She sits up. Sees my face. “What happened?”
“I spotted Damien on the beach and confronted him,” I say. “I learned some things.”
“Bad things?”
“Worse than I thought.” I cross to the bed. Take her hand. “He killed Margaret. He drove Corinne to her death. Anya. All of them. For a hundred and fifty years, he’s been destroying everyone I let myself love.”
Her grip tightens on mine. “Why?”
“Because I turned him. I made him what he is. And then I chose to save someone I loved when his love was dying.” I close my eyes. “He’s my progeny, Poppy. I created the monster who’s hunting you.”
She goes silent. I wait for the horror. The realization that she’s bound herself to someone whose choices created this.
“You didn’t make him do those things,” she says. “He chose to become this. That’s not your fault.”
“I chose Margaret over Katya. That’s—”
“That’s an impossible choice no one should have to make.” She cups my face. Makes me look at her. “You saved someone you loved. He turned that into a hundred and fifty years of murder. Those are different things.”
“Poppy—”
“Whatever you’re planning,” she says, “I want to help. I told you last night—I’m not the person you protect. I’m your partner.”
I pull her close. Hold her.
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you, too.” Then she pulls back. “Now tell me everything.”
So I do.
I tell her about Matthew and the Council. About Celeste’s dossier. About Sofia and her grudge. I tell her about the bond between sire and progeny, and what killing Damien might cost me.
She listens. Asks questions. Takes notes in her phone like she’s planning a content calendar instead of a vampire confrontation.
By the time I’m done, the sun is up and we have a plan.
Two days until the wedding.
Two days until Damien makes his move.
Two days to end a hundred and fifty years of grief.
My phone buzzes. An email from an unknown sender. One line:
The girl is lovely when she sleeps. I hope you said goodbye.
I delete it.
Then I go back to the woman I love and the war I created.
CHAPTER 21
POPPY
Iwake up to sixteen text messages from Sage and the realization that my life has become a supernatural soap opera.
The messages started at 2:17 AM her time, which means she was lying awake thinking about my problems instead of her own. Classic Sage.
