His voice was deep, a silver-tongued cadence that reminded me of the old world. “The answers you seek will not bring you comfort, vampyre. Do not continue to search for them.” He tilted his head to the side. “Your next warning will not be as kind.”
Rowena took my hand, gently pulling my focus to her. Her lips were drawn in a thin line, and I wanted to recoil at the pity there. The man was gone when I looked over her shoulder, and I was left with more questions than before.
I shook my head. “I know what I saw, Rowena. And it was Calia, it was?—”
“Rion, it wasn’t her,” Jasper said gently. He clasped my shoulder, yet I found no comfort in his presence. “I know what you think you saw—I saw it, too—but it wasn’ther.”
The frantic pounding of my heart was the only thing I could hear as I craned around the crowded atrium, searching for the woman who haunted my every waking moment. Rowena and Jasper watched me in silence. “I know what I saw,” I said through gritted teeth, loathing their knitted brows and sorrow-filled eyes. Not even the conviction in my gaze could convince them of the truth.
Was this what my future held? Or was I truly losing my mind? Grasping for purchase where there was none to be found?
Two armed guards approached slowly, their hands hovering over the weapons secured at their waists as they studied us. “I believe you’ve outstayed your welcome here, vampyre. It’s time to go.”
Sloane ran up, stepping in to diffuse the tension. “We’re on our way out. No need for an escort.”
Rowena flanked my other side, slowly inching me forward without saying a word as Sloane led the way toward the parking garage underneath the high-rise building. I stared ahead, watching the lights flicker and fade as the doors to the elevator closed us in.
I felt their side-long glances, the unspoken fears hanging heavy in the small space between us. They believed I had gone mad, and perhaps I had. Only time would tell.
But I knew what I had seen, and now I would stop at nothing to prove my wife was alive.
The ride homewas filled with silent tension and half-hearted conversation, the latter of which I did not partake in. Rowena, Jasper, and Sloane had attempted to pull me in from my reverie but had given up at my continued silence.
My mind was a swirling mess filled with shades of auburn. I could not shake the image of Calia—obsessing over each minute detail of the memory. Yet, my thoughts returned to the man each time I recalled the color of her hair amongst the crowd. I knew the man was a witch. His presence went unnoticed, either by his design or because he was a known member of the community. Any other creature would have drawn unwanted attention.
My focus was transfixed, and I attempted to discern reality from what seemed like a figment of my imagination. Hours later, I found myself struggling with the matter as I sat behind my broken desk, looking at the untouched wreckage scattered around my office.
Just as Calia’s room had remained unchanged, so had this space I had once so often occupied. I had not stepped foot inside since the night of her death. Now that I was here, I could only focus on the past.
Tonight, the blood moon cast its eerie glow, creating a sinister masterpiece of sanguineous crimson and shadow. The soft red hue had only grown more vibrant as the days passed, and upon the final day of the cycle, it would become wholly saturated like death upon the snow.
“I’d ask why you’re torturing yourself, but I think we both know the answer to that,” Jasper said, appearing in the doorway.He leaned against the frame, hands in his pockets, before nodding in my direction. “Though, I’m not used to a dry glass.”
I had brought a decanter of whiskey and a crystal tumbler to waste another night drowning my sorrows. Still, I had yet to bring myself to crack the seal. The time I spent wasting away was time better used for other ventures.
Since Ballard had no intention of assisting us, we would have to depend on Sloane for a tracking spell and hope her power was enough to find what we needed. Witches were more powerful within their covens, and even the most gifted individuals could struggle independently.
“You know, I’ve known you since we were children—carefree, running around the manor while causing chaos for everyone in our path. I considered myself privileged, even then, to consider you my best friend—my brother. And it wasn’t because of the money your parents had, or the fact your father treated me as if I was his own, but it was because throughout it all… You put me first,” he admitted softly, staring down at his feet. “You never made me feel beneath you despite my parents’ station. You defended me against your mother when she would say I was leading you down a path of destruction. Your friendship never came with stipulations or expectations. You just embraced me for the scraggly nobody I was.”
Others often gave Jasper a wide berth because of his parents circumstance. Prior to meeting my father, they were on the verge of homelessness. His mother struggled to find a job with the little education she had, and his father took up multiple jobs, working himself to the bone to keep food on the table.
Their meeting had been chance. My father had driven past them as they made their way on foot to the medical center in the pouring rain. He forced his driver to pull over upon seeing Jasper’s mother clutching her swollen belly, and offered them a ride without question. Once he was born, my father extended hiskindness further, ensuring Jasper’s father had a good-paying job to support his family and provide them shelter. He put Jasper through school, extending every luxury he offered to me to a boy who came from nothing.
My mother had never understood. She called my father weak, but he had told her that kindness was a sign of strength. Duty accompanied privilege.
“Why are you?—”
“Even after all your kindness, I stood by each time your mother would drag you down to the chambers the moment your father went away for business. I was such a coward for so long. I hated myself for it and hated myself even more when you came back without the scars, so your father wouldn’t know. I could see the damage done when you’d stare off into space with vacant eyes or flinch at the slightest movement. That was why I finally broke down and begged your father not to leave. I could hardly fucking recognize you anymore.”
I closed my eyes, forcing away the smell of old blood and vomit that filled my nostrils at the memory. Jasper and I had never spoken about my time in the chamber. Even though we both knew what happened in my father’s absence, this was the first time it had been voiced.
“I never knew you were the reason he came home early,” I said, clearing my throat.
He slowly met my gaze. “I don’t know if he believed me at first. I could see his hesitancy. I thought we’d failed you as he walked out those doors, but I realized quickly your father was a smarter man than any of us realized. If he hadn’t left, forcing you to endure one last punishment, then your mother would have never been caught.”
Jasper pushed off the wall and strode toward me, reaching for a chair that had been knocked over. He grabbed the decanter off my desk and poured us each a glass of amber liquid.
“I know we’ve never spoken about the state your father found you in, but I know what she did to you. You think you hide your scars, but I can see them. I have always seen you.”
