“Brother!”
Brother?
In no time, the newcomer crossed the length of the hall. He clapped a filthy hand on Garin’s shoulder. “And you brought a guest?”
Her subtle effort to remain hidden were futile; he stepped around to size Lilac up and down.
“A human guest,” he crooned. “New cattle?”
“Cattle?” Garin repeated, turning warily to face him.
“Indeed.” The vampire’s eyes bore into the back of Lilac’s head as he circled her, never lifting his gaze while he addressed Garin. “Things have changed in your absence.”
“Are these everyone’s thralls?” Garin asked, turning and motioning at the cages. “Why are they confined this way?”
“We haven’t had an individual servant system since the king’s law. These are the community thralls, so to speak.”
Garin’s face was almost unreadable. Then, he raised his brows in mild surprise, though the concerned glint in them remained. “Where did you get them?”
“I don’t know.” The vampire gave a rough laugh. “Brother, why the interrogation? They’re the broken, bruised, and battered of society who had no one. Nobody cares that they are missing.” He shrugged condescendingly. “Cattle, as I said.”
Without warning, he brushed Lilac’s hair back off her shoulders, a movement and touch so light she would not have noticed, had she not been hyperaware. She flinched and willed herself to still.
“And this one,” he purred. “Is this your contribution?”
“My own, Bastion,” Garin replied, never taking his eyes off the blond vampire. The territorial disposition in his own voice shocked even her.
“Your thrall, then.” Bastion nodded approvingly. “I was only curious, brother. No harm intended.” He clicked his tongue at the roof of his mouth, looking her up and down and then turning his attention to Garin. “I assume she wasn’t traveling with a beau? Or, perhaps a brother? I’m sure you’d have brought me a scrumptious apology gift.”
“Of course, I would’ve.”
“No matter.” Bastion winked. “You look good. Healthy. It’s been what, forty years?”
“Forty-two.”
“Yet you don’t look a day over twenty-five,” Bastion said, hands on hips.
“That is how vampirism works.” Garin’s voice held none of the airy lightness that Bastion’s did.
The blond vampire smiled ruefully while his brother stared him down.
Then, Bastion was gone—he moved faster than Garin ever had—and cold fingers with long nails suddenly gripped Lilac’s arm.
“Bastion,” Garin growled warningly.
Lilac inhaled sharply and shut her eyes as Bastion sniffed lightly at her now hair-free neck, his nose trailing along her shoulder. “Simply intoxicating.”
“Leave her,” Garin said with forced calm.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to share a drink? Like old times.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Bastion gave a nonchalant shrug, though his eyes held fast. He dragged a talon across Lilac’s skin, a trace of mockery lacing his voice. “You’re drinking again. From humans, I mean. You’ve never had an issue with the scotch.”
“I am.”
“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”
Garin grabbed her arm and tugged her firmly away from Bastion, who released her. For once, she was grateful to be manhandled by him. Her skin still crawled where Bastion had touched her.
“I said, she is my thrall,” Garin added. “Therefore, there will be no sharing of any kind.”
“Your eyes aren’t red, brother,” Bastion observed, suddenly grinning again. “Do not lie to me. You haven’t fed in at least a couple days.”
Regret flickered over Garin’s expression before settling into trite annoyance. “She’s getting used to being fed on constantly. I don’t want to waste her stamina. I don’t know, I like to… enjoy her.”
Through the fear, she was suddenly more aware of his grip on her arm. He was talking for Bastion’s benefit now, but the chilling implication of his words still shook her. His words back at the river’s edge—about being unlike Sinclair in that way—registered; perhaps he wasn’t that kind of monster, but was Bastion?
Unthinkingly, she inched closer to Garin. Her skin prickled beneath his fingers.
Bastion’s eyes lit. “Enjoy her, you say?” He glanced at Lilac, whose ears had reddened.
Swiftly, he hooked a sharp talon under her chin and forced her to look at him. His irises were mesmerizing, a shifting fluid of red bloodstones and rubies.
Garin’s grip on her arm unwittingly tightened. The feeling in her fingers started to go. “You dare attempt to entrance her,” he growled under his breath.
“Oh, trust me, brother.” Bastion’s breath was stale, the metallic aroma again invading Lilac’s nostrils. “I don’t need a bit of sanguine magic to tell if a human is lying to me. Look at me, girl. Has he recently fed from you? Look me at me!”
Lilac felt the stirrings of an irresistible pull from the vampire’s gaze. Her palms grew clammy, and the room around them began to grow dim. He was trying to get inside her head. She couldn’t give Garin away—despite everything, she certainly trusted him more than this monster.
Her lower lip began to quiver as she forced herself to revisit the memory of Sinclair on top of her. Her mind began to race, and her heart clamored as she pictured him ripping at her gown and grasping her skin, places she’d never been touched before.
When the monster pulled back to look at her, Garin’s face replaced Sinclair’s—
“Yes,” she choked, not recognizing the terror in her own voice. Hot tears clung to her lashes. “Yes sir, he has.”
Lilac felt Garin’s grip on her arm lessen and slide down, toward her hand. She wanted to slap the growing satisfaction clean off of Bastion’s face, yet she could not stop herself from trembling. She stole a look at Garin, who’s expression remained unreadable.
“My. The devil himself, finally returned.” Bastion heartily slapped Garin on the shoulder again. “And you’ve had a bit more than blood from the wench, haven’t you?”
Garin rolled his eyes. “Please. At least try to be decent.”
“I expected no less. And you didn’t even entrance her to forget, either… How wicked,” he said, brows arching in surprise.
Garin groaned. “Cut the shit, Bast. We’ve had a long journey and I’d like to get to my chamber. You know why I’ve returned.”
Bastion paused. “Ah.” He then nodded slowly. “I’d hoped you simply wanted to rejoin your kind. You’ve been gone long, brother.”
“You know as well as I, brother, that with Laurent’s death, power among our ranks has shifted.” Garin spoke softly, almost reluctantly. He watched Bastion pace away.
Garin’s gaze trailed behind her, slowly, from left to right as he watched his brother’s every movement. Bastion was like a shark, his outward aggression and hostility all too obvious. In contrast, Garin was like a snake—collected and calculating.
Bastion chuckled roughly from behind her. “Laurent’s infamous first sire. Of course, big brother. The prodigal son returns.”
Lilac held in a gasp. Suddenly, Lilac couldn’t help but feel like pulling away—from the both of them. He was the next leader? He hadn’t mentioned it.
Then again, it wasn’t like she’d told him everything about her intentions, either.
Garin spoke even quieter now, but there was an urgent lilt to his voice. “Do we know who did it? Does anyone know who killed him?”
Bastion scoffed, the mirth in his eyes replaced with bitterness. “Not a single lead. Though,” he added blackly, “I’ve overheard a few of the others speculating you had something to do with it.”
Garin blinked, visibly bristling. “What? I’ll—”
“Don’t worry. I silenced them. Permanently,” Bastion said, flicking an invisible piece of lint from his jacket. “I know how much Laurent meant to you.”
“Also, to you,” Garin retorted, his tone warming slightly. “He was like a father to us.”
“We’ve already discussed the process in our quest to find his killer, starting with contacting the Fair Folk.”
“Have you?” Garin said, brows knitting in disbelief. “Have you received a response?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you mad?” Garin began to raise his voice. “This soon? We should always leave the Fair Folk as a last result. You know what consulting them means for everyone involved, especially a favor of this magnitude.”
“And you know as well as I, brother, that there are eyes and ears for the creatures everywhere. Almost certainly, someone’s witnessed it. And, with the right leverage, the Ember Court should reveal to us what they know.”
“At what cost? You know they won’t have anything to do with it, unless they’ve reason to help us, or need a favor themselves.”
“What won’t you give to find Laurent’s murderer? I say we give them whatever they please. And then we avenge him,” Bastion declared, his hands balling into fists.
Almost shaking, Garin roughly let go of Lilac and took a threatening step toward Bastion. Even Lilac flinched back.
“Must I remind you,” he growled. “Any decision on retaliation is mine to make.”
“You dare let Laurent’s death go unavenged? I knew you—"
In a flash, Garin had Bastion pinned by the throat next to a torch. Rubble rained down upon the both of them. “Do not test me, Bastion. The death of our leader upsets me as much as it has all of you, make no mistake. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that the party behind this suffers, regardless of the cost. Remember what I am capable of.” Bastion’s tongue lolled from his mouth as Garin gave a final squeeze before releasing him. Bastion landed clumsily on his feet, wheezing.
“We’ll discuss this further tomorrow. The sun will rise soon, and I’m exhausted.” In the dancing shadows near the torchlight, he looked it.
Garin returned to Lilac’s side and gripped her wrist, towing her past his brother.
“Garin,” Bastion called out just before they reached the archway. “Before you go.”
Determined to leave, he only turned at the sound of one of the rusted cage doors creaking open.
Lilac’s heart sank. She didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t help it.
“Have a quick welcome home drink with me. You must be parched, and by the color of your eyes it’s been at least three days since your last.” Bastion held a woman roughly by the hair—the same one who’d called out to Lilac earlier. “Let us put our pasts behind us.”
“I told you, Bast. She’s depleted and needs to rest.”
“Never mind her,” Bastion boomed, roughing the poor woman and gripping her jaw with his free hand. “We can share.”
Now, in better lighting in the middle of the hall, Lilac could see her clearly. Fiery, matted curls escaped from the bonnet that had fallen off in the cage. Hopelessness dulled the forest-green eyes that bore into her soul, silently pleading the princess for mercy.
Time seemed to freeze altogether. Forgetting herself completely, Lilac choked out in a single, desolate sob.
It was Piper. Her former handmaiden, whom she’d feared dead—whom she’d feared the king, in a twist of drunken madness, had executed after Freya. But this fate was worse. It was far worse.
Garin must’ve heard her heart racing. He shook his head wearily. “Really,” he insisted. “I’m fine, Bastion. Perhaps tomorrow—”
“Look.” Bastion yanked Piper’s hair so hard, she croaked out. “I am graciously relinquishing the honored position of leadership that would’ve been mine, had you not returned in such convenient time.”
At this, Garin released her wrist and crossed the room to Bastion. “What are you implying?”
“You were gone for forty-two years, Garin! And now that our leader is dead, you return home? Don’t you know how that looks?”
“You mustn’t forget that it was you,” Garin said, jabbing a finger into Bastion’s chest. “You were the one who thought I was not fit to remain here.”
Lilac was suddenly aware of the prisoners shifting in their shackles, watching as she did with bated breath.
Despite his brother’s rage, Bastion reached down and daintily plucked his finger off. “Tell me,” he said with lethal calm. “How were we supposed to have had a second in command, a future leader who suddenly refused human blood? We learned how to hunt together. We used to tear through the towns together leaving the —blood drenched the streets of Paimpont in our wake. It was glorious.”
Bastion stood, chest heaving, in the middle of the hall. When he spoke again, it was quiet, regretful. “And without warning, something in you changed, brother. You went through a… I don’t even know what to call it. Existential crisis? I thought it was merely a phase, that you’d find solace in your absence, then return. I didn’t think it would take you this long. Forgive me, brother. I was only looking out for our kind. But if you won’t drink to your long-awaited return, then I will.”
Lilac watched, mesmerized and frozen, as Bastion brushed the hair from Piper’s shoulders to expose her neck. It was fortunate that fear was a logical response, for there was no way she would’ve masked it regardless.
Piper closed her eyes while Bastion bent over her neck, almost as if she were accustomed to it. With a wet squelch, his fangs plunged into her shoulder. The lump on his throat moved as he gulped it down, swallow after swallow. What little color was left drained slowly from her old friend’s cheeks.
Unable to stand it any longer, Lilac started forward. Garin hastily shot an arm out and yanked her back by the elbow. She threw him a threatening glare, and he quickly matched it.
“Oh? Something the matter?”
Lilac looked back to see Bastion grinning through a burgundy mask, Piper limp in his hands.
“No—” Garin started.
“You’ll kill her!” Lilac burst out in a sob, ignoring Garin’s groan. “You—”
She heard the impact before she felt it. The back of Bastion’s palm cracked against her jaw, jolting her so hard that she toppled to the floor. She lay there panting and fought to catch the breath that’d been knocked out of her.
Instinctively, she licked the blood off her lips and inner cheek, where her teeth had sliced into the side of her mouth. Lilac gagged it down, though she then felt a warm wetness dripping from her nostrils and hastily pressed her palm against it.
Garin was quick to put himself between them. Though she stared numbly at the floor, blurred through the hot tears rolling down her cheeks, Lilac could hear the clear restraint in his voice. She pressed her palm harder against her nose.
“I’ll deal with her later.” he managed. “My turn, brother.”
Lilac looked up.
Bastion was dumping the girl’s limp form into Garin’s arms. Cradling her quivering body, he stroked her cheek and mouth with his thumb as she choked her tears back.
Lilac knew she should have felt relieved that her friend was in Garin’s possession, but it mixed with an underlying sense of unease. The way he looked at Piper was magnetizing.
“I want my maman.”
“Shh,” he murmured into her ear, rubbing the girl’s arm as if to quell her incessant trembling.
“I want to go home,” Piper managed to gag between convulsive gasps. The girl was dying.
“This will pass,” he whispered, pulling her closer. “What is your name, mademoiselle?”
“Piper,” she choked.
“I’ll take care of you, Piper. You’re safe with me.”
The redhead nodded, closing her eyes.
But, as Garin stroked Piper’s hair, he glared unflinchingly down at Lilac. “And you,” he directed at her.
“You dare speak out of line.”
Her relief hardened into sick dread. Something was wrong.
“I’m sorry. Sir.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
He gripped Piper’s shoulder
with one arm, grasping her hair with his opposite free hand. When he pulled back slightly to expose the smooth side of her throat, the girl shut her eyes with the same deluded calm the other cattle had adopted.
Lilac exhaled slowly. It was all an act. He was good at this, almost too good. He couldn’t bite her.
Then, Garin twisted his torso to the right. Hard.
Piper’s neck snapped against his chest with a muffled crunch, and with that, he let her lifeless body crumple to the floor.
“Now you’re sorry.”
9
Lilac stared into Piper’s unseeing eyes.
Even Bastion was shocked. “That’s unfortunate,” he said simply, but he glanced unbelievingly at the corpse, as if Piper would leap to her feet and declare it a joke.
A cruel, cruel joke.
Garin dusted off his hands. “As I told you, I wasn’t hungry. Now you’re one less. And as for you, girl, my patience is wearing thin. Let’s go.”
He motioned with a single finger for Lilac to come, but her limbs were leaden with grief. She sat, hand still on her stinging cheek, unable to tear her gaze from the lifeless body at his feet. Though her eyes had remained open, Piper’s gaunt face was still hauntingly peaceful. She hadn’t even had time to realize what was coming.
None of them did.
Ignoring Bastion’s look of astonishment, Garin bent to snatch Lilac by the arm and hoisted her up. “I said, let’s go.”
Lilac barely managed a nod, shudders passing through her like the storm battering on outside.
Bastion began to drag Piper’s body like a rag doll.
“Leave her,” Garin commanded. “We’ll get someone else to dispose of the corpse. Aren’t you going to show us in?”
The other vampire threw him a steeled look before moving past them and beneath the archway. “This way, my Prince of Night.” He ushered them in with a wave.
Disenchanted Page 15