2. Darkness in the Blood Master copy MS 5 (24 page)

 My throat went dry. I had to clear it to talk. “How could you tell?”

“I’m a witch, and an apprentice Guardian. Of course I could tell.”

“Look.” I sat up so fast my head spun. The world was a blender of green forest with a flash of blond braid. “I don’t even know why it’s important. Not really. I don’t even know what you being an apprentice Guardian means, or why it was so hard to get through the mist wall. So I’m sorry you didn’t know, but none of us did. Logan has always been the normal one. All of this happened last night for the first time, and no one is more shocked or unhappy about it than me.”

At that, her green eyes opened like morning glories taking in sun. “
Last night?
Are you kidding me?” I nodded miserably. She blinked rapidly. I could almost see her mind working. “Ok, that’s not so bad. I mean, it is, but it does give us the element of surprise. It’s you they’re after. If we move him, they’ll still just see one gifted Nephilim descendent instead of two. If he’s not here, then they won’t know to look for him.” She rubbed her forehead absently. “It’s lame as far as plans go, but it’s all I’ve got. You can at least visit each other. Theoretically, anyway. Travel between compounds is very smooth when we’re forewarned about security.”

“Move him where?”

“The Eastern compound, of course.” She looked puzzled that I hadn’t put it all together. “Blackwood Lodge, of course. Where I live.” She enunciated very carefully, as if I was especially slow. “With Grand’Mere, and my mother, and all my cousins. All the Blackwoods for the last five generations live at the Lodge. I wasn’t kidding when I said we were infested with Blackwoods, almost all of us magical. Logan would get lost there.” She looked behind her, at the almost-empty house. “Not like here, where the both of you stick out like torches in empty space.”

It seemed like the perfect plan for my brother. I hadn’t known about Guardians or Cassandra’s huge magical family standing watch on Whitfield’s Eastern border. I tried to picture a cross between Mrs. Alice’s sternness and Cassandra’s rebel streak. I multiplied it by five generations, added in what I knew of witchcraft, and sprinkled it with dolphin music. “I think Logan would love it there,” I managed to say between muted giggles. “Why don’t I go there too, then?” I asked.

“Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t mind a bit. Grand’Mere even proposed it. But your Guardian said no. And since he tapped you as his successor, he gets final say.”

Suddenly everything went very still and quiet, as if all the birds in the forest decided to collectively stop their singing. Cassandra’s words echoed and repeated until they were all I heard: his successor. The phrase ran through my head louder and louder, until I thought I might scream the words.

I didn’t, though. I managed to ask, “What did you just say?” 

“His successor?” she repeated. “What? You didn’t know?” When I just sat there, frozen, her eyes widened in alarm. She took my hand in hers and rubbed it vigorously. “It’s ok, Caspia. Really. It’s nothing. Asheroth is immortal. He’s lived here for over a hundred years and will live here for hundreds more. Naming you was probably just a formality, like making a will or something.” She began to talk very fast, probably in response to how fast my pulse was racing. “It means you get this house and all this land. That’s good, right? And you get to protect Whitfield one day.” Still I said nothing. “Being Southern Guardian won’t be so bad. I’ll be Eastern Guardian, after Grand’Mere. So we’re in it together, at least. Caspia? Please say something.”

“He has no right,” I said at last.

“No, I suppose not,” she agreed. She looked as miserable as I felt. “It’s not written in stone. You can always just turn him down. If he can’t find a replacement, the town council will look for someone else.” She shrugged. “Maybe Logan…”

“No!” I snapped. I found myself on my feet without having decided to rise. “He doesn’t have to be a part of this. I don’t want him to be. I want his life to be as normal as possible. I don’t ever want him to be at the mercy of some strange power that’s supposed to be a gift, or to know he’s the only one of his kind, or to live in terror of what will happen if he loses control. I just want him to feel safe and normal, even if he isn’t.”

“Caspia,” she said, her voice low with concern. “What are you talking about?”

What was I talking about? Impossible things. Normal had become impossible for Logan the moment he’d pulled Asheroth off me. This was just another reckoning due between us. “I just think you have a good idea. About Logan.” I forced a semblance of a smile onto my face. “Take him, ok? You have to promise me. To the Eastern compound.” She nodded slowly, alarmed by whatever she saw on my face. “I had better go see about Ethan. Is the tea ready?”

***

I found my brother ducking out of one of the downstairs bedrooms. He must have been successful finding spare men’s clothing, because he’d helped himself to a new silk shirt. A spotless snowy white, it made him look softer, younger than he was. He smiled to see me. “Everything the crazy bastard owns is either black and white, or red. But he does have excellent taste. No jeans or t-shirts in this house. Nothing but leather, silk, or cashmere.”

“You look nice.” He did, too. Living day to day with someone, it got really easy to gloss over the whole of his appearance. I tended to focus in on the smaller parts: the shape of his shoulders curved over the stove; the cradle of his arms as he petted a contented Abigail; his long legs propped up on the coffee table as his tall frame overflowed his corner of the sofa. It struck me now how very much he looked like our father. I launched myself into his arms like I was a child again, and he could keep the monsters away.

“Hey there,” he said, hanging onto me even though I pushed his back against the wall with my very adult weight. “Hey now. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “You looked like Dad is all.”

“Oh.” He gave me a rib-cracking squeeze before pushing me back by my shoulders. “Everything is going to be ok. You know that, right?” He looked me straight in the eyes when he said it, too. That had been our Dad’s line. He believed every human being needed one other person to say everything was going to be fine, no matter what the odds. Whether it was ok or not, it was having that one person say it that was important.

I needed to hear it. Things would be ok, if not in a way he would like. “Cassandra and I had a good talk,” I said, not breaking eye contact. I needed him to believe me. “I think she has a really good idea for keeping us safer. It involves splitting up, but only temporarily.” I pressed my fingers lightly into his chest to stop his automatic protest. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But two Nephilim gifted draws way more attention than just one. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of it.” I could tell he didn’t like it, but he didn’t deny it. “Will you talk to her about it? Believe me, I’d much rather spend time at the Blackwood compound than stay here with tall, red, and crazy. But Belial and his agents will be looking for me here. It makes more sense for you to go. Besides,” my laugh was genuine this time. “You were the one who wanted to get witch-drunk. Now’s your chance.”

My brother didn’t say anything for a moment. He traced my jaw line with light fingers before chucking me under the chin. I used to hate it when he did that. Now, it made me homesick. “I’ll talk to her. Hell, I’ll go. If you’ll try and take a nap when you bring Ethan that disgusting tea,” Logan conceded. “You look exhausted. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t.” I didn’t want to tell him that in my case, sleep was no guarantee of rest, so I just nodded. “I’ll try and rest when Ethan does. Just go with Cassandra, and that’ll be one less thing.” I felt his eyes on me as I slipped into one of five identical white bedrooms. “I’ll see you soon, brother mine,” I lied.

Chapter Twenty-Four:

The Other Caspia

I stood tentatively at the border of a white universe. Ethan, like every other male in the house, wore a white silk shirt. He lay limp on top of a white cotton bedspread in a solid white room. The lack of color framed him, made him even more vivid than he should have been. I stood at the door and hardly dared to move. I wanted to remember him this way, as light and life surrounded by emptiness. It reminded me of the first night I’d seen him in my bedroom. He’d reminded of a creature at war with himself.

“Hey,” he said too quickly, breaking the spell. “Have you come to put me to sleep?”

I slid next to him on the white cotton. “Unfortunately, yes. And let me warn you, if it tastes even half as bad as it smells, I’m worried about internal hemorrhaging.”

He shrugged. I was pleased to see he didn’t wince. “Oh well. The bath stuff worked pretty well.” He pulled on the hem of my t-shirt. “I like this, by the way. Cassandra’s?”

“Her idea of a joke.” I faced him cross-legged and handed him the mug. “Ok. Do you want me to sit on you and pour it down your throat?”

He hit me with a pillow. I grinned. He was definitely doing better.

The awful mess stayed down, with no help from me. I just had to promise to stay with him until he fell asleep. He used my lap for a pillow while I relayed all that Cassandra had told me about the Blackwoods, about being Asheroth’s successor, and about Logan returning with her. I traced his jaw lightly with my fingertips while we waited for Mrs. Alice’s potion to take effect.

“I don’t like being here with no one to beat him up,” I complained softly, half jokingly.

“I think he learned his lesson.” Ethan’s eyes stayed closed for longer and longer periods. “Besides, the two of us working together could take him. Logan didn’t give us a chance last time.”

I buried my face in his hair. “I’ll miss you,” I whispered.

“What, while I’m sleeping?” he murmured. “How long is this thing supposed to last?”

“Cassandra said you might sleep through until morning. It depends on how much damage it has to repair.” With Logan gone and Ethan sleeping, that left only Asheroth to evade. I wouldn’t get a better chance to slip away than tonight. Besides, Dr. Christian’s chilling words from my dream were still with me: for every night you don’t come, Whitfield and everyone you love will be caught in the crossfire. 

“I don’t trust him.” Ethan’s pronouncement startled me. “Be careful around him, Cas.”

Who, Dr. Christian? I almost asked, but then caught myself. “Oh, Asheroth. Right. If possible, I’d like to avoid him. If not, I’m sure we’ll just snipe at each other as usual. He’s not exactly on my list of favorite people right now.”

“I mean it. I’ve known him a long time.” Ethan was so sleepy he slurred his speech. The drug was taking effect. He rarely, if ever, spoke of the time before he came to live with us, the time when he was a full-blooded Nephilim. It was easy to forget that a very long time ago, he and Asheroth must have known each other. “He’s up to something.”

“Sshh, just sleep,” I tried to reassure him. I felt guilty, because if anyone in this house was being duplicitous, it was me. I was the one planning to turn myself over to my enemies in an attempt to spare the ones I loved pain and suffering. Of course, I also planned to crush those enemies from the inside out. But still. It wouldn’t lessen their pain. “Remember how much I love you, and that I would never ever do anything to hurt you,” I said. But he was already asleep. I don’t know if he heard me or not.

I sat with his head in my lap until his breathing evened out. I went back over the things Dr. Christian had said in my head. I made plans and remade them. I reminded myself that I would have help when I got to the Dark Realms. I would have allies. It’s not like I was going into it blind. I could spare Whitfield and my family and still work to defeat our enemies. It was going to be fine. I willed Ethan to believe me through osmosis as I sat stroking his head.

Eventually I got hungry enough to risk going upstairs again. I poked through cupboards, mildly hopeful. A familiar drawl startled me badly enough to knock my head against the shelf. “The witchling left things in the refrigerator. If you’d prefer I could order out. Paris again, or you could name the cuisine this time.”

I rubbed my head and tried to hang onto my temper. “Any chance you might take me out with you to fetch this cuisine?”

“Not a good idea.” The refrigerator opened behind me. “Sandwiches. How original.”

I spun, the beginnings of a headache rising with my anger. “Thoughtful of her, actually. Unlike some so-called hosts I could name. Or perhaps jailer really is a better term.” I reached around him, careful not to even brush against the red leather, and grabbed the plate of sandwiches. “Don’t come near me,” I snarled for good measure.

“I wasn’t going to,” he protested, amused. Then he perched on the edge of a kitchen chair and watched me eat. “Are you going to tell me why you’re angry with me now?”

“Maybe,” I said with a partially full mouth. “It’s probably easier to tell you why I’m not mad at you.”

“She used to say the exact same thing.” He actually laughed. I paused with half a sandwich on its way to my mouth and glared. How dare he keep comparing me to her? “That exact same thing. She was always mad at me.”

“That.” I dropped the food, my appetite gone. I shoved my chair back from the table. “That right there. Always being compared to her. Having you go bat-shit insane on me or someone I love for no other reason than her. That’s why I’m mad at you. I just decided.” I gave an expansive shrug of my shoulders. “Why not? I was going to say making me your successor, or keeping all of this a secret, or trying to kill us all and triggering Nephilim gifts in my brother, making him a target for demons, or for being a Guardian for over a hundred years, or that there even are Guardians, or that I can’t go home, and there’s no coffee. But really, it does all boil down to one thing. Her.”

He looked impressed by my tirade. He watched me with narrowed eyes, to see if I was done. I wasn’t.

“You said her name was Caspia too. Well, I finally want to know about her.”

He nodded. “Come with me, then.” I took his outstretched hand.

I’ll be damned if he didn’t do that thing they do. I blinked to find myself staring at the very same portrait he’d shown me the first time he’d kidnapped me. My head spun from the sideways slip through time and space that marked travel through the Realms.