by Riley LaShea
Nodding, Slade leaned on the table on his side of the wall. He’d gotten a better run than expected, and the miracle that Fiona came at all wasn’t lost on him. Glancing to the clock, time seemed to jump ahead minutes at a time, and he realized, if he could get her to come by every day, his sentence would feel like a blink.
“I’ve been thinking about how good we were together. In business,” he qualified when Fiona’s gaze tempered to steel. As much as he wanted to think he might see her again, Slade couldn’t imagine Fiona could be talked back for another visit. “That business still stands. It would be a shame if it was left to fall into disrepair. All that equipment.”
Stifling the urge to look over his shoulder, Slade hoped Fiona would see the point without him having to gesture too hard.
“I don’t want that stuff,” she uttered.
“It’s good stuff, Fiona,” Slade said. “You could get back to what you do best.”
“I don’t know how to use it.”
“You know people who do,” he reminded her. “You know, honestly, I think they liked you more than me anyway. Or, if you don’t want to keep working, liquidate. All the money in that trust, it will put a real chunk of change in your pocket.”
He was getting close, pretense just a little too on point, but he was a confessed murderer with a legitimate business operation as far as anyone knew. Even blatantly spelling it out, there was no reason for anyone to go looking for anything else.
No one except Fiona.
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked. No gratitude, or even satisfaction. Just more distrust.
“Because I brought you here and then tanked things royally.” It was less difficult to admit than Slade would have thought. “I think you should at least end up with something.”
“So, it’s like a payoff.”
“More of a tithe, really,” he returned. “The way I figure it, I’m fucked a thousand ways to Sunday. If I have any hope at all of anything other than this for the rest of my days, I’d better start making my reparations now.”
Fiona’s gaze falling to the partition, Slade realized how wrong he’d had it from the start. He wanted Fiona to fight with him, he wanted Fiona to fuck him, but he had never wanted her to complicate his life. Funny thing how much she did in the end.
“I have to go.” She stood, and, eyes going to the clock, Slade saw he had time left. Reflex to beg her to stay, he choked it down like the swill they tossed on his plate at breakfast that morning.
“You look good, Fiona,” he managed almost evenly. “I’m glad you came.”
Fiona couldn’t say the same. Going to the guard to be freed from the room, she vanished out the door as Slade was hauled back to his feet, with no idea whether she would accept his offering or let it all turn to dust.
He wished he could hold out a little longer, but it was probably too long already. Any wait was too long for Lilith.
“Cain, my dear friend,” Lilith greeted when Cain finally made it through the infuriating hindrance of one of Lilith’s youngest, heckling him for no reason other than that, under Lilith’s thumb as he was, he was a joke that never ceased to amuse those in her clan.
Friend. What a tragic definition of the word. They were wrapped up in each other, certainly. It always had been that way, their relationship less mutually beneficial than mutually unavoidable. If he was the cocoon that wrapped around Lilith, Lilith was the reluctant worm that squirmed inside him.
“You’re not going to like this.”
“Don’t tell me.” Lilith’s feigned happiness to hear from him dissolved instantly.
“I’m afraid they were not up to the task,” Cain said.
“Why not?” Lilith wanted to know. “You told me they were the wise choice. You said only Garcia would -”
“And I didn’t lead you astray,” Cain returned. “It was not for lack of trying on their parts. You’ve been enamored with Haydn for a thousand years. You didn’t really think she would just lie down without a fight, did you?”
“Their innocents?” Lilith questioned.
“Under her protection,” Cain said.
“Except for Haydn’s own, of course.”
“Of course,” Cain replied, smooth as truth.
“It’s almost enough to make a mother proud,” Lilith declared. “Still, it does pose a bit of a problem.”
“Well, perhaps, it’s time to think about just leaving Haydn to it,” Cain suggested, and the cluck of Lilith’s tongue on the other end of the line was only slightly less threatening than a bomb’s tick.
“Now, Cain, you make me worry about you,” she said. “You don’t know where Haydn is, do you?”
“I have never been able to find Haydn,” he could honestly answer. “Not since the day I told her to hide herself so well even God couldn’t locate her.”
“Yes.” Lilith’s tone turned to syrup, the kind that trapped flies and men alike. “I never did properly punish you for that.”
“Oh, Lilith,” Cain returned. “We have been nothing but punishment for each other since the dawn of modern civilization.”
When Lilith laughed, it was reprieve. Though, only temporary. Hawk was Lilith’s most common form, just flying overhead waiting to devour the soon-to-be dead.
“I’ll be in touch.”
Line suddenly silent, Cain sunk back into his chair. Of course, she would, he knew. One couldn’t inflict torment without some form of contact.
22
She couldn’t remember dropping it - it might have been outside the bedroom door, or in the cave outside the cage - but someone found the list. Everything they wanted appearing at the house, from preferred cereal brands to the gaming system Ellis and Akun requested to pass the time, the group decided the deraphs weren’t that bad. If they had to be abducted, the consensus seemed to be, they could imagine no better captors.
Unable to get onboard with the sentiment, Delaney at least only had to tell Haydn once, after she stepped onto the balcony to get the only fresh air available to them and was caught without a chaperone. Sensing Haydn on the balcony above, she realized she’d felt her before she even stepped outside, and it was as she turned to go back indoors that Haydn leapt from her balcony to Delaney’s.
“Let me go,” Delaney said when a strong hand caught her arm to pull her around, not cruel, but adamant.
“You knew what we were,” Haydn uttered. “Before anyone else knew, you knew.”
“When did I ever say I liked it?” Delaney returned, and Haydn was too close not to feel the familiar wrench in her body as Haydn’s hand softened on her arm.
“What have I done to you?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Delaney admitted. Nothing about Haydn was done, or would be done as long as they were forced into the same space. It was what she was doing, every second, the fact that, even horrified by what she had seen, Delaney couldn’t find any revulsion at Haydn’s touch. “But, for a single twist of fate, it could be me in your cage,” she reminded herself. “You don’t have to understand that. I don’t expect you to. I just… I just want you to leave me alone.” Far down the list of things she actually wanted, Delaney knew it was what she should want, and she hoped, if she just kept telling herself that, it would be enough to convince them both.
There were no repercussions in denying Haydn allegiance. Food still came in wide variety and ample supply. As did the deraphs, at their liking, and each day their liking seemed to increase. Every few days, one would ask if they had everything they needed, like ambassadors working to maintain peace between factions. The rest of the time, they were simply there, being overly friendly and paying too much attention.
Quarters too close not to, Delaney knew when Jemma started sleeping with Gijon. She noticed when she slipped away the first night, and was up early enough the next morning to hear Jemma sobbing through her bedroom door when the euphoric high that had to be sex with a deraph crashed back into the reality that she had cheated on her husband.
Far prouder when he s
tarted sleeping with Layla, the deraph who had thought it her place to teach Delaney a lesson in the cave, Ellis didn’t boast to them all, but he did drop enough innuendo with Akun that Delaney could tell Ellis believed it was his conquest instead of hers.
Also fairly certain Akun was fooling around with Salem, though he neither bragged about nor was bothered by it, even with all that knowledge, even knowing what she felt and continued to feel at the very thought of Haydn a floor away at all times, Delaney was shocked by the carnal reality of what they were up against when Kiara woke one night asking for a drink and she stepped into the hallway to find Vicar Bryce with Auris.
Back against the wall, eyes closed, Vicar Bryce looked like he was doing his damndest to hold out against the onslaught of Auris pressed against him, lips at his ear, but, whatever it was Auris was saying, it was clearly having its desired effect.
“’Laney.” Kiara came through the door to latch onto her hip. “I got scared.”
Declaration startling them all, Delaney turned Kiara away, and Vicar Bryce’s eyes shot open. Mortification and gratitude both on his face, he slipped free of Auris’ attempt to take him down the path of sin, and, smirk implying she either liked getting caught or was humored by his skittish escape, Auris realized she had lost her chance.
“Come on, Kiara.” Trying not to listen to the labored breathing beside her as Auris disappeared down the hall, Delaney didn’t want to know how close Vicar Bryce has come to giving into her solicitation. Far too familiar with his struggle, it was hardly her place to tell him what to do, and she had no idea how to help him resist when her means of resisting had come down to flat out avoidance.
His footsteps behind them as they made their way down the hall, Delaney took Kiara into the kitchen, getting her a glass of water, and couldn’t avoid Vicar Bryce’s shamefaced expression.
“Can I have something to eat?” Kiara asked.
“Honey, it’s the middle of the night,” Delaney sighed.
“I’m hungry,” Kiara insisted.
“Do you want some cereal?” Despite some certainty Kiara was just testing her limits, Delaney didn’t have the strength to argue, knowing sleep would be more difficult to get back to now anyway.
“Orange,” Kiara returned.
“Go to the table,” Delaney directed, feeling how much Vicar Bryce wanted a chance to offer some explanation as she flipped the light switch for the far side of the kitchen. “I’ll bring it over in a minute.”
“It’s not how it looked,” Vicar Bryce said before Kiara could even climb onto the bench at the table. Each night that passed within it, Kiara became less fearful of those things in the castle, and, with all the dangers within, Delaney wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
“It’s not my business,” she returned as she scavenged the fruit basket, about to tell Kiara she was out of luck when a small orange at last appeared beneath the mound of apples and pears.
“I love my wife,” Vicar Bryce declared.
“I’m sure you do.” Standing over the sink, Delaney punctured the thin rind with her thumbnail, surprised at the dark red juice that beaded against her skin.
“I don’t know what it is,” Vicar Bryce went on, clearly needing to confess to someone, whether Delaney wanted to hear or not. “They are all incredibly… alluring,” he at last found the word he wanted. “As you warned us. But with her, there is something else, something so…”
Powerful… Wanton… Primal… Delaney’s mind filled in the blank when Vicar Bryce couldn’t. Ripping the first piece of rind away, the overripe blood orange ruptured, burgundy pumping from beneath its skin to drip from Delaney’s fingers and splash against the white porcelain.
“I love my wife,” Vicar Bryce whispered again, and Delaney’s hands paused on the fruit.
“I know how difficult it is,” she uttered, red running down her hand as she pressed her thumb beneath the rind once more. “It’s not surprising we feel such attraction to them. Our souls are complementary. Nature’s great trick.”
“It shouldn’t be this difficult,” Father Bryce uttered.
“Why? Because you’re a priest?”
“Because I have a wife.” Delaney preferred his answer. “And she is more than worthy of my fidelity. I think about her constantly, but, whenever Auris gets near me, I start thinking things that are absurd, like my wife wouldn’t mind, that she would… that she would like to join in.”
“Auris is doing that.” Delaney’s jaw tightened at the realization. “She will get inside your head even if you don’t let her. It’s not your fault.”
“Are we really that powerless against them?” Vicar Bryce questioned.
“We’re not powerless,” Delaney answered. God knew, if she had no power of her own, she would have lost herself to Haydn the first night. “But we’re not nearly as powerful as we like to think.”
“That won’t make me feel any better if I do anything that might hurt my wife,” Vicar Bryce uttered, and, looking over at him, Delaney could see his worry, not about what he’d done, but what he might end up doing.
“It sounds like you love her,” she said. So often, those were only words, in such common use, they lost all meaning. But Vicar Bryce, he meant them. He loved his wife, and, realizing how hard it must be for him to be away from her, Delaney turned back to the sink, trying to remember the last time she talked to her mother.
“She truly is the better half,” he said.
It must have been on Christmas. She always called, but, for the life of her, Delaney couldn’t remember a single thing they talked about. There were so many words wasted between them, lost in translation, it was as if they spoke different languages.
“Then she must be pretty amazing.”
Red dripping into the sink, she thought about the people in the cave below. Ripped from their lives without warning, taken from their families, just gone, never to return again.
“Delaney.” Feeling Vicar Bryce’s hand on her back as she let the orange fall into the sink, Delaney fumbled with the handle of the faucet in her haste to wash her hands clean.
“It’s bad,” she said, though he hadn’t asked anything and could clearly see the fruit was fine.
Tears blurring her vision, Delaney turned to look for Kiara, finding her slumped against the table, halfway back to sleep. One less person to explain anything to, Delaney was inexpressibly grateful, because she felt all out of explanations.
23
Delaney never considered herself one who possessed maternal instincts. As the weeks wore on with Kiara at her side, though, her instincts seemed to sharpen. Completely unfamiliar to her, she imagined it was the same paradoxical reflex that made mothers in the animal kingdom care for the young of other species, and it flared whenever Brooks came near.
Uncomfortable from the start with his interest in Kiara, Delaney became less at ease the more he came around. Every day he felt the need to stop in, and, as much as she didn’t want to fathom the notion, knowing the way in which their connection most prominently manifested, how pressing her own desire, and how close she had seen Vicar Bryce come to crossing an unforgivable line, Delaney felt as if both her eyes were constantly occupied - one watching Kiara, the other watching Brooks.
She didn’t realize how attuned she had become to Kiara’s states, though, until she was starting dinner in the kitchen with Jemma, Vicar Bryce and Rupert one night, and Kiara’s laughter drifted down the hall. Having grown accustomed to the weakness and infrequency of Kiara’s laughs inside the castle, her unbridled elation should have been encouraging, but there was something about the sound that cast Delaney’s gaze to Vicar Bryce, before she turned to the hallway and went to see why Kiara was suddenly so delighted.
“Kiara, come here.”
Revulsion, and imminent fear, putting an edge in her voice as she stopped inside the parlor door, Delaney swallowed the fear that rose in her throat at the sight of Kiara lying half on top of Brooks as he tickled her into breathless exuberance. Looking up from her
spot on the sofa, Heidi seemed relieved they were there, as if she was equally concerned with Brooks’ physical affection, but didn’t seem to know what to do about it on her own.
With anyone else, it might have looked innocuous. With anyone else, Delaney might have extended the benefit of the doubt. It wasn’t anyone else, though, and when Brooks glanced up, Delaney swore she saw the same thing she had seen in Gijon’s eyes the night Jemma first gave into the temptation of him, in Auris’ when she tried everything in her power to lure Vicar Bryce into her bed, in Haydn’s when she unflinchingly declared how much she wanted Delaney and it was almost enough to convince Delaney it was okay.
“We’re not done playing,” Kiara said.
“Yeah. We’re not done playing.” Brooks grinned, and Delaney became more aware of Vicar Bryce, Jemma and Rupert in the doorway beside her.
“You’re done playing,” Delaney declared. “It’s almost time for dinner. Now, come here.”
When Kiara appeared loath to heed the command, choosing her side with a cross-armed pout, Brooks lifted her off of him, setting Kiara on her feet as he sat up next to her.
“We can play more later.” He winked, nudging Kiara their way, and, when Kiara turned back to throw her arms around his neck and hug him goodbye, Delaney fought the same temper that had convinced her attacking Haydn in the cave would have some impact.
“Maybe you can find someone your own age to play with,” Vicar Bryce suggested once Kiara was in the relative safety of Delaney’s arms and Brooks was slinking past them out the door.
“Maybe you can fuck off.” Brooks’ reply less than assuring, Delaney hissed at the sting as he swung his hand down, slapping her hard on the ass as he walked off.
“Bye bye, Brooks.” Kiara still couldn’t tell he wasn’t playing.
Realizing her only true protection amongst the deraphs had been Haydn, Delaney thought about going straight to her, telling her what happened and asking her to do something about it.