Chapter 18 - Anson
18
ANSON
I gape at Aydin Nacar for a long, long time, almost terrified of the hope that springs to life inside me. It seems too good to be true, that there’d be a chance I could regain my magic and feel whole again. Ameera sits deathly still next to me, probably as shell-shocked as I am by her sire’s epiphany.
“But there is a catch,” Nacar says.
And… there it is. I knew it.
“The spell must be performed by another powerful and skilled mage, or it has little chance of success.” He grimaces. “And finding any mage willing to work with a vampire is a difficult enough proposition all on its own. Plus, this mage would hold your life in their hands while performing the spell. You’d have to trust them implicitly.”
The only mage that comes to mind is the one least likely to agree to performing the spell. My father. Before tonight, I’d have bet money he would never help me with this in a million years. But now, after he shielded me from a bullet? Maybe there is a chance. And then I could have back yet another thing I lost when I became a vampire.
“You told me you knew a vampire who was a mage, and I just assumed they somehow retained their magic after being turned,” Ameera says, frowning. “You never mentioned a spell was required for them to regain their powers.”
He takes a shuddering breath as a profound sadness overtakes his features. “It’s not a pleasant subject for me.” He stares off into space for a long moment, the sorrow in his eyes deepening at whatever memory he’s lost in, before he eventually returns to the here and now and focuses on Ameera again. “I fell in love with a newly turned vampire while I lived in France many centuries ago. Her name was Helene, and like Anson, she was a mage in her human life and desperate to have her magic back. Luckily, her twin sister was a mage as well, and more than willing to help her with that. Her sister found the spell after months of research, and it worked perfectly. Helene had her magic back, and she finally felt whole again.”
He doesn’t appear any happier than when he started his story, and something tells me I won’t like how it ends.
“What happened to her?” Ameera asks as she clasps my hand.
“Back then, mage covens were a lot less tolerant of vampires,” he says. “They did what mankind has always done to anything they fear. They killed Helene and her sister for what she’d done.” His lips twist into a bitter smile that’s anything but happy. “But they made a fatal error. They didn’t kill me.” His eyes turn pitch black. “And I hunted down every last one of them and made them suffer for what they did.”
Well, that doesn’t make me feel any better about this situation. I’m ninety-nine percent sure the Unity Coven won’t react the same way and come after me, but his tragic story is really stirring up that one percent of doubt.
“You’re not instilling confidence with that story, Sire,” Ameera says as she squeezes my hand.
His expression returns to the serene one he wore when this conversation began. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he says. “That wasn’t my intention.” He looks at me again. “Suffice it to say, if you can find a mage willing to perform the spell, then I can describe it to them in detail.”
Fuck me. So not only do I need to convince my father to do the spell for me, but he also has to work with a Grand Master of the Mari Mae?tri to do it. That one percent of doubt is growing exponentially now, and I let go of Ameera’s hand and drop my face into my hands again with a sigh. I just don’t see how this will work, even if my father saved my life tonight. Not wanting me dead is different from agreeing to help me with something like this, and I just don’t see it happening. And that’s not even taking into account the chances we’ll be taking with our lives whenever we leave the house with this Executor hunting us.
Ameera places a comforting hand on my shoulder, knowing exactly how distraught I am when she says, “Anson and I need to discuss this in private.”
Nacar nods. “I understand.”
Ameera rises and pulls me up with her and the concerned way Nacar is looking at her just makes me wonder about the exact nature of their relationship. I stalk out of the room and head for the stairs with Ameera following close behind me. We go downstairs and cross the room to the mirrored door of our room. I slap my hand on the palm scanner a little too hard, but luckily I don’t break it. The door clicks open to allow us in, and I surge into the room, fuming as Ameera walks in behind me. Then I whirl to face her as soon as the door closes, voicing the question that’s been burning a hole inside me since I was introduced to Aydin Nacar.
“Did you fuck him?” I ask, my tone downright caustic as I point in Nacar’s direction upstairs. I know I fucked up as soon as Ameera arches a brow.
“That’s what you want to talk about right now?” she asks as she lifts her chin in that imperious way she does when she’s pissed off.
Heedless of her obvious anger, I get right in her face. “Answer me, or I swear to God I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” she asks, her body tensing for a physical attack.
Horrified that she’d think for a one second that I’d lay a hand on her, my anger deflates right out of me and I drop to my knees in front of her. Then I wrap my arms around her waist and press my cheek to her belly. “I’ll lose my goddamn mind,” I answer as I breathe in her sweet scent and desperately try to keep my shit together as my chaotic emotions swirl around inside me.
She relaxes at my words and sifts her fingers through my hair. “I swear to you, zem?r,” she murmurs as she rests her cheek on my head. “My relationship with my sire has never been sexual.”
All my jealousy shudders out of me with an exhaled breath, and I tighten my hold on Ameera in utter relief. It makes it easier to manage the rest of my emotions. I lift my head and meet her gaze. “I would never hurt you, baby,” I say with as much sincerity as I can muster.
“I know,” she says as she touches my face. “I guess my past isn’t as distant as I thought.”
I nod, remembering the tragic story of how she became a vampire. Her abusive husband had beaten her and left her for dead the night Nacar found her and turned her. And with my jealousy laid to rest, I can be grateful for his presence in her life. She wouldn’t be in my arms right now if not for him. I rise to my feet and pull her close again. She smiles and latches her hands around the back of my neck.
I kiss her then, deep and slow and with utter reverence, showing her just how much she means to me in a way words never could. When we part, we’re both trembling with desire. If only we had the time to indulge our lust right now, I’d show her exactly how I feel about her with the rest of my body, too.
“My father is the only mage I know who’s capable of performing a spell like that,” I say.
“I figured as much,” Ameera replies. “But getting him to do it?”
“That’s a whole other problem,” I say.
“It may not be as difficult as you think,” she says. “He did save your life tonight, after all.”
“Yeah,” I say. “But asking him to work with a Grand Master vampire might be enough to keep him from doing it.”
“You’re his son,” she replies. “Surely that will be enough incentive.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Well, last night he told you he didn’t have a son anymore, so I don’t exactly have the same confidence you do.”
“Actions speak louder than words, zem?r,” she says. “He shielded you from a bullet less than an hour ago. That has to count for something.”
I lapse into silence, knowing she’s right but unable to ignore the doubt plaguing me. What if my dad just straight up turns me down? Or worse, he agrees to perform the spell, then kills me in the middle of it while I’m vulnerable. My father wouldn’t ordinarily do something so conniving, but his hatred of vampires is so deeply rooted that he might convince himself it’s the right thing to do. Hell, he might just try to kill me when I approach him to ask for his help. Fuck me. I don’t know what to do. I’m just about to ask Ameera what she thinks we should do when my phone rings in my pocket. I pull it out and gape at the name that’s on the screen.
“Who is it?” Ameera asks as the phone rings again.
“It… it’s Amber,” I say, still staring at the screen as my phone rings a third time.
She touches my hand, and I glance up to see her soft, indulgent smile. “Then answer it, zem?r.”
I nod and cut off the fourth ring as I accept the call. “Amber?” My only reply is silence, and it terrifies me. “Amber? Are you there? Are you okay?”
“I… I’m fine,” is my sister’s hushed reply, and a relieved breath rushes out of me.
“I’m so sorry I scared you the other night,” I tell her, my apology sounding trite and inadequate to me.
She doesn’t reply, but I can hear her erratic breathing. Shit. She’s on the edge of a panic attack. It’s probably one of many she’s had to deal with all alone while I haven’t been around to help her. “Focus on your breathing, Amber,” I say in a soothing voice. “You know what to do. Slow breaths in and out. You’ll be okay.” It takes several more minutes of similar encouragement before she breathes normally again. “There you go. That’s better.”
“It… it really is still you,” she says. “I thought you were…” she trails off into silence again.
“Gone?” I say. “For a bit there, so did I, but I found my way back to myself thanks to Ameera.” I don’t tell her I was still struggling when I showed up at her door or that I attempted to greet the sun not long after. It would only upset her all over again.
“Dad told me that Ameera murdered you so she could turn you,” she says, her voice breathy and tremulous. “Th… that you were one of them now and that my brother was gone.” The broken sob that follows that statement breaks my heart.
“That’s not what happened at all,” I say, angry at my father for telling Amber that bullshit. “Vanessa shot me, and Ameera turned me to save my life. And thanks to her, I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll come see you and show you I’m still your brother, that I’m still the same man you’ve known your whole life.”
She takes a shuddering breath. “I… I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” she replies in a broken voice. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”
Those last few words hurt, and it makes me want to beg her to take them back, and yet I understand them, too. She went through hell at the hands of a vampire, and if I push myself on her too soon, then I might lose her forever. And I can’t stomach that.
“I understand,” I say, my voice trembling now. “Can I at least keep talking to you now?” I ask. “I’m in a helluva sticky situation and I could really use your advice.”
A long silence follows, punctuated by Amber’s ragged breaths. “I need to go,” she says. “I… I’ll call you when I’m ready.” And then she ends the call before I can say another word.
I pull the phone from my ear and stare at it, my grip tightening as my emotions run rampant again. I’m just about to throw the damn thing at the nearest wall when Ameera grabs my hand.
“Easy, zem?r,” she says. “She can’t call you back if you destroy your phone.”
“I need to go talk to her,” I say, my body tensing to flee the room.
“And do what?” she asks. “Frighten her again? You must tread lightly here, Anson. Or you risk losing her forever. I know that’s not what you want. Besides, going to her will only lead our problems right to her door. We can’t risk her getting caught in the crossfire if the Executor comes after us again.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, then walk over to the bed and sink down onto the edge of the mattress, feeling defeated all over again. “What the hell are we gonna do?” I say. “I need to go talk to my dad, but if we leave, the Executor will just try to assassinate us again.”
“The Executor isn’t trying to assassinate us,” Ameera says.
I bark out a bitter laugh. “Well, that bullet I dug out of your chest last night says otherwise.”
She arches a brow at my biting sarcasm. “She’s testing us before she formally challenges us.”
“By trying to kill us?” I ask. “That’s fucked up. Why not just challenge us and get it over with?”
“I agree that it’s fucked up,” she says. “But it’s probably a good thing she wants to see if we’re worthy adversaries first.”
I frown. “How is that a good thing?”
“It gives us time for you to regain your magic,” she says. “Then maybe we’ll have a chance of beating her.”
“She’s that good?”
“She’s been the Executor for over five hundred years,” she says, as if that answers my question.
“And?” I prompt with a scowl.
“And in all that time, she’s been undefeated.”
“So what you’re saying is we’re fucked.”
She arches a brow. “No,” she says. “What I’m saying is that if we can survive long enough for you to get your magic back, then we’ll have a fighting chance.”
“That sounds a lot like we’re fucked to me.”
“It’s that or we sit around waiting for her to challenge us and, more than likely, suffer a swift and brutal death on the Executor’s sword.”
“Fuck,” I mutter again.
Ameera moves closer and sits next to me, leaning her shoulder against mine and offering me some much needed comfort. “I owe you an apology, zem?r,” she says after a few moments.
I furrow my brows. “For what?”
“For naming you my consort without asking you first,” she says, then grimaces. “But we needed to present a united front to the Mari Mae?tri and there was no time.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“It’s a secondary one.”
“And what’s the first?” I ask, the warm affection in her gaze coaxing a smile out of me for what feels like the first time in days.
“Because I can’t imagine being Master of the City without you by my side,” she replies.
“And?” I ask.
She smirks at my leading question. “And because I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I say. “And if you’d had the time to ask me to be your consort, I’d have said yes.”
“I know,” she says, and then her soft smile fades to a worried expression. “So now what?”
I take a deep, shuddering breath and lace my fingers with Ameera’s before I reply. “I guess we go talk to my father and try not to die.”