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Within minutes, Julianna relaxed in Marcus’s arms. She hummed along to Winter’s playing, swaying from side to side. Her voice was sweet and haunting, calling Marcus back to bittersweet memories of his childhood when life was so wonderfully simple. They’d lived in their mother’s fancy town house. There were tutors and instructors filling their days with knowledge. Their mother was almost always around to oversee their education, especially in music. As they learned to play, she would sing along. Even if the song had no words, she’d make up silly songs to match the tune they played.
Now music was the only thing that saved them all.
It took close to an hour to finally get Julianna moved to her own bedchamber with Winter. She had to be away from the blood when they stopped playing. Most of the time, her brain didn’t register the carnage and destruction she caused. It was like she couldn’t even see it, and she definitely didn’t know she’d been the one to create it.
But there had been a few rare instances where she did see the blood and the wounds still healing on her children. She’d remember that she was the one to attack her children. The horror would only throw her right back into a brutal episode. It was just easier for all of them if she was never allowed to see what she did.
Marcus rationalized that it wasn’t really her. The sweet, caring woman who had raised them would never be capable of such violence. It wasn’t her. Just some darkness in her brain that was only made worse when she was transformed into a vampire.
As children, they all remembered times where they would catch her talking to herself. Or rather, talking to someone none of them could see. When asked, she’d say that she was just talking to the fairies and laugh like it was nothing. But there were a couple of times she woke them all in the middle of the night, and they all hid in the attic until the servants finally found them and coaxed their mother out.
But it wasn’t until she became a vampire that her strange madness turned to violence.
“I don’t want to drink more,” Bel said wearily when Marcus offered him the glass.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood. You need to drink,” Marcus said stubbornly.
Bel closed his eyes and shook his head. He was propped up on the couch, his long body still hanging off. Marcus hated the sickly paleness of his cheeks. They were all pale after a century of hiding from the sun, but this was more extreme. Marcus needed him to drink just to return the color to his cheeks.
“Rafe? Did Rafe go?” Bel’s eyes suddenly blinked open, and he moved like he was trying to rise off the couch.
“He went to check on Winter.” Marcus carefully placed his hands on Bel’s shoulders, pushing him down onto the cushions. He didn’t want to mention their mother. This was the worst attack Bel had ever suffered, and he didn’t need to be reminded that she was his assailant.
“Should we go help them? I don’t want—”
“They’ll be fine. They’ve got it under control.”
“But she’s strong. What if Winter and Rafe can’t handle her? We can’t let anything happen to them.”
“They’ve got it under control. Winter had her calm and in her room before we even left. Rafe is just going to see if Winter needs a break.”
Bel relaxed against the cushions, releasing a deep, heavy sigh. His eyes were closed, but it didn’t stop the tear that slipped from the corner of his left eye to slide down his temple. Marcus swallowed hard against the lump in his throat as he wiped the tear away with his thumb.
“Why does she hate me, Marcus?” Bel asked. His voice was barely a whisper and shook with a pain that Marcus was sure had nothing to do with the wounds on his chest.
“She doesn’t, Bel. You know that. Mother loves you.”
“But I can’t fix her. I’ve tried for so long. A century. I can’t fix her. Does she know and hate me for it?”
Marcus threaded his fingers through Bel’s thick hair, pushing it back from his forehead. “Don’t. She loves you. This attack…this isn’t her. You know that. These bad episodes aren’t her. It’s the sickness. She can’t control it.”
Bel’s eyes flicked open, holding Marcus. “Tonight was different.”
“What do you mean?”
Bel shook his head and tried to sit up again, but Marcus wouldn’t let him. He needed to rest and conserve his energy in order to heal. Bel finally gave up and frowned at Marcus. They were long used to his dominating, dictatorial ways, but that didn’t mean they didn’t try to push against him every once in a while.
“You sent a text that you thought she was having an episode.”
