“That poor boy,” Micah remarks. “If there’s anything we can do…”
“Would you mind if I stayed the night? After the incident with the vampires in Hove, and with Henry gone…”
“Say no more. I’ll prepare one of the guest suites.”
“Thank you, Micah.” She shudders. “I can’t bear the thought of spending the night in an empty house right now.”
“If you’re that scared, you’re welcome to stay in my room,” I suggest.
“Your room?”
My face flushes beet-red. “Like we used to, remember? After all, my birthday’s right around the corner,” I chuckle.
Lucy contemplates my offer.
Oh, no. She’s creeped out. I blew it. I’m such a loser. “It could be fun. For old time’s sake, you know. But only if it’s okay with you,” I add. “Don’t feel like you have to or anything.”
She smiles. Is that a yes?
“That would be comforting,” Lucy replies. “Thank you.”
Her response elicits more excitement than my body can contain, and an echo bursts from my mind: It’s a yes!
Micah clears his throat, holding back laughter. He clearly heard me. “Miss Weston, feel free to retire wherever you wish. The estate is at your disposal. And Manny, we’ll continue our conversation in the morning.” He bids us good night and exits the foyer.
Lucy and I linger in the foyer, too nervous to make eye contact. “So my room’s upstairs…”
She blushes. “I remember. Lead the way.”
The only distinguishable shapes are the bright white bars of the digital phone display — 11:56 p.m. — until I squint my eyes, conjuring my night vision.
Lucy turns over. Her hair whips the side of my face. “Sorry.”
I don’t respond. I can’t even breathe. She’s finally sleeping next to me. After all these years and all those dreams, it’s actually happening.
Eleven fifty-eight p.m. Will she do it? In exactly two minutes’ time, will she nudge the side of my ribs, and will I ignore her like I used to, giving her no alternative but to poke and prod me until I surrender to a midnight snack?
Eleven fifty-nine p.m. Lucy stretches, rubbing her soft feet against the back of my leg. The touch sends an electric spark up my back. I gasp.
“Manny?”
I turn over. She’s smiling. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She bites her lower lip. “I can’t sleep.”
“Neither can I.”
We stare into each other’s eyes. I reach over and brush the hair out of her face. My hand continues trailing down her arm, stopping to rest on her side. The spark in my chest starts to flicker.
Lucy scoots closer so our noses touch, and I inhale every sweet molecule of oxygen between us. I slide my hand from her arm to the back of her neck and pull her lips toward mine. I half expect Lucy to push me away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she rolls on top of me, inviting my kisses to the rest of her body. They trail from her mouth to her chin, then down the side of her neck.
The blood beneath her skin hums like electricity, circulating her veins in tiny bursts of power — Lucy’s heartbeat. The pulses grow louder as my teeth glide against her flesh.
Our fingers maneuver around buttons, clasps, and zippers, pushing and pulling until our clothes are in a pile on the hardwood floor. “Wait, wait, wait,” Lucy says. She removes her crucifix. “Okay.”
I take control, pinning her wrists against the pillow with one hand and cradling the small of her back with the other. Lucy exhales in ecstasy as I pull her stomach closer to mine. She wraps her feet behind my lower back, tracing the folds of my ear with her lips and tongue. Our breathing grows heavier as the heat between our naked bodies escalates.
‘Manny’ — James echoes from afar — ‘I need to speak to you.’
You have got to be kidding me. Not now, James.
Lucy notices me pull away. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
‘Emmanuel.’
No.
‘This can’t wait.’
I bury my face in the pillow and whine, accidentally syncing. The frequency causes a glass pane in my bedroom window to crack. The sound startles Lucy and me, and we shiver as an icy breeze enters the room — along with the pungent smell of sheep manure.
“Manny, what’s going on?”
“It’s James.”
‘It’s important,’ he persists. ‘It’s about Mina.’
“He wants to talk about my mother.”
“Your mum?”
Well, that definitely killed the mood. “I have to go. I’m sorry, Lucy, but I have to go. I’ll explain later. I’m sorry.” I kiss her lips once more and collect my clothes.
James’ echo directs me to the library. He escorts me through the bookcase, down the winding stairs, and into the study below Lake Myrrh. He bolts the door and begins pacing about the room.
All I can think of is returning to my bedroom. “What, James? What is it?”
“There are some things I need to ask you. Crucial things.”
“Okay?”
“When you were a child, here in Devil’s Dyke, did you love your father?”
“What does that have to do with my mom?”
“I’ll get to that. Just answer the question. Did you love your father?”
“Of course I did.”
“And do you think, in time, you could — ” He stops.
“Could I what?”
James takes a breath. “You could also love me?”
“Love you? Like my father?”
“Not exactly, but… like your godfather, perhaps?”
“Why are you asking me that?”
“It’s something I need to know.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have time for this.” I reach for the door, but James stands guard. “Get out of my way.”
His hazel eyes transition to green. “It’s a simple yes or no answer, Emmanuel. Could you love me?”
“No, James. I can barely tolerate you as it is.”
My words pierce him like a knife. “You tolerate me?” he replies, hurt. “But I’m your family. I’m your blood.” James leans against the door for support, projecting his sorrow onto me with his Cereflex eyes. It suffocates my heart like a plastic bag. “Do you feel how much your love means to me? I would do anything for you.”
I shake my head, fighting back tears that aren’t mine. “Micah was right. You are unstable.”
He wipes his eyes. “Micah told you I was unstable?”
“You don’t see that? For God’s sake, James, you strangle me one day and give me expensive clothes the next. You throw me out of a window, then you treat me to lunch. You’re a loose cannon.”
“I told you I didn’t strangle you. And I flung you from the window because Lucy was watching, and I was certain you’d land on your feet. It was for your benefit.”
“Listen to yourself. Jesus Christ, it’s like you live in your own little world with no regard for anyone else’s feelings. And I’m starting to think you don’t care about finding my father’s killer. You’re maybe even a little relieved he’s gone. Saves you from having to live up to his potential.”
“Live up to his potential? Those aren’t your words. Those are Micah’s.”
“So? Am I right?”
“No.”
“Then tell me why you never mentioned you and my father were twins, and why you’re no longer a Voloccult.”
“I can’t.”
“You see what I mean? You’re impossible. Both you and Micah.”
“How can you say that? Micah and I have been at your complete disposal since you arrived. We’ve clothed you and fed you and have been nothing but concerned for your well-being.”
“And I’ve been n
othing but suspicious of your generosity.”
James’ pupils flare. “You think we’re trying to trick you? Into what?”
“Baptism,” I confess. “Everything you two have done for me is just a bribe in disguise, isn’t it, so I’ll give in to one of you siring me? Well, forget it. I don’t need the ‘concern’ of people like you.”
“People like me are bending over backwards to keep you alive.”
“Why, though? What’s in it for you?”
“Nothing. I’m doing it because I love you.”
“No, you’re doing it because you want to control me, chain me to your stupid Sire Bond.”
“Now you’re the crazy one,” James laughs. “I am not my brother, Emmanuel. I don’t crave power and control, and if you think siring you is some sadistic pleasure of mine, you’re wrong. You’ve been nothing but a burden to me these last several days, pestering me with your whining and incessant negativity.”
“Then stop helping me if I’m that much of a burden. And stop giving me advice. Stop trying to save me, James.” I try for the door again, but James stays planted. “Get out of my way.”
“Is that really what you want?”
“Yes. Now, move.”
James exhales, adopting a calm demeanor. “Very well. If you want me to stop helping you, I will.” He grims.
“What are you doing?”
“If memory serves me, my blood is what saved you from death earlier tonight, and it’s currently coursing through your veins. But that’s not what you want.” He lunges. I jump back, but he phasms behind me. “What you want is to be on your own, free of my concern.”
“That doesn’t mean I want you to kill me.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” James laughs. “I’m simply going to take back my blood.” He inches closer. “That way, the next time you disobey me, Micah, or Lucy and feel the need to go running after vampires, you can do so knowing when you die — and you will die, Emmanuel — you will die free of the resurrecting life that is my blood. Free of the blood I gave you because I loved you, blood you’re no longer deserving of. Which is, after all, exactly what you’ve asked.”
James crouches, and my skin solidifies like armor. My heart continues to flutter with instinct, and I reach behind me for a weapon. We phasm simultaneously, and I swing my father’s wooden chair into James’ shoulder. The blow knocks him into the wall, but he recovers, surprised by my counterattack. “Well done, Manny. I’m impressed.” He prepares to strike again.
Instinct possesses my legs and launches me across the room. We collide mid-phasm, and I grab James’ head to keep his fangs from plunging into my neck. Our struggle escalates, and his rock-hard skin starts to slip beneath my grasp. I feel his hot, hungry breath against my throat.
Instinct extends to my hands, more electric than before, and my fingernails grow an extra inch, longer and sharper than I’ve ever seen. They penetrate James’ hardened flesh, and he groans, thrusting his foot into my stomach. My body soars across the study into the wall of the world map, and before I can recover, James grabs my foot and flings me against the door.
His face is a web of bloody scars. His eyes, two bottomless pits. “You keep saying you don’t believe, that the Afterliving is a ridiculous fantasy, yet your instinct is fighting to break through. Stop resisting, Emmanuel. Stop hiding what you’re destined to become.”
I raise my bloodstained hands. “This isn’t me. I’m not a monster.”
“We’re not monsters!”
I phasm to retrieve a wooden stake amidst the debris of broken chair.
“You would dare?”
“You’re giving me no choice.”
“I’ve given you enough,” he hisses. He inches closer.
“James, stop.”
“The blood of Christ is reserved for the faithful, Emmanuel, and you are far from so.”
The only way out of this room is the door behind me, but I don’t trust myself to out-phasm him. I’m trapped. “James, if you come at me again, I will kill you.”
“Then we’ll go down together, in the name of the Afterliving.” He closes his eyes and makes the sign of the cross. “Forgive me, Supreme Sire.”
My body surges with electric heat, and I know instinct will force me to fight him to the death. Unless…
I summon every ounce of fear, anger, and pain and channel it to my head. When I feel my body about to burst from the pressure, I turn to the giant window separating us from Lake Myrrh and sync. My voice explodes with the force of a thousand echoes, blasting the sheet of glass into thousands of tiny shards.
A cube of green water invades the room, sweeping up everything in its path. It crushes James and me against the opposite wall, plastering us with a blanket of debris. The water rises, taking me along with it, until my palms are against the ceiling. I sync again: “Help! Somebody, help!”
I take one last breath of oxygen before pushing off the ceiling and swimming toward the broken window. I kick and claw through the darkness, squinting my eyes to activate the night vision. But it comes a second too late. My head collides with my father’s desk, and on reflex, I gasp. Water rushes past my lips, filling my lungs with fluid, and the harder I fight, the more obvious it becomes I won’t make it to the surface. I’m going to drown — and with James’ blood in my system. I’m going to be sired against my will.
After I can no longer tell where the water ends and I begin, I close my eyes and give in to Lake Myrrh. The undercurrent takes hold, pulling me to and fro, growing stronger and more aggressive with each passing second. Then it changes course, sending me upwards, launching me toward the surface of the water. Undercurrents don’t do that. I emerge from the lake as if shot from a cannon, landing hard on the estate’s wooden dock.
I lie there, motionless, staring up at the sky in shock. The stars go in and out of focus as an icy pressure circulates my lungs.
Someone hovers over me. He pinches my nose, tilts my head back, and presses his lips against mine. He exhales, filling my mouth with oxygen, then administers a forceful set of compressions to my chest. He does this until liquid gushes from my mouth. Then he rolls me onto my side and jumps back into the lake.
Seconds later, another body launches out of water. It lands next to me with a thud. James. He’s still grimming, but he isn’t moving. A slab of wood protrudes from his chest: a broken piece of the window frame. I wrap my hands around the plank and pull, but it doesn’t budge.
“James, can you hear me?”
His pupils shrink, revealing his hazel eyes.
I slap his face. “Stay with me.” His cheeks are as hard and cold as ice. “I need you to hold on, James. Hold on.” I try removing the wood again. “Come on!”
Another set of hands surrounds mine, and together we pull, dislodging the plank from James’ rib cage. Blood and water spew from his lips, and his fangs retract, returning James to his humanlike appearance. He rolls onto his stomach and begins to vomit pink bile.
I finally get a clear view of our hero: Gabriel.
“Are you all right?” Gabriel asks.
I nod. “Thank you. How’d you find me?”
“I heard you. We all did.” He points toward the other side of the lake. Micah, Nicholas, and Anthony are phasming toward us from the house. Lucy trails behind.
“Is James going to be all right?”
“Yes. The wood missed his heart by several centimeters. He should heal in a few moments.”
Micah reaches the dock. “Good God, what happened?”
James and I exchange glances, and my heart floods with pangs of regret and humiliation. But they’re not my sentiments. They’re his — the shame he feels for what he was about to do to me in the study.
“It was my fault,” I admit. “James was…teaching me about echoes. And I got frustrated. I lost my temper.”
“Do you have any id
ea what you’ve done?” Anthony shouts.
I shrug, playing dumb. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I would break the glass.”
“It’s fine,” Micah remarks. But after hearing about the Burrito Mas incident from earlier today, I’m sure he knows I’m lying.
“It is not fine,” Anthony exclaims. He looks out across the water, and his eyes glisten with tears as traces of the study collect on the surface of Lake Myrrh. “There’s nothing left. He’s destroyed every last bit of him. Isidore’s journals. His memories…” Anthony grims. “Emmanuel must be punished.” He phasms toward me.
Gabriel intervenes and takes Anthony down, pinning him to the dock with a painful crack. “You will not touch him,” he syncs.
Anthony recovers and backs off. He growls in frustration and retreats to the estate.
Lucy finally reaches the dock. She runs past everyone else until she’s safely in my arms. “Are you all right? What happened?”
The scent of her hair starts to warm my blood. “I’m fine. It was just an accident.”
She hugs me once more. “You need to stop getting yourself into these situations. Or I’m going to kill you myself,” she says, smiling through her watery eyes.
Micah steps forward. “I know this is terrible timing, but, Manny, I’m afraid I have some startling news. After our conversation in the lobby, I asked Gabriel to check in on your mum. She was unreachable.”
“I know. Her phone isn’t working.”
“That’s not what I meant. Gabriel couldn’t tune her.”
“Tune her? I don’t know what that means.”
“Your mum was my Sire, Manny,” Gabriel confesses.
Oh, my God, of course. That’s why they’re so close. I’m an idiot for not realizing it sooner.
“And as Saved and Sire,” he continues, “our minds are linked. We’re supposed to be able to communicate with each other at all times, wherever we are.” His blue eyes glisten with sadness. “But this evening, for the first time since I was Saved, I couldn’t reach her. I couldn’t feel her.”
The Afterliving (His Blood & Silver Series Book 1) Page 20