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EDMOND
Idon’t know what sort of response I expected from Casey—she’s not a predictable woman; it’s one of the things I adore about her—but it isn’t a sigh and a nod.
“You knew? You knew she was here?” I blurt out, heat rising in my chest again. “How long have you known? Wait, hold that thought.” I point a finger back at Laura, “Now, bear. Fetch the hair. Don’t defy me today, I’m in a foul mood. People under my protection willfully putting themselves in danger is testing my patience to the breaking point.”
Laura groans and waddles away down the long main aisle, darting right a few stacks past a sign that reads “Fanciful Fairy Tales—Not the Murder-y Kind” that I’m pretty sure is Annie’s doing. Ever since she and Baron found each other and started their family, she’s been more lighthearted in her librarian duties.
But now isn’t the time to appreciate lighthearted things.
Now is the time to impress upon my stubborn fiancée the importance of doing as I say so that I can keep her safe from things she doesn’t understand.
I spin back to Casey.
“Relax,” she says, taking a step back and lifting her hands at her sides. “Blaire and I saw a strange pink boat in the marina this morning. We went to investigate but Herbish Glowful stopped us before we could get too close. She said she was positive Priscilla was on board. Said she could smell her.”
I curse as I begin to pace the stones between Casey and the stairs. “Then she’s contained. For now.” I pace faster. “That should give us time to get back to the estate, make the charms, and find a place for you, Annie, and Blaire to hide.”
A humorless laugh bursts from Casey’s lips. “Hide? I’m not hiding from this woman.”
“She’s not a woman, she’s a god,” I say, lifting clawed hands into the air. “Or she might as well be. She has power over us, Casey, all of us, even Darcy, Colin, and Baron. If she feels disrespected, she won’t hesitate to use that power to hurt the ones we love.”
Laura roars from what sounds like half a mile away and I shout back, “Yes, I realize that, Laura. Quit eavesdropping and fetch what I asked for.”
“What did she say?” Casey asks.
I circle a dismissive arm. “Nothing important.”
“It sounded important,” she says, her stubborn expression tightening her features. “She shouted it for Goddess’ sakes.”
I point a finger at her face. “No, not today. I usually enjoy your stubbornness, but not today. We don’t have time for questions or debate.”
“Then you’d better make time,” she says, rolling her shoulders back and lifting her chin. “I’m done cowering in a corner while bullies call the shots. From now on, I will stand up for myself and face conflict head-on, even when it’s dangerous.”
“It’s rumored she killed Colin’s fiancée,” I say flatly. “That’s what Laura was saying. There’s no proof and she vehemently denied it, but Elyria was found ripped limb from limb and that’s something Priscilla has enjoyed in the past.”
Casey’s eyes widen. “Ripping people limb from limb? Like, as a hobby? And you guys still call this person family?”
“It was a very long time ago,” I say, but Casey’s snort makes it clear what she thinks of that excuse. “You don’t understand,” I add, “this isn’t like a human family system. Priscilla is our maker, not our mother. Her blood literally flows through our veins, and she can call on it to do her bidding. The longer we walk the earth, the harder it becomes to bend us to her will, but even three hundred-year-old vampires can be lulled into a rest so deep, they won’t awaken until their maker allows it. And a sleeping man can’t protect anyone, not even himself.”
“Then we’ll make sure you have a guard with you at all times and Blaire, Annie, and I will defend ourselves,” she says, proving she has no clue what tricks an ancient vampire can have up her sleeve. “Or Blaire and I will defend ourselves and Annie. Annie’s more a reader than a fighter.”
“You don’t understand,” I snap, fear for her making my voice sharper than I intend.
“Then help me understand,” she snaps back. “Because right now I’m not seeing why Priscilla is different than any other vampire who’s decided not to follow the rules. Yes, I might need to be on my guard, but if she steps over the line, she’ll end up like Janet and Sultan and the other Blackmores who fucked around and found out. I just have to survive long enough for her to get caught or take care of her myself, and that’s something I already worry about every day. I almost always have a stake in my purse. I don’t care how many times Blaire assures me that the Blackmores haven’t killed a human in centuries, I’m not used to being relaxed around people who think of me as food first and friend second.”
My lips part on a response, but deep down I know there’s only one way to prove to Casey how much danger she’s in.
Unfortunately, it involves letting her in on a secret I’ve kept from everyone—even my brothers and best friends.
For nearly one hundred years, I’ve chosen to be the subject of pity, the only Blackmore vampire without supernatural powers aside from the ability to communicate with animals. And no one is afraid of the guy who gossips with the cat. I can’t fly or shapeshift or poof other people into mist form or crush boulders with my fists. I can’t even run really fast to get away from the vampires who can do all of the above.
I’m the kind of “poorly performing” vampire many European vampires would like to glean from our ranks. One of them even went as far as to send an assassin to ambush me on my way back to my room in Paris a few years ago.
I dealt with the man the way my maker taught me to, using a power that, as far as I can tell, only Priscilla and I possess.
A power that, until now, I’ve only used on people I intend to leave broken beyond repair…
But I don’t have to break, Casey. I can give her a taste of what it’s like to be held in thrall by a monster without becoming one myself. I know that, but my stomach still lurches as I lift my hand and drop the barrier behind my eyes. “Submit to me,” I murmur, the lurch becoming a wave of nausea as her face goes slack and her arms fall to her sides.
