69 #2
My throat closed as I thought about everything I had survived. A cold chill swept through my body. The idea that Albatron had done it out of empathy was wild and nearly unbelievable.
“I don’t know if I believe you,” I said. “What if I don’t go along with this?”
“Even if I believed that,” Albatron said condescendingly as he turned away. “This was a courtesy. You have no choice in the matter.”
I shrugged. “Seems like maybe I have a lot of choices actually. It seems like you need me to walk into my father’s house and be the whisper in his ear telling him to stand down.
” I stood my ground as he fully turned to face me again.
His face became expressionless, and there was a predatory energy about his stillness.
“I don’t care if you did it out of the kindness of your heart—you ruined my life,” I ground out. “You have taken everything from me—my father, my family—” My voice broke as my anger escalated. “And, now you want me to pave the way for your success? Fuck you,” I snarled.
Albatron’s eyes glittered in the light. “There is a lot you don’t understand—”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” I spat.
“Then do not dig your heels into the sand like one,” Albatron fired back.
“I’ll admit—there is a lot regarding your family that I was complicit in.
And by that, I mean things I watched happen and didn’t do anything to stop.
For that, you have every right to desire vengance.
” He stepped closer, his eyes blazed with a fire that rivaled mine.
“Believe me, Emersyn—the sins of my family keep me up at night, but I have spent decades attempting to regain control so I can change that.”
“I don’t care—”
“I did not order the murder of your family!” Albatron exclaimed, his voice raised.
“I don’t believe you!”
We stood and stared at each other. His knuckles were white around his glass, but his grip was steady. He threw back the rest of his drink and set it down. He looked over at a stand of bookshelves along one wall and nodded as though he’d just made up his mind.
“I want to show you something,” he said.
“I’m not sure if you’ll—” He cut himself off and moved abruptly toward the shelves.
There was an ornate golden box on the middle shelf.
Albatron did something to the lock mechanism, and there was a muffled click as it disengaged.
His back blocked my view, as he opened the lid and picked up whatever lay inside.
When he turned, I gasped and took a step back.
“No,” I shook my head. “No, no, no—that’s not—that’s not possible.”
The past rushed forward.
“This is my little doll,” Octavius said. “Vetticus has been so kind as to lend her to me. But, I have plans for her to be mine and I thought tonight, she could be included in the ritual to make it official.”
“No.”
All eyes turned to a man who had spoken earlier. He stood slightly apart from the others.
His mask was a black wolf.
Octavius frowned at the outburst. “I know you’re not familiar with this line of business but—”
“It was you,” I choked on the words.
Albatron held the black wolf mask in his hands.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t make sense of what was right in front of me. I felt Albatron’s gaze pierce into my soul.
“So you do remember,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t sure.”
“I said no,” the man repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “She is underaged.”
A few men chuckled and Octavius’ smirk was condescending. “Well, yes, that’s the point.”
The man’s jaw tightened in disgust. “Then I will not participate.”
“Everyone must—”
“Choose another,” he insisted. “I know for a fact Vetticus has brought several others that are of appropriate age.”
The room had gone quiet again. These two men were obviously the ones in charge if the power that simmered between them was any indication. The man in the wolf mask approached and pulled me from Octavius.
“Choose another,” he snarled quietly. “And do not pull this stunt again in my presence.”
The man in the black mask walked me all the way down the hall to the base of the stairs.
“Go straight to your bedroom. Lock the door.”
I stumbled up the stairs and only glanced over my shoulder once. The man in the wolf mask stood at the bottom, the glint of his eyes through the holes shone like obsidian in the dim light.
I didn’t look back again.
“You—you stopped him—” I gasped.
I met Albatron’s steely gaze, the only emotion was firm resolve and a deep, visceral rage as he relived the memory with me.
“You would have gone to Octavius after Vetticus was finished with you. When I saw you in the clearing, I knew what would have befallen you if that came to pass.”
“So you shot me?” I exclaimed incredulously. “Like some animal you were putting out of its misery?”
Albatron gave a smile devoid of humor. “Precicely.” His tone turned dark. “My brothers and I disagree on many things. One of them being the suffering of children.”
I let his words sink in. I let the reality of this man begin to form around everything I’d thought about him previously. I may not have completely believed some of the things he’d said, but I couldn’t deny his actions, and knowing what I knew now made me more inclined to think he spoke the truth.
“Why help me now? I’m no longer a child,” I said.
“And still what suffering you have endured,” Albatron whispered. “Regardless of age and time, it persists. Human suffering is the kind of hurt that lasts us to the grave, I think.”
He said the last part grimly, like he spoke to himself more than to me. He replaced the mask in the box. When he turned back, he was more composed.
“It’s time to go home, Emersyn.”
The crackle of the fire cut through the disturbing silence in the room. There was a heavy stillness—the kind that sat on a knife’s edge as it waited to tip one way or the other. A collective holding of breath as fate hovered in the shadows.
I stared at Albatron. The man who suddenly I had to acknowledge was more than what he seemed.
The man who I might have to strike from my kill list because of everything I’d just learned.
The thought was staggering. I wanted to rage at him.
I wanted to argue. But, I also wanted to do the impossible and thank him.
I didn’t do any of those things though.
All I did was nod—because that part of what he said was true: It was time for me to go home.