CHAPTER ONE || THIERRY #3
Besides the scar, Godric had brought one more thing into his immortal life: his psychic abilities. As a human, his gifts had been weak and unfocused. They were the sort of thing that might drive a man halfway mad—spontaneous visions of distant places and times, overtaking everything.
His gifts had driven him into the church. He went to a monastery and spent years trying to pray them away. That’s how Magnus discovered him. Our maker liked to destroy innocence wherever he found it. After being turned, Godric’s abilities became focused and intentional.
Making him more dangerous than almost any vampire I’d ever known. With a bit of concentration, he could see what was happening anywhere in the world. He saw possible futures as well. His gifts had enabled Magnus to commit unspeakable acts.
“You’ve ruined everything, haven’t you? I should have let Magnus end you,” Godric hissed, rage quaking in his voice. His black eyes bored into mine. “It’s a mistake I won’t make twice.”
His words sent a chill through me.
“You will see me soon,” he added. “And then we’ll see who’s real and who’s not.”
Before I could react, the vision popped like a soap bubble. I was back on my hands and knees in the woods, under a silver moon, surrounded by concerned supernatural creatures.
“What happened?” Simone demanded, kneeling beside me. “What did you see?”
“You kept saying ‘no’ over and over,” Poppy said. “Also, who’s Godric?”
I lurched to my feet and staggered out of the flower circle. I felt like I’d been doused in gasoline and set on fire. “I’m fine!”
“He needs space,” Michael said.
I took another step back. Seeing Magnus, Godric, and my brother all in one go made me feel like I had been split open and rubbed raw.
But was it worth it?
“Did it work?” I demanded, blinking hard and scanning the clearing.
No fated mate had materialized in the circle to profess his undying love for me. Which meant that, whatever else had happened, the only thing I knew for certain was the spell had failed.
Again.
I tried not to feel the crashing disappointment.
“I don’t understand,” Poppy said. “That should have worked. Can you go over what you saw?”
“A bunch of dead vampires,” I said, trying to steady myself. “A lot of them. One after another. Whatever your spell tapped into, it wasn’t fate.”
“No,” she said, frowning and uncharacteristically somber. “That’s just it: I think it did. I felt it link into the fate lines connected to you. I don’t know why you saw a bunch of dead people, though. Did you know them?”
Seeing my brother’s face was painful, a jagged wound her spell had just reopened.
“No,” I lied, fighting to sound normal.
Poppy studied me. My face must have betrayed something of what I felt, because her expression softened. “You know what? We can do the post-mortem later.”
“Quite,” Nathaniel said, stepping close. His black eyes, warmer than Godric’s had been, brimmed with concern. “Take tomorrow off. Stay here. Rest.”
“I’m fine,” I repeated. Maybe if I said it enough, it would be true.
“You may experience strange dreams tonight,” Tatiana said, coming to stand beside us. “They may aid us in determining what went wrong. Waiting for symptoms will only help.”
Poppy shot her a startled look—probably because the witch queen was talking about continuing our project. Poppy must have assumed this was our last attempt at something so risky and obviously doomed to fail.
“We’ll speak more of this tomorrow. In the morning.” Tatiana’s lips curled in disdain as she looked me over, her gaze lingering on my mauve velvet suit. “Or whatever time of day passes for that for a vampire.”
While I stood there, feeling hollowed out, everyone else drifted toward their vehicles. They might have spoken to me. I might have replied. I wasn’t sure.
Danny left last, trading a meaningful look with his mate that likely said everything, thanks to their blood bond, which enabled them to communicate telepathically as clearly and easily as speaking words aloud.
Eventually, it was just Michael and me.
“Want to talk about it?” Michael asked once we were alone.
“No,” I said flatly.
He shrugged, unbothered. “Stay out here as long as you need. When you’re ready, there’s a bed upstairs. And plenty of pig’s blood in the fridge.”
“How you can drink that slop is beyond me.”
“It’s better than hurting someone just to survive.”
“Who said you need to hurt anyone? My feeding partners always leave smiling, hunter.”
Michael snorted, shaking his head. “You lied earlier, didn’t you? You knew the vampires you saw.”
“Some of them,” I allowed, wary of the sudden shift in the conversation.
But it was hard to lie outright to Michael.
Maybe because he was my progeny. Or maybe because there was a strange understanding between us, born of having done the impossible together.
I added, “But the vampires I saw are all dead now. The visions aren’t important. ”
“If you want to talk—”
“If I need an agony aunt, you’ll be the first person I call,” I said waspishly, though I felt equal parts grateful and annoyed.
He looked oddly relieved. Perhaps I sounded more like myself.
“Right,” he chuckled, shaking his head again. “Well, like I said, come inside whenever you’re ready.”
With that, he turned to go.
“What if there’s no one?” I asked. The words slipped out before I realized I was going to say them. I hated how small my voice sounded. The visions had left me feeling brittle. Could he hear that in my voice? Could he hear the centuries of loneliness?
It was Michael. Probably.
He froze, then looked back. He didn’t seem surprised.
“There is, Thierry,” he said after a moment, his tone gentle. “Don’t doubt it. Everyone has someone.”
I swallowed hard. “I thought you were supposed to be stoic and emotionally repressed. That’s what it said on the packaging.”
He chuckled. “Bad things happen when you don’t communicate openly and honestly. Believe me, I would know.” He paused. “But I’m not going to push. When you want to talk, you’ll talk. Whenever you’re ready.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
With a blur of speed, he was gone.
Staring after him, I tried to believe he was right. Maybe someone was out there. Though whoever he was, he was likely better off not meeting me. And I was better off not knowing him.
Because when you let yourself love someone, you risk losing them. And no one knew that pain better than I did.