Marked By Masks and Secrets (Everlasting Possession #1)

2

EVIE

I sat in my favorite coffeeshop on Etherdale University’s campus, lost in thought as I waited for my brother, Idris. A sudden shrill laugh made me jolt.

I’d been extra jumpy lately, plagued by the unreasonable delusion that I was being followed and watched.

Earlier this morning, Mena had reminded me that this was to be expected. You say that every summer, doll, she’d said while we drank our coffee. It’s normal. And it’ll likely get worse the closer we get to… well, you know.

She’d called it a trauma anniversary. One of her professor friends had told her about it. She said pain gets stored in the body on the cellular level, reminding us of all the bad shit that has happened to us during the same time of year it occurred. I didn’t want to buy into all of that, or even think about it. Those painful experiences happened so many years ago, and I could hardly remember any of it anyway.

Life was good now. My childhood might as well have happened to a different person.

I’d changed the subject, expertly riling Mena up into a rant about the Donaldsons’ run down and crumbling estate. Her gold bracelets jingled beneath flowy turquoise sleeves as she waved her arms animatedly. It’s a damn shame! That property deserves custodians who will tend to her beauty. How could they let it deteriorate to that point? They need to drop their pride and ask for help. It’s a matter of historic preservation…

She soon forgot about the matter of my paranoid delusions entirely.

I tried my hardest to follow suit.

Etherdale’s sprawling university for mortals sat in the center of the city, boasting plentiful gardens, greenhouses, academic buildings, libraries, and even an observatory. It was the perfect place for ambitious mortals who reached for the stars.

Idris was one of them. Mena, our adoptive guardian, was a retired art history professor. I’d never seen her beam with brighter pride than when Idris announced he was beginning his studies last year. He was one of the youngest students in his architecture class. He’d turned eighteen only a few months ago.

“Hi, Evie,” Idris said with a wide grin, sporting a casual black shirt and slacks.

My gaze snagged on the abundance of dark fabric and frowned on impulse.

He cleared his throat as he slid into the chair across from me in my favorite coffeeshop on campus. Our table was up against a window, the perfect location for people watching and daydreaming. The lazy trickle of rain outside was quickly evolving into a downpour, students giggling as they quickly walked or jogged to shelter.

I shook the frown away and mirrored Idris’s smile. He was six years younger than me. I scanned his features, noting the slight puffiness and circles under his soft brown eyes.

“Having too much fun to sleep?” I asked.

Idris rolled his eyes, stealing my coffee and taking a generous swig. Then another.

“Hey!”

His smile was impish now. “You should be thanking me. I bet this is your third cup?”

My lips made a thin line.

“ Fourth? ” He shook his head. “Evie, that cannot be good for you.”

“Way to evade the question.”

He slid the mug back toward me. My third cup of the day, thank you. I was a reasonable half-witch.

“You worry too much,” he said. His eyes flashed, and he ran a hand through his short, dirty blond hair.

He was hiding something. Call it an elder sister’s intuition. Or perhaps a witch’s.

“Are you okay?” I asked, hating that I was playing into the character flaw he’d just accused me of.

Idris’s brows drew together, his features quick to offer reassurance. “I’m more than okay. I’m really happy here. Maybe the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

I could see that truth plainly—the way he was laid back in his chair, his arms spread wide. My heart unclenched, and I sighed in relief.

“Like you said, it’s probably the excitement of a new term keeping me up,” he said. “I’ll finally be able to join more of the clubs and organizations on campus, to shadow architects in the field, and to take classes outside of my specialty. You know, for fun.”

His grin was almost disarming enough to rid me of my lingering anxiety. But I snagged on his admission that something was keeping him up at night.

“You’re having nightmares again,” I said softly, reaching for his hand.

He tensed beneath my touch. “I guess. I don’t remember them. I wake up… panicked, that’s all. I’m sure they’re about being late for class or something.”

I knew he wanted me to drop it. And it would be hypocritical of me not to acquiesce. I retracted my hand and took another sip from the ceramic mug.

He was an adult now. He could take care of himself. I wanted to tell him that he could always come to me if he was struggling. That I’d always be there for him. But he already knew it, and I didn’t want to irritate him and drive him away.

“What kind of fun classes are you going to take?”

“Hey, Idris,” a human girl said with a wave, holding a pastry as she walked arm-in-arm with her female friend.

Idris was human too. Sometimes witches were born from human-witch parents, like me, and other times their children were born fully human.

He smiled at the girl and waved back. “See you tonight!”

The mischief in his eyes was slow to fade as he focused back on me. “Some friends.” He shrugged.

“Uh-huhhh,” I said with a smirk.

He feigned innocence, stealing another sip of my coffee. “Well, okay, this may not help the over-worrying issue, but…”

I braced myself.

“I’m taking some weapons and fighting classes,” he said. “You know, for self-defense.”

My fists clenched as my stomach dropped. “Why? Etherdale is under mortal control. It’s probably the safest city in Ravenia.”

My mouth went dry, imagining Idris in harm’s way. Something potent slithered around in my blood as memories threatened to surface, and I was quick to squash it down with the other ghosts.

“Etherdale might be safer than elsewhere, relatively speaking, but you know that argument is holding less weight with each passing day,” Idris said gently. “Besides, nowhere in the realm is truly under mortal control. This is only going to keep me safer, Evie. Please don’t be upset.”

I chewed on my bottom lip and stared down at the table.

Idris sighed. “More and more students are getting attacked, murdered, or going missing. Mostly humans.”

My fingernails dug into my palms.

“And our lords aren’t doing anything about it. If anything, they’re corrupt enough to be involved in the mortal slave trade themselves. The born have never liked Etherdale’s progressiveness, nor our resistance to vampire influence. Their tolerance is growing thin. Especially now that the Masked Order is growing.”

I shook my head. “ They’re the problem,” I hissed, earning a glare from a nearby student with a high ponytail and sharp green eyes. It was clear I was the minority opinion on a university campus. I met Idris’s frustrated gaze. “You can’t fight violence with violence. The Order has only made matters worse.”

Idris shook his head, and the condescension that oozed from his usually lighthearted features was a dagger to my heart.

“The Order is the future,” he said. “They didn’t start the violence. They rose up because of the unspeakable cruelty that had been steadily mounting, like all other turned clans. They are not the enemy. They are protectors. ”

The Order was a secret society of turned vampires—vampires that were once human—with demonic, shadowed powers. They were shrouded in mystery, only ever appearing to the public wearing inky black masks. They were unnatural, a blasphemy of Helia’s will. They preyed on idealistic human students in Etherdale, recruiting them to throw their lives away to fight in some futile underground war against the natural-born vampires.

A war they would never win.

The bitter truth was, the born vampires—descendants from the Dark Goddess, Lillian—would always rule the kingdom of Ravenia. They were immortal, their bodies reaching maturity in their mid-twenties, where they remained eternally youthful, cold, and soulless. The born lords ruled each region on behalf of King Earle and his council, and the wealth and power of the born elites was unchallengeable. The best we could do was avoid extremism, protect our own, and stick to mortal-dominant areas where we had safety in numbers. Witches, humans, and shifters protected each other, for the most part.

My stomach knotted, fighting against the past’s phantom limbs. I focused back on the present—the only thing I could control.

“If they’re such noble protectors, please do enlighten me on who the Order feeds from? They sustain themselves with mortal blood, do they not?” I hated the way my lip trembled, a flash of memory poking its jagged edge at my walls of denial.

“Willing volunteers,” Idris said firmly, never once hesitating. “There are plenty of them.”

I shut my eyes for a moment before opening them again.

“You’ve only been here a year, and you’ve already been radicalized with this nonsense,” I said. “I thought you were more intelligent than to think like everybody else.”

Idris’s lips turned down. “You need to face reality. Your sensitivity is childish. Better to fight than to blindly allow mortal brothers and sisters to be picked off one by one to be sold as livestock.”

The hairs on my neck stood straight up. His words cut deep, but my pain paled in comparison to the fear for my only living blood relative. The way Idris spoke… it was as though he more than admired the Order. It sounded like he wanted to join them.

“I love you, Idris. I’m happy you’re thriving here,” I bit out before taking my last sip of coffee and grabbing my bag.

“You can’t run forever,” he said, so quiet I almost didn’t hear him as I pushed out the door.

Useless tears pooled in my eyes, covered by the pouring rain. I beelined for a campus building I knew would bring me comfort, somewhere I could get lost in for a while.

I was so blinded by my spinning thoughts and the bleeding, dark sky that I slammed right into a tall, firm body the moment I entered the library.