Chapter 15 Rosemary #2
Daniel’s brothers left to get the Vampire while we all shuffled outside to the back patio.
I shouldn’t have been impressed by the manicured lawn and perfectly placed trees and shrubs, considering the inside of the house, but I was.
The property I’d grown up on was so different from Daniel’s family estate.
It would take ten landscapers and a year to make it look anything near what Daniel’s parents had going on.
Shit, they’d probably have to bulldoze it all and start from scratch.
I turned to look as Dalton helped my dad navigate down the stairs from the house to the cement patio, and a rock settled in my belly. He couldn’t get out of his chair.
“You need to sit down,” Daniel said, leaning close to my ear.
“I’ll meet him on my feet,” I countered, shifting my weight a little so my good leg took most of it.
“Stubborn.”
“Your family is rich,” I muttered, changing the subject. “I mean, I had an idea when I saw the front, but it was dark. This is… whoa.” I gestured toward the lawn.
“So is your pop,” Daniel replied with a small laugh.
“We’ve never had to worry about money, but this is another level.”
“Does it matter?” he asked curiously.
“Hell no,” I said, leaning against his side. “I’m going to get pedicures once a week.”
“That’s the spirit.” He kissed my jaw just as Beau and Chance half-carried and half-dragged the Vampire we were waiting for into view.
He cursed when he lifted his head and saw the commandant.
“Arthur, arrest them all,” he blustered. “They took Keihley and Morren’s heads. It is a direct attack on the Vampire Federation, article 254, section—”
“Stuff it, Edgar.” Arthur spat.
He literally spat in disgust.
I had to hold back a highly inappropriate giggle.
Edgar Adamson’s face turned red as a beet as Beau and Chance dropped him hard into a lawn chair.
“Start at the beginning,” Erik ordered quietly. “Leave nothing out.”
“I don’t know what they’ve been saying, but—”
“Can I just end this now?” Chance asked, nonchalantly unwrapping a piece of gum. “If he’s not going to tell the truth, I’d rather go back to my room and watch some porn until I pass out.” He lifted his head and glanced around at us. “It’s been a long couple of days.”
Daniel lifted his hand to his mouth, covering it while pretending to scratch his cheek, but I could see the smile he was hiding.
“I have nothing to say, and you cannot hold me,” Adamson said bravely, lifting his chin. “I am a general in the United States Vampire Command. I’m afforded a court-martial judged by my peers.”
“Get a load of this guy,” Chance said with a laugh. He reached out and ruffled Adamson’s hair, making the Vampire practically vibrate with rage.
“You’ll tell us everything,” Uncle Dalton said calmly. “And if you do so, I’ll give you a clean death.”
Adamson huffed.
“If you do not,” Uncle Dalton continued. “I’ll get the information anyway, and it will be far less pleasant for you, but I will have a very good time.”
His tone never changed. His expression never faltered. That’s what made the words so incredibly chilling.
“Arthur,” Adamson said, looking away from my uncle. “I’m afforded—”
“You’re afforded nothing,” the commandant replied flatly. “Vampires who turn on their own are put down like dogs. Stop stalling, Edgar. You’ll give us the information we need whether you tell us willingly or not.”
“It was supposed to be only a few newly mated couples,” Adamson said angrily. “Ten at the most.”
I shuddered at the irritation in his voice. There was no remorse.
“But the humans didn’t find what they needed, so we had to keep providing them with more names.”
“What exactly did they need?” Ambrose asked.
“They’re trying to replicate the change in DNA when mates become immortal,” Adamson replied. “Or something along those lines. I didn’t take notes. I’m not a scientist.”
My stomach roiled with nausea.
“Who is financing these experiments?” Arthur asked, his fingers gripping the back of a chair so tightly his knuckles were white.
“Francois Baudelaire,” Adamson answered. “He’s the only human on the planet who could afford it.”
“Zeke was right,” Daniel whispered under his breath.
“He was the reason Ezekiel was killed,” Adamson told Ambrose.
I wasn’t sure why he thought he could get a sympathetic or understanding reaction, but he continued speaking even as Ambrose’s posture changed.
“Your brother was asking questions in places that he shouldn’t have been.
When he got too close, Baudelaire ordered it. ”
Daniel’s body swayed beside me, but when I looked at his face, his eyes were still clear and focused.
“We didn’t even know he had a mate,” Adamson said quickly as Ambrose jerked toward him.
Erik stopped his eldest son with a quiet word in his ear.
Beside me, Daniel’s breathing had become irregular, and the hand on my lower back had begun to tremble.
“I think I need to go lie down,” I whispered, leaning further into his side. “Will you bring me?”
“Go,” Erik ordered, looking at us across the patio. “Take care of your mate.”
I wrapped my good arm around Daniel’s neck as he lifted me into his arms, and I didn’t have a single qualm about getting him out of there before he had to hear any more about the reasons they’d targeted his baby brother.
I had a feeling that there were few ways I’d ever save Daniel the way he’d saved me—especially with what I would forever think of as his superpower—but I could save him from hearing details about the worst thing that had ever happened to their family.
We would get all the information we were looking for secondhand, and there was nothing wrong with that.
“Could you take me to see Seamus?” I asked as we entered the house.
“I thought you wanted to go back to bed,” he replied, carrying me toward the hospital room.
“I’ll sleep better after I’ve seen him.”
“I was okay, you know,” he said, pausing. “I can control myself.”
“Of course you can.” I kissed his neck softly. “But there’s no point in us giving that twisted piece of garbage more of an audience than he already has.”
His arms tightened, and he turned his head so our lips met.
“I love you,” he said against my mouth.
“Same.”
When we entered the room, I was surprised to see Daniel’s mom sitting in a chair next to Aunt Halle. Both of their heads swung toward the door as we walked through it.
Seamus was awake.
“My best dude,” I called, my breath hitching.
“Hey, Flower,” he greeted with a weak smile. “How are you feeling?”
I shifted so Daniel would let me down and then lurched over to his bedside, trying not to cry. “Me? I’m frigging immortal. How are you feeling?”
“Like I got shot in the guts,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Mom said you got hit like three times.”
“Yep.” I reached for his hand and wrapped my fingers around it.
At some point, his had grown bigger than mine, but it still felt like the little kid’s that I’d tugged behind me, urging him to keep up with whatever we were doing.
“Face—I’m going to look like a badass with this scar. Hip and shoulder.”
“I remember the face one,” he said carefully, his eyes glassy. “It looked bad.”
“Nah,” I assured him. “No big deal. I mean, hopefully I’ll be able to talk normally once all this shit is healed.”
“You sound kind of drunk,” he replied. “But I can still understand you fine.”
“Oh, good.” Reaching out, I smoothed his unruly hair back from his face. “Once you’re better, you need a haircut.”
“What? I thought you liked long hair on dudes,” he joked, glancing at Daniel.
“I hate to break it to you, buddy, but if you grow your hair out any longer, it’s not going to look like Danny’s. You’ll have ringlets.”
“I could rock some ringlets,” Seamus said stubbornly, leaning his head tiredly back against the pillow.
“I’ve seen you with ringlets, bro,” Grant called from his spot next to Thunder on the floor. “Not a good look.”
“He was so cute,” Aunt Halle argued. “With his little mullet.”
“That’s an idea,” I teased. “Just let the back grow.”
“Yeah, right,” Seamus replied, grinning. His expression fell after a moment. “You’re really okay?”
“I’m really okay,” I confirmed quietly. “You really okay?”
“It hurts,” he confessed. “But, yeah. I’m really okay.”
“I’m so fucking glad,” I whispered with a huff.
His hand tightened on mine. “Me too.”
I held his hand for a while longer, even as his eyes started to droop and he fell back to sleep. Aunt Halle and Daniel’s mom were talking about random shit I wasn’t interested enough in to pay attention. Grant and Ian were both on their phones.
I just stared at Seamus.
I could remember every stage of his life since the day he was born.
With Ian and Grant, I’d been too young, but by the time Seamus came along, I’d been old enough to retain it all.
The fuzzy black hair that had fallen out in patches, his little chapped lips, the way his fingers had wrapped around my thumb, and I’d sat next to him for hours while he was asleep, fascinated by all the little movements and sounds he made.
I could still see him nursing at Aunt Halle’s breast, kicking his legs in the bath, his head bobbing awkwardly when he was learning how to crawl, the first time he’d walked across the room.
The first few years, when he called me Flowah because he couldn’t say his r’s.
The lost teeth. The scraped knees. The whining and the giggles and the pouting and the arguments he’d had with his brothers.
He was my baby.
I didn’t realize I was crying until familiar arms wrapped gently around me and the scent of my aunt’s perfume filled my nose.
“He’s going to be fine,” she whispered into my hair. “Both of you are going to be fine.”
“He almost wasn’t,” I choked out.
“But he is,” she replied. “Because of you.”
“No, I—”
“Rosemary Halle, don’t finish that sentence,” she warned, her lips still pressed to my head. “You did everything right. You kept him safer than I could’ve. As safe as Dalton if he’d been there.”