Chapter Twenty-Two
The audience burst into laughter as a dog ran across the stage, snapping Verity from her daydream.
A woman stood centre stage, watching after the pup as she bounced the babe in her arms. Her waist length red curls blended into the flames of her dress, the jewel encrusted bodice shining like embers against her pale face.
The casting was perfect, if someone told Verity that the woman before her was a goddess she might have actually believed them.
But every time Verity saw those bouncing curls, it was another woman she saw. A smiling face at graduation. A desperate father.
“Come dearest one,” Pyraea, Goddess of Fire crooned over the babe, a bone white doll intended to play Phoenar. “Do not mind your sister, for you shall be the saviour of this land.”
She gestured to the dog who ran back and forth, jumping up and snagging a claw on her dress.
The audience laughed again but Verity couldn’t help her sympathetic wince as the goddess shooed Phoenar’s twin sister, Wren.
Havenshire raised humans to hate the first werewolf, to despise her and all the wolves that followed for her many betrayals and fights with her brother.
But looking down at the way Pyraea - apparently - doted on one child and ignored the other, was the violent sibling rivalry any surprise?
Theo’s hand tightened around hers, their fingers entwined on her lap as the curtain dropped for intermission. Lights turned on and Marcy slapped her knee before standing.
“Drink, Verity?” she asked, slipping behind the curtain separating the front of the box from a small sitting area behind.
Not willing to let her go, Theo’s hand slid around her waist as they entered the space and found seats.
The box was as grand as she'd hoped for, all gold leaf and fine paintings, though a little cramped. However, the view of the stage wasn’t the best, sitting high and to the side, watching the play in near-profile.
Most of the other boxes housed similar patrons to their own, mixed couples and groups enjoying each other’s company up where the masses couldn’t see. Hiding behind their privilege.
Marcy and Elliot exchanged a hushed word as she poured two glasses of champagne, before Elliot clapped his hands with a broad smile. “Fancy something a little stronger?” he asked Theo, nodding towards the door.
Theo didn’t move, only looking to Verity with the same look of worry that hadn’t left his face all night. Considering he was the one who had asked her to enjoy the night, he was sure doing a shitty job of it himself.
He lingered a moment too long, even when she nodded to the door.
“Go on,” she insisted. “Get me a whiskey?”
He gave her an incredulous look, one that asked Really?
Whiskey? before standing, giving her hand one last squeeze.
She wanted to offer him more than a tiny quirk of her lips but there was a numbness in her chest, a disconnect stopping her from letting him know she was okay. That they were okay. They weren’t.
“Champers?” Marcy asked, hopping into Theo’s vacated seat and offering her a glass as the vampires left.
“I over did the champagne the other night,” Verity said. The thought of drinking it turned her stomach.
“Ah,” Marcy took a sip, brow arched. “Is that what’s wrong?”
“Pardon?”
“Is that what’s wrong with you and Theo?”
“No,” Verity said, a little too high. “No. There’s nothing…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Even she didn’t believe the lie.
Marcy nodded, face grim. “That’s okay, love. You can tell me if you want to though, I won’t say anything to Theo. It’s… normal to have doubts and…”
“No…”
“I’m just saying, it isn’t always easy. If you need to talk to someone, I’m here.”
Marcy’s eyes crinkled with a sweet smile, her words reminding Verity of all the questions she wanted to ask, about marriage and children. It all seemed trivial now.
“There were protesters at my support group earlier. I guess it’s just shaken me a bit. Both of us.”
Marcy nodded. “Bigots and cowards,” she said. “Happens every few years, it won’t last.”
Verity wasn't sure it was that simple. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be such a downer. I’ve been looking forward to this.”
“Then don’t let them ruin it for you. That’s how they win. And don’t apologise, love.” She gave Verity another warm, motherly smile as steps sounded in the hallway. “I mean it,” she whispered. “If you need to talk…”
“Thank you,” Verity said. She fully intended to take Marcy up on the offer. There were just some things she needed to understand first.
The door swung open, Elliot barging in, brandishing a wide grin and a bottle of what Verity assumed was whiskey. Theo followed, setting glasses on the table before reclaiming his seat from Marcy and throwing an arm back around Verity. Pulling her close, he asked, “You okay?”
Marcy was right, to an extent. Whatever was going on with the donors, and with Theo’s apparent anger issues, she couldn’t do anything about it right now.
That didn’t mean that she could forget about it all, about Georgie, and the guilt was eating her alive.
Still, for the sake of appearances, she rolled her eyes, leaning in until their noses almost touched, and said, “Oh no. In the two minutes you were gone, Marcy was a real meany.”
“That’s me,” the other human said with a wink. “I was just waiting for you to turn your back so I could harass your girl.”
Elliot scoffed. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“Hey,” Marcy exclaimed. “Wait till I get you home!” She jabbed Elliot in the ribs as he poured the drinks, and his dramatic wince was the first thing to draw a true smile from Verity all night.
“I need to thank you,” she told him as he handed her a vampire-sized whiskey.
“You do?” he asked.
“My friends’ cafe…”
“Honest pay for honest work,” he said with a shrug. “No need to thank me. I should be thanking you, she’s been getting rave reviews.”
At that, Verity beamed with pride. All Cora ever needed was a chance to prove herself and prove herself she had.
“Well,” she said. “Thank you anyway.”
The first sip of whiskey didn’t burn like Theo's, only leaving a pleasant warmth in her chest. The smoky after taste lingered on her tongue, deep and rich.
“What do you think?” Theo asked, clicking her glass with his.
“I like it, far better than the one you normally have.”
“The lady’s got taste!” Elliot declared, raising his glass before knocking it back.
“If she’s got taste, why’s she with me?” Theo asked, leaning in to kiss her temple.
The feel of his lips on her skin lit a fire deep inside, far fiercer than any whiskey. His breath mingled with hers as those dark eyes watched her.
“Get a room,” Marcy crooned, making Elliot snigger.
The rest of the play passed in a blur of spotlights on diamonds and heroic fight scenes. The human boy and youthful vampire who played the fledgling god growing into his prime received a standing ovation, flowers falling to the stage from some of the boxes, before the lights finally turned back on.
Verity expected to spend the rest of the morning in the cozy sitting room, chatting with Elliot and Marcy, but Marcy declared she could hear her bed calling.
The conspiratorial wink she gave Verity told her the excuse was for her rather than a need for sleep and Verity was grateful to be heading home, knowing that the night was far from over.
The moment she got into Theo’s car the heaviness descended again. She ran through questions, everything she needed to know, to understand, on the way home.
No discussion was needed on where they were going as Theo drove for his apartment, the silence driving a rift between them once more. Though perhaps not as deep as on the journey there.
Theo carried up the overnight bag she’d stashed in his car the previous day. She didn’t stop him, even though she wasn’t sure what was happening. Wasn’t sure if she still wanted to spend the day with him.
He took her coat as they entered the apartment, hanging it beside his before heading to the kitchen. He poured two glasses of water, set one in front of her and waited.
They stood with the island between them and Verity had never felt so far away.
“Ask,” he said.
“I don’t even know where to start.”
She stared into the glass, steadying herself, and maybe it made her a coward, but she started small. Well, not exactly small.
“You broke Harris’s jaw?”
His brow rose slightly, not expecting that to be her first question.
“His donor drugged you.”
“We’re not just donors, you know her name. It’s Sienna, and I’m not sure she did.”
“I… I know you’re more than donors,” he said. “And of course she did. Who else could it have been?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think it was her. And even if she did, that doesn’t mean you can attack someone like that.”
“I’m a vampire, Verity. These things… sometimes…”
“Sometimes what?” she snapped. “Sometimes you need to beat the shit out of someone? What would happen if a human did that? Are you above the law because you’re a vampire?”
There was a beat before he said, “Of course not.”
“You hesitated!”
“No, I didn’t,” he said, slow and measured.
“You fucking did. You think that the rules don’t apply to vampires.”
“No. It isn’t like that…” he ground out.
“I guess that’s why no one cares that donors are going missing. You vamps…” It was an effort not to point, not to spit the words like the curse on her tongue, “you couldn’t give a fuck!”
“You really think that?” he snapped. He was in front of her in a flash, pushing her against the counter, a curved finger under her chin forcing her to look at him.
His breaths were hot on her face, his body rigid as she braced her hands against his chest. There was no pushing him back.
Her breaths came fast, thin, as he stared down at her with dark eyes filling with rage and…
pleading. “You really think that I don’t care about you? ”
“Not me,” she gasped as he leant into her, his body pressed against hers.
“I told him,” he murmured, lips not an inch from hers, “that if he ever touched you again, I’d kill him. And I fucking meant it.”