Chapter 24 #3
Whit held my gaze, the light I thought I’d seen before—just a reflection, a spark of passion—shone there like a predator’s eyeshine in the darkness. “None of these. And yet all of them.” He shook his head. “We are who we are, Zellie. History and folklore have called us many things.”
Part of me wanted to scream at him to stop telling me these outrageous lies. Part of me wanted to run. But another part of me, the part that had loved him so completely, still refused to believe Whit could be part of such a horrific legacy.
“I’m not like the others, Zellie,” he assured me, his expression softening.
“I chose to be a nomad, sticking to the shadows, trying not to be seen. I’ve lived so many lives, never taking more than I needed to sustain me.
I would never harm you or Henry—I swore that to you, remember? What I am changes nothing.”
“How can you say that?” My voice was infuriatingly faint. It should’ve been stronger, more forceful. But as much as I wanted to hide the fact that I was terrified, there wasn’t any point in trying. Whit could read me. He knew better. Why pretend?
He set his glass aside and spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “Because it’s true. That’s all I can say.”
A sudden, heartbreaking thought occurred to me. “Kitty? What happened to her and her child? Was she one of these sacrifices?”
Whit didn’t immediately answer as if wondering if he should tell me the truth. But I saw in his expression the moment he decided that he had to tell me everything, no matter the cost.
“Not intentionally,” he said. “Most of our children don’t survive long because of the anemia that basically causes us to cannibalize our own blood.
And the mothers have an even harder struggle.
June was right, Zellie—our unborn leech so much from the mother’s body, and keeping the infant healthy once it’s born is a difficult balance that isn’t always successful. ”
“That’s why Kitty was so sickly,” I guessed. “And her crying?”
He nodded. “Kitty was born one of us, so she knew the risks, recognized that she wasn’t doing well despite all of June’s remedies.
She told the family that if she didn’t survive she wanted to give her blood for renewal so Billy Wayne could claim it as his sacrifice and would finally get his chance to become one of us.
He’s human. I guess you’d call him a Renfield in pop culture parlance.
Becoming will be his reward for his many years of service to the family.
I’d have slit the bastard’s throat years ago for his repeated infidelity to Kitty—with Iris, of all people, for fuck’s sake.
But Kitty wouldn’t allow it. For some reason, she still loved him. ”
“Who received her…blood?” I asked. But before he could respond, I realized the answer. “Mr. Dean. Carter Dean is Old Man Dean.”
Whit nodded. “His and Netty’s renewal were delayed—Carter’s by request so he could age with his partner.
Netty’s was by design, punishment from my father for letting Alice die.
But I felt sorry for her, hated how my father had cursed her, letting Merilee renew, forever young, as her sister grew older and older, refusing to let her die.
I promised Netty I’d find a way to help her. ”
I was afraid to find out where this was going, but I had to know everything. And I could feel him holding back, the worst betrayal yet to come. “How would you be able to do anything?”
“Short of allowing there to be a sacrifice for her renewal, I honestly don’t know,” he admitted.
“I was going to try just feeding her more, maybe reverse her aging over time. But it would take a while. And it wasn’t something I’d be able to do with my father’s spies here at Dawes House, that’s for damned sure. ”
“I don’t understand,” I said, trying to process that absolute madness of it all. “How do Henry and I factor into any of this?”
“I told you before that my father is obsessed with his legacy,” Whit reminded me. “We are expected to create a life, take a life, give a life once we become adults as a pledge of loyalty and obedience.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” I demanded.
“I refused,” Whit assured me. “It was an antiquated tradition, my father’s way of ensuring his dominance, keeping everyone in check, offering them eternal life for their fealty to him and his dark lord who’d ‘blessed’ us with immortality.”
I felt for the couch, sinking back down onto it in a daze. My mother’s words echoed in my head: Your devil’s found you.
“I thought I could thwart that obligation,” Whit continued.
“He let me live despite my rebellion because I was one of his few surviving biological children and one of the only ones strong enough to take over for him from time to time. That’s another reason I’m not exactly everyone’s favorite.
But I was determined. I even refused to have a relationship with a woman beyond an occasional encounter for fear of getting her pregnant and having to fulfill my obligation to the family.
Until one day, I stopped for coffee at a little café in a shitty neighborhood near one of our properties. ”
My blood went cold, all the warmth draining away in an instant. “What are you talking about?”
“You quoted Henry V,” he said.
“‘Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,’” I murmured. “I used to say that to my teammates at the coffee shop when things got busy. How do you know that?”
“Not one of the Bard’s most widely read plays,” he noted, avoiding my question. “But it’s always been one of my favorites. To hear a beautiful woman quoting it like that… I was utterly captivated. I came back after my meeting—”
I shook my head. “Stop it, Whit.”
“—and we talked about literature until your boss kicked me out.” He smiled wistfully. “But I came back the next day.”
“That’s not true,” I insisted, my throat going tight, a sharp pain growing behind my eyes. Something in my memory rustled, trying to break free.
The sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable as he continued, “Zellie, I loved you so very much. And you loved me. For a year. We were together for a year. The best year of my very long life—until now.”
I shot to my feet. “No!”
“Eventually, I told you everything,” he said. “All of this. Every single ugly truth about my life, my family, who I was. And you still loved me. But we got carried away one night, weren’t careful.”
“No!” I said, stabbing my index finger at him. “That’s not true. It’s not possible.”
“When I realized what I’d done, the danger I’d put you in, I panicked,” he admitted. “I took your memories of us for your safety. All I left was a vague impression of what we’d had that night, what we’d shared so many nights.”
I was speechless, could only stare at him, my entire body shaking with fear, rage, sorrow… Finally, I managed a very quiet, “How?”
“It’s just another part of who we are,” he said. “I don’t know—”
“That’s not what I mean,” I snapped. “How could you do that to me? If it’s true—how dare you take something so personal from me?”
“To save your life,” Whit said simply. “And the life of our son.”
My breath caught in my chest. “That’s not true. You’re not Henry’s father. I don’t care what kind of bullshit you’re trying to feed me about stealing my memories and some secret life we had.”
“I wasn’t sure either,” he admitted. “Not at first. But then I learned about Henry’s anemia, the same condition that plagued the family’s children. And I saw how he improved when June and Pearlie started feeding him our blood.”
“Your blood? What the fuck are you talking about!?” I screeched, then glanced toward the hall, relieved to see Henry was still playing in his room. This was the last damned thing he needed to hear.
“Our blood has certain healing properties,” he told me. “That part of the folklore is true.”
“Prove it,” I ordered through clenched teeth. “Prove any of this right fucking now!”
“I took my own memories as well,” Whit told me, standing to fish his phone out of his pocket. “To keep my father from finding out about you. He couldn’t make me tell him what I didn’t know. I didn’t even leave myself an impression like I had with you. But I left a breadcrumb.”
He turned the phone around to show me. On the screen was a photo of Whit and a younger me with his arm around me, an ocean sunset behind us. We were smiling, happy.
My hand shook as I reached out and took the phone. Holding it with both hands, I stared at the image, trying to figure out where it had been edited, how he had faked it. But it was real. And dated about two months before I found out I was pregnant with Henry.
But, how? How could this be true? And if it wasn’t, why in the hell would Whit create such a cruel story to try to make me think he was Henry’s father?
“I didn’t know who you were,” he said, edging closer, “but I still felt longing, sadness, whenever I looked at the photo. And despite everything I’d done to shield you, my father still found you, insinuated himself into your life, insisted I bring you to Dawes House.”
I lifted my eyes to his, frowning. “What the hell are you talking about? Your father died before you decided to evict me.”
Whit ran his hands through his hair, then dragged his hand down his face. “No, he didn’t. He went through his renewal and moved to New England.”
“His renewal,” I repeated. “A sacrifice.”
Whit gave me a curt, solemn nod. “I don’t know who.”
“The woman who lived here?” I squeaked, my heart breaking into so many pieces as I had to face the truth that my hero, my guardian angel, had been a murderer.
Whit shook his head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t part of the ceremony.
I was brought in after to take over my father’s business affairs, be his puppet for a few years until he could resurface and take it back over.
It was only after I saw you that first night here at Dawes House that I realized you were the same woman in the photo.
That somehow, he had found you and would expect me to honor my obligation. ”