“That’s what I said when I first saw them.” Laurel chuckles. But then her face turns grim. “I can’t say for certain how she was able to hide them from us for solong . . . but there’s records of methods the Watchers used back in the early days of their reign. The most medieval tactics to conceal features of those touched by the Arcane.”
“Such as?” I ask, when she fails to continue.
She sighs, letting Evangeline’s lip slip back into place. “Such as filing down fangs till they mirror a mortal’s canines.”
My toes curl, a mind-numbing sensation rippling through my body. “How often would she have had to undergo something like that?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I can stomach the answer.
“Judging by how long it took hers to make an appearance since she’s been away from Raziel? I’d say at least weekly. It’s likely there were earlier signs that we missed, too, since we weren’t looking for them. But her body is fragile right now, probably from how hard it’s been fighting the Arcane inside her. You could turn her fully, you know. If you offer her a blood—”
“No,” I interrupt. I’d already had the same thought, how a bloodbond might override whatever inside her is still fighting to suppress the Arcane. But I won’t do it. I can’t.
“Well we have to figure out something—or a simple hip dislocation will be the least of our worries.”
“Hip dislocation?” I cock my head to the side, trying to understand her meaning.
“That’s what I treated her for when Quinn brought her to my shop in the Market Ebon earlier tonight. Did he not tell you?”
“No.” I purse my lips together, hating the bitter taste of betrayal on my tongue. “He definitely did not.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I told her. As a Watcher she should be stronger than she is, and definitely less destructible. Whatever they were doing to her was poisoning her. The Arcane having lived this long inside of her without being accepted, I fear—”
Laurel trails off, chewing on her bottom lip as she watches the steady rise and fall of Evangeline’s chest.
“You fearwhat?”
“I fear what the Arcane will mutate into if she continues to suppress it. There’s rumors, you know.” She gives me a sidelong glance before continuing. “Theories about creatures like the ghouls. What they really are.”
“Those are nothing more than old wive's tales,” I say, brushing her off. But I see the fear in her eyes and I feel it echo through me.
A knock at the door interrupts our conversation before Laurel can respond and I turn to find Andras filling the doorframe. “Mind if I come in.” It’s not a question, and he reiterates as such by entering before I can even reply. “I’ve come to see our dear, sweet guest. Seems as if she’s fallen under an ill fate?”
He stops at the foot of her bed, laying a hand on the bed post and tapping his fingers idly. Laurel gathers her things and stands from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave her in your care.” Her head nods my direction and my skin pricks with nerves at the sudden responsibility.
“What if she needs you?” But Laurel waves me off. “Like I said, she’s been stable, and Sterling should be back soon. He just stepped out to feed.” She skirts past me, squeezing my arm in reassurance as she goes. “You’ll be fine. Give yourself more credit.”
But I couldn’t disagree more. Frankly, I’m trusting myself more than I should just by being here right now, with the way my hunger is making my body ache. With the way it’s taking all my willpower to not lunge at Evangeline and tear into the blood I can hear beating beneath her skin. Still, Laurel winks at me and continues on, making her way to the door.
Andras reaches out and grabs her hand just as she passes him. He pulls her in for a long, controlling kiss before letting her go. “Visit me later, my love,” he commands. She nods, deflecting her gaze as she turns and exits the room. Sometimes, I feel for Laurel. In many ways we are so similar. Two outcasts with no home to call our own, taken in under Andras’ wing—puppets for him to control.
Where I fill the role of son, she fills the role of lover. And despite the years of existing side by side, in similarcircumstances, I still cannot puzzle out if it is a role she fills willingly or not.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Andras once Laurel closes the door.
“This is my territory, is it not? My clubhouse? I was unaware I needed your permission to visit my guests.” There’s a smug look on his face as he turns to face me, arms folded across his chest.
“That’s not what I meant,” I start to argue, but think better of it. “Is there something you require, Father?”
He smirks, the smallest hint of a laugh on his tongue. “You had quite the night, from what I hear. Four opponents, one ending in death, even?” He quirks a brow my way.
“I thought you’d be thrilled at a successful night.” I grimace as I shift against the desk, the pain in my side from the broken rib igniting.
“Usually, yes, I’d be elated. But I thought I made myself clear thatshewas your sole focus, for the time being. Only, I find out on the same night that she’s fallen unconscious in my clubhouse that you’re in the rings concerning yourself with flagrant victories and high earnings rather than taking care of her. Where you’re meant to be.”
“So you’re demoting me now? First you sequester me to the rings, and now even that is too much? I’ve been put on babysitting duty?” I snarl, losing all regard to tone as I challenge him.
“You fail to realize how important this is, Aamon.” The bite in his words mimics my own as he leans in towards me. “You see this as a demotion, but I see it as an opportunity.”
I watch him for a moment, blinking. “You knew, didn’t you?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
