriation, but he hadn’t known Ophelia to dabble in that.

  The hard sex stuff, yes. She had personal demons none of them knew about, and that was one way she dealt with them. They just assumed with her petite frame that her formative years had been difficult. Without proper nutrition, vampire growth was stunted, a rare occurrence in prime families. He had assumed she wasn’t prime when he first met her. She corrected him. With a punch that had shattered his nose.

  Ophelia didn’t stop walking as she spoke. “You gonna sit there and stare at me all day?” Now that was more like his friend.

  “If you aren’t going to tell me what’s wrong, I get to sit here and imagine everything.”

  A smile played on her lips, but died quickly. “He’s dead.”

  “I heard.” She kept going. “What’d you mean by saying we could interrogate him if you knew he was dead?”

  “I didn’t mean them.”

  Hellfire. He’d thought he was getting her back, but she was talking nonsense again. “Who’s them.”

  “Zoey and the guys.”

  She wasn’t talking about them? He started clicking pieces together. “Someone else came to question you guys and killed Nadair instead?”

  She stared forward, her face frozen in a carefully neutral expression. “That’s what gets me. I was using him for information for Demetrius. He was cheating on me. He was always cheating on me. We had this weird chemistry and I kept hoping he’d be a better male. But he never was. Until tonight.” She stopped and faced him. He braked. “Why’d he die for me?”

  A selfish prick like Nadair sacrificed himself for her. Either he was truly in love with her, or the circumstances fit his needs. “Sometimes we never know.”

&n
bsp; She considered him for a long moment, then pivoted and continued her stroll.

  He repressed a frustrated sigh and let off the brake to roll slowly next to her. Nadair’s death was part of the puzzle, but she needed to share the rest of the story.

  After more silence, he finally asked, “Who came to interrogate him, why, and what happened to you?”

  “I’ll save it for when we’re with the others.”

  She planned to tell them, there was that.

  Propping his elbow by the window, he shoved his hand through his hair and left it. He glanced at the clock. It’d be sunup in a few hours when he could crawl back into Melody’s bed and invite her in with him.

  Ophelia stopped abruptly, and he had to slam on the brakes. “I can’t throw you under the bus like that. I’m going to give you a heads up to a critical detail of the night.”

  Yes. Get a head start to solving this so he can get back to finding a way to help Melody.

  “The ones that came to the house to interrogate Nadair, they were primes.” The shadows in her eyes weren’t just from the night. Something troubled her deeply.

  “Okay…” he prompted. That they were primes wasn’t a surprise. The average vampire had enough to do living among humans without being detected. Primes’ hobbies were taking advantage of anyone and everyone.

  “Creed,” she said, her voice low, “they were your parents.”

  ***

  Melody was on the second pan of seven-layer bars with Fyra.

  The demon smacked her lips. “I think Betty needs to fill a freezer with just these.”

  “She probably has.”

  Frya didn’t act like hanging with her was a hardship, and that made keeping her hurt feelings in check easier. Melody peeked at the demon rimming the baking pan with her finger. Would they still hang out when she lost her powers? Fyra was hilarious and so full of life, but she was here on assignment. Grace hadn’t stopped by. No one else, actually. Melody was effectively quarantined. Demetrius apparently decreed that Creed and those with demonic blood could be around her, and that was it.

  It was lonely. As a nanny, she had always been around the boys. When she was off duty, it was still like she was part of the family. How could she expect them to stick around when her own family hadn’t?

  Switching her attention to the freezer, she pushed away from the table. If she continued that line of thinking, another wall was going to take the brunt of the impact. Looking within herself, her black pit was uncovered. Which came first? Her emotional pit was exposed and emotion seeped out, or emotion overwhelmed her and tossed her mental protections off her pit?

  Figuring it out might help her, but currently, it didn’t matter. She had to control her shit before she sprouted all around the place.

  She dug around in the freezer. “The dessert stash has been decimated. How ’bout appetizers?”

  Loud giggles sounded from the hall. Melody pulled back with a frown. She recognized that laughter.

  Pounding on the door came next.

  “Mel!” Ari shouted. The busted door nudged open a few inches.

  Her heart twisted and released to fly high. The boys were here! It’d been too long since she’d been around them, and she and Ari had been to hell and back. She scurried to the door. Fyra followed, her gaze heating Melody’s back. But Fyra didn’t stop her, or tell her it’d be a bad idea. Melody wasn’t sure she could secure a tarp strong enough for that kind of reaction.

  She pulled the door open farther. Two pairs of excited dark eyes stared back at her. Ari was jumping up and down and Xavier’s grin was contagious. “Hey, guys.”

  They shouted her name. She dropped to her knees with her arms spread and they tackled her.

  “Guess what?” Ari said.

  “Look! Look!” Xavier held up a Matchbox car, a red Corvette.

  Ari talked over Xavier while she oohed and aahed over their stories and toys. A few minutes later, she rose and grabbed their hands.

  “Come to the couch and tell me what’s going on?” She sat and they piled onto her lap.

  Fyra poked her head into the hall and looked both ways. She shut the door and tapped her fingers on it, her brows drawn together.

  Melody’s thrill faded. “Tell me, little ones. Are you allowed to be here, or did you run off?”

  Ari shrugged, tugging his own toy car from his pocket. “Ma B was in the shower. I left a note.”

  Melody worried her lower lip with a fang. Ari couldn’t write yet. The note was probably just a sheet of paper with blue crayon scrawled over it. Ma B—Madame Blanchette—was likely in a panic at being unable to find her children. Ari put that female through the ringer. They were his adoptive family, but since the night his parents were killed and Melody was abducted to watch him, he’d acted out, as if testing his new family’s love. And Xavier was always along for the ride.

  She met Fyra’s gaze. The demon waved her off. “I’ll give them a jingle-jangle. Tell them a story or something so we aren’t the ones chasing our tails.”

  “You have a tail?” Xavier’s eyes lit up.

  Fyra looked up from her phone and winked at him. “Not anymore.”

  Fyra was giving Madame Blanchette a heads up. The boys were safe. This was her happy place, being the human nanny to two vampire boy who didn’t care what gender she was, how rich she was, or whether she could fight or not. As long as she played with them, she ranked as their favorite person other than their parents. Until they realized her horns weren’t a hair ornament. She catapulted to the top of the list.

  They asked her for her story. She told them. The complete lack of horror soothed her the most.

  Her tension returned when her front door floated open. Rourke strode in, his nearly black eyes tracking her, the kids, and Fyra.

  “How’s it going, Melody?” His low rumble didn’t sound any different than normal, but she knew him. He was worried, didn’t like being here.

  She tightened her arms around the kids. They remained oblivious to the tension between her and Rourke. “I’m sure you’ve heard. How’s Grace?”

  “Well.” His gaze didn’t soften in the slightest, but lifted to where Ari petted one horn. His right eye twitched.

  “I’m not going to hurt them, dammit.”

  Rourke lifted a dark brow, and she sucked in a breath. She never swore around them. That she had, no matter how mild, was proof to Rourke that she was unstable.

  “You let their mom know they’re okay?” she asked.

  Fyra studied her nails, not immune to the drama. “We’ve just been hanging out while the young fangs over there have been hanging on her every word.”

  Melody shot Fyra a grateful look. Fyra blew her a kiss. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Children!” A frantic female called from the hall.

  Melody’s heart sank to the tips of her toes. Madame Blanchette’s voice shook with fear, all because they went in search of their now demonic nanny.

  Ari gave her devilish smile.

  “Oh no you don—”

  He scampered off her lap and disappeared into her bedroom. Rourke chased him. Xavier tried to scurry after, but Melody snagged him around the waist.

  “You stay here, little guy. Good vampires don’t run from their mothers.”

  Xavier giggled like it was a game and kicked his feet. Madame Blanchette chose that moment to skid into the room. Her hair dripped onto her sweater and her sweats were on inside out. For a prime vampire, she was quite down to earth, but she’d be horrified to be seen in the state she was in.

  “Xavier!” Madame Blanchette rushed toward them, then ground to a stop, her gaze stuck on the horns. She paled, and her frantic gaze dropped to Xavier. She held a hand out. “P-please don’t hurt him.” Her sepia gaze pleaded.

  Melody’s first instinct was to verbally tear into Madame Blanchette. Just a few weeks ago, Melody gave her life for the female’s sons. Sprout one pair of horns and she was the bad guy. Who spent morning, noon, and evening with the boys? Wh
o was like an aunt to them, or a much older sister?

  But who would know that based on Ma B’s reaction.

  Rourke came out of the bedroom with Ari propped on his shoulder. Ari’s pout spoke volumes about the reprimand he’d gotten. When no one else could get through to the boy, Rourke always could.

  Melody whispered to Xavier to go to his mom. Since Ari’s energy had been contained, Xavier went willing. Madame Blanchette snatched him up and tipped her forehead to his. The female dragged in a deep breath as if to comfort herself that he was safe.

  Melody folded her arms in on herself. “I would never hurt him.”

  Madame Blanchette hugged Xavier tight and her gaze touched on Ari who was tousling Rourke’s hair. “I know you would never mean to, Melody.”

  That was as good as stabbing her square in the heart. The lack of confidence it showed staggered her. She sank farther into the couch.

  Madame Blanchette cast her a look of concern with a sad smile and swept out, holding her son tight. Rourke gave her a curt nod before leaving. Ari waved, and somehow that made her situation so much more pathetic.

  Fyra’s gaze oscillated between her and the door. “Anyhoodles…that was awkward. I’ll get started on the apps.” She slinked to the freezer.

  Melody looked down at her hands. The sharp tipped nails hadn’t extended to claws. Her fangs hadn’t throbbed. Her horns were tucked in her hair. She’d kept her cool and they still didn’t trust her.

  “What about you?” she asked Fyra. “Do you think I can handle these powers?”

  Fyra popped her head around the freezer door. “Well, you’re not a born demon, so… You know?” She disappeared back inside to rummage around.

  Yeah. She did know. She wasn’t a son. She wasn’t a vampire. She wasn’t a demon. She wasn’t even human anymore.

  For a few seconds, she’d thought she could be something…better. But it didn’t matter. No one trusted her because she wasn’t what she should’ve been in the first place.

  Her claws lengthened. Her fangs throbbed. Her horns loosened.

  Never. Good. Enough.

  She should make a motherfucking shirt with that as her motto.

  As she sat here, Quution and Creed, even Zoey and Stryke were out looking for a way to “fix” her. Hopefully without the inconvenient side effect of death. They’d asked what she wanted, but in the end it hadn’t mattered. Her mental pit was exposed, but she was in control.