Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
You are not going to lose your mind . Elena flung another shitty knife at the target across the room. By Zuri’s account, she’d been away from her life for barely a week. That was nothing. An inconsequential amount of time.
And her progeny were probably looking for her. Sofia and Librada. Despite Zuri’s obvious opinion to the contrary, she could trust them. If they weren’t hidden behind Zuri’s wards… and if she’d always kept this sanctuary her secret… she was sure they’d already have come for her.
She flung another knife. At least her aim was improving, she thought bitterly. Rage was bubbling under her skin, threatening to set her on fire. She’d never needed anything but her fangs in her second life. Never needed to hone any other skill than her bite.
But there she was, practicing how to defend Zuri and Marisol from attack with cheap stainless steel. What was she if she wasn’t her unquestionable power? If she wasn’t fierce and terrifying, capable of eviscerating anyone who even looked at who was hers?
She reached for another knife before finding she’d gone through them all. Again.
Closing her eyes, she rested her head on the pillow that smelled like Zuri and made her chest ache. Jaw tight, she let out a primal scream inside her mind.
“Elena!”
The sound of Marisol’s frantic scream, dripping with heart-stopping fear, sent Elena scrambling. Icy terror clenched Elena’s chest while she looked for anything that could help her get to her feet.
She was bracing herself against one of the bed posts, throwing all her weight to her right side and dragging herself toward the wound of Marisol’s voice when she stopped short.
Wings transparent and spread out so far behind Marisol, Elena might have been relieved that she was running into the room to fix her. But then Elena’s nostrils were flooded with Marisol’s fear.
“I can’t wake her up.” Marisol’s eyes were so wide and broadcasting the full scale panic in her body.
“Take me to her,” Elena demanded after scanning Marisol for signs of injury and allowing a moment of relief when she didn’t find any. “Where is she?—”
Marisol’s hand on her arm was a jolt of pure energy. It wasn’t like the subtle warmth of her touch before. This was a tidal wave, raw and untamed, surging through Elena’s body. She gasped, her muscles spasming and dropping her to her knees, her senses overloaded.
“Elena, what’s wrong? What did I do?” Marisol cried.
Unable to respond, the pain in Elena’s hip, a constant throbbing ache, flared with searing intensity before receding and leaving behind a tingling numbness. She couldn’t breathe until the nothingness was replaced by a flood of heat, a sense of wholeness she hadn’t experienced since before the attack.
Her legs, heavy and unresponsive for days, pulsed with life. Getting to her feet, she took a step, then another. There was still a deficit on her left side, but a limp was nothing like the pain and paralysis that had nearly consumed her.
“Where is she?” Elena roared again, fangs extended and ready to punish whoever had invaded her home.
“Greenhouse,” Marisol managed.
As fast as she’d ever moved, Elena blew the back door off the hinges while she outran her bone-deep panic that something had happened to Zuri.
The sun, half-hidden behind a cloud, was molten lava being poured over her skin. Even as it drained the power she’d only just gotten back, Elena forced herself to move faster. To run until she broke apart. To keep going despite stumbling in mud that she couldn’t stop to cover herself in—an old trick that didn’t work nearly as well as modern methods.
In the greenhouse, Zuri was unconscious but alive. Dropping to her knees and grateful that the shade was allowing her skin to regenerate, Elena focused on the rhythm of Zuri’s pulse. It was slower than usual but normal. She was in a profound sleep, she realized with dizzying relief.
When Marisol ran in a few seconds later, she was panting, face red and expression stricken. Her wings were as prominent as they’d been moments earlier, moving through the doorway and glass like they weren’t there. She kneeled next to Zuri and took her hand.
Expecting Zuri’s eyes to spring open at Marisol’s touch, Elena didn’t let herself be shattered when nothing happened.
“I’ve been trying to wake her up,” she said mid-sob, one transparent wing covering Zuri’s body with incredible tenderness. “She was in my memories and then I don’t know what happened. I shouldn’t have let her?—”
“She overtaxed herself,” Elena explained with so much relief she wanted to lie down on the dirty floor right along with Zuri. To hold both of them in her arms and tell them that they wouldn’t have to worry again. That she’d end any threat that came near them. “She just needs to rest. Let’s get her inside.”
“The sun,” Marisol objected, obviously unsure that Zuri would be okay, but stretching her concern to Elena.
“I’ll be fine,” she promised.
To show her, Elena picked Zuri up off the floor and cradled her close to her body. She hated to see her like that. So still. Zuri was a hurricane. A creature defined by its movement and power. She was never meant to be at rest.
“Did I heal you?” Marisol looked down at her hands in disbelief as if she hadn’t registered that Elena had run to Zuri. As she stared, her wings faded away like smoke in the breeze.
Elena refused to let disappointment at the lingering pain in her hip take hold. She was standing and she was holding Zuri in her arms. That was more than she could’ve hoped for minutes ago. She masked her limp as best she could while starting for the greenhouse door.
“Wait,” Marisol pleaded, yanking a black garbage bag off a roll under one of Zuri’s plant-packed tables and then another. “Let me cover you.”
Marisol rushed ahead of her, holding the flimsy plastic sheets above Elena’s head like a makeshift canopy. It was a futile gesture. The thin material was no barrier to the sun’s relentless UV rays. But the sweetness of the act, the concern etched on Marisol’s face, touched something deep inside Elena. Something she’d thought long since withered and dead. She concealed the pain on her skin and masked her exhaustion.
“She’ll be okay, Marisol,” Elena promised, her voice softer than she intended when they neared the house. “Look what you did.” They stepped inside without needing to open the door, and Elena didn’t continue until Marisol was looking at her again. “I’m walking. My brain is coming back together. You’ve done something remarkable.”
“I don’t know how I?—”
“But you did,” Elena said before continuing to the bed. “Take that for what it is.”
Marisol nodded, but her worry was nearly palpable when Elena set Zuri down on the bed. Sitting next to her, Marisol took Zuri’s wrist in her fingers and checked her pulse against her watch.
Instead of telling Marisol exactly what her heart rate was, she let Marisol perform a ritual that was likely calming. Relief lasted only seconds before Elena’s memories slammed into her.
“Stay with her,” Elena said, her voice firm despite the tremor of unease that ran through her. It was a lightning strike before the thunder.
Marisol nodded, gaze fixed on Zuri. “Good idea, wash the mud off.”
Elena turned and walked towards the bathroom, her limp more pronounced now that the adrenaline had faded and the sun had drained her. She looked down to notice that half her body was filthy.
She closed the door behind her, leaning against the cool tile, her chest constricting with a grief that came before the thoughts were fully formed.
Images of the attack, fragmented and chaotic, flashed through her mind. The alleyway, the gunfire, the scent of blood and rage. The vampires, their faces twisted and fangs bared.
And then, a strange realization. They were all male. Every single one of them. The thought struck Elena like a physical blow. It was wrong. Unnatural. Males had no reason to attack her. They couldn’t usurp her position, couldn’t inherit her power, couldn’t form their own cartel. Couldn’t make new vampires and create an unbreakable bond. It made no sense.
Confusion gnawed at the edges of her recovering memories. She was remembering more, but somehow, it only deepened the mystery. The pieces didn’t fit.
Memories surged to the surface, a tidal wave of pain that threatened to drown her. Her progeny. Her children. Gone. Ripped from her like a beating heart snatched from her body.
She slid to the floor, her back against the wall, her hands clutching at her chest as if she could physically hold her shattered heart together. Sobs racked her body, tears streaming down her face. She’d lived for centuries, witnessed countless horrors, endured unimaginable pain. But nothing, nothing compared to the agony of losing her family. Of so many at once.
The bathroom walls closed in on her, the air thick with her grief, the taste of her despair. She grieved with the intensity only a mother could, and after she finished, she crawled into the shower and comforted herself with fantasies of revenge.