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But I dutifully listen as Kor continues on about other matters that are more pressing, in his opinion. He’s already told me that my brother’s deaths had been staged as part of an elaborate plan by the patriarchs. He explained not only that our unique genetic makeup made us controllable by certain death witches, but also that I was purposefully left behind with the intention of being manipulated as an assassin. The patriarchs weren’t sure how far the control would go, so if I was going to be a proper insider vampire, it would be better to control me through blackmail or deception.
Not to mention, my death-touch power was one the patriarchs felt to be too dangerous to contend with, as was my penchant for disobeying authority.
But what interests me more is that the patriarchs knew of our powers before they had even manifested.
“What about Zyran’s power?” I ask.
Zyran leans forward in his chair. “What about it?”
Neither of them has yet shared their gifts, but I’ve already inferred them.
Kornelius absorbs death to the point that enough of it will suck him through the death plane to the site of a massacre. Based on the power I sense from him, he continues to draw in any form of death. Expelling it could potentially take other forms than just creating a personal portal. I imagine he might also act as a type of death bomb.
But he didn’t use his powers to kill five hundred people, as far as I’m aware. He used a device to accomplish that.
So who were the five hundred people he had killed andhowhad he killed them?
I haven’t yet uncovered that important tidbit, but I told him to start from the beginning—starting with the day I thought I’d killed them.
Even though I now know I hadn’t, a lingering sense of guilt still remains. My brothers had to grow up with only each other.
With their newly manifested powers.
Kor might have had an easier time managing his power, as long as there weren’t any massacres, but Zy had likely run into some trouble.
Zyran holds a simpler, yet possibly more fatal, power. He’d always had striking green eyes unlike any I’d ever seen before, even though they are now hidden behind his shades.
Which suggests his power is in his gaze, and given the fact that he still wears sunglasses inside confirms my suspicions.
I take another sip of my drink before replying. “I would imagine death by sight to be more powerful than death by touch. You don’t even have to get near the target to kill them.”
Zy raises a brow and Kornelius produces one of his rare smiles. “Ah, but it’s easier to hide,” Kornelius says. He’s clearly pleased that I’ve already figured them out.
He just gave me another bit of information I didn’t have before. “You’re not able to turn it off, then?” I ask, this time directly to Zyran. “I would have expected my brothers to have more control than that.”
Zy scoffs. “You can turn your power off, can you? Well, I suppose you’d have to be able to, or else you’d be killing everyone left and right just by walking down the street. I thought you might be wearing gloves or something.”
“I used to,” I admit as I lean into the leather chair. It molds around my body and cushions my spine. “But, over time, I learned to control it. I had to.”
That’s one of the main reasons I became a mercenary. It was much easier to keep to myself and practice my power on targets. Sometimes it was the sort of situation where I could shake someone’s hand and see if it killed them or not when I was first learning.
It took a few tries.
“Hear that, Zy?” Kor asks with a smirk. “You just need to practice.”
Zy huffs. “Want to be the test subject, brother?”
“Anytime,” he quips.
I listen as they banter and tease, slightly put off by their easy camaraderie.
They’re my brothers, but I’m disconnected from them after so many years.
It’s not fair.
“So, what about your power?” I ask Kornelius, changing the subject as I place my empty glass on an end table. “You killed all those people so that you could bring us here, right?”
Kornelius nods. “Yes. It’s a fail-safe Zy and I have been working on for years.”
