Chapter 21 - Anson
21
ANSON
I let out a deep sigh as I stare out the passenger window of Ameera’s Porsche at the back of the house I used to call home. A cool breeze drifts through the open windows of the car, ruffling my hair and doing nothing to soothe my mounting anxiety. We’re running out of time since the approaching sunrise last night forced us to delay our plans. Now our battle against the Executor is tomorrow night and I’m still no closer to reconciling with my father, let alone getting my magic back.
“I hope this goes better than the last time I was here,” I say.
“You’ll never find out if you don’t get out of the car,” Ameera replies with humor in her voice.
Probably because I’ve been sitting here unmoving since we pulled to a stop in the alley behind Amber’s house several minutes ago. My name might still be on the deed, but I know without a doubt it’s not mine anymore. That hurts almost as much as knowing my own sister is terrified of me.
I turn and frown at Ameera, tempering my displeasure by putting my hand on her thigh. “Just give me a few minutes. Okay?”
She places her hand on mine. “Take all the time you need, zem?r.” Then she pulls her hand away and takes her phone out of her suit jacket pocket. “In the meantime, we need to choose our impartial witness. I already told you my suggestion.”
I shake my head, my frown deepening. “I already owe him too much.”
“Then who else do you suggest?” she asks. “One of the Fae?”
I shudder. “Hell no.” The last thing we need is a scheming fae added to this shitshow.
“Should I make the call?”
I growl under my breath, wishing like hell I had any other option to consider, then concede. “Do it.”
To her credit, she doesn’t gloat over her victory. It’s not her style, and one of the many reasons I love her. She places the call and lifts the phone to her ear. And as the line rings through on her end, I hear the unmistakable ringing of a phone coming from nearby. We glance in the sound’s direction and gape at the hulking form that steps out from around the corner of the small garage on the opposite side of the alley from my house.
“Speak of the devil,” I mutter as Logan Rourke strides toward our car with a scowl on his face.
I open the door and surge up out of the car, returning his scowl over the roof as Ameera gets out, too. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
His cheeks redden in a way I’ve never seen on the man before as he glares back at me. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“This is his sister’s house,” Ameera says with an arched brow. “He has every right to be here, unlike you.”
He glances between us, his cheeks even ruddier now. Weird. “I… uh… I heard there was an assassin after you two. I figured I’d keep an eye on your sister, so no one could use her to get to you.” His voice has this odd panicked edge I’ve never heard him use before.
I frown. “Well, good news,” I say. “No one’s after us anymore, so you can go home now.”
“Good,” he says. “Forget I was even here.”
Then, to my surprise, he turns to walk away without another word. I’ve never heard of the man backing down from anything so easily. This just keeps getting stranger and stranger.
“I’m afraid that’s going to require a little incentive,” Ameera calls out.
Rourke stiffens and turns back to eye Ameera in suspicion. “Typical vampires,” he says in a low grumble. “Always looking for an angle they can manipulate to their advantage.”
Ameera lifts her chin. “I’d say that’s the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you?” she asks, her voice whip sharp.
“What do you want?” he asks as he crosses his massive arms over his equally massive chest.
“We require an impartial witness to a formal challenge, and you would fit the bill perfectly.”
His jaw clenches and unclenches a few times before he snarls out an answer. “When and where?”
Ameera’s lips twitch at her victory while a wide, shit-eating grin spreads across my face since, unlike her, I’m not above gloating over a victory. “Be at Haven Hall tomorrow night at midnight. That’s all you need to know.”
He growls deep in his throat, his nostrils flaring and his eyes narrowing to slits of aquamarine fire. “Fine.” Then he turns and stalks away down the darkened alley with his hands balled into fists at his sides.
“Well, that was odd and fortuitous,” Ameera says, her narrowed eyes tracking the werewolf’s hasty departure.
I frown after him, wondering why he’d feel the need to keep an eye on Amber when I never asked him to do it. I’d love nothing more than to march after him and demand an explanation, but it will have to wait. I’ve got much bigger problems to figure out right now.
“Do you really think this will work?” I ask Ameera over the roof of the car after Rourke is gone.
“I do,” she says. “If you can convince Amber to accept you as her brother again, then she can convince Wai Lin to help us get your father to realize you’re still his son. Then he’ll hopefully be willing to perform the spell to restore your magic.”
“That sounds like a lot of convincing to accomplish in one night,” I say.
“I know,” she replies with worried eyes. “But what other options do we have?”
I glance at the house again, then sigh. “Let’s do this.”
We close the car doors and make our way to the gate that leads into the fenced-in backyard. I stop and stare at the back door of the house and think about the last time I was here, about the terror in my sister’s eyes and the utter despair I felt when I left here, intent on greeting the sun. I have a better handle on my emotions than I did then, but will my newfound control last if she rejects me again? Will I go to that same dark place? I stiffen at the thought, panic licking at my mind as my emotions roil around inside my head.
Ameera touches my shoulder. “Easy, zem?r,” she murmurs. “Control your emotions. You’ve done it many times before. This is no different.”
I suck in a ragged breath and close my eyes, focusing in on each emotion, working my way through them one at a time. It’s imperative that I get a grip on myself because if I go to Amber on the verge of losing control like this again, then there won’t be any chance she’ll accept me back into her life.
“I’m okay,” I say when I feel somewhat calm again.
“Good,” she says, then presses her hand to my chest, right over my heart. “Remember. You’re still the same man in here, and she’ll see that as clearly as I do.”
“I sure fucking hope so,” I say, then open the gate.
I stride across the yard, leaving Ameera behind since we decided I should approach Amber alone in case Ameera’s presence is too much for my sister. Better safe than sorry. Every light in the house is on as usual, so that doesn’t tell me if she’s awake or not. I don’t want to risk panicking her by knocking on the door, so I pull out my phone as I approach the back deck, then stop to place a call to my sister. It rings repeatedly, and I’m just about to end the call when she finally answers.
“Anson?” she says, her voice slurred with sleep.
“It’s me,” I say. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“S’okay,” she replies, then lapses into silence, and I’m not sure it’s because she’s struggling to wake up or because my call is freaking her out. Hell, it’s probably both.
“I’m out on the back deck,” I say, not wanting to blindside her with my presence here. “Can we talk?”
Her reply is a silence so long that I check my phone to see if the call got disconnected.
“I don’t have to come inside,” I say. “We can talk through a window.”
There’s another long silence, and then I hear a rustling in the background on her end. “Okay,” she says, her voice barely audible even to my sharp ears.
A few moments later, I hear footsteps and then Amber appears in the kitchen, swathed in her fluffy robe with her honey brown hair pulled into a messy pile atop her head. My sister looks even more tired and wan than the last time I was here, and I don’t like it one damn bit. She shuffles over to the tall window next to the back door and I step into the light so she can see me.
She gasps at my appearance, her big brown eyes widening as they meet mine, then flicking down to my chin, her face growing so pale that her scars stand out in stark relief. She’s so terrified at the mere sight of me that I’m half afraid she’ll turn and run. Her fear awakens my bloodlust, but it isn’t more than I can handle this time. I ignore it and smile as I move even closer, hoping to put her at ease.
“Hey, munchkin,” I say, using the nickname I had for her when she was little. I haven’t used it since we were kids.
That gets a hint of a smile out of her. “Hey, poop-head,” she replies. It was the worst thing she could think of calling me whenever I pissed her off when she was five-years-old. It happened a lot.
“Remember that time I buried your dolls in the backyard so I could pretend I was an archaeologist?”
She snorts out a laugh, and her smile widens. “Yeah, and I retaliated by burying your coin collection in the sandbox so I could be a pirate and dig for buried treasure.”
I give her a mock scowl. “I never found all of them.”
“Payback’s a bitch,” she says with a smirk that tells me I’m getting somewhere with her. But then the smirk fades and fear clouds her features again.
My hope fades at the sight, and I frown. How am I supposed to convince her I’m still the man she’s known and loved her whole life when I’m one of the monsters that ruined her life? I’m not above begging if I thought it would work.
Just then, I hear a faint chirping sound and I glance down to see a white cat twining his lithe body around my sister’s legs. Amber leans down and straightens a second later with Gimpy clutched in her arms like a shield, and my heart sinks even more. I fear I’m wasting my time here and I’m just about to give up when the cat turns and focuses on me.
Gimpy chirps a greeting, then reaches out toward me with his right front leg, the one missing a paw after some abusive asshole cut it off when he was a kitten, and taps the stump against the glass. He languidly blinks his brilliant golden eyes at me with an utter serenity that I’ve only ever seen him use with Amber before. The cat chirps again, then stretches toward me and gives the glass separating us an affectionate head-bump. I reach out to put my palm on the window, and Gimpy does it again, his purring so loud now I can hear it through the glass.
“Holy shit,” Amber says as she watches her pet with a wide-eyed stare.
I gape at the animal who had reacted to me as if I were the epitome of evil only a few days ago. It has to be a fluke. Maybe he’s reacting like this because he can’t actually smell vampire on me.
“Open the window,” I tell her.
Amber doesn’t even hesitate as she does as I say, flipping the latch and yanking the window up with her free hand. Then she leans in close with Gimpy again, and he sniffs daintily at my hand through the screen that separates us. He chirps again and bumps his head against my palm, still purring away like a motorboat.
“It… it really is you,” Amber murmurs.
I look up at her, and she meets my gaze without a hint of fear as a soft, warm smile of acceptance spreads across her face that tells me I have my sister back. I grin at her as a wave of joy and relief sweeps over me, leaving me in awe. Never in a million years did I imagine that the skinny little kitten I saved from certain death in the alley behind Haven Hall three years ago would return the favor and save me.