Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
“Now, to stay ahead of this,” Victoria says, looking up from her iPad screen before tilting it toward me, “I need to know everything. Full transparency is important, okay?”
“Okay,” I agree.
“You and Antonio,” she continues. “Where did you actually meet?”
“He is my brother,” I tell her, thinking maybe she missed something.
“So that’s the story you’re going with?”
I can feel Antonio side-eyeing me.
“That’s not the story,” Antonio tells her. “We are siblings. I’ve known Wren since she was a baby. I think I even had to change a diaper a time or two.”
“Interesting,” Victoria says as she types something with inhuman speed on the iPad.
“Now, I need you to understand just how important honesty is here. The moment people know you’re a witch—” she glances at me, “—and that you were raised in the Order, it’s over.
Those are the two biggest things we’re trying to keep from leaking.
I need to know every skeleton in your closet. ”
“We know better than to keep skeletons in the closet,” I say without missing a beat. “We’d salt and bury the bones.”
She looks at me, confused, then just types something else on her iPad.
She quizzes us a bit more, asking questions that feel less strategic and more like she’s being nosy, until Xavier and Theo finish their conference call and join us in the family room.
“Oh, good. Now everybody’s here,” Victoria says, eyes lingering on Xavier a little too long as he sits on the couch next to me, hand landing on my thigh. “I need to go over this news segment from Channel 5 last night.”
She flips the iPad around and presses play. That channel is known for having some pretty extreme views, and the top anchors have been very outspoken about their anti-vampire stance. Devon comes into the family room right as the segment starts playing, standing to the side.
The news clip starts with dramatic music, the station’s logo flashing across the screen before settling on the anchor behind a polished desk.
“Tonight,” the anchor begins, “growing questions about the man many are calling the future of this city: Xavier Malus.”
A photo of Xavier from the event flashes on screen, looking sharp and composed in a black suit. His expression is neutral but, my god, he’s still good looking, giving off the vibe that looks like control.
“But who exactly is he?” the anchor continues, tone heavy with skepticism. “In just a few short weeks, Malus has gone from an influential—if somewhat mysterious—figure to a potential candidate for mayor, backed by powerful community members and, increasingly, public support.”
The screen splits, showing a commentator seated remotely. I’ve seen this guy debate people who support vampire inclusion before, and he’s spat off some very made up “facts” in most of his debates.
“What we’re seeing here is unprecedented,” the commentator says. “A man with no verifiable public record prior to the last few decades suddenly stepping into one of the most powerful positions in the city.”
The anchor nods. “And that’s just the beginning. Our team has been digging into Malus’s background—and what we’ve found is…very little.”
“No birth records. No clear immigration history. No family ties we can confirm beyond his vampire brother, Theo Malus, who is also just as mysterious. Are they even brothers?” the anchor continues. “Which raises the obvious question—where did he come from?”
The commentator leans forward slightly. “We spoke with an anonymous source familiar with some of the city’s most prominent vampires. According to them, Malus is old. Very old.”
The anchor arches a brow. “How old are we talking?”
“Over seven hundred years,” the commentator replies. “Possibly originating from Spain.”
A brief pause follows—just long enough to let it sink in.
The anchor gives a small, incredulous shake of the head. “Seven hundred years. That’s quite a claim.”
“It is,” the commentator agrees. “And we want to be clear—there’s no official documentation to support that, as Malus registered himself as being two-hundred and ninety some years old.
As we all know the issue with vampires self-reporting their death day is lack of verification.
But when there’s this much of a gap in someone’s history, speculation tends to fill the void.
” He lowers his voice slightly. “And if even a fraction of that is true, it raises the concern that vampires of that age develop special abilities..”
The anchor glances up. “You’re referring to compulsion?”
“Yes,” the commentator corrects. “The ability to influence human behavior. Bend perception. Override consent.”
He pauses again.
“Again, we’re not saying that’s what’s happening here,” he adds. “But it does make you question how someone rises this quickly, this smoothly, with this level of public support.”
The anchor nods slowly, hardly keeping a neutral expression. He’s loving this. “And there’s another piece of this raising eyebrows. According to court records, Malus recently married a human woman named Florence.”
A photo of me from our wedding announcement photoshoot flashes on screen. I look good at least.
“She might be just as mysterious as he is,” the anchor says. “No one has been able to figure out who she is or where she came from. Even her maiden name can’t be found.”
“No public history together,” the commentator adds. “No long-term appearances. No social footprint. And then suddenly—she marries him.”
The anchor folds his hands. “A powerful, centuries-old figure with no documented past, a rapid rise in influence, and a relationship that seems to have materialized overnight.” He looks directly into the camera.
“Is this simply a private man stepping into the public eye…or is there more going on behind the scenes?”
Victoria exits out of the video and puts the iPad down with a dramatic sigh. She purses her lips and looks at me. “How do you feel about artificial insemination?” Victoria asks, as if she’s talking about the weather.
“Like…in general?” I blink. “I don’t have any feelings about it, I guess. I don’t really think about it.”
Victoria laughs, leaning forward and touching Xavier’s arm. “She’s a funny one. I see why you’ve attached to her. I meant for you.”
I look at her, lips parting, but nothing comes out. I inhale and try again. “Why?”
“As you can see, they want you to be a bad guy or some dumb woman tricked into marrying a vampire. It’s harder to villainize a pregnant woman.”
“I don’t want to be pregnant,” I tell her.
“But you can be, right?” she asks.
I look behind her, staring daggers at Devon, who’s trying not to laugh.
“That is not happening,” Xavier says. I assume that would shut this ridiculous conversation down, but Victoria just tips her head and raises an eyebrow.
“It’s just something you should think about. There are plenty of statistics about how people feel about expectant mothers. And seeing you take care of her would humanize you in ways no vampire has ever been humanized before.”
“But I don’t want to be pregnant,” I repeat. “I don’t want a baby. I hear they’re quite involved.”
“Well, I’m sure you’d hire a nanny.”
“This is not up for discussion,” Xavier says, speaking each word a little slower this time.
“Yeah,” Devon laughs. “That ship has sailed.”
Victoria looks confused, but then moves on, shifting to creating fake social media accounts for Antonio and me. The fact that Mabel started a new account for me will work perfectly in our favor since we can use it as a rebrand.
I don’t have much posted on my personal Instagram.
Maybe seven years ago, I made an attempt to photograph some of the beautiful places we traveled to while hunting demons.
But I lost interest and didn’t want to put in the time it takes to edit photos.
I only have maybe seventy-five photos total, and only two have my face in them, which is workable, according to Victoria.
Antonio, being slightly older, had a Facebook page, but he deactivated it a decade ago.
It’s still searchable, though. She locks the account so people can find him but not see anything.
I have no idea how it’s even possible to edit old posts on Instagram with new photos, but I suppose if you can hack a computer, you can do almost anything.
My private Instagram will become public soon, with just enough photos of Antonio and me to make us look like actual siblings.
Our backstory is that we were born on the East Coast, which hits close to home for me.
Beyond that, everything is kept vague, and I’m supposed to decline any interviews or questions.
Which is perfectly fine by me. I hate being in the spotlight.
What feels like an eternity later, we finish damage control, and Victoria leaves.
I keep checking my phone, hoping to see a text from Marie.
I haven’t been this concerned with receiving a text since I had an active profile on Hinge several years ago.
I asked a lot of questions about demons, and now I’m worried I said the wrong thing and pissed Marie off—assuming she’s not evil and is actually trustworthy.
I thought she was when I first met her. I just want her to like me.
I’ve gone over the conversation in my head more times than I should admit.
I was curious, of course, but that’s expected.
And I made a point to talk about other, non-demon things too.
Still, the voice in the back of my head—the one that tells me I’m not enough and that I’ll never fit in—has yet to be silenced.
“Hey,” Mabel says, coming into the kitchen. I’m sitting at the table, half-heartedly flipping through the books. I’m not going to find anything, but I need something to do.
“Can I order you a pizza?”
“Sure,” I tell her, and she claps her hands together.
“I’ve never ordered a pizza before! What kind do you want?”
“Cheese with extra black olives.”
“What about your brother?”
“Just pepperoni for him.”
“Pepperoni is meat,” she says, looking at me with wide eyes. “And you don’t eat meat.”
“Correct,” I tell her.
“That means I get to order two pizzas.” She lights up and shows me her phone. “I even downloaded an app!”
“It’s fun,” I say, smiling at all the little things she doesn’t get to do anymore now that she’s undead.
“I got turned at the wrong time,” she says, making a face. “If they had waited, I would be really old and probably not even alive anymore.”
“That is true. I’m glad you’re here,” I tell her.
“Me, too.” She smiles and sits next to me to order the pizza. “How are you doing?” she asks. “Like, really doing?”
“I’m okay,” I tell her right away.
She just gives me a look, letting me know she doesn’t believe me.
I let out a slow sigh and push the book away from me.
“I’m scared,” I confess. “It just seems like we’re facing the impossible, and with an invisible doomsday clock ticking above my head, I haven’t even had time to process how fucked up everything is.
I don’t know if Antonio is okay, and I feel like a terrible sister for not checking in on him more. ”
“You’re not talking about being physically okay, are you?” she asks gently.
“No. He died, and his parents just stood there and watched. I don’t think Vivian and Marco intended for him to lose his life, but Vivian just…did nothing.” My eyes widen as I think back to it.
“Zeke told me,” she says. “I had him explain it in great detail, and I’m shocked, too. Losing a child does something to you. And Zeke said Vivian didn’t even go to his side. She went to the body of that Order guy instead and took a necklace off of him or something.”
Hearing her say it out loud makes something click into place in my head.
“Holy shit,” I say. “Holy fucking shit.” I look at Mabel, eyes wide. “You’re a genius.”
“I am.” She agrees instantly, then gets a confused look on her face. “Wait, I am?”
“Yes, because it all makes sense now.” I get to my feet, hardly able to contain myself. I pace across the floor and then come back to the table. “It all makes sense,” I say again, knowing that to her, I’m not making any sense at all.
“I think you’re going to have to explain,” she says patiently.
“Vivian didn’t go to Antonio. She went to Marcus Henry.”
“Yes,” Mabel says, still not following, and I don’t blame her because I know I’m rambling. Hell, I’m still trying to process it myself, double-checking my own thought process.
“Vivian is a monster, but not that much of a monster. I don’t think she is,” I continue. “She wasn’t upset by seeing Antonio’s body because she thought she could undo it.”
“Undo it?”
“With the demon’s help. That’s why she went to Marcus Henry and took something off his body.” I sit down, looking into Mabel’s eyes. “The sigil,” I go on. “He was wearing it around his neck.” I swallow hard. “Vivian has the key.”