Chapter 13 Fracture Between Them #2
“She’s really gone?” Eluned asked, her voice lifting at the end like a child hoping for a snow day.
“All the way to Chicago.” I nodded from my perch on the staircase banister, where I’d been waiting for this exact moment. “Won’t be back until Friday night.”
“And she left you in charge.” Amabel merely narrowed her eyes.
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway.
“Someone has to make sure the rogues don’t tear each other apart. And someone has to remind you two about your mother’s expectations.”
“Her expectations,” Eluned spat, twirling a strand of long brown hair around her finger until it turned white from lack of circulation. “Always about her. Never what we want.”
“What you want rarely aligns with what’s strategic, El,” Amabel snapped.
And there it was. The hairline fracture between them that I’d been watching grow wider since Serafina had left.
Before, they’d been united in their hatred of their stepsister, channeling all their spite and jealousy toward the poor girl.
Now, with Seri gone and married off to the Cimmerians, the twins had no common enemy to focus on and were turning on each other.
“Strategic?” Eluned shrieked. “Like sitting here while all the important witches are networking in Chicago? Oh yes, very strategic, Am.”
“Mother will introduce us when we’re ready.”
“When she’s ready, you mean.” Eluned pivoted to face me with alarming suddenness. “We’re going shopping.”
“Shopping.” I raised an eyebrow.
“In the city,” Amabel clarified, suddenly aligned with her sister again.
I recognized the look on their faces, the stubborn set of their jaws, the challenge in their eyes.
They weren’t asking permission; they were daring me to say no.
I weighed my options. I could try to stop them, which would likely end in a magical pissing match I wasn’t eager to engage in.
Or I could let them go, knowing Arabesque would be furious either way.
I chose the path of least resistance.
“Your mother specifically said you’re not to go to Chicago,” I reminded them, emphasizing the city name while leaving a loophole big enough to drive a truck through. “She was very clear about that.”
Amabel’s lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. She got it. Girl might be an iceberg, but she at least had her shit together.
“We wouldn’t dream of disobeying Mother,” she said. “Chicago is absolutely off-limits.”
“Absolutely,” Eluned echoed, even though her singsong tone made it clear she was calculating just how far they could push the boundaries.
“Just making sure we’re all on the same page.” I shrugged, playing my role as the indifferent enforcer.
Eluned twirled away while Amabel lingered, her cold eyes assessing me with that calculating intelligence that made her so dangerous.
“You know she’ll blame you if anything happens.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” I replied, keeping my tone casual. “Unless you go to Chicago.”
She gave me one last penetrating look before following her sister upstairs to get ready for their outing. I listened to them bicker about clothes and which car to take, filing away every snippet of information for later. Knowledge was survival in this house.
An hour later, they were ready to leave, dressed to the nines, Amabel stylish as usual in sleek lines and solid colors, Eluned over the top in a floral dress with more ruffles and flounces than should fit on one outfit. I met them at the front door, leaning against the frame with affected boredom.
“Remember. Not Chicago.”
“We’re not idiots, Foster.” Amabel gave me a frosty look. “We know better than to cross Mother directly.”
Eluned, on the other hand, started singing in her creepy way.
London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down,
Falling down.
Mother’s rules are breaking down,
My fair Foster.
I kept my face neutral despite the hairs on my arms standing up. Her childishness always carried a hint of something creepy, like she was channeling some ancient witch rather than just being obnoxious. The girl wasn’t right in the head, but then again, neither was anyone else in this family.
“Have fun,” I deadpanned as they brushed past me.
They climbed into Amabel’s Mercedes, the engine roaring to life. Eluned waved at me through the window, her smile all teeth and no warmth. The car peeled out of the driveway, tires tossing gravel, leaving behind a cloud of dust and the fading sound of Eluned’s manic laughter.
I watched until they disappeared, then exhaled.
The twins were like playing with fire and ice simultaneously, one wild and unpredictable, the other cold and calculating.
Amabel was the more dangerous of the two, with her sharp mind and careful planning, but Eluned had her own kind of threat.
You couldn’t anticipate what she might do because she herself didn’t know until the moment she did it.
Her impulses ruled her, making her impossible to outmaneuver, but also fundamentally weak.
Still, the no-strings-attached sex was worth putting up with her insane ass.
With the twins gone and Arabesque in Chicago, the old farmhouse fell into an unusual quiet.
The day servants had all left, and the only person here besides me was Austin Cho, the suspiciously overqualified “kitchen help.” He was human and kept to himself when not servicing the ice queen at precisely 5:30 p.m. each day.
I had my suspicions about him, but in this snake pit, everyone had secrets.
Whatever his were, they hadn’t become a problem yet, so I let him be.
Now was the perfect time to make my covert call.
And what better place than Eluned’s bedroom?
Not only was it the furthest from the kitchen, but I knew for a fact it had the most spy eyes.
Those little metal and magic bugs were Koa’s specialty, and I’d spotted at least four while Eluned and I were going at it a few nights ago.
I slipped down the hallway, pausing briefly to listen for any sign that Austin might be venturing out of his culinary domain. Nothing but the clatter of pots. Satisfied, I quietly opened Eluned’s door and slid inside, locking it behind me.
The room was exactly like its owner: Chaotic, disturbing, and impossible to look away from.
Blood-red velvet curtains blocked out most of the sunlight.
The walls were covered in what looked like hand-painted tarot cards, but on closer inspection revealed grotesque modifications.
The Hanged Man actually hanged, complete with bulging eyes and protruding tongue; the Tower crumbling with tiny painted figures falling to their gruesome deaths; and the Lovers entangled in something more Kama Sutra than PG-13.
Eluned’s collection of oddities dominated every surface. A shelf of antique dolls with their eyes sewn shut. A vintage record player that continuously emitted a low hum even when not playing anything.
Doing my best to ignore them, I sat cross-legged on the floor, closed my eyes, and reached inward, searching for the familiar presence that had once been as much a part of me as my own heartbeat.
Greisen? I called silently. You there, buddy?
Nothing. Just the vast, empty space where my wolf should be. I pushed deeper, hunting for any trace of him.
Hey. Greisen. I tried again, like I hadn’t ten thousand times already. You ready to come back? I miss you.
There. A flicker. Like catching a glimpse of a deer through dense forest, there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it. But I hadn’t. Greisen was still there, thank the Moon Mother, just buried deep, unreachable.
“Come on, you stubborn bastard,” I muttered.
I felt a ripple of something. Not quite emotion, not quite thought. Awareness, like a hibernating bear shifting slightly in its sleep before settling further into unconsciousness.
“Fine. Be that way.”
I opened my eyes, frustration burning in my chest. Every wolf shifter had an inner wolf, a conscious entity they shared their body with, communicated with. Most had seamless relationships, partners in the truest sense, but Greisen had become a ghost.
I didn’t let myself dwell on it. If I thought about why it happened, if I started down that road, I’d end up the way I did last time, and that was something I swore never to let happen again. No matter how much it hurt to be so empty inside.
Some wounds never healed, and that one was still raw enough to bring me to my knees if I let it. Twelve years, and still I couldn’t face it. Pathetic.
I shook off the melancholy. I had work to do.
Crawling onto Eluned’s velvet-covered bed, I pulled out my phone, wondering which one of the brothers to call.
Zane, who would pepper my intel with colorful commentary?
Koa, who was infinitely more personable and would ask how I was holding up?
Or Casimir, who would be efficient with no small talk, no probing questions, just the facts and a clipped goodbye?
Sometimes, especially after trying to reach Greisen, that emotional distance was exactly what I needed, so Cas it was.
I’d make the call and then head back to the rogue encampment. Most were barely controlled chaos, held in check only by my alpha charisma and the Moon magic flowing through my veins. If I didn’t get back before nightfall, they’d likely start establishing their own hierarchy through tooth and claw.
The last time that happened, I’d had to burn three bodies and explain to Arabesque why her army had decreased in size. She hadn’t been pleased, and when Arabesque Harrow was displeased, people tended to lose parts they were attached to. Literally.
As I scrolled to Cas’ contact, my eyes landed on a glass display case containing two taxidermied kittens posed with tiny croquet mallets and balls. My upper lip curled in disgust. Who kills kittens for a Victorian-era game diorama? By the moon, that was messed up!