Chapter 64
Something Wrong
Iwoke to rain tapping on the window and a gnawing feeling that something was wrong.
Nothing I could pinpoint, nothing that made sense.
It was just a cold, swarming feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Was the feeling one of my witch abilities?
No, I decided, psychic ability so far in the worst moments of my life had evaded me.
The squirming in my belly was probably hunger; I didn’t feel like eating dinner last night.
I turned my head to the side—it was nine a.m. A sleep-in for me. I was usually up well before dawn. I groaned as I rose sluggishly out of bed, showering and dressing before I headed down for breakfast.
The sound of sizzling hit my ears as I entered the kitchen. It wasn’t Mary cooking breakfast, but Ethan.
Ethan didn’t eat breakfast. He must have heard me get up and was cooking it for me. Striding across the room, I went to the cupboard and snatched out a coffee mug.
“Finally, sleeping beauty arises,” he said lightly, as if he wasn’t the world’s biggest asshole yesterday. He flipped a pan-sized pancake.
I felt his eyes on me as I slapped the coffee machine on.
“I cooked you breakfast as a peace offering.”
I didn’t answer.
“I was an ass, and after all you have just been through, I’m sorry.”
There was nothing I could say, or wanted to say right now. I grabbed a slice of bread out of the pantry and threw it into the toaster.
“I cooked you a pancake.”
“I don’t want pancakes. I want toast.”
“You want toast,” he repeated, like he’d just spent ten hours cooking a fucking pancake. “Fine.” He slid the pan off the hotplate. “Eat toast, then.”
I stabbed the coffee button and watched as black liquid slid into my mug. I avoided eye contact, even as I felt his eyes on me as I took a sip while waiting for the toast. Why was it taking so damn long?
“I would prefer you yell at me or break things than give me the silent treatment.”
I spun back. “You tried to hurt me, Ethan, and it worked, congratufuckinglations.”
He sighed. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“Sure as hell looked like it.”
“We are vampires.” He waved out a hand. “That’s how we live. You need to see it sooner or later.”
“Bullshit. I know you have to feed, but it’s not some fucked-up dinner party where we all sit down at a table and suck blood out of necks for fun.”
“Well, actually we do—”
“Shut up,” I snapped. “I don’t want to hear about it, and I sure as hell don’t want to see it.”
The toast popped up. I snatched it out, hissing as it burned my fingers. Ethan held out a plate, and I tossed the bread on it and snatched it from his hand. I grabbed peanut butter out of the pantry and shoved lashings of it on top.
“We are vampires. Do you want us to hide from you in our own home?”
I wanted to pick up the plate and throw it at him. “I want you to act like an adult, not a fucking child.”
“Fair enough. If you do throw that plate at me, I’d prefer it doesn’t have peanut butter—”
Fucking smart-ass.
Tipping the toast onto the bench, I threw the plate at his head. He ducked to the side, and it smashed all over the wall.
He looked shocked. I was equally shocked I’d done it, but I kept my face blank, my mind even blanker, as I picked up my toast and took a bite.
Ethan laughed. He fucking laughed. “What did that plate do to you?”
“Nothing, I was hoping it would hit you flat on your stupid face.”
“You might want to work a bit more on your aim.”
“I have a shit teacher.”
He lifted a brow in wry amusement. “The teacher is only as good as his student.”
“You’re so annoying, I’m not sure how you’re still alive.” I tore off a large bite of my toast.
“I’m not entirely sure either, but I think it’s my charm.”
I felt the anger drain away. His cheeky grin made it hard to stay mad at him, but I snorted. “You’d struggle to charm a cobra with a flute.”
“It’s a pungi actually, and it doesn’t charm the snake, it’s a defensive position the snake makes following the movement of the man playing it.”
“It’s the perfect analogy for you, then.”
“I take it you enjoy watching my every move?”
I rolled my eyes. “Where’s Mary?” I asked, popping the rest of my toast into my mouth and brushing the crumbs off my hands.
He shrugged. “Not sure, I guess Karson gave her the day off.”
I pulled the dustpan and broom out of the cupboard and began sweeping up the plate fragments. “Where is Karson?”
Ethan collected a few of the larger pieces in his hand. “I have no idea. He left before the sun was up this morning.”
We tipped the debris in the bin. I’d need to vacuum to get the rest.
“I’m right here.” Karson walked in holding a bunch of yellow roses in his hand. His eyes fell to the few remaining shards on the floor. Hopefully, he’d think I dropped it. He titled his head to the side as he handed me the flowers, a question in his eyes. He knew I didn’t drop it.
“They’re beautiful, thank you.” I smiled, taking them—the thorns had been removed, of course—breathing in their sweet scent.
“What are they for?” Even though he never met my mother, and I’d never told him yellow roses were her favorite, he had probably read my thoughts.
It felt like he was paying respect to my mother.
“Do I need a reason?”
“No.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his lips. “Thank you.”
He smiled and grabbed a vase from a cupboard.
“Can we put them on the kitchen table?” I asked as I filled the vase with water.
“You can put them wherever you like, Amelia, this is your home too.”
Ethan threw the pancake in the bin and rinsed off the pan.
Monique waltzed in and slid her ass onto the bench. “Someone’s after brownie points. What did you do?”
I chuckled.
“Can I not demonstrate my affections with a few of her favorite flowers?”
“No, Karson. Come on, spill it. You have either done something, or are about to do something and you know Amy won’t like it.”
He shook his head and held his hands up like he was surrendering. “Do not let her poison your mind, Amelia. She is prone to thinking the worst of everyone.”
I chuckled. “Did you give Mary the day off?”
He frowned. “Is she not here?”
“No.”
He pulled out his phone and rang her. He shook his head when she didn’t answer. “She probably just slipped out to grab something.”
He tried again. She was fine, of course she was fine. Spritely Mary would probably outlive me. Especially with the company I chose to keep, I thought wryly.
“She could be driving,” Monique said, slipping off the bench. “I wouldn’t worry.”
The feeling of dread I felt earlier increased, squirming in my stomach. It was illogical and irrational; Mary was fine, of course she was. And yet the feeling persisted.
“We should check on her.” I headed toward the door, willing his keys into my hand and snapping my fingers around them. “I’ll go,” I called over my shoulder, but Karson was beside me.
He held out his hand for the keys. “We will go together.”
Rain fell hard and the wind buffeted against my body, sending a chill over my skin. Karson opened the car door and I jumped in. He pulled out before I even had time to slip my seatbelt on. He drove faster than usual, his hands tense on the wheel.
I reached across and squeezed his arm. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably at the market.”
We turned left and down a long bitumen driveway under huge flame-colored oak trees that swelled over the road and left a carpet of gold and red and orange on the floor.
It was a white timber-clad home with a white picket fence and an immaculate garden, with beautiful flowers and plants running around the fence line and in front of a timber-covered porch. Neat as a pin, like Mary.
Karson got out, rain whispering all around him, and waited for me to join him.
“Her car’s not here,” I commented.
“It could be in the garage.” He gestured to the side of the house. We walked up a slate path to the front door, painted a pretty pale blue.
Karson knocked three times and waited. I looked at him, wondering if he could hear anything. I didn’t need to ask, he read my mind, or perhaps he saw the question on my face, and shook his head.
Claws appeared on the tips of his fingers and he went to open the door, but I willed it to unlock with my mind. There was a click, and it swung open. The hallway was long, painted white, with a long blue-patterned hall rug covering shiny floorboards.
A feeling of something dark, something grave, clenched around my body.
Karson made a sound, an awful heart-shattering sound. In a blur, he disappeared down the hallway.
His wild cry of Mary’s name sent spiders scurrying over my skin.
I ran, heart in my mouth, my legs pounding.
I slipped on something wet as I turned the corner, and my shoulder bashed into the edge of the door.
I righted myself and what I saw froze my entire body, stole the color from my face, and almost dropped me to my knees.
Karson had Mary cradled in his arms, rocking her body. Blood had leaked from a point in her chest to the floor, leaving a pool around her.
“No.” His voice cracked. “No, Mary, no.”
There was a crunching sound as he bit his wrist and jammed it to her lips. “Swallow,” he pleaded, the pain in his voice shattering something inside me. A high-pitched ringing screamed in my ears. “Please, darling, swallow.”
His blood would heal her without turning her. She didn’t want to be a vampire. But Mary …
Mary didn’t look like she was unconscious. She looked dead.
My brain lurched with the need to get to them, but as much as I willed my muscles, I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I just stared at Mary in some kind of stupor.
Her eyes were glassy marbles, staring up at Karson.
Her mouth was ajar, frozen on her last pained breath.
Her skin was the shade of snow, streaked with deep red.
Her frail arms were covered in slash marks where she had tried to defend herself.
This can’t be happening.