Authors: Melody Johnson
He turned to face Ronnie, and I did both of us a favor and ducked into the bathroom.
I shut and locked the door behind me, flicked the light on, and gaped. I’d been gaping a lot lately, but sometimes, there’s nothing to say or do when reality stares back at you and it’s not anything you ever thought could possibly exist.
The reflection staring back at me from the bathroom vanity was a stranger. My hair was a mess of tangles and leaves. My eyeliner had smudged in dark, dripping circles, and blood was crusted over my lips and between my teeth. The thought of swallowing Bex’s blood made my stomach simultaneously queasy and ravenous. Jillian didn’t voice her thoughts this time, but I could feel her stretch inside of me, luxuriating in the lethargic glow of a full stomach. She was satisfied. For now.
Bex’s blood mixed with my own injuries. I touched a solidified glob of her blood on my cheek, and when I pulled away, her blood stretched in a thick rope between my cheek and finger. I gagged and tried scrubbing her blood off my face. A scrape on my cheek burned as I scrubbed. I scrubbed harder, desperate to clean my face and stop the burning, but just as suddenly as the burning had started, it stopped.
The scrape was healed.
I stared at the blood and my healed cheek for a long moment, trying to come to terms with my life, with the many disturbing realities that still seemed like nightmares, but there wasn’t enough time in a lifetime to find a resolution. The best I could do, the best I’d been able to do for three long weeks now, was damage control.
I twisted the faucet and cleaned my face.
Fifteen minutes later, I’d plucked the leaves from my hair, used the globs of Bex’s blood to heal the burns at my throat, and washed the remainder of the blood, dirt, and grime from my face. I nearly looked like myself again, except for the deep purple bruises around my neck.
I still looked like hell, but at least I was clean. As far as damage control, that was the best I could do.
Thinking of hell reminded me of my own personal devil. I’d blown Dominic off at sunset, leaving him that God-awful, rambling voicemail, and he’d taken it in stride. Maybe he deserved the courtesy of another phone call.
I rolled my eyes, thinking of being courteous to Dominic, the man with fangs and talons and unfathomable strength. The man who had a silver cage and handcuffs in his bedchambers to keep me “safe” from his coven.
The man who, when presented with the opportunity to get exactly what he wanted from me, to turn me into a vampire, had chosen to save me as a human.
Reluctantly, I punched in Dominic’s number. The phone only rang once before he answered.
“How was dinner with Bex?”
“Hello to you, too,” I said teasingly. “We really need to work on your phone etiquette.”
“Hello,” Dominic said, and I could hear the patience waning in the snap of his tone. “How was dinner?”
“If you’re asking if Bex believes that I’m your loyal night blood, forging alliances on your behalf and anticipating my transformation into a vampire, then dinner went swimmingly. She’s jealous of us and is doubly determined to have Walker. Bless her heart,” I added, Bex’s phrase growing on me.
“I’m sure our Ian Walker is loving the spotlight. Bless
his
heart.” Dominic said, and it sounded as if he relished the thought. “Bex is something, isn’t she? She’d originally Southern, from Georgia I believe.”
I snorted. “She’s something, all right.”
“If Bex handles this right, she’ll strengthen her standing in the coven. Walker has run amuck for far too long, killing vampires and refusing her rule, without being curbed.”
I snorted. “I got the impression that her coven wants her to choose a different night blood. They’re impatient with Walker.”
“I’m sure they are. He’s killed many of their family and friends. Even if Bex eventually won him over and he agreed to the transformation, he wouldn’t have many allies in his new home.”
I hesitated, Dominic’s logic startling since I’d never thought of the coven’s perspective. I doubt I’d made many allies in Dominic’s coven, but since I was never agreeing to the transformation, I suppose the point was moot.
“You’ve done very well, Cassidy,” Dominic continued. “I won’t forget it. How was dinner otherwise?”
I glanced at my reflection, at the bruises around my neck still darkening as we spoke. I thought of Walker seizing and vomiting on the stone of Bex’s dining room floor. I thought of our argument on the way home, and I looked away from the mirror.
“About as good as could be expected, I suppose,” I said. “We both made it out alive and with all our limbs accounted for.” I couldn’t say the same for Bex. I thought of her eye and shuddered.
“You’re not telling me something.”
I sighed. “I’m not telling you a lot of things, but I did what you wanted me to do. I stabilized your alliance with Bex. You should be grateful.”
“I’m very grateful, and I thank you for acting as my loyal night blood. I appreciate your efforts, but—”
“This wasn’t a favor,” I reminded him. “We had a deal. Do you have any leads on Nathan?”
Dominic made a noise over the phone. It sounded like a sigh and a groan and something more, something like pain. “I’ve doubled my efforts and scoured the city for his scent. I fear that any trace of him that once existed may no longer.”
“You haven’t found anything,” I accused.
“I
will
find out what happened to your brother, Cassidy. As you so often remind me, we made a deal, and you upheld your end of our bargain. I
will
uphold mine.”
I didn’t like his phrasing. “I don’t want you to find out what
happened
to him. I want you to find
him
,” I snapped. “Deal or no deal, you need to find my brother because his disappearance means that a vampire in your coven kidnapped a night blood behind your back.”
“Or killed.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Don’t.”
The silence was a palpable, throbbing bruise between us. I refused to break it. I feared that if I did, I wouldn’t sound rational.
Eventually, Dominic spoke. “I think you should prepare yourself, Cassidy, for the distinct possibility that your brother is dead. He disappeared three weeks ago, and there has been no trace of him since.”
“No,” I said, but my voice was reduced to the raw whisper of restrained tears. Nathan was my little brother. It didn’t matter if he was missing for three weeks or three years, I was still holding on to hope.
“A young vampire may have fed on Nathan,” Dominic pressed, “and once begun, it’s possible he couldn’t stop. The vampire would need to erase Nathan’s identity to erase his crime, and that may be why we can’t find any trace of your brother. It’s possible that the vampire is still loyal to me and only made a mistake.”
“A mistake. Killing my brother is a
mistake
?” I shrieked, and I could hear the hysterical squeak in my voice.
“Cassidy—”
“That’s not possible,” I ground out slowly, trying to get a grip on my anger and fear. “Even if the vampire drained Nathan dry, Nathan can survive large amounts of blood loss and still survive.”
“Assuming he’s a night blood.”
“Of course he’s a night blood!” I snapped, my voicing squeaking back into hysterics.
“Calm yourself. You—”
“Rene’s a young vampire, and he had the strength to stop feeding. When he realized I was a night blood, he brought me directly to Bex.” I said rationally, stamping home my point. “If a vampire was truly loyal, he would have stopped and brought Nathan to you. If Nathan’s dead, which he isn’t, then it’s no
accident.
Maybe you don’t have as much control over the rebellion as you’d like to think.”
“Rene who?” Dominic asked softly.
“Rene R—” I stopped myself, realizing the blades beneath the silk of Dominic’s tone. “He’s a young vampire, Bex’s prior night blood.”
“And he decided to feed from you during dinner? I thought Bex was more civilized than to substitute the guest of honor for the main dish.”
I sighed. “He didn’t bite me at dinner. We were in the woods, and he didn’t know who I was, and—”
“In the woods?” Dominic said, sounding scandalized. “Among the trees and dirt and wilderness?”
“There isn’t anything here but wilderness.” I thought about that a moment and corrected myself. “And cows.” I shook my head, realizing we were off topic. “The point is, have you asked your vampires about Nathan?”
Dominic snorted. “Of course.”
“And?”
“Nothing. My vampires are loyal at present, thanks to you.”
“All your vampires?” I asked, thinking of the allegedly executed Jillian still alive in my mind.
“Every last one of them. I assure you, my vampires did not deliberately harm your brother, and if an
accident
did befall him
,
it was not committed in deliberate disloyalty to me.”
“Fine,” I conceded, not appeased in the least but willing to let it slide for now. At least until I found a lead that proved otherwise. “How’s Greta and her case? Any breakthroughs?”
“Greta is well, but her case is not. Two nights in a row now the murderer hasn’t struck again.”
I tapped my finger against the sink, thinking. “One victim a night for two weeks, and then nothing. The pattern shouldn’t have stopped or altered unless the investigation missed something at that last crime scene, something to indicate that his work was complete. What does Greta make of it?”
“The police are considering the possibility that he suffered an accident, perhaps unrelated to his last victim. There’s nothing to suggest that his last kill went afoul or was a completion of his work. If anything, his kills were becoming more savage. He wouldn’t have stopped of his own volition.”
“I didn’t ask what the police thought. I asked what Greta thought.”
Dominic laughed. “Greta’s instincts and will are her greatest assets and will one day be her downfall. She reminds me of someone else I know,” he said, still snickering to himself. “I think it’s the depth of her loyalty that keeps her from listening to her instincts about you, but that will only last for so long. One day she will discover our secret, and that will be the day her instincts fail her. You know that I won’t compromise my coven’s secrecy, so if you don’t keep Greta leashed, I will.”
“Is that a threat?” I hissed.
He paused a moment. “How do you usually put it?” he asked. “I’m just calling it as I see it.”
“You’re avoiding my question,” I snapped. “What does Greta make of the sudden stop in murders? She doesn’t think the unsub was involved in an accident, does she?”
“No, she doesn’t,” Dominic admitted. “She’s comparing this case to last month’s case and how evidence disappeared. She’s remembering how everyone thought the wounds were inflicted by knives, when in reality, they were animal bites. And she’s remembering that you were the one who knew the truth.”
“Me? What do I have to do with anything? I’m out of town.”
“Exactly. It hasn’t escaped her notice that the murders stopped the moment you left.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed. “Once again, we were
joking
that the murders followed me here. I don’t have anything to do with this case!”
“I know,” Dominic said quietly. “I’m simply telling you what Greta is thinking.”
“Right.” I nodded, more to myself than to Dominic. The thought that Greta was suspicious of me again made my heart sore. “I’ve got to go. It’s been crazy here, too, and I’m exhausted.”
“Cassidy, I—”
“Have a good rest of your night. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I cut him off and ended the call.
I sat for another few minutes in silence, mulling over everything Dominic and I had discussed and left unsaid. I thought about Jillian’s voice in my head. I thought about Bex and her destroyed eye. I thought about Walker’s seizures. I both mourned and raged at the thought of losing Nathan. I ached over Greta and her case, and I wondered if my life would ever get back on track. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when everything had derailed, but I feared that the track I’d always known and had planned to continue traveling was too far gone to ever find again.
If I hoped to restore a semblance of a life worth living after this nightmare, I’d have to lay down new tracks of my own.
* * * *
I flushed the toilet for appearances' sake, opened the bathroom door, and nearly walked into the chest of a lanky red-headed boy I recognized as one of Logan’s sons.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, looking up. “You’re Logan’s oldest, right? Keagan, is it?”
He nodded. “And you must be the infamous Cassidy DiRocco,” he said. His voice was just as deep as his father’s.
“I don’t know about ‘infamous,’ but you’ve found me,” I said, holding out my hand.
Keagan took my hand, his shake firm but gentle, and I could tell he’d had practice despite his age. He pointed behind me to the toilet. “You’ve got to run the water after you pretend to use the bathroom or people won’t want to shake hands.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, cracking a smile. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know you weren’t actually using the toilet.”
I nodded. “Fair enough.”
“And,” he glanced sideways to the kitchen where Walker was attempting and failing to placate Ronnie before leaning down to whisper, “enough to know you were talking about Lydia.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t mention anything about Lydia.”
“Maybe not this time, but you’ve talked about her in the bathroom before.”
“You’ve been eavesdropping on me?”
Keagan shrugged. “Jeremy’s not the only one who cared about Lydia. I want to know what really happened.”
“You knew Lydia, too?”
“Of course. Everyone knew Lydia. Jeremy’s story doesn’t check out, does it?”
I pursed my lips as he voiced my own suspicion. I doubted Jeremy was capable of the carnage I’d witnessed, but still, Keagan was right. His story didn’t quite check out. “I thought you two were friends.”
“We are, but Lydia deserved a lot better. Growing up a night blood is hard business for everyone, but Jeremy doesn’t get it. He lived with his uncle as a regular human for too long to really understand.”
I frowned. “To understand what?”