Fateful (24 page)

Mikhail strolls in, but it’s a parody of his usual calm. The anger he feels roils beneath the surface, too petty to reveal the wolf; this is purely human spite. “So. You realized that my interest in the Lisles had nothing to do with their pretty little housemaid. Well, almost nothing to do with her.” His eyes sweep up and down along my body. “You’ve got quite a résumé now, Alexander Marlowe. Ivy Leaguer, heir to a vast fortune, would-be architect, werewolf . . . and jewel thief.”

“I’m the one who took it,” I insist. “He’s no thief.”

“But he’s the one with the Blade, isn’t he? You’re not fool enough to keep it for yourself, are you, Tess?” Mikhail continues to circle Alec, who looks back without flinching. “Or is she, Alec? Shall I drag her down to her cabin, rip it apart—and rip her apart—to see if I can find what I seek?”

“You’ll never find it,” Alec says. “Unless you go to the bottom of the ocean and look there. I’m happy to throw you overboard after it, if you like.”

Mikhail’s eyes narrow. “You can’t have been fool enough to destroy an Initiation Blade. It’s your leverage, and hers.”

“It’s what you use to bring more people under your grasp. As late as yesterday, I thought that was an evil I had to stop in any way I could.” Alec takes a deep breath. “But after what happened last night—”

“After you killed a man?” Mikhail says, so innocently, as though he weren’t the one who hurt Mr. Marlowe and brought this to pass.

“Yes. After that. You may have caused it, but it could as easily have been an accident. My father could drug me every night, but then I’d be an addict, less than alive. As long as I transform every time the sun goes down, I’m taking a horrible risk—not only with my life, but also with the lives of others. It’s irresponsible. Unconscionable. I can’t go on this way.”

Dread strikes like ice at the core of me, even as Mikhail begins to smile. “Have you finally come to see reason?”

“I’ve come to see the inevitable.” Alec squares his shoulders. “I want to be initiated into the Brotherhood.”

Chapter 21

BETRAYAL CLAWS AT MY GUT. ALEC JOIN THE Brotherhood? It can’t be possible.

Mikhail’s face splits into his shark’s grin. “I knew you would eventually see the advantages. A far finer life is about to be yours.”

“I don’t care about your money or your privileges or your smug belief that you rule the world,” Alec says. Contempt for Mikhail is etched into the strong lines of his face. “This is about one thing, and one thing only. As long as I transform every night, I’m a danger to everyone—from strangers to the people I love most.” He turns to me, just briefly, and I feel as though I will weep. “Last night I took a human life. After that—I have to be initiated, and soon. Conscience demands it. Any other desires I have aren’t worth ruining other people’s lives for.”

The worst part of all of this is that I understand. I hate it, and yet I know Alec’s right. No matter what precautions we take, how hard we try to make Alec’s transformation into the wolf safe for everyone, the Brotherhood will undo them. It’s unfair, and it’s sickening that this is happening just when we might have had a chance to keep Alec safe—but it’s happening. We can’t run from it. We’re trapped with it in the center of the ocean.

But to sell himself into slavery to the Brotherhood—I can’t bear it. “Alec, don’t. You mustn’t.”

“I must. After what happened last night, there’s no other choice for me.”

After he killed a man, he means. So I reply, “The Brotherhood could turn you into a killer for their own purposes. How is that any better than what happened last night? If you ask me, it’s worse.”

“They could. But they won’t,” Alec says flatly.

Mikhail gives me a contemptuous look, as though I’m a silly child asking why the sky is blue. “Waste a man of Alec’s wealth and station as a thug? We have better uses for him than that.”

In response to all this talk about his “uses,” Alec lifts his chin, using every one of the inches he has over Mikhail. “Besides, if I can’t challenge the Brotherhood from the outside—maybe I can change it from within. There must be others like me, brought in against our will. What if there are more of us than there are of you?”

He can’t believe in that fairy tale, can he? I want to shout him down, but I’m almost too upset to speak.

Mikhail merely laughs. “Sooner or later, you’ll think the way I do, Alec. After you’ve learned the pleasure of the kill, the meaning of dominance—you’ll understand everything.” His face hardens into a mask that’s almost a mockery of his handsome features. “And from the very beginning, you’ll do as I command; I am your elder in the pack. Therefore, your mind will always belong to me.”

At first I don’t understand, but then I recall what Alec told me that dawn in the Turkish baths.

If the Brotherhood can control me as completely as they claim, then he could order me to murder you, and I’d do it.

They can control his mind. From this moment on, Alec will no longer belong to me. He was mine for hardly a second, and yet I feel like the loss will be with me the rest of my life.

“Don’t listen to him,” I say to Mikhail. “He’s upset. He’s not himself.” Even I don’t believe my own words, but I can’t bear to remain silent. Quickly I step between Alec and Mikhail, so that the monster will have to look at me. I fascinate him in some way, do I? So terrified am I for Alec that I would even use that to distract him. “You can’t hold him to anything he says here.”

“You smell like . . . fear. And lust.” Mikhail’s smile sickens me. “A tantalizing combination.”

The door swings open so hard it hits the wall with a thud, and we all jump—even Mikhail—but it’s only Mr. Marlowe. “Get away from my son,” he says, so savagely that even a werewolf might flinch from his anger.

Before Mikhail can respond, Alec says, “Dad, it’s all right.”

Mr. Marlowe realizes the truth, and it’s as if he somehow shrinks into himself. His powerful frame weakens as he takes in Alec’s resolve and Mikhail’s presence, and draws the inevitable conclusion. “Alec. No. As hard as we’ve fought against this—”

“We fought well.” Alec puts one hand on his father’s shoulder, and I avert my eyes, because the love between them is too great and too painful to bear witnessing. His body trembles, as though telling Mr. Marlowe this caused him physical pain. “I can never repay everything you’ve done for me.”

“You’re my son. You never have to repay me. That’s what it means, to have a child.”

“But now you have to let go. You have to accept that you can’t save me from this. We tried, Dad. We did our best.”

Mr. Marlowe is on the verge of tears now, but he nods and steps back, surrendering to the inevitable.

Alec looks back at Mikhail. “Swear one thing to me. One small thing.”

“You can’t believe his promises!” I cry. “He’s a liar. Don’t you know that?”

“I will give you my word,” Mikhail says. “Not as a gentleman—that’s worthless. But as a wolf of the Brotherhood, to one who will soon join my pack, yes, I swear.”

Weirdly, I think he might actually mean that. Being a werewolf is the only thing that man holds sacred.

Alec says, “Promise me that you will send a Marconigram telling the Brotherhood never again to harm or threaten Tess’s sister.”

Oh, God. He’s not doing this only to protect some potential future people he might injure. Alec is selling himself to the Brotherhood—giving up everything he has, every hope of a decent life—so that Daisy will be safe. He’s doing this for me.

“It shall be done,” Mikhail says, and I know he’ll do it. Maybe I should feel relieved. Later, for Daisy’s sake, I will. Right now, all I can do is press my fist against my mouth to hold the sob inside.

Alec must do this, to save her. And I have to let him.

Mikhail shuts the door again, as bold and confident as he was before. “These people are unnecessary to us, Alec. Tell them to leave.”

Oh, God, is it happening now? Right now? I would’ve thought they’d have to wait for a full moon or something. But no, this is immediate. It is inescapable.

“They’re staying.” Alec remains strong, resisting Mikhail as far—and for as long—as he can. “I have nothing to hide from them. Not even this.”

“Very well.” Mikhail shrugs. “Let them watch. It will be a pleasure to see their faces as they realize that you no longer belong to them. From this day on, you belong to me.”

From his jacket, Mikhail withdraws the Initiation Blade—the one the Brotherhood already owns, one I’ve never seen before. This one has been polished with pride, and extensively used; the handle is crosshatched with use, and there are indentations in the metal from centuries of being held. Centuries of being used to force men to do the Brotherhood’s bidding. Etched into its hilt is the Y symbol they cut into my sister’s skin.

As Mikhail holds it aloft, he says, almost dreamily, “They say these were forged in Roman times. That the emperors were the first to master the wolves, and that this was part of their inexorable hold on power for almost a millennium.” Light glints along the edge of the blade. “We have been one Brotherhood ever since. One unbroken line of power. Someday you will take pride in this, Alec. Someday you will understand what it means to be above the swill of mere humanity. How close being a wolf is to being a god.”

Being a wolf doesn’t seem anything like being a god to me, unless a god gets twitchy every full moon and is likely to have fleas. Or so I’d like to say to Mikhail now. But I must remain silent. The transformation fills Mikhail with a kind of pure wonder that is contagious, and despite myself, I wonder what it would mean to be able to change forms at will. To be both beast and woman. Not godlike, surely—but beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.

Mr. Marlowe puts his arm around my shoulders, and I sag against him as I might have done with my own father, if he were kind instead of harsh, or supportive instead of condemning. Together we watch, helpless, as the initiation begins.

Mikhail points the Blade at Alec. “To your knees.”

Alec hesitates only for a moment before kneeling in front of Mikhail. Though he keeps his face still, his gaze strong, I can feel how this submission scorches his pride.

With the point of the dagger, Mikhail flicks one side of Alec’s robe off his shoulder, then the other. The silk crumples to the richly carpeted floor. Alec wears only his low-slung pajama pants now, all but naked in front of us.

As Mikhail steps closer, he begins muttering something beneath his breath in a language I can’t understand—Latin, perhaps. The room darkens, and at first I think the lights have gone out, or that the ship might be sailing into a storm. But this is a different kind of darkness, one that surrounds and confines us. One that denies the light we ought to see. I cling more tightly to Mr. Marlowe as Mikhail lifts the Blade to Alec’s shoulder and digs the point in.

Alec grimaces, clearly biting back a shout. Blood begins to trickle down the muscles of his arm, past his elbow, along his hand. Droplets from his fingers drip onto the carpet. Mikhail has only begun his work; clearly relishing Alec’s pain as he slowly, deliberately carves the slightly asymmetrical Y shape into Alec’s shoulder.

The room grows darker and darker. It’s as if the cuts in Alec’s flesh are what’s stealing the light.

Mikhail’s chant ends. He lifts the Blade to his lips and touches the tip of his tongue to the metal, to taste Alec’s blood. The darkness flickers, and for a moment I can see both the wolves and the men—they are not changing, but it’s as if they’re both there, inseparable—

Alec falls backward as if stunned, and the light snaps back to normal. Mikhail sheaths the dagger at his waist. “It is done. He is ours.”

“Get out.” Mr. Marlowe’s voice shakes. “You’ve done your worst. You’ve got what you wanted. Now leave us.”

“Not until I show you what Alec has become capable of.” Mikhail fixes me in his intense stare again, and my body seems to freeze. “You suggested that I would turn him into a killer. Perhaps I should take you up on that suggestion.”

I want to bolt, but he’s between me and the door.

“I could have Mr. Marlowe killed—but no. The father still has his uses. The girl . . . that’s another matter,” Mikhail says. He turns his attention toward Alec. “Women are weakness embodied, Alec. Your passion for her saps your strength. Prove your loyalty to us. Kill her.”

“You’re insane,” Alec says, panting for breath. He’s almost on all fours on the carpet, still unable to stand again.

“Find your strength. Listen to me.” There’s something uncanny about Mikhail’s voice as he says it. The darkness seems to return again, but only to shroud Alec, whose eyes become unfocused.

The mind control. He’s taking over.

“Stop this!” Mr. Marlowe demands, snapping whatever spell Mikhail was casting in two. He steps in front of me to serve as a shield. “Tess is to remain unharmed.”

Mikhail sneers, “You no longer give the orders here, old man.”

“I give
this
order—that is, if the Brotherhood ever wants a penny of my money.”

“Your son—”

“Can be written out of my will and cut off from my accounts at a moment’s notice. I could send a cable and be sure it was done before we even reach shore. And the Brotherhood doesn’t only want my money, do they? You’re gangsters, the lot of you; you want me to use my political influence for you as well. That’s what you mean, by my ‘uses.’ I tell you now, if you hurt this girl, that will never happen.” Mr. Marlowe straightens, some vestige of his pride restored. I’m so grateful I could hug him.

Mikhail backs down with no good grace. “Not worth having trouble over a female. But I warn you now, little girl—speak one word of this, and you’ll be dead before dawn. As Mr. Marlowe wishes I shouldn’t have Alec do the killing, I’ll take care of it myself. Your death will last longer.”

“I won’t tell,” I swear. “For Alec’s sake, I’ll never tell.”

“He ought to have asked for your safety along with your sister’s,” Mikhail says. “Because your sister will have no more trouble from this day on. Maybe you won’t either, Tess. You’re hardly worth it, and besides—I have what I want.”