by Keary Taylor
I swing the bedroom door open and listen. I feel so damn deaf. Once upon a few days ago, I would have been able to hear nearly everything going on from this floor down to the third. But now I can’t hear anything at all.
The castle is my home and has been for thousands of years. But for the first time, I feel scared in it.
For the first time, I’m in it as a human and I could easily be prey to the current occupants.
I slip down the hall. The first floor is the one place I have a little confidence, because no one occupies this floor except the two of us.
On the second floor, I slip down the hall of bedroom doors. I go straight for the one I know she once occupied. I don’t even knock, I just open the door and slip inside.
“What-” Grace startles from the desk pushed up against a wall. She pushes her chair back away from the computer she was working on. But the moment her eyes land on me, they widen, and study me up and down.
“You can go home now, Grace,” I say. And despite my fear, despite the tenseness in my chest, I feel myself smile. “Your services are no longer needed, and the future of this castle and everyone in it is now very uncertain.”
Grace slowly stands up, never once looking away from me.
“How?” she asks, her voice quiet and rough. “Never…” she shakes her head. “Never has anyone gotten…better once I felt death coming for them. But you…you’re free. The mark is gone.”
It fully forms on my face now. I smile. I feel myself brighten. And I know I’ll never see this woman again, and the world now knows much of what she knows, so it doesn’t really matter what I say now.
“Cyrus always promised me he would fix it,” I say. And I feel peaceful when I say the words. I say them as Sevan, but it’s like she grows tired as she says the words. Like she’s lying down for a thousand year nap. “He promised he would find a way to fix the curse. After all these years, it was his choice that set us free.”
And with those words, I feel her. Like Sevan shut her eyes, and let her self go down. After all these years, she finally is free.
Grace has no idea what I’m really talking about. But still, she nods her head, like she grasps it, just a little.
“Go home to your life, Grace,” I say, turning back toward the door. “Find someone to hold on to. Keep yourself safe in this new world.”
“Will it ever be the same?” she asks.
I hate that desperation in her eyes when she looks at me. I hate that slightly accusatory look in it. But I deserve it. We—Cyrus and Sevan did do this.
“I’m afraid not,” I answer her.
She doesn’t respond. And I’m not very good at reading people so I don’t know what she thinks of my answer. “The helicopter pilot will be on the roof waiting for you,” I say, moving on.
And with one last look, I slip out the door, never to see Grace, the predictor of death, again.
My heart rate picks up as I creep back down the hall. At the top of the stairs, I wait, pausing and listening.
I don’t hear anyone. If anyone were back at the castle, they’d be on the main floor.
So, with a daring breath of bravery, I dart down the stairs.
There is a back stairway, further in the castle. It’s the one I should be using. But I’m curious. I want to know, even though I’m terrified.
So, I take the risk.
I hardly even look around when I get to the main floor. I immediately hook around to the next set of stairs, descending down to the fourth floor.
I didn’t see anyone around. But I was also kind of too scared to look around. Fingers crossed, no one saw me.
Once I step down onto the floor of the fourth floor, I immediately head down the hall. I go past the kitchen, the meeting rooms. I set down another hall, and follow it for what feels like forever. Finally, I turn into a small room. It’s only fifteen feet by fifteen feet or so. There isn’t a single bit of furniture in it.
I go to the back of the room and press on one of the wooden floorboards. It pops up just slightly. I reach under it and find the latch. It releases, and a section of the floor lifts, revealing a door.
I check to be sure no one has followed me, and slip down into the small room beneath the floor.
It’s maybe five feet tall. It spans the width of the room above it, and the walls are lined with shelves. There are stacks of money, in just about every currency in the world. There are also bars of gold, boxes full of silver coins. There’s jewels, raw, uncut diamonds.
The castle has an official treasury, where we have a treasurer who takes care of the finances for the castle and sends out the checks monthly to all the Houses around the world.
But this stash has been personally built by Cyrus and Sevan. Saved specifically for an emergency occasion such as this.
I grab one of the bags on a shelf and begin stuffing it full of money. I grab different currencies. I fill the bag to the brim. And for good measure, because I have no idea what is to come, I grab a second bag and fill it completely full.
I really don’t know how much wealth is in this room. But I’d guestimate I have around four million dollars between the two bags.
A million doesn’t really take up all that much room. It’s kind of surprising, really. I fit roughly two million dollars in each backpack.
Considering the poverty I’ve lived my life in since I graduated high school, it’s ridiculous that I spend so much time considering if four million dollars is enough to get Cyrus and I by for the rest of our newly gained mortal lives.
In the end it comes down to the fact that I can’t really carry any more than this. It’ll have to do. So I zip the bags up, climb back up to the actual floor, lock the treasury back up, and sneak back out toward the hall.
Now I can hear voices coming from up above.
Some I recognize. Most I don’t. But there are cries of pain. Cries of shock. Angry voices discuss the state of the world. Others talk gleefully about the eradication of Lorenzo’s children.
I hear talk of them finding Lorenzo’s body staked to a tree when they came home.
Mina has a touch of flair when she wants to.
But there are fearful talks about where Cyrus and I are.
They wonder about who blew the horn to retreat, thereby allowing the Austrian army to take out the children of Lorenzo.
Where is the King? Who else could have blown that horn?
Where is Sevan?
Everyone has a million questions. But I can’t answer them. I can’t let them see me.
Our time has passed.
I take the back stairs, the ones deep in the castle that are infrequently used. Silently, I slip past the main level and I slip into the shadows on the second.
I listen. Cyrus and I might be done with this world and the way it is. But I still care about these people. I still want to know.
They do a count. Where we were once just over four hundred members at Court, there are only 153 left. There had been approximately fifty-four Royals who came to Roter Himmel to fight in the war. Only twenty survived.
That is what chokes my throat.
There are 108 Royals around the world. Fifty-four showed up to aide the crown. Exactly half. And exactly half ignored our call for help.
But it doesn’t matter now.
I didn’t think things could get worse.
But they do.
Those still alive line up the dead.
I watch as they carry his body through the doors. As they lay him down on the floor among the dead.
Malachi.
The last of our grandsons.
The last champion of the old world.
I cry alone in the dark. Tears slip down my face. They roll off my cheeks in heavy sheets.
My grandson. The man who was so focused and smart. The one who allied himself with world leaders and human Royalty. But he never let it go to his head. His ambitions were only for the safety of his kind.
Malachi was loyal to the end.
“I’m so sorry,�
�� I whisper.
No one in this castle can hear me. But I hope that Malachi can.
I can hardly breathe. I’m filled with so much sadness. I’m cracked with pain and fear. Everything is wrong. Everything has changed.
Through my grief though, there is a little voice that whispers: I have a future. It’s totally different from what I imagined. But it is just my luck. It’s not easy and pretty.
But I’ve still got Cyrus.
And across the world, I have a little brother that I promised I would return for when this war was over.
I think through, if there is anyone I should say goodbye to, here. But there isn’t anyone, now that Dorian and Malachi are gone. They all might be family, but not in the same way.
I’m free.
Silently, I return to our bedroom. I lock the door behind me, and put the bags of money on the floor beside the others.
Exhausted, I lie on the bed, pulling my cell phone out. I text Eshan first.
War is over here. World has gone to shit, but we beat the bad guys. I’m coming back for you sometime in the next few days.
Next I text Elle. I’ll be back for my brother in the next few days. Thank you so much for taking care of him.
It’s the middle of the night in Boston. I don’t expect a response right away.
So I lay my phone on the nightstand. I curl into a ball, pushing out every thought and fear for the future.
And I fall asleep.
Chapter 25
Soft lips trace their way from the corner of my mouth, over my cheek, down to my jaw, and then to my neck.
I smile, but I don’t open my eyes. I let my hands find his hair, twisting in its thick locks. I hold him close to me. His body shifts closer to mine and I hook one leg over him so he can’t escape.
I feel him smile against my neck. But his body is relaxed. His breathing is even.
I let my eyes stay closed. I bury myself into his body and I lie there, feeling peaceful and protected.
“I love you, Logan,” he says gently into my hair.
“I love you, Cyrus,” I echo him.
The words are so simple. A man fell in love with a woman and a woman found a miracle that she fell in love with this man. They got married. They’re going to live happily ever after.
“Did you get everything done that you needed?” I ask.
He nods. “It is all taken care of.”
I sigh. It’s done. We’ve done everything we can.
“I’m ready,” I say, shifting and propping myself up on one elbow. I look down at my husband. “Let’s leave. I want to get as far away from this place, this life as I can. I want to get away and just get on with us being us.”
Cyrus caresses my face, and then raises his lips up to mine. “That’s exactly what I want, my forever heart.”
Together, we climb from the bed. We grab the last few things that weren’t packed. We each grab a backpack and another bag filled with money to start our new life.
We both pause by the door though, not quite ready to leave. We both look around. At the massive bed where we’ve made love. At the window that looks out over the valley we called home. At the black crystal chandelier that hangs above us.
We made a lot of memories here.
We’ve loved here for a long time.
But I take Cyrus’ hand in mine, and together, we walk out the door, and head for the stairs.
We’re going to make memories somewhere else. We’re going to love somewhere else.
Home was never the place.
It was always the person.
I can hear voices and chaos down below us.
But that’s not our world anymore.
Those aren’t our concerns anymore.
This isn’t our reign any longer.
We walk up the stairs that lead up to the heli-pad. In the dim evening light, we walk across the rooftop to the pilot who waits for us with the helicopter.
We load our bags.
We climb inside and strap in.
The wings of the chopper spin faster and faster. Just as we lift off of the ground, Cyrus reaches over and takes my hand.
We both watch as we lift off.
We’re ready, we’re excited for our future.
But we had a good life for so long here in Roter Himmel. We’re both going to miss it.
So we watch it silently as we fly toward the mountains, and through the trees, our view of Roter Himmel disappears forever.
Chapter 26
“Eshan Pierce,” the voice calls over the speaker system.
I jump to my feet, clapping and screaming, and generally looking like a fool. But I really don’t care. It’s my brother I’m trying to embarrass, and I know I’ve succeeded when he gives me this little side look. But there’s a little smile that curls on his face.
By my side, Cyrus stands, too, cupping his hands around his mouth and giving a holler.
As Eshan walks across the stage, takes his diploma, and shakes the principal’s hand, his friends also give a whooping, hollering cheer.
It makes me happy that he has so many friends. That he hasn’t let his tossed life get him down.
The kid is ridiculously adaptable.
I’m grinning ear-to-ear, so damn proud of that lanky kid and those gold cords around his neck.
I never thought I was ready to be the parent to my little brother, but it’s been surprisingly satisfying.
He’s a good kid.
Sure, he’s snarky and sarcastic and he knows all of my buttons to push.
But he’s brilliant. He’s kind. He’s exactly the kind of person this new world needs.
Eshan looks in our direction once more before he walks across the stage and goes back to his seat.
The room goes quiet when the next name is called. “Carl Rammet.”
A kid with curly blond hair gets up and walks across the stage. No one shouts his name, no one cheers.
It breaks my heart. But I understand why the room is suddenly so quiet.
Carl is a Bitten. Him, and two other kids in the high school are. Everyone knows that they are. Everyone knows the choice that they made.
And everyone is terrified of those three kids. Even though they’ve kept their thirst under control. Even though they’re leading seemingly normal lives.
How can you not constantly be afraid of someone you know could kill you if they go too long between feedings—and feedings mean drinking the blood of those just like you?
For another thirty minutes, we patiently wait for the commencement to end and then it’s over. Just like that, the last three years of hard work and emotional distress over girlfriends and backstabbing friends is over.
We head outside, and out in the brilliant sun, we mingle with other families, human and Bitten alike.
No other Born are in this area, not that I’m aware of.
Eshan looks embarrassed as he walks across the lawn toward us. I can’t help but grin ridiculously big. He just looks so grown up and accomplished in his graduation gown and cap.
“I’m so damn proud of you, E,” I gloat as he walks to us and I wrap him up in a huge hug. “Honors, scholarships. Look at you being all big and important.”
“Geeze, mom,” he says dramatically. “Calm down a little.”
It causes a little twinge of pain in my chest, him calling me mom. And I hate that they can’t be here. I hate it even more that they aren’t here because of me. Because of what I was.
Ethan and Gemma Pierce were cut out of this world way too early. This world needs good, decent people like them.
“Congratulations,” Cyrus says, pulling his little brother-in-law in for a hug.
I love seeing the two of them together.
Maybe we messed something up along the way with our son—our son who turned so dark and so against us that we blotted out his name from our history, never to be spoken again. Maybe we are part of the reason why he turned out like he did.
But Cyrus is so good to Eshan. He understands him. H
e knows how to read him. He knows when to come down on him when necessary.
They really are like brothers, but also like father and son in the best way they can be.
“You ready?” I ask, checking the time on my watch. We really don’t have much of it to waste.
“Just a second,” Eshan says. “I just need to say goodbye.”
I give him a nod, but tell him with my eyes to hurry up.
He darts off toward a group of friends. They laugh and hug and they’re being so much more genuine right now than I’ve ever seen them. I guess that’s what saying goodbye does to people.
As I watch them, Eshan with all those kids who have been in and out of our house for the past three years, I wrap my arm around Cyrus’ waist and lean in on his shoulder.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for him,” I say. “He needed you. Just as much as he needed me. Maybe more.”
Cyrus wraps his arm around me as well and rests his head on top of mine. “He’s family,” he says. “He’s…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. And I can almost imagine the words going through his head.
He’s the son I wished we had.
A minute later, Eshan darts back over and says he’s ready to go. So together, as a family of three, we head for the car in the parking lot.
It’s a nice car, but nothing too flashy. Nothing to draw too much attention. We climb inside, and Cyrus points us back toward home.
I watch the landscape as we make the ten-minute drive. There’s huge live oak trees and Spanish moss hanging from them. There are beautiful flowers here and there. The houses are old and beautiful.
I hate the humidity. I can’t always understand the accents.
But I have loved our time here in Foley, Alabama.
It’s safe here. It’s quiet. There aren’t problems like they’re having in the big cities with the Born and the Bitten. We’re as protected as we can be here. We’re only a few hours away from the House of Conrath if needed, but far enough away we’re out of the business of vampires, away from the possibility of being found and discovered by individuals who would recognize the two of us. Those who are looking for and hunting for Cyrus.