by Elise Faber
But she didn’t dare look, just pretended that having a sister reappear in her life with a crazy mysterious past full of more horrors than anyone should ever have to cope with was normal.
If she didn’t look, she wouldn’t see the taint of those memories, wouldn’t be tempted to pity the woman who’d had to endure them at such a young age.
If she didn’t look, she could be strong for Alex.
“I’ve got your back, cowgirl.”
“I know,” she thought. “I’m more worried about who has hers.”
“We have it.”
The conviction of Cody’s statement swept across the bond and strengthened her faith.
“Yes,” she thought. “We do.”
The sound of paper tearing wrenched Daughtry’s mind into the present. She flashed her sister a chagrined look.
Alex chuckled and popped a candy into her mouth. “It’s pretty entertaining when you guys communicate that way. Your faces move even though I can’t hear the words. It’s like one of those old silent movies.”
“You watch silent movies?” Dee asked.
“And that’s my cue to go,” Cody said, sending her a mental kiss and leaving the bedroom.
“I wouldn’t say I watch them,” her sister said once the door was closed. She crammed another handful of candy into her mouth. “I’ve only seen one or two. But I have had a life, you know.”
Oh, she knew. In fact, Daughtry had a very good idea of what kind of life Alex had experienced. But since she couldn’t say that . . .
She reached across the bed and snatched the candy. “You just brushed your teeth.”
Her sister snorted. “You’re just saying that because you want the rest for yourself.”
“Maybe,” Daughtry said with a smirk, and dumped a handful of the chocolate into her mouth.
“There’s no maybe about it.” But Alex was smiling as she snagged the laptop and pressed play.
Dee fell asleep to the sound of tearing pages and shouts about the return slot.
Thirty-Seven
She was sitting on the floor, braiding her doll’s hair. Sunlight poured in through the windows when a knock sounded behind her, the heavy wooden door rattling in its hinges.
Prickles trailed down her arm, her throat went bone dry. Something sparkled in her hand, and she stared at the pale skin of her palm. It almost looked like purple glitter.
Strange. The sunlight must be playing tricks on her eyes.
The knock sounded again. Harder this time.
They shouldn’t answer. Daughtry somehow knew they shouldn’t open the door.
But before that thought had done more than trickle through her mind, Judith hurried behind her.
“Get up,” she snapped and yanked Daughtry’s arm. Hard. The doll went flying, the miniature hairbrush clattered to the ground.
She staggered to her feet just as Judith reached the door and opened it.
Elisabeth stood there. But she wasn’t alone—
“Oh God,” Daughtry said and sat upright in bed.
Cody jumped to alertness in her brain, “You okay?”
“Yes,” she thought. “Just a memory.”
A brush of his magic against hers, a warm hug that wasn’t physical except in her heart. Her pulse was intense, pounding blood fiercely beneath her skin, but it settled with the contact of Cody’s mind.
She took a breath and glanced down at Alex, who was wide awake beside her.
Elisabeth hadn’t been alone that day.
A little girl who’d been at most three had stood by Elisabeth’s side. Auburn hair, porcelain skin, and blue, blue eyes.
“I remember,” she whispered. “God. She actually brought you along when she bound my powers.”
Alex nodded and sat up. “Sometimes.” Her mouth screwed up. “Well, until I pitched a fit about going with her.” Pale blue eyes darted up then away. “I didn’t like it. Her magic hurt you. So she left me home.”
Home. There was a euphemism if she’d ever heard one. Daughtry swallowed. “How old were you?”
“Six. Seven.” Her sister shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t see her often. Only when—” She broke off, shook her head. “I didn’t even understand that Elisabeth was dead until I was able to get out of the . . . house she’d kept me in and saw that she was gone.”
“Why come to me? If you were able to be . . . free, why come to the Rengalla?”
“Elisabeth hated you.” Her sister shrugged. “I figured that was as much of a reason as any. If you’d had even a shred of evil inside of you, our mother wouldn’t have hated you so much. Anyone she didn’t like had to be better than staying with the Dalshie.”
“Wow,” John muttered. “Inspiring.”
Dee’s eyes shot to the door. She hadn’t even noticed it was open, let alone that John was standing there.
Alex sighed and sat straighter on the bed, pulling the blankets along with her. “Look,” she said. “Elisabeth’s experiment with me failed. Her breeding plan for Dee backfired. With the Master’s rise to power, she was desperate for results, frantic to find something that would keep her in charge. Then she was dead, and I figured I wouldn’t be too far behind her.” She released one hand from her grip on the comforter and pushed her bangs off her forehead. “Once I got away, I figured you were as good a place to start as any.”
There was a moment of silence then everyone spoke at once.
“In charge of what exactly?” John asked.
Daughtry was more concerned about the “Breeding program?”
Cody pushed past John and walked across the room to grasp Dee’s hand. “What experiment?”
Alex opened her mouth just as a memory sprung to life in Daughtry’s mind, flashing images that made her head spin—
Needles of dark magic pressing into her skin.
Euphoria as the black power poured into her blood. Rage as she wanted to hurt everyone and everything . . . so, so badly.
Her stomach churned. Oh God. How close to Dalshie had she come?
She was going to be sick, she needed to run, to lock the memory deep down and forget—
“Cowgirl.”
Dee forced her eyes to open and meet Cody’s, expecting to find them filled with the same horror she felt deep in her soul. She knew he’d seen the memory. It was horrible. Disgusting—
Except, those emerald depths were calm, his mind against hers the equivalent of a fleece blanket.
“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s take another walk.”
“No.” She swallowed hard, fighting back tears and ultimately winning the battle.
“Let’s watch that movie,” Alex said, striding across the room to snatch up the DVDs. “Die Hard 2?” she asked. “It’s the worst one of the bunch, but if I remember correctly, it’s your favorite.”
Daughtry’s mouth dropped open. Alex was rambling, her fingers shaking as she fumbled to open the case.
More importantly, how did her sister know her favorite movie?
Was it possible they’d spent enough time together to know such things?
And if that was the case then why didn’t she remember?
Fuck. Why. Didn’t. She. Remember?
John dropped a hand onto Alex’s shoulder and Daughtry’s stomach clenched when Alex moved, her reaction obviously instinctive. The movies clattered to the floor and she curled in on herself, hands coming up to protect her head.
Silence.
Everyone frozen in the moment.
But then that moment passed, and Alex rose, cheeks bright red, eyes glued to the floor.
Which was worse. “You’re safe now,” Dee told her.
Alex nodded. “Of course I am.”
Daughtry bent to pick up the DVDs from where they’d fallen, mind spinning even as she tried to affect casual.
“You’re probably wondering how I know about the movie,” Alex said.
John made a noise from the corner. When Daughtry glanced over, he was staring at Alex, eyes intense and almost scaldin
g.
“John,” Cody warned.
“What?” he snapped. “Why the fuck am I the only one who’s suspicious? This girl comes to the Colony, breaks through the supposedly impenetrable shield, and then has everyone wrapped around her little finger—”
“The memory is a funny thing,” Alex interrupted quietly. “Especially one like Daughtry’s, which has been bound and twisted and manipulated so much that it’s a scrambled collection of emotions.”
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” John said.
Daughtry waved him off. “You’re going to have to break it down more because I don’t understand.”
“I know.” Alex sighed. “And I know about the movie because I watched the whole series with you . . . way too many times.”
Thirty-Eight
“You used to pretend to be John McClain’s wife,” Alex said and leaned back against the living room wall. “The one saving the day by making a simple phone call. I used to want to be John, blowing shit up, hitting bad guys with bullets despite a lack of aiming.”
“I—” Dee blew out a breath. “I don’t remember.”
“How could you?” Alex asked lightly, but Daughtry heard the disappointment in her tone. “Elisabeth bound your memory every time you left. D-do you remember the house?”
Daughtry blinked. She’d lived in so many houses over the years.
“The old Victorian,” Alex said, and she gasped.
Because she did remember. The cookie cutter trim above the front porch. The cupboards full of books and movies, the pantry filled with all types of junk food. She and Alex had read every book, watched every cheesy action flick and the few classics mixed in numerous times. They’d gorged themselves on food with dye and preservatives.
“I . . . we were happy.”
Alex nodded. “Until Elisabeth had realized it and took you away. Until the experiments—” She broke off.
“Will you . . . tell me about them?” Dee asked gently, sinking down onto the couch. Cody sat next to her. John remained in the corner, alternating his icy gaze between Alex and the window.
Alex hesitated.
“You don’t have too.”
“No,” Alex said. “I do. I just . . . what I’ve gone through is ancient history. There all a hell of a lot more important things to be worrying about.”
“I don’t know if that’s true.”
A shake of her sister’s head. “It’s true. You’re more important. You’ve always been more important.”
“Bullshit,” Daughtry said. “Alex, I’m sorry I didn’t remember those months together at first, but you have to know that you’re important to me. God, I spent so long trying to find any ties in this world and to know that you were out there, in the hands of our mother, being experimented on by the Dalshie . . . it just tears me about.”
Alex glanced down at her hands. “I just want to forget it happened, okay?”
“Well, you can’t forget it,” John snapped. “Not until you tell us what you know.”
Daughtry glared at her friend. “Hey—”
“No. He’s right,” Alex said. “Elisabeth wanted to make an army she could control—”
“We know that,” John said.
Alex sighed and continued speaking. “But she wanted her soldiers to be without the limits of the Dalshie.”
Daughtry frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. The Dalshie are so powerful they’re practically immortal.”
“They’re strong, yes,” Alex said. “But they’re the Mack Truck where you guys are the Ferrari. Brute strength versus finesse. Elisabeth wanted both. She got herself pregnant . . . right before she set our father up to be ambushed.” She bit her lip. “I was supposed to have been the perfect mix between light and dark, a child possessing the best of both sides. A child that could be molded and controlled.”
“And?” John pressed.
“Elisabeth’s efforts were for nothing. I was never been what one would consider malleable. Not as a baby, or a five-year-old, or”—Alex’s gaze drifted over to where John stood in the corner, his furious energy an intense force in the room—“as an adult. I hid my powers when they emerged.”
“That was smart,” Cody said.
Alex shook her head. “It wasn’t.” She blinked furiously.
Daughtry reached over and squeezed her hand. “No, sweetie. That was a brilliant thing to do.”
Alex yanked her hand free. “No! Don’t you see. It was horrible!” She spun and marched toward the kitchen then just as abruptly froze, shoulders curving forward. “Our mother left me alone and went after you instead. I sacrificed you on the altar of Elisabeth just so she’d leave me alone.”
Silence. Absolute silence.
“And you knew she’d do that to me?”
Alex turned to face her, face aghast. “No, of course not I—”
“Then I stand by my statement.” She rose, crossed to her sister, and paused, not knowing if any sort of touch would be welcome in that moment. “Smart,” she whispered then louder, “We are not responsible for the actions of a madwoman.”
Alex nodded, but Daughtry could tell she didn’t believe her.
There was nothing to be done for her in that moment. Time would be the only cure for Alex’s guilt. So instead, she got them back on track. “What did she do to me?”
Another swallow. More regretful words. “Too much. More than any person should have to endure.”
Dee’s breath caught.
“You used to talk about a man with green eyes,” Alex said softly. “You used to say he’d be there when it mattered.”
There was a little beat of quiet as Dee and Cody absorbed the statement, their bond pulsing with emotion.
“I . . . uh. I don’t know what to say, cowgirl,” he thought.
“Me neither,” she replied. “Just that I feel so lucky that we found our ways to each other despite everything.”
She glanced up, saw Alex’s expression was soft, almost wistful. “Sorry,” she murmured.
“I’m so glad you two have each other.” Sincere words, albeit with more than a dash of longing.
Daughtry smiled. “So I talked about Cody?”
Alex nodded, rueful grin on her lips. “You frequently waxed poetic about emerald eyes.”
Dee laughed and Cody kissed her, teasing her over the bond about her apparent obsession with green-eyed men.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” John snapped.
Eyes shooting across the room, Daughtry saw Alex at the door, fingers on the doorknob, with John only inches behind her.
“I need some air,” Alex gritted out.
“That’s fine,” she began.
“We need answers—” He gripped her upper arm.
Alex twisted and, in a move so fast that Daughtry’s eyes had a hard time processing it, one that must have taken John by surprise because she broke his grip, despite the disparity between their strengths. She put some distance between them and crouched, as though ready for his counterattack . . . his retaliation.
It didn’t come. Of course it didn’t come. John wouldn’t—
“What’s the matter, big guy?” Alex taunted. “You like your victims a little smaller? Or weaker?”
John’s face went scary. “Victims? What the fuck? I don’t hurt people.”
Alex smirked and carefully opened the door, backing down the three steps leading from the porch to the ground. “Isn’t that what you were trying to do with me?” She put her hand up when Daughtry started protesting, when Cody caught John by the shoulder. “Okay, you were trying to intimidate me, which is only marginally better than hurting someone. But still. Semantics, am I right?”
He glared. “I don’t trust you.”
“I got that. And newsflash: I. Don’t. Care.” She shifted her weight slightly as he walked across the porch, adjusting her defense to his movements. “I’m here for Daughtry, not you.”
“You’re here for yourself.”
Alex threw he
r head back and laughed so hard she had to bend at the waist and grip her stomach, so hard that Daughtry’s stomach was more than knotted, it was a tangled mass of anxiety. Tears streamed down her sister’s cheeks. “If— I—” Alex sucked in a breath. “If I were in this for myself I’d have teleported halfway across the world and pretended that I’d never heard of the Dalshie or Rengalla. I would have pretended the shit I’ve learned over the years wasn’t true.”
Straightening, she met their eyes in turn. “I would have run.”
“What do you mean you would have run?”
Alex took another step back. “Forget it.”
“Answer me,” John spat, fighting Cody’s hold like a rapid dog. “Cut the half-assed explanations, and tell us what the fuck is going on.”
“There’s a new leader of the Dalshie, and he’s continuing Elisabeth’s work,” Alex snapped. “Except the Master is a lot fucking closer to creating magical drones than my mother ever was.”
The curse that blistered the air between them was harsh. “That is something you lead with,” John said. “Not reminiscing about sappy fucking childhood memories.”
“And you think that Daughtry could handle that?” Alex yelled. “There’s always been something fragile about her, and this is no different. Her mind was raped over and over again. I don’t want to be the one to screw with the peace she’s found.”
Ouch.
Tell her what she really thought.
Daughtry glanced heavenward, tried to find some semblance of calm. But it wasn’t easy to grasp.
Fragile.
Yet another person who thought she was weak.
“Cowgirl. I don’t think you’re—”
John’s voice was sharp. “Daughtry is stronger than any woman I’ve ever met.”
“Yes, she is,” Alex agreed readily.
“So why the hell are you insinuating—”
For fuck’s sake.
Daughtry’s frustration boiled over. “I’m right here,” she all but yelled. “I’m not fragile. I’m—”
Alex turned to her, as though she’d forgotten Daughtry was there at all. Which made sense considering the raging ball of alpha-ness John was interjecting into the conversation. Not that Dee liked either implication—weak vs forgettable—but regardless of it all, she was a survivor and—