Chapter 6
The entire house was eerily silent. My footsteps echoed off the walls before I stopped in the middle of the foyer. The chandelier above my head no longer glittered, the unlit bulbs having lost their shine. The only light came from the two large windows on either side of the entryway. The two thin beams did little to brighten the room, only darkened the shadows already lingering along the wall.
The room was lifeless.
After the party, all our staff had been dismissed. Rowena had seen that they would continue receiving their salary. Still, I did not want prying eyes to see the turmoil beneath my skin. After tearing Calia’s room apart, I no longer trusted myself not to hurt someone in passing.
I also could not bear the constant chatter—questions and accusations filling my head as they gossiped.
My grief knew no bounds, and I was left lingering somewhere between sadness and anger. Even I could not predict the way my emotional pendulum would swing.
Only Anya had remained on the grounds, given her cottage was on the isle itself. It was enough distance that I did not fear her becoming a victim of my wrath. She had stayed away from the main house since Calia’s death, for which I was grateful. I did not know if I could stomach seeing her, seeing as she and Calia had become so intertwined toward the end.
I pushed forward through the kitchens until I stepped out into the atrium. The nature surrounding me seemed dim compared to how it had been before. For days, the sun had hidden behind thick plumes of grey clouds, teasing a rainfall that never came. I loved watching the rain course down over the glass ceiling of the atrium. Tall tropical plants surrounded me and for a moment, I could feel alone.
This area had once been my solace—the answer to the energy that coursed under my skin and made me restless. It was a silly notion, but seeing the rest of the world meander around during the day had me longing for something I could never have. I had only dreamed of feeling the sun on my skin for so long.
It seems so frivolous now that I look back. There were far more necessary things to wish for, especially on the precipice of the unknown. But the desire was honed by the dreams of a young boy who equated sunshine with happiness.
Meeting Calia had changed that.
While I immediately knew she was far less jaded than I, there had been a flicker of darkness in her eyes that I could not ignore. It enraptured me, kept me up at night, wondering what had put it there and if it was as twisted as my own.
Sucking in a breath, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. Since Calia came into my life, I had watched the control I had so painstakingly maintained slip away. She upended my world, turned it inside out and upside down until I could no longer recognize the way it used to be.
But I had never realized how little I had lived until her. I never allowed myself to be selfish and take what I truly desired out of some misguided effort to never disappoint my family.
And that’s what loving Calia had been.
Selfish.
“Oh!”
I spun around at the sound of the surprised gasp, seeing Anya standing with an arm draped with leashes. Her large eyes blinked at me in surprise before darting toward the floor.
“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”
I cocked my brow. “I do live here.”
“Yes, but, you know… I haven’t seen you around since the party…” Her voice trailed off. She had not looked in my direction since that first glance. “I’ll just… go.”
I said nothing as she turned, making it halfway to the exit before she stopped to face me once more. Her hands shook at her side as nervous energy skittered through the charged air between us.
I knew the question she would ask before she formed it in her mind.
“What happened to her?”
I studied her carefully, noting the guarded hesitance in her eyes that had never been there before. She and I had never been close by any stretch of the imagination. Still, we had regarded one another with a natural respect until now. Her father had been a wonderful man and would often bring me books about the world outside of Kallistos. Those same books now filled my personal shelves, deemed too important to stock in the family library.
But Anya was right to be wary of me now. Even if I had no intention of uttering those words out loud. Even if I wanted to, I could not risk the truth falling into the wrong hands. While not likely, it was always possible that Anya was working for my mother. At the very least, she could leak any information I relayed to her to the media, which would be a shitstorm come morning. “I assumed you already knew. The council?—”
“With all due respect, Mr. D’Arcy, I don’t believe the bullshit the council spewed about a tragic accident.” She stood taller, pushing her shoulders back. However, I could hear the barely perceptible shake in her voice that gave her away. “And I think you know it’s bullshit, too.”
Smart girl.
“You do not have to believe it, Anya,” I said, narrowing my gaze. “But that is all you will get.”
“I deserve to know what happened to my friend. Your uncle—he was not a good man. Surely you know this. Did he hurt her? And if so, why are you protecting him?”
I closed my eyes against the memories of Renwick’s hand woven through Calia’s auburn strands, the way tears had welled in her eyes before and after she had learned about my lies. I relived that memory every day, listing everything I could have done differently from the moment I laid eyes on her. “Anya?—”
She scoffed, silver beginning to line her eyes. “You’re just as bad as they say, you know. You didn’t deserve her. You never did,” she said, each venom-laced word an arrow aimed straight at the shattered pieces of my broken heart.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Brea—
My anger sprang to life as I lunged forward and gripped her by the throat. I leaned in, focused on the terror staring back at me. “Do you think I do not know that?” I whispered harshly, unable to stop my own emotions from driving me. “Do you think I do not know that she should have been with anyone but me? Someone who could have protected her? Because I do. And trust me, no one—not a single fucking person—hates me more than I do.”
“I hope her memory haunts you,” she said, rearing back as much as she could before spitting in my face.
The back door clattered open, and I felt Jasper’s hands clasp around my waist and haul me back. I released my hold, causing Anya to stumble. Her shaking hand clutched at the spot mine had just been. Even if I had known better than to act on my anger, her words had triggered the response without me thinking.
“I hope her memory haunts you.”
It already fucking does.
“Go, Anya,” Jasper said without looking her way, gripping my face and forcing me to stare at him. Her scurried footsteps fell away as she ran, fading away until she was but a tiny speck outside of the glass.
I pried his fingers away before pushing him off. My nostrils flared as I fought the demons clawing at my chest to escape. He took a step closer, and I held up my finger. “Don’t.”
He crossed his arms. “What the hell was that? And before you tell me to mind my own business, I should remind you that you are my business.”
“That,” I gritted out, wiping my face clean, “was the sliver of self-control I had slipping away.”
“What did she say?” he asked, furrowing his brows. I did not know how to answer because I did not want to utter the words again—no matter how true they might have been. “What affects you affects us all, so don’t push me away. Tell me how I can help.”
I did not know how to be helped. Not anymore. It was a morose way of thinking. I knew I could trust Jasper with my life, but no matter how much I wanted to let him in, I could not. There was a metaphorical wall built ten feet high standing between us that was reinforced with steel. Nothing could penetrate it.
Not even my best friend.
“Rion?” Jasper echoed.
I felt the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears reverberating until I thought I might scream. “I cannot do this,” I barked, shaking my tense shoulders before checking my watch. It was two hours till 10:00 PM, which meant we had more than enough time. However, I was done with the conversation. “Not right now. Go get the car and meet me outside. We have a witch to meet.”
I pushed into the house with shaking hands, stumbled across a small bathroom outside the kitchen. As I turned the faucet, the pipes groaned, splashing frigid water across my face. My chest drew tight as I took a deep breath, forcing myself to bring my gaze to the mirror.
My pupils were dilated, with only the faintest hint of silver visible around the ring. My gums ached as my fangs began their descent, nicking the bottom of my lip with their blade-like point. I was not sure if I had ever looked so horrific.
Even though the physical attributes were typical of my kind, the hopelessness drawn across my features gave me pause.
“She would have been better off,”that wicked voice whispered. “You killed her. You killed her. You killed her.”
Every time I looked at myself, I felt disgusted. I wanted to eviscerate that image.
The mirror shattered as my fist landed its first blow, and my jagged reflection stared back at me. The second, third, and fourth had not registered until I felt the wall give way beneath me. Blood dripped down my arm, spattering the sink with crimson before the water washed it down the drain as though it had never been there.
Breathe.
In and out.
Breathe.
As I looked up, I was thankful I could no longer stare into the eyes of the monster I had become.