Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Fuck today.
Anthony lies sprawled on my bed, a pillow jammed over his face, while I change my clothes. He’s been lying there ever since he marched into my bedroom with a growl of frustration and nothing else.
I’m only too happy to get out of the dress. The thin material makes me feel too exposed and on display. I replace it with jeans and a baggy T-shirt. The obscure band logo flipping off the world on the front feels like a mini rebellion. Out of habit, I take the amulet. The pouch feels uncharacteristically cold, and I rub at the shards inside. A creepy sensation tries to travel up my arm, like an army of spiders parading toward my armpit. I instantly shove the pouch into my pocket and rub the sensation away .
We’re alone in the room. Even though it’s not, I can imagine that this place feels like a sanctuary to my brother. No one will come looking for us in here. At least they won’t come looking for me and accidentally find him. They’ve already dictated what they require me to do.
“You all right under there?” I inquire.
He grumbles incoherently against the pillow. The weight of his frustrations is almost palpable.
“Why so glum?” I cross over to look down at him. “I take it you overheard the big news that Mortimer and the parents want me to get married?”
He lifts the pillow slightly, his eyes narrowed. “You mean the part where they’re selling you off to Chester ‘The Slimeball’ Freemont? Yeah, I heard.”
I roll my eyes and sit next to him on the bed. He pulls the pillow fully from his face and tosses it aside.
“I mean, out of all the people they could choose—Chester? Were they drunk?” He gives a teasing half-smile that doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “Or do they just hate me?”
“Yes. Because clearly my marriage to Chester will deeply affect you.” I chuckle at his attempt to lighten the mood, but there’s a heaviness that lingers beneath his sarcasm.
“I guess, technically, they gave me a choice of either Jasper or Chester.” Saying it out loud doesn’t make me feel better.
“You know, my buddy Peter thinks you’re cute, and he owes me several favors. We can fly up to Las Vegas, find an Elvis drive-thru, and get you hitched. Then you can’t get married because you’ll already be taken.”
“Isn’t Peter a werewolf?” I scrunch up my nose at the idea.
“You like dogs.” Anthony grins.
“As pets.”
Anthony’s grin widens. “Peter will let you pet him. He likes to be told what to do. He’s a good boy.”
I refuse to laugh at his joke, even though it’s funny. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to have to pass.”
My resistance only adds to his temporary amusement.
Anthony pushes himself up to sit beside me. He grins, but the smile still doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I know he’s frustrated for both of us.
“Everything with the elders is about tradition, legacy, status. We’re all pawns in some twisted chess game of life. It’s never about what we want.” There’s something more in his voice now, an edge of bitterness that makes me look closer at him. He avoids my gaze as he stares down at his hands.
“Have they been pressuring you, too?” I know that they’ll expect him to marry eventually. And it will not be to the person he chooses.
“Always and forever.” He shrugs, trying to brush it off with his usual easygoing charm. “But you know me. Always dodging expectations. As long as I’m smiling and playing the role of the dutiful son, they don’t look too closely at what I’m doing.”
Our parents might not look closely at him, but I do. Beneath the humor, I can feel his discomfort—the weight of what is eternally left unsaid. Anthony has always been the special one, the one who fits in. But I know that’s just what he lets people see. Since Conrad’s death, the more time I spend with Anthony, the more I realize how much I assumed about him that isn’t true. His life is not easy. He’s a hostage of this family’s expectations, just like me.
I reached to pat his knee briefly. “What are you going to do when they dictate it’s time for you to marry and have kids?”
Anthony’s difference for a fraction of a second and his expression falters. He quickly recovers and gives a slight shrug. “I guess I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
The nonchalance in his voice is forced. He avoids my gaze again, and I suddenly feel the weight of his secrets pressing down on him.
“Anthony, if you ever want to talk?— ”
He cuts me off with a tight laugh and runs his hands through his hair, messing the locks.
I refuse to let him deflect. This is too important, and I need to say it. Considering my future staring down at me, I need him to know that he has my unwavering support. “You shouldn’t have to live like this, pretending and hiding. I’m your sister. And I love you no matter what.”
“You know it’s not that simple, Tam-tam. I will say it again. It’s all about appearances and keeping the family going.” Anthony adjusts himself on the bed, moving to lean against the headboard. He stares at the distant wall. Even though he can’t fix my problems, his presence is comforting. I wish I knew what to say to him to make things better. I wish I knew what to say to myself.
“Let’s run away. Let’s go to Africa,” I suggest. “Tonight. Just like you said. Let’s disappear where they will never find us.”
He turns his head to look at me. “The only shipment heading in that direction is a family of goblins. We don’t want to hitch a ride with that smelly mess.”
My heart sinks a little. “It doesn’t have to be Africa. Let’s just leave.”
Honestly, I’d be happy going to Antarctica right now. Anywhere but here.
Costin’s face flashes in my mind. For a moment, I feel the intensity of his gaze, as if he’s standing right before me. I hate that I keep thinking about him, about the secrets he dangles in front of me. Why him? Why now? He was cut off before he could tell me about the prophecy, about the future waiting for me. I can’t help but wonder if his prophecy and Mortimer’s premonitions are the same thing. What are the odds that they both came on the same day—my family’s expectations, the growing danger, the prophecy?
I’d be lying if I said my preoccupation with the master vampire is just the prophecy. There’s something else there, too. Something dark and dangerous, something I don’t want to admit that I’m drawn to. I can’t even afford to fantasize about the vampire. That’s a treacherous path I do not want to travel.
Besides, the odds are Costin is not attracted to me; rather, he’s just fucking with me because he’s bored, and he can.
Anthony moves down on the bed to sit beside me and nudges me with his elbow, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Stressing about it will not make it go away.”
I force a smile, but my mind is still racing.
“Hey, you want to see something fucked up?” Anthony asks, and before I can answer, he adds, “Yes, you do. ”
He rolls off the bed, grabs my hand, and pulls me behind him.
“Seriously, I think you should consider Peter. It’s a good option.” He hooks his arm through mine and forces me to walk with him out of the bedroom.
“One quick bite, and I’ll be howling at the moon in no time,” I joke. “Immortality, baby!”
He drops his hold, only to drape his arm over my shoulders instead. “Please marry Peter. For me. The look on our mother’s face when you… bring him to family dinner…”
He starts laughing and can’t finish. I can’t help it. I try to hold back, but a small snort escapes me. The unladylike sound only makes my brother laugh harder.
Anthony stops. “In here.”
We’re outside of Conrad’s room. I feel my insides clench.
“Anthony,” I shake my head to stop him, “no.”
He reaches for the doorknob, not listening to my weak protest.
I must have been inside Conrad’s suite a million times, but I don’t want to make it a million and one. I expect Conrad’s ghost to be waiting as I watch the door open. Instead, the room is exactly as the servants would have left it.
The air is stifling, as if we’re stepping into a tomb. Maybe it’s my imagination, but the musty smell is familiar.
“We shouldn’t be in here,” I whisper.
Time has stopped in the room. Conrad’s bed is made, and everything is in its place. The curtains are drawn as if to protect a shrine to his life. Little treasures line an antique dresser. I don’t think they’re magical beyond the meaning they carried for Conrad.
I feel guilty thinking about it, but I can’t help but wonder why Astrid kept the room as he left it. There was no love lost between Conrad and his adoptive parents. The only conclusion I can come up with is that she is resistant to change.
“Over here,” Anthony says, opening Conrad’s closet and stepping inside. I hear something sliding.
Still, I hesitate.
Light flashes from inside the closet.
“Tam, come here!” Anthony calls.
I step across the large rug, letting it pad my steps to keep me quiet. I wait for the chill that means Conrad is watching, but it doesn’t come.
The walk-in closet is crammed with clothes and has the lingering scent of cologne. My hands begin to shake as memories flood me. He wore the green jacket to an art gallery event and stole a tray of bacon-wrapped shrimp for us because I’d missed dinner. The yellow shirt was from when he refused to hold a cab for me and left me alone on the sidewalk. Then there is the suit and long coat jacket that reminds me of the style favored by vampires. It’s laid out as if waiting. He wore that suit in the other timeline to our family’s funeral.
Seeing it here, now, waiting to be worn, I am struck with just how much detail Conrad planned his takeover of the Devine empire.
I don’t want to be in here.
“What do you make of this?” Anthony stands at the back of the closet in front of the flashing lights.
I go to see what he’s found. A secret compartment in the wall is pushed aside to show several security monitors.
“Who are these people?” Anthony insists.
The first monitor is the Turnblads’ kitchen in Kansas City. They were Conrad’s foster family before our parents adopted him. I’ve never been inside their home but recognize Larry in his barbeque apron. I met alternate-timeline Larry seconds before his house exploded. Toys litter the otherwise clean home as a couple of small blurs run under the odd angle of the camera. If I had to guess, the camera is hidden inside a smoke detector or something. No one appears to know it’s there.
The second monitor is a hallway in an apartment complex, watching for people to come up the stairwell. I can just make out the number 204 on the apartment door. I’ve been there too.
The third monitor is the dirty junkie’s den inside apartment 204. A half-naked woman is stretched out on an old couch, smoke curling from a cigarette. Graying brown hair is pulled into a scraggly ponytail. Her t-shirt rides up her waist, but she doesn’t seem to care. Liquor bottles and food wrappers dirty the already matted carpet. Lamplight shines from an exposed bulb, spreading over the couch like a spotlight. A bare-assed man comes into view and heads toward the couch. The smoking woman lying there is indifferent to his approach as he climbs on top of her.
“This is like the worst porn cam ever.” Anthony grimaces, even as he watches the dirty man’s ass begin to pump. “I knew our brother had issues, but this is just…”
I know that woman. It’s Conrad’s birth mother, a junkie prostitute. Conrad sent me to her apartment in an attempt to kill us both. She’d abandoned him as a kid outside a gas station to score some meth.
Even so, why would he want to watch the woman in such degrading positions?
“Turn it off,” I tell Anthony. “We should just…”
I wave my hand, wishing I could erase the images .
“What do you think Conrad was doing with this stuff?” Anthony asks.
“How did you find it?” I counter.
“I saw Uncle Mortimer’s little family meeting in the living room and decided to hide out until it was over. When I ducked in here, I saw the monitor light coming from the closet. This compartment wasn’t closed all the way.”
“No good can come of this.” I yank a cable behind one of the monitors, shutting off the Turnblads. “Whatever he was doing, Conrad is dead. No one else needs to find this.” I pull the cable out of the second monitor and go for the third of the prostitute.
“Yeah.” Anthony reaches for it at the same time, and we both end up jerking the cable out together. The sex show stops.
I feel a chill and rub my arms. “Can we get out of here now?”
“One second.” A blue light surges from Anthony’s fingers and travels into the cable before disappearing. He repeats the magical act with the remaining two. “That will sever the connection, making it untraceable back to us. This weird perversion is a scandal the family doesn’t need.”
Anthony closes the hidden compartment.
I wait for my brother to leave the room with me, afraid of running into Conrad. He’s not going to like that we canceled his shows .
“I sometimes feel like he’s still hanging around,” Anthony says. “I hope I’m wrong. Most spirits are without power. They’re trapped in loops, reliving the same thing over and over. It’s no way to exist. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
“What about the spirits who have power?” I ask.
“Active hauntings? They’re rare, fueled by intense rage or emotion. Those are so much worse. Conrad was moody and weird, but I don’t think he was angry enough to become vengeful.”
Yeah, I wouldn’t be so sure.
I think it, but I don’t say it.
“You really miss him, don’t you?” Anthony nods as if answering his own question.
I miss a lie.
I don’t say that either.
“Enough sadness. We need a distraction.” Anthony hooks my arm. A playfulness comes over him. “I want to know what’s going on between you and Costin. He’s not my normal type, but I have to hand it to you, he’s definitely handsome.”
“Nothing,” I protest. “He was just here giving his…”
“Giving his…?” Anthony grins. “His all? His best? His full effort?”
“Condolences,” I lie. I want the teasing to stop.
Anthony reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a piece of folded parchment. “Is that what the cool kids are calling sex in the grave these days? Seriously, a vampire boyfriend? Well done, you little freaky freak.”
“Me with a vampire doesn’t make sense. Don’t you think he’s a little old for me?”
Anthony laughs. “You’re an adult. Who cares if he’s ancient? He’s hot. But, hey, since you’re all into fangs now, I’ll say again my buddy Peter is always ready for a?—”
“What are you going on about?” I grimace at the idea.
He hands me the note. “I found this love note on your pillow.”
“And you took it?” I snatch it from him to see what it says.
“Midnight. Marcheur de Nuit Mausoleum. Catacomb entrance. Costin.”
“Somebody’s got a sexy date in a dirty place,” Anthony continues. “I wholeheartedly approve, by the way.”
I grimace.
He does a little dance, slapping an imaginary ass as he sings, “Costin’s gonna take my sister down to funky town.”
“I don’t even know what this means.” I crumple the letter.
Anthony is clearly entertained. “It means we’re going out tonight to party like supernaturals at the end of the world, little sister. Time for an adventure into the darkness, aka the supernatural city beneath New York.”
“ Marcheur… why does that sound familiar?” The name tickles my memory.
“ Marcheur de Nuit. The nightwalker crypt in lower Manhattan. You remember. Our parents made us pay our respects at that ghoul ceremony.”
“Oh, gross.” I shake my head and cover my nose. The memory of that smell is as potent as the day it happened.
Ghouls live underground and dig their way into graves, desecrating them to eat the flesh of the unembalmed. During the ceremony, they did it from above. It was some important magic dude’s dying wish. That is one supernatural event I wish they would have banned me from.
“Have fun with that,” I say. “Tell Costin sorry I’m never going anywhere with him, let alone into the catacombs to play inside the supernatural realm.”
There is no way I will meet a vampire in an underground graveyard filled with ghouls in the middle of the night.
No. Fucking. Way.