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Last night, we watched the estate’s security footage and caught Benjamin spilling three fuel cans inside the stables. It was surreal seeing him load his gun and then call me, finally confessing that he was behind this entire nightmare.
“Why didn’t you choose Benjamin as the heir?”
Yves gazed into the mist before us, running his fingers through his silvering beard. “Ben never possessed the qualities needed to be the next seigneur. No matter how hard I trained him, he was still too soft. When he was seven, I showed him a gun and he burst into tears. When he was eight, I asked him if he’d like to go to the shooting range with me and he said he’d rather stay home and take care of his pet fish. When he turned nine, he stated that he wanted to be a veterinarian.” Yves barked a short, hollow laugh. “As the years flew by, I got less worried because he began to display an interest in the family business. I had no doubt he’d excel as acapitaine…but I knew in my heart that Benjamin was not capable of taking over my legacy.”
“And then I came along.”
“Monbourreau préféré, you came along and everything fell into place. Even so young, you possessed strength and wisdom far beyond your years. Your rough upbringing made you a fighter and a survivor. I knew I could help you home your skills and give you the power you craved, Zed. You had the instincts and traits needed to become the next Seigneur De la Croix. Therefore, you were my chosen one.”
I remembered when Yves took me to the first meeting with the council when I was thirteen. How distraught Jacques, Michel, and all the other De la Croixes were at my initiation. I was adopted and did not carry their blood. It wasn’t until Yves made me pick up a gun, shoot a traitor, and carve a cross into his chest that the council saw my potential. They asked me to skin a dead man and while it took me some time, everyone was impressed by how unflinchingly I’d executed the task.
After my first kill, I felt almighty and accepted that monstrous part of my nature.
There was something freeing in finally letting go of your inhibitions and coming to terms with your true self. A euphoric high I would only experience again two decades later when I first entered my wife and made love to her on our wedding night.
“Zeno, we both know that family is not defined by blood.” Yves grabbed my face in his hands and forced me to stare at him. “Your beginning does not matter to me; the way you treat, respect, and take care of this family does. I do not regret my decision of making you the next seigneur. You are my son in every way that matters and you are my heir.”
I needed to hear that. I bowed my head in a respectful manner. “Thank you,papa.”
He patted my face gently. “We cannot change the past. We can only hope for the best and move forward.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Céline and Éva stepped out of the crypt and eyed us with curiosity. “What comes next?”
“Now you will prepare for your formal initiation in one week.” He grabbed my hand. “We must go to France and crown you as the seigneur in front of the council.”
My jaw clenched.
I knew what kind of initiation that meant.
Either I would walk away alive.
Or die in the snake pit.
Three days had passed since Darla was discharged from the hospital and I missed my wife like a prisoner missed his last proper meal.
She wanted space and I was doing my best to respect those boundaries.
On the third night, sitting on my throne by the fireplace in our bedroom, I caved in and dialed her number. Dacia had promised to provide me daily updates, yet it wasn’t enough.
Darla waited three rings before picking up. The second her soft voice filled my ears, I relaxed in my seat and closed my eyes. My craving barely satisfied.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” I said stupidly. Or maybe it was the alcohol talking.
There was a pause. “Yes, I have this thing called caller ID.”
“How…how are you?” Hunger dripped from my tone, mixed with a hearty dose of yearning.
“Are you drunk?”
I took a swig of my whiskey. “No.”
She sighed and I imagined her biting her lip the way she did when contemplating her next words. “I’m doing okay. Just very tired. My wound is still tender, but the doctor said it’ll take a few weeks before it’s fully recovered. For now, I have a substitute filling in as principal. Since school is out soon, the timing works.”
Yeah, like there was a good time for getting shot. I had the urge to dig up Benjamin’s body from the crypt and shoot it all over again. “Are you eating your meals?”
“Yes, sir.” She meant to say it playfully. It came out dry, no doubt from the discomfort she was experiencing. “Alberto bakes me desserts every day, Dacia practically force feeds them to me, and Mother is on my case about my painkillers every few hours.”
