Chapter 31 #2
“It was a shameful last resort,” Thomas adds, as if this makes it all right.
“Elaborate.”
He swallows hard. “We told her father that you had taken an interest in his daughter.” His voice grows quieter with every word.
“And what he could gain from a potential bargain. We pushed him to seek you out, and when he showed up at your door, his daughter in tow, we hoped you would kill both to preserve your anonymity. We had reason to believe she might have been the key to your freedom.”
His eyes flash to Elly, and it takes all I have not to give in to more basic, more volatile urges. Elly’s own anger pushes at me from behind, nearly making me trip over the edge and urging me to rip this man to pieces.
“Let’s see if I understand this.” My voice drips with poison. “You set up her father and then, when that failed, her husband? Because you wanted more than all the luxuries I already give you?”
Thomas looks at me with a fire of his own, and I don’t like it. “We want to be free to make our own decisions.”
“In what regard? Marriage? Because that’s the only aspect of your private life I meddle in, Thomas. Your job is your job, which I’m paying you to do.”
“To some of us, it matters whom we marry. Whether or not we have a say in it.”
His eyes snap to Elly again, and I growl at him. “Look at her one more time, and she’ll be the last thing you ever see.”
Elly’s magic skims over my back. “His eyes would make a lovely gift.” She laughs, her voice soft and airy despite her anger. A smile curls my lips at her idea. My wife certainly has a thing for eyes, doesn’t she?
“So what? You don’t agree with the wife chosen for you?” I say, redirecting my focus to Thomas. “Instead of speaking up and bringing the issue to my attention, you decided I’m the one who needs to go?”
“Speak up? You mean to say you would have listened to our grievances?” Thomas spits at me.
“Have I ever not?” I retort.
I see the moment he realizes I’m right. This whole mess could have been avoided if someone had just said something.
For generations, they’ve assumed I’m so strict about their procreation that it wouldn’t be possible to reason with me, to plead their case, and to allow me to offer a mutually beneficial solution. Talk about miscommunication.
And now they’ve gotten themselves involved with inhumans to rid themselves of their problem, effectively wiping away every chance of me seeing it from their side. How did they think this was going to play out? That I would just roll over and take it?
“Oh no,” he whispers.
“Oh yes, you idiot.” I turn away from him and approach Elly. “How is he?” I ask, looking down at William’s still form. He looks awfully pale, but at least the bleeding has stopped.
Elly shakes her head. “He’s stable for now, but the wound won’t close.”
I turn back to Thomas. “Those redheaded siblings.” He flinches at their mention. “What stake do they have in all this? Why would they help you?”
His heart rate quickens, panic setting in. Sweat glistens on Thomas’s forehead as he struggles to speak or remain silent. “They want what’s yours.”
A loud thud sounds from upstairs, followed by a wailing voice.
Something crashes down the stairs, followed by a few seconds of silence that puts both my and Elly’s magic on edge.
Then Isabella appears, her skin nearly as white as the sheet clutched around her still-naked body—the same sheet stained with her blood, though her wound has healed.
Somehow, only an angry pink scar remains.
Isabella sees William and wails again as she stumbles to his still body. Confused, I let her, and she falls beside him, trembling hands hovering over him.
“Thomas,” I snarl, my patience running dangerously low.
He looks almost as pale as his wife.
Elly shouts, struggling to pry Isabella away from William, who has a slit wrist pressed to her son’s mouth.
Sharp fangs hover over her lips, and blood tears streak her cheeks.
In an instant, I rip Isabella away, throwing her against the wall.
Her skull cracks against the bricks beneath the plaster, and she slumps down.
“Did any of her blood get in his mouth?” I ask Elly.
“I don’t know.” Her anger fades, replaced by confusion and a hint of panic. “There’s too much of his own blood.”
She looks at me with worry in her eyes. Then her gaze lands on Isabella’s golden bracelet, and she frowns. I snag the bracelet from Isabella’s wrist, inspecting it. Up close, I recognize it as one of many pieces of enchanted jewelry that went missing over the years.
“How long?” I demand.
Thomas trembles when I approach him. I command the vines to wrap around him even tighter, lifting him until we’re face-to-face. Black smoke swirls around him, locking his face in place so he has no choice but to look at me.
I’m losing control. Magic tears at my skin, urging me to be set free—to wreak havoc on this pathetic man, to burn him and this place down. It’s no wonder Elly and I sensed something was off about Isabella; something has been wrong for a long time.
“How long has she been turned?”
Thomas won’t stop shaking, unable to answer. So I set my blood magic on him. It burrows inside him, molding around every muscle and piece of flesh until he can’t move. He hangs before me, utterly still, his eyes almost bugging out. Only his face retains control.
“How long,” I begin again, my magic searing his skin, “has she been a vampire?”
Before Thomas can answer, Isabella stirs faintly from where she lies in a crumpled pile.
“Fine.” My eyes shift from her to him, my decision made. “I’ll ask her.”
He doesn’t get the chance to scream. Magic touches the seed Elly planted inside him, infusing it until it grows too large to be contained in his stomach.
Then it explodes in a frenzy of thorny vines, ripping his body to pieces from the inside out.
Gore splatters everywhere, drenching me, the walls, the floor, and the ceiling.
It flies far enough that even Elly isn’t spared.
Bloodred streaks mark her face and clothes. Her eyes widen, but it’s not fear that lingers in them. Quite the opposite. Her chest heaves, cheeks flushed despite the blood painting her skin.
Isabella stirs again, a pained groan escaping her as she wakes, blinking slowly, clearly still dazed. “Thomas?” she asks, her voice hollow and weak.
“Not really.”
Her eyes focus, and she presses closer to the wall when she sees me, panic and fear marring her face.
She slowly takes in the scene. If she realizes it’s her husband painting the walls, she doesn’t show it.
She blinks, and it’s as if she remembers.
Isabella surges forward, pushing past me to her son. “D-did it work?”
“Did what work?” Elly asks, her voice harsh, revealing her anger. She checks William’s pulse from where she’s still sitting beside him. “He’s dead.” She casts her eyes down, the slight tremble in her lip telling me this affects her.
It makes my heart sink as well. I can’t deny that I liked him, and I actually had plans for him.
“No, no, it can’t be,” Isabella cries, collapsing beside William’s lifeless body. “He can’t be. He shouldn’t be.”
“Isabella,” I say sternly, annoyance quickly setting in. “Since when?”
She looks at me, bloodied tears marking her cheeks. A sigh escapes her, completely deflating. Elly touches her arm, using magic to take the edge off.
Isabella clutches the sheet closer to her chest, her gaze unwavering as it locks onto William. “I was attacked when I was pregnant. He said…” She shivers, and Elly casts a warm spell to envelop her in heat. “He said he liked the taste of pregnant women. So he fed on me and raped me. For two weeks.”
This time, it’s Elly who shudders.
“I… don’t think he meant to turn me. But it happened, and he let me go. Sometimes, I think it’s the only reason he set me free.”
“And the baby?” Elly asks gently.
Isabella reaches out, softly stroking William’s hair. “Against all odds, he survived and was born a healthy, strong baby boy.” A soft smile plays on her lips, the love for that child—for William—undeniable in her eyes.
Elly frowns at me, clearly wondering how that’s even possible.
It’s not. It shouldn’t be.
Magic reaches out to William’s corpse while I ensure Isabella keeps talking. “Why wasn’t I informed about any of this?”
“Thomas,” she replies, her eyes drifting to the stains on the floor and walls, “was convinced you would kill both me and the baby.”
I probably would have, but I don’t tell her that.
“Instead, it was kept quiet and added to the list of reasons he wanted me gone,” I fill in.
Isabella nods, her hand still petting William’s hair. “William never knew, though. We decided to keep him in the dark in case…” She gulps, not daring to look at me. “In case something went wrong.”
Another sob wracks her body, making her convulse violently. Yet she continues to hold on to her child.
“And the woman?” Elly presses.
Isabella flushes a deep red. “S-she found me, helped me get used to my new life. And after…” She hesitates, her cheeks turning an even darker shade of crimson. “Thomas wouldn’t touch me anymore, no matter how I begged him.”
“She took his place,” Elly concludes, and Isabella nods. “And her brother?”
“Brother?”
My magic touches something within William, and it violently pushes back. “What—”
His eyes fly open, and the First Son sucks in lungfuls of air, then starts to cough violently. He rolls onto his side and expels a black goo that reeks of death. He lies there, gasping and gagging for a few moments longer, the three of us staring down at him in astonishment.
William slowly raises himself to a sitting position, wincing as he moves.
His fingers graze the cut that runs from the left side of his face to the right side of his neck.
As he does, it slowly begins to knit itself into a long, smooth scar.
His eyes shimmer—more silver than blue—and his skin bears an ashen undertone.
What the hell has he become?