Chapter 52
Chapter Fifty-Two
“Go faster,” Elena demanded through gritted teeth. Her head was pounding to make up for the fact that her heart didn’t race, the unusual discomfort leaking into her left eye.
Beneath them, the ground was standing still. It was like the damn helicopter was hovering rather than flying.
The pilot, sweat dripping down his sideburns, glanced back at her for a heartbeat. “I can’t?—”
“Now is not the time to tell me what you cannot do,” Elena warned.
“With these conditions—” The helicopter banked to one side as if proving a point. “It’s not safe to go above a hundred and twenty knots.”
“What is not safe for you has nothing to do with the weather,” Elena growled, bared fangs inches from his clammy neck.
“If I go at top speed, we’ll only shave off fifteen minutes or so,” he continued, both hands on the flight control between his knees. “But in this weather, we might not get there at all?—”
“Fly like your life and the life of every single person you know—your mother. Your son. The nice lady who cleans your South Miami townhouse—depends on it.” She was seething but couldn’t pull back.
The helicopter surged forward, dropping elevation before the pilot wrangled it back to steady. Librada’s hand on her shoulder stopped her before she could remind the pilot that he would not fail her.
“Elena,” Lib said with the lightest tug on her shoulder, her voice clear in the stupid headset she was ready to rip off. “At least they are safe.”
Elena whirled around. “It is insufficient that they survived an incursion that should never have happened.” It shouldn’t have been such a risk for them to go out during the day. Few possessed UV-resistant fabrics strong enough to gamble going outside.
Librada didn’t shrink. “But we have one of them now,” she said, hand still on her shoulder. “This is over.”
It felt so far from over to the sour ache in Elena’s stomach. It wasn’t just that her authority had been challenged, that her life had been threatened. She’d made her own choices. Knew the risks. Zuri and Marisol had not so chosen. They were hers to protect and she’d failed.
“They refused escort—” Lib started, but didn’t finish her victim-blaming when Elena shot her a glare. Hand retreating, Librada shifted her weight. “They are safe now,” she repeated.
Nearly two interminable hours later, they were landing on the helipad atop her penthouse. Exhausted from the UV that had blasted her from the less protected front window, Elena refused to slow down with the nearly setting sun at her back. Skipping the elevator and racing to the stairwell, Elena leapt over the banister and landed on the floor below.
Flying through the service entrance to her new home, she followed the sounds to where the members of her inner circle were standing in her office. To where Elena and Zuri were standing off to the side while a dozen of her most trusted stood staring at the vampire seated on the floor like he was meditating.
His calm demeanor was a thumb in Elena’s eye. This piece of shit was on borrowed time and he had the nerve to sit there, serene, rather than be sniveling in fear.
“Elena.” Marisol rushed toward her with Zuri right behind her. “God, you’re okay.” She threw her arms around Elena’s neck and pulled her close. The gentle scent of her perfume and skin soothed her.
Relief and affection and an overwhelming desire to cry strangled Elena’s heart and lungs. She didn’t care about appearances as she pulled Zuri to her side and held them both so close she might never let them go.
“Were you hurt?” Elena asked softly, leaning away just enough to look them both in the face. Marisol’s hazel eyes were so wide and full of questions. Elena hated the flicker of anxiety she was trying to hide.
It was the murder in Zuri’s expression that told Elena everything she needed to know. The garbage defiling her floor was about to pay dearly.
“Wait outside,” Elena instructed, gaze bouncing between them.
“Absolutely fucking not.” Zuri straightened. “Don’t pull this paternalistic nonsense now. Handle this shit, but I’m not going anywhere.” Her dark eyes were fire and vengeance.
Elena shifted her attention to Marisol. She was the actual target of her concern. There was no doubt in Elena’s mind that she didn’t have the stomach or the heart for what needed to be done. She’d already proved herself unwilling to squash vermin.
“I’m not leaving either,” Marisol said, her voice dripping in false bravado.
Wavering, Elena considered reaching for her influence. To gently wrap her will around Marisol’s mind and get her to leave. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Couldn’t traipse over the boundary of her consent.
“How sugary sweet,” Vermin said.
Ire and hate and wrath incinerated the dregs of Elena’s humanity. She turned to the creature on the floor. Before he took his last breath, he was going to regret having crawled out of the womb. He’d beg for the sweet oblivion of release. Wish his father’s seed had never found purchase inside his mother.
But there would be no way to save himself. No way to undo what had been done.
“Why did you go after them?” Librada asked, expression broken in disgust.
Even in her second life, Lib was righteous. Even here, she lived by her own code of conduct. To her, it was unacceptable to aggress innocents.
“To torment her,” he responded with a dry laugh. Lifting his chin, he stared at Elena like he’d forgotten how to fear. Like he wanted Elena to remind him. “To kill you slowly from the inside before we take everything from you.”
“Shut your mouth.” Felix stepped forward from her wall of support. In his baggy brown trousers, he looked like a character from The Godfather when he lifted his foot and kicked Vermin in the jaw. “How dare you speak to her?—”
“He’s not worth scuffing your shoes,” Elena said as she strode across the room to tower over the thing bleeding on her beautiful area rug.
“How did you even know where they were?” Librada refused to relinquish her role as inquisitor.
“You can’t believe anything he says.” Felix kicked him again. This time the blow was followed by the melody of Vermin’s mandible cracking. It would heal quickly, but it would still hurt like hell. “Don’t bother giving him a chance to spin lies.”
Elena was caught in the delight of Vermin’s pain when she processed the height of Felix’s anger. He was as rigid and prone to antiquated thinking as Librada, but he’d never much cared for Zuri and he didn’t even know Marisol. Elena turned to him, feeling the emotions pouring from him.
Retribution for the loss of his brothers? She doubted it.
“Answer me,” Lib demanded while Elena’s mind spun.
Vermin’s gaze darted to Felix in a move so imperceptible, even Elena wouldn’t have caught it if she hadn’t been staring at his pupils when they jumped. It was a nanosecond that told Elena of betrayal. Told her of more loss and heartache and grief.
Elena turned to Felix, insides cold and heart sagging in her chest. “Why?”
Librada’s attention snapped to Elena, sensing the change in the energy around them. Eyes narrowed, she tried to piece together what she’d missed. “Elena, what happened?”
“Why?” she repeated, disbelief giving way to something less sickly cold.
“Why what?” Felix played dumb so poorly. He couldn’t hide the vein protruding in his neck. Couldn’t conceal the anger pulsing under fear and jealousy and confusion.
“Because he knows it’s all bullshit,” Vermin volunteered, the curl of a laugh a flourish in his tone.
“Don’t listen to him,” Felix snapped. “He’s trying to save himself or muddy?—”
“Deny it,” Elena said, her will crushing Felix’s mind… Compelling him.
Landing on his knees like a better center of gravity was going to break her grip on him, Felix struggled against her invisible touch. It was fruitless. Even if he weren’t weaker than she realized, he was her progeny. Hers to bend and break as she saw fit. This was the root of her power. The bond he could never have without the sacrifice of procreation.
Felix’s mouth opened, but he didn’t make a sound. Even now, he didn’t understand. Even now he believed himself capable of lying under compulsion.
“How did I lose you?” Elena asked so much more softly than she’d intended. But her broken heart was a fault line in her voice. A splintering.
Felix looked up at her through waves of anger and sadness and despair. “You never had me,” he said, shoulders wilting. “I regretted my decision the moment I was birthed into this new life.”
“And so you sought to destroy me?” Elena reached for her anger, but could only find disappointment. Regret. “Lance, Jesus, Robert.” She shook her head. “They were your brothers?—”
“They were collateral damage,” Felix admitted, like he almost wished he could undo it. “It was…” He tried so hard not to reveal how profound his betrayal had been. How targeted at her and no one else. “It was…. You were supposed to be alone when you left. I made sure Lib and Sofia?—”
Librada was on him before he could finish. Nails like talons sliced into his skin where she grabbed him by the throat and hauled him off his feet.
With blood running down his neck, Felix’s eyes widened in terror. Released from Elena’s compulsion, he finally understood how badly he’d misjudged. How wide his misstep.
Elena was a Great White slicing through the current, unhurried in a way only a creature in its domain could be. “Put him down.” She took no pleasure in what she had to do. “Who aided you?” she asked when he was back on his knees, blood staining his collar and Elena’s heart.
“No one.”
“You’ll never be able to trust his answer, will you?” Vermin laughed. “You’ll never be able to trust one of your precious progeny again.”
Plunging back into his mind, Elena funneled all of her will into him. “Who else has betrayed me?”
“No one,” he repeated without hesitation. “I worked alone.”
“What did he promise you?” Elena asked.
Felix had the temerity to look ashamed. “Autonomy. Release. To be free of you.”
“And release you will have,” she whispered, the fabric of her soul collecting another tear when she bent over, sunk her fangs into the back of his neck, and crushed her own heart along with his brainstem.
Marisol gasped when Felix dropped to the rug, motionless. The rest of her progeny looked away. There was no joy in this justice.
“Bond is so strong but look how easily you throw away?—”
Elena didn’t let Vermin breathe another syllable. She was on him, standing on his neck and pinning him down. “I will paint the walls with your remorse. Every scream, every whimper.” She put all of her weight into crushing his windpipe. Painful but not nearly as lethal as he was going to wish it was. “And you will die as you lived. Insignificant.”
“Stop!” Marisol was at her side, her touch too warm on Elena’s cold skin. It was jarring and disorienting. “Wait,” she pleaded. “Maybe he can give you information in exchange for his life.” Her eyes were glossy with unwarranted tears.
“His life was forfeit the moment he moved against me,” Elena vowed, her attention on the purpling face gawking up at her. “That was his choice, not mine.”
“There’s no way this asshat is the brains of their dumbfuck operation,” Zuri said when she appeared at Marisol’s side.
Elena narrowed her gaze. “You can’t possibly buy into the pacifist?—”
“Oh, hell no.” Zuri looked down at Vermin. “I can’t wait for you to kill the fuck out of him, but take what he knows first.”
“Elena, please. Maybe nobody else has to die.” Marisol tightened her grip around her arm, imploring her to change her mind.
“What do you know?” Elena tipped back her foot only far enough for him to talk.
“Fuck you,” he rasped.
Because Marisol’s face had flushed hard and she’d started crying, Elena gave him another chance.
“Tell me where Baylor is and I will give you a painless death you do not deserve,” Elena said in an act of underserved grace.
Vermin’s eyes widened.
“This waste of blood is following a charlatan named Baylor,” Elena explained to the others. “How about this? Tell me where the fuck he actually is and I will allow this to be over.” Elena bared her fangs. “The end I have planned for you will be so slow that decades from now you will think back on this moment and pray you could go back and choose again.”
Moments ticked by in silence. He was thinking about it. Understanding that it was over one way or another and he might as well spare himself. Elena growled. Creatures like this were always cowards. A second life couldn’t change the rot at someone’s core.
“Hogan’s Creek,” he confessed without compulsion, like a gutless amoebae. “Jacksonville. An abandoned church near the overpass. Redeemer’s… something.”
When he closed his eyes, Elena gave him better than he deserved and tore out his throat in one swift move for Marisol’s benefit. A cat ending a rat. Restoring the order of things.
Elena was peeling off her blood-stained shirt, intending to wipe her face with it, when she found Marisol staring at her. Horror played on her pretty face before she turned in disgust and ambled out of the room like she was dazed.