Page 11 of Blood & Bedlam

“You know the story of my origins, and how we came to be of the Blood. A ritual I chose, and I would choose again, because it allowed me to save you all.” My mouth goes dry as they stare at me, expectantly.

“Yes, we know this. The girl, Papa,” Fleur urges, stripping off her tie and fitted pinstripe suit jacket.

“What you don’t know is that I was married, prior to my turning. And it was her death that spurred me to action against my enemies. I put away my humanity and asked the Fates to give me the ability to destroy those who would move against me, and through a ritual, my request was granted. She’s not a girl, ami. Somehow, the woman up there is my wife—Mina.”

They stare at me in various states of shock and confusion, yet half of my attention is still upstairs, counting her steadily increasing heartbeats. At once the girls erupt, their rapid-fire succession of questions forcing my sole focus back to my daughters, and I can only trust that Juliette has Mina well in hand, or I might lose what’s left of my sanity.

“Your wife that died …?” Cami enunciates each word slowly, giving them back to me in real time.

“Yes.”

“The very human girl upstairs having a breakdown from a butchered thrall is your wife? From Transylvania,” Fleur clarifies.

I nod. “Correct.”

“How would that even be possible?” Claire shakes her head, the curls bouncing around her in a ring of fire as she pulls out the pins keeping it up.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how, but there’s a birthmark on her shoulder. She recognized me, before she fainted at the gala.”

“It could just be genetics. You’ve lived long enough to know they can repeat. The right combinations can lead to doppelgänger results,” Claire justifies, but it’s Fleur who steps up.

“This woman shows up with the Italian First Bloods, in thrall, and just happens to be the reincarnation of your long dead wife?” I flinch at her words, but she continues. “You nearly started a war on our soil over her—am I the only one who finds this suspect?”

“It could be a glamor. We need to consult the covens, get their take on this—” Cami begins, but I cut her off.

“No. No witches.” The words come out stern, a command I’ve rarely used with my girls. Cami’s eyebrows shoot high at the outburst. I force myself to breathe in, to center myself against the raging inferno clawing through my veins to get back to Mina.

“Until we know more, we need to keep her identity redacted.”

“There will be a tribunal—you know that, don’t you?” Fleur asks, and we smell it then, a bolt of something sweet, an aphrodisiac to the predators that live just beneath our skin.

Fear.

Juliette’s voice carries through the bloodlink, catching our minds over Mina’s cries.

“Fleur, please come quickly. The adrenaline is flooding her system—all that panic she wasn’t able to feel is pouring out of her. I can’t steady her. Come!” she says in rapid French, and in an instant, I move, blur out of sight as I rush to the door at lightning speed. “Keep Papa there,” Juliette orders. Fleur is already halfway out when Cami and Claire slip past me, blocking the doorway.

“Move,” I growl, but they stand their ground, hands up. My breathing is erratic, years of practiced habit warring with the instinct to attack. Cami lifts her hands slowly, careful not to touch me as a protective need that rivals even what I’ve felt for them crashes over me, beating against my skull.

Protect. Protect. Protect.

“Listen to Juliette. You trust her with Mina. You left her up there for a reason.” Cami’s words are low and slow, but red taints the edges of my vision as the room sharpens. I drop back on my foot, preparing to strike.

“Papa?”

Claire’s voice trembles, appalled, and it’s only then that I see the reflection of myself in her glassy eyes, smell the fear coming from her.

Fear of me.

It’s bitter and acrid on my tongue, and we stand there as I force the rage back down into its cage, hot shame choking me. The look on her face is a condemnation of the highest order, because I’ve seen that fear in her eyes on the deck of a ship in the Gulf of Mexico, but never since. I spent hundreds of years building their trust, teaching them to harness their Dark Gifts, and in one moment, I’ve eviscerated it.

“I’m s-sorry,” I croak, just as the frantic heartbeat in my bed chamber settles. Claire and Cami exchange worried looks. I drop down, making myself as small as possible to them. “I would never hurt you,” I whisper. “I just … I can’t lose her again. I can’t.” I feel the sob wrack up through my chest as long-buried grief, real and visceral as the day I found her body broken and bent on the steps of our castle, overwhelms me.

Fleur returns with Juliette in tow, cautiously pushing through the doorway, eyeing me on the ground as they pass.

“The fuck is happening here?” Fleur demands, going rigid.

“I lost control.”