Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Guilt was an emotion Elena had worked hard to eliminate. When life stretched out before her like an endless ocean—unknowable in its vastness—it didn’t do to feel bad about things she couldn’t change. And yet, when she hobbled out of the closet using Zuri and Marisol as crutches, her chest heaved at the sight of the blue tarp smothering the light that made Zuri’s house her sanctuary.
Once seated at the kitchen table, Elena ran her thumb over one of Zuri’s mismatched mugs. An ugly little thing with a cartoon dragon smiling above the words: you’re roar-some .
Marisol had served her coffee in a gesture that was both sweet and peculiar. Surely, she’d guess Elena only drank blood and good booze.
“We need to figure out who the hell wants to kill you,” Zuri said, as if calling some kind of meeting to order.
“I have nearly three centuries’ worth of ex-lovers,” Elena replied with a smirk. “I’m happy to compile a list of suspects when my brain is no longer Swiss cheese.”
Sitting across the small round table from each other, Zuri and Marisol exchanged a glance. Eyes rolling in the same adorably irate way before turning back to Elena as if she’d missed how unamused they were by her joke.
Her smirk stretched into a genuine smile. The energy between Zuri and Marisol was already crackling. A heady mix of curiosity and burgeoning desire filled the air. Inhaling it greedily, Elena had to stop her fangs from getting away from her.
They were more alike than they knew. Strong women, possessive in the best way, loyal, protective, and an addictively fearless. Zuri wore her traits in the fire in her eyes and the sass on her smart mouth. Marisol’s traits were subtler, but no less present.
Elena was sure these women were going to be the most interesting handfuls. Cheeks flushed and her gaze lingering a beat too long on Zuri’s lips, Marisol’s pulse quickened against her long, sinful neck. The glance they exchanged had the opposite effect on Zuri, her energy softening even as her skin warmed.
She was going to enjoy them, Elena knew with unshakable certainty, and it would be nice if she wasn’t in agony when she did. “I’d love to help, baby, but shall I remind you again that I can’t?—”
“You remembered Zuri as soon as you saw her,” Marisol interrupted. “Maybe if she told you what she knows about you? It could bring stuff back?”
Zuri tipped her head to the side, dark fathomless eyes trained on Elena. When she apparently couldn’t see the harm in Marisol’s suggestion, she straightened.
“You have two blood daughters,” Zuri said. “Librada is keeping your throne warm, and Sofia is sharpening her knives. Your Sangre Eterna vampire cartel runs Florida, except for the St. Augustine enclave you gave your adopted daughter, Narine.”
She remembered nothing about giving away territory. It didn’t ring true in her bones, but she listened carefully to the rest. As Zuri talked, Elena filtered through the editorializing of facts as Zuri saw them. Eyes closed, she tried to form images in her mind.
Just the names Librada and Sofia conjured a sensation in her chest. Love, deep and true. It was like her muscles and bones remembered what her brain couldn’t. She trusted those names, even if she couldn’t picture more than a small blonde and a tall brunette.
“Take me to them,” Elena said, interrupting Zuri’s rundown of Elena’s business dealings.
“Righty and lefty?” Zuri leaned back, arms crossed over her chest saying fuck no before her words did. “Not a chance.”
“I trust them, Zuri. I’m sure that I do?—”
“Yeah, well. Maybe once we know who the fuck is trying to murder you, I’ll risk?—”
Anger flashed in Elena’s belly. “I’m not your prisoner. If I want to go?—”
Standing as if to show off her two good legs, Zuri moved like a lightning strike, palms splayed on the table. “What exactly do you think will happen if anyone sees you like this?” The vein in Zuri’s forehead pulsed, a living thing signaling her displeasure. “Have you also forgotten how vampires handle weakness? Weakness of any kind?” She made a fist and slammed it, mugs rattling. Fear—sour and pungent and heartrending—rippled off Zuri in choking waves.
If Elena had been on her feet, the force of the sonic blast would have sent her staggering backward. It was enough to diffuse her indignation at being told no like a child. To allow Zuri the moment of control.
“Maybe we could table vampire reunification for now,” Marisol suggested, eyes darting between Zuri and Elena like she was reaching for deescalation training. “I’ll make more coffee and Zuri can keep filling in the gaps in your memory. That works, right? Knowledge is power,” she added because she was physiologically incapable of not rambling when she was anxious.
Elena calmed her nervous system and waited for Zuri’s inferior one to catch up. It didn’t. Zuri was still dripping with fear.
Rushing around the kitchen, Marisol started rinsing the percolator she’d just used. “I’ve listened to at least a hundred true crime podcasts. What we need is a list of suspects.”
“Settle down, Nancy Drew,” Zuri barked, finally calming.
“Tell me more of my progeny.” Elena shifted away from the pain shooting up her leg and into her spine.
“Librada’s a stickler for protocol,” Zuri continued, her voice still tight. “She’ll have everything locked down while you’re away.”
Elena’s mind flashed with an image, clearer this time: a tall, severe woman with reddish-auburn eyes and a spine of steel. Librada. Her right hand, her strategist, her unwavering shield. Yes , Elena thought with relief. Librada will protect me .
“Sofia’s another story,” Zuri said, tone unreadable. “Incredibly fond of murder.”
A petite blonde with a deceptively innocent face and a taste for blood. Sofia. Her left hand, her enforcer, her weapon in the shadows. Sofia wouldn’t betray me , Elena thought, a fierce protectiveness rising within her. She’s loyal. She trusts me.
Months and years and decades passed in a flash. Librada and Sofia were her daughters. They were her ribs and blood and beating heart. “And the others?” Elena asked, fueled by the rush of images flipping through her mind in quick succession.
“I never spent too much time with them. They’re male,” she explained.
Male . The word made Elena’s stomach clench. She couldn’t imagine her progeny turning against her but the possibility gnawed at the edges of her mind.
In the past, vampires didn’t inherit their power without bloodshed. But they’d had a status quo for over a century. They were civilized. They understood the balance of power.
They wouldn’t dare , she thought, a cold certainty settling in her gut. They need me. They’re nothing without me.
Hours of talking had left Elena’s head feeling overstuffed, and her soul tired. Voice hoarse, Zuri announced she was going to check on the wards before sundown. Elena knew she was lying about the reason for leaving, but let it pass without comment.
“She straight up hates me,” Marisol joked, plopping down on the dining chair next to Elena.
“You know what they say about that thin line,” Elena replied, trying not to sound as worn out as she felt.
“Like hates me. And I thought we made some progress today. You know, the first time she reinforced the wards.” Marisol’s disappointment was an obvious attempt to lighten Elena’s mood. An endearing little tactic that nearly succeeded.
“Zuri’s heart is pure gold. It just happens to be wrapped in barbed wire. Cancers, you know?”
With a weary smile, Marisol stood. “Well, I’m a Gemini. What does that give me license to be?”
“Mercurial,” Elena replied, thinking about how the three of them had been born in a different summer month. How together they were water, air, and fire.
When Marisol had finished cleaning the kitchen for the third time and wandered out to the armchairs by the window with a book, Elena leaned back in her chair. She closed her eyes, sorting through the information Zuri had unlocked.
Other than Librada and Sofia, her progeny were a blur. She could see the lounge and office Zuri had described. She pushed herself to remember the moments Zuri had told her about before she’d been attacked.
A single, searing image flashed in her mind: Zuri, straddling her lap, her blood warm and sweet on Elena’s tongue.
That was the last thing she remembered. Drinking Zuri’s blood. Feeling the familiar rush of pleasure, the surge of power. And then... Nothing.
There was something in it , she thought, a sickening realization dawning. Something that clouded my mind, that stole my memories, that left me vulnerable .
Elena’s eyes snapped open. Her surroundings transformed from haven to prison. Zuri did this to me , she thought, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. She poisoned me and that’s why she doesn’t want me to leave .
But why? Zuri had no reason to betray her. Could she have made a deal with some other cartel? Agreed to take Elena out for a price? Zuri wanted something for her coven, Elena remembered, straining for the details. That didn’t make sense. If Zuri wanted something, all she ever had to do was ask Elena. There was nothing she’d deny her. And Zuri herself had said that no vampire was more powerful.
She was still searching for any reason for Zuri’s betrayal when it hit her. Zuri hadn’t wanted Elena to drink from Marisol. She’d insisted on offering her own blood, even though it meant reopening old wounds, both physical and emotional.
She wanted to give me another dose, Elena thought, a chill running down her spine before filling her with rage. Whatever she put in her blood, it’s still affecting me. It’s keeping me weak.
Looking around the kitchen, she spotted a sturdy broom. Sunset was close enough, she sensed it in her gut. And the broom would serve as a good enough crutch.