Chapter 29 Raoul
Raoul
“Well,” says my sister. “You’ve fucked up. As usual.”
I’ve been standing behind a high-backed chair in the library, but at those words, I march around the chair toward her. I’m not sure what I intend to do—attack her? Dart out the door and run?
But she lifts her chin, cool and imperious, and says, “Sit.”
It’s her alpha voice, a command I can’t resist. Teeth gritted, I sink down into the chair.
Part of me wasn’t surprised when she appeared in Box Five at the end of the musical. I’d asked the security guards not to let her into the New Orpheum, but I’m sure she bribed or threatened her way past them. Or maybe Gil, being an ally of hers, overruled my order to the security personnel.
He and I have never discussed my sister, not since we began working together on Sidewinder.
In the weeks since I broke ties with the Collective, the closest he came to mentioning it was to clap me on the shoulder and say, “You’ve done well, Raoul.
Doing your own thing, standing on your own two feet like a man should. It suits you.”
I’ve never liked him, but those words of praise put me off my guard a bit where he’s concerned.
I assumed he was on my side, more or less, and I didn’t look at him as a threat.
I should have kept a closer eye on him, should have realized that he was probably there to spy on me for Philippa, even while he looked out for his own interests.
I should have been more careful, and I should have told Erik and Christine about Philippa’s influence over me.
Why didn’t I warn them? Maybe because her control is limited by proximity, and I thought I could stay away.
Maybe because her commands have no power once I’ve left her presence.
Maybe because I didn’t want Erik to go and kill her immediately.
Maybe because I didn’t want the two people I admire most to realize how fucking weak I really am.
In spite of all that, I should have swallowed my pride and told them about the danger. I should have known that my sister’s silence was anything but an admission of defeat.
I should have known she would never let me go.
Of course, I realized it all too late, the moment Philippa sat down beside me in Box Five.
I went for my phone immediately, but she said, “No phones. Come with me, now. Quietly.”
I’ve never fought so hard to resist a command, not even when my father was the one giving the orders.
But it was no use. My body obeyed her, leaving the box calmly and walking beside her to the car.
She dropped me off at our house, where several shifters were waiting to make sure I went inside and stayed in the library, per Philippa’s orders.
They remained with me until she got back a few minutes ago.
I don’t know where she was or what she was doing, but it can’t have been anything good.
Now she’s standing in the door of the library, looking at me like I’m a wayward pet who has disappointed her for the last time.
The library is one of my least favorite rooms in the house.
Not a novel in sight; my father disapproved of fiction.
No poetry either. It was contraband for me, smuggled in from the public library, inhaled during my lunch breaks at school, downloaded on my phone and kept in a folder I titled “social studies test notes” so my father would overlook it during his periodic checks of my phone’s contents.
Only when I finally made it into college did I have free rein to indulge my passion for poetry and lyricism.
Philippa paces slowly toward one of the bookcases, traces a finger along one shelf, and inspects her fingertip for dust. Apparently she finds none, which is good news for the maid.
“When you came back from college, I supported you,” Philippa says. “I let you pursue your music. I didn’t immediately summon Jean-Luc and try to bring out your wolf like Dad did.”
She pauses, glances at me. She’s positioning our father as a common enemy, trying to put herself on my side.
I scoff loudly. “Don’t act like you’re better than him. You were at his elbow the whole time, all those years he was tormenting me. You fucking worshipped him.”
“I was loyal to him. To this family. A concept that seems too difficult for you to grasp. Do you understand where we came from? What our parents and grandparents built? Do you realize how many people crave the level of power and influence that comes with the de Chagny name, not to mention the financial assets?”
“I’m aware that we’re a bunch of billionaire assholes,” I reply. “Wait…supernatural billionaire assholes. Does that make it better or worse?”
Philippa gives me a vicious sneer. A single lock of her hair flops over her eyebrow, brushing her cheek.
“You act as if you’re not one of us. Like you’re better than everyone else in the Collective.
Better than me.” She shakes her head, venting a sharp chuckle.
“Where do you get the audacity, the hubris? It’s new, and it doesn’t look good on you.
Wait…I know where you got it. From her.”
She means Christine, and she’s not wrong.
“You didn’t mention a lover’s name in your email.” Philippa captures the stray lock of hair and smooths it into place. “But it wasn’t hard to figure out who she is. The entire cast and crew of your musical know you’re sleeping with Christine Daaé. Or you were. That won’t be happening again.”
“You can’t keep me away from her.” I try to rise from the chair, but her command to sit still grinds against my bones, holding me in place.
“I realize that,” she says more calmly. “You’d figure out a way to get to her. Temporarily removing her influence won’t work. There has to be a permanent uncoupling.”
I twist in the chair, fear flaring through my veins like molten metal. “What does that mean?”
She continues her walk along the bookshelves.
“It’s beyond frustrating, the way you gobbled up the money I gave you.
The way you act like you deserve the funding for your precious musical—like it’s your right.
It’s not. It’s a fucking privilege. A privilege afforded to loyal members of this family. Now that you can shift—”
“Yes, I can shift now. So what?” I exclaim. “Why can’t I keep living my life as I choose? Keep the money. I don’t want it.”
“But you need it,” she counters, eyes narrowing.
I want to tell her that no, I don’t need it, because Erik has promised to support my musical career.
But I hold back the retort. I can’t tell her anything about him.
She and the others would consider him a threat.
The Collective would hunt him down, and none of his voice tricks would save him from all those teeth and claws.
I keep silent, and she takes that as an admission of need.
“Privileges are earned.”
Her tone, her inflection, and her expression have never reminded me so much of our father. Acid inches up my throat. I can feel flashbacks quivering at the back of my brain, ready to leap forward and crush my consciousness or send me into a sweating panic.
Philippa’s voice continues, hard as bulletproof glass.
“You really expect me to hold on to this empire myself, don’t you?
And I could, I suppose. But it may surprise you to learn, little brother, that I’m not a robot.
I get tired. Do you hear me? I get fucking tired of managing everything, dialoguing with everyone, settling disputes and maintaining alliances so we can stay at the top.
You don’t know how easily it could all fall apart.
You don’t want to know. You just want to keep drinking from the family tit until you’re glutted without lifting a finger to—”
“I don’t want the money,” I cut in. “I want to be free. No more Collective, no more supernatural shifter Mafia or whatever the hell we are. I just want out. You could get out, too. You could leave.”
She freezes midstep and turns her shocked gaze on me.
Even on the day when I first showed her my wolf form, I never saw her look like this. Utterly stupefied.
“Leave?” Her voice is breathless with anger…
and maybe a touch of panic. “You have no idea what you’re saying.
You know only a fraction of the influence the Collective wields in this city—the power we have.
And I rule the Collective. I do. Why in the hell would I ever give that up? What else would I do?”
I shrug. “Go live in Colorado with Conri?”
Her laugh is nearly hysterical. “He’d leave me, you idiot.
We are engaged because of the Collective, because an alliance makes sense and we fit perfectly as mates.
That’s our duty, yours and mine—to mate within the shifter lines and keep our blood strong.
But you don’t care. You ran off with someone completely inappropriate for you.
Not just some unknown dancer, but a fucking vampire. ”
Ice trickles down my spine. Until now, I was sure she thought Christine was human. Not much of a threat.
But if she knows Christine is a vampire…
Fuck. Oh fuck.
Philippa shakes her head at me. “You’re thinking about denying it.
Don’t bother. I have proof. She was cautious with her feedings, but her caution was no match for the people who work for me.
I imagine she’s fretting about her mistakes right now, thinking about everything she could have done differently. Thinking about how this ends.”
“Where is she?” I try to stay calm, but I’m not as coolheaded as Erik or as clever as Christine, so my voice trembles. “If you touch her…”
“What will you do, Raoul?” Philippa steps in front of me, one hand on her hip, bending slightly to look me in the face. “Kill me? I’m your family. Oh wait…I forgot. Family means nothing to you.”
“There’s more than one kind of family.”
“You didn’t answer my question. What will you do if I hurt Christine?”
I stare into her eyes—the eyes of the person I opened Christmas presents with. The one who made the same ew face as I did when we were served asparagus at dinner. The person who watched quietly while our father shoved me into the closet under the stairs.
I remember how she looked in those moments—pity mixed with cool interest and a touch of rebuke. I remember what she would say to me afterward. Just shift next time, and everything will be all right. Just obey him, and he’ll be nicer to you. As if I were purposefully resisting the change somehow.
I remember watching her young wolf form gamboling on the back lawn after dark.
I remember the first time she fought a member of the pack over an offense I can’t recall.
My father made me stand with him that night and witness the event.
I remember how the other shifter’s blood looked black against the yellow grass under the floodlights.
She was merciless even then, and she is ruthless now.
Her stare penetrates mine. “I know what you’ll do,” she says quietly.
“You’ll do exactly as I say.” She straightens, smoothing her blouse.
“Father was right. The only way to accomplish anything with you is to break you. You have to keep being broken until you’re finally pliant enough to fill the role you were born to assume. ”
From what Philippa has said, Christine is already in her hands. I don’t know where Erik is, and I pray he won’t be foolish enough to come after us and get himself killed.
“Please, Philippa.” I force the words out. “Just let me go. Let Christine go. You have Conri to support you. You don’t need me.”
“Conri isn’t family, Raoul. You were taught the same lessons I was, in a bloodier font. I don’t understand why you still can’t grasp it.” She sighs. “I gave you as much freedom as I could, but you abused it and forfeited my trust. You did this to yourself, little brother.”
“No, Philippa—”
“You’re going to come with me now. Christine has broken several laws of the Collective.
She owes a two-year debt, she has murdered several humans, and she has taken blood from humans who were not on the index of approved prey.
We can’t have a rogue vampire running around.
Exiling her would only distract you—you’d want to chase after her.
So for your own good as well as the good of our city, her sentence is death. And you will carry it out.”