Chapter Two
Thirty years and six months ago…
Three years from the very night Beth decided to move out of the mansion, she drove herself up to a nice house in a nice suburban development of six homes that had a similar vaguely American, nuclear-family-ish vibe.
She was in the Volvo that Wrath had bought her the year before he’d died, and as she put the engine in park, her eyes happened to sweep past the instrument panel.
There were still only twenty-four thousand miles on the station wagon, and the majority of them had been put on in the last thirty-six months.
Even though dematerializing was always an option, she’d liked driving back and forth during construction. The in-between sing-alongs were the only reprieve she got from her thoughts.
“We’re home,” she said flatly.
When there was no response, she wrenched around. “Oh, you’re asleep.”
Her son’s dark head was tilted into the padded side of the car seat, his mouth slightly open, his brows relaxed for once. And seeing them sitting in a gentle arch above those closed eyes, as opposed to slanting into the bridge of his nose, was a reminder that most of the time, he was frowning.
God, even though he was five years old now, he was still so small that he couldn’t use a booster seat safely. His size was just another thing on the list of things she worried about.
“Time to wake up, L.W.”
Stretching her arm out, she tugged on his foot.
Her son came awake instantly, his lids popping open, pale green eyes locking on her with the kind of focus that, were he anything less than a child, you might think would come with reprisals of the physical kind.
But no crying for him—now or ever. Just an instantaneous, aggressive alertness that told her more than she wanted to know about just how he was going to handle adulthood.
“Hi,” she said softly.
He blinked at her and she measured his pupils as she always did. They were still normal, and she could only hope they stayed that way. Not that his father hadn’t made his way very well without his sight.
L.W. going blind would just be one more thing that Wrath would have handled better than her.
“Come on, let’s go see our new…home.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t expect one. He never talked much.
Canning the engine, she got out and looked at the house.
It was a cheerful four-bedroom that was painted buttercup yellow and had a porch in front and a couple of chimneys poking through the roof.
The shutters and trim were white, and the walkway that bisected the front yard was brick.
The trees were tall, but new-ish, transplanted from some nursery somewhere, and their leaves were a vibrant green against the bright blue summer sky.
Breathing in through her nose, the perfume of freshly cut grass mixed with the new construction sweetness of pine boards, paint, and asphalt sealer. The latter was all about a fresh start, and she told herself this was going to work.
This had to work.
Three years to make this new group location a reality, from the purchase of the tract of land, to all the architectural and engineering planning, to the work above and belowground. Millions of dollars spent. An entire community about to be displaced.
“I’m going to feel better here.” This was a tagline she’d turned into a mantra. “This is going to be better.”
The five other houses in the cul-de-sac were just as nothing-to-see, nothing-out-of-order, nothing-happening-here. Like this was totally not a vampire colony setting up shop in the middle of all kinds of humans living their lives.
Ah, yes, the old hide-in-plain-sight thing, a defensive strategy the species had followed for hundreds and hundreds of years.
Snapping back to attention, she forced herself to open the back seat door and bend down to L.W. As she released the buckle clip right over his sternum, she tripped and fell into the future.
Black daggers. Strapped to her son’s chest, handles down. Him, going out to fight in the war with the others.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” She released the harness and flipped his soft arms out from the nylon straps. “You’ll be King, and you will be safe because you won’t fight.”
Unlike your fucking father.
As she pulled her son out and hitched him onto her hip, she bumped the door shut and hit the brick walkway.
She was so grateful that she got to feel the hot, late-afternoon sunlight on her face, on her body.
Ever since Wrath had died, she’d been so cold on the inside, no matter the season, no matter the layers she wore.
And though she didn’t usually give much thought to her half-breed status, she appreciated it now.
Thanks to her mother’s human side, she could go out during the day, and God, she remembered Wrath’s utter terror the first time she’d tried it out right after her transition.
But it had been okay. She’d been just fine back then.
Continuing up on to the porch, she stopped at the front door and checked out the cameras.
They were everywhere, and more than that, Vishous had surrounded the development with a boundary of mhis.
The force field of disorientation and dread was a deterrent for anybody who thought they might like to try to get over the security wall or through the front gate.
And then there was her escort.
Glancing over her shoulder, she nodded at the shimmering disturbance that was about fifty yards away.
Lassiter, the fallen angel who was in charge of the non-temporal realm, was standing guard in a way the Brotherhood could not.
He knew she wasn’t looking for company, though, and she appreciated the space he was giving her.
Actually, she hadn’t told anybody she was coming here.
He knew everything, though, after stepping into the metaphysical shoes of the Scribe Virgin how many years ago?
Man, she pitied him on all that insider information on people’s fates.
With the way things had ended up for her, she was so glad she hadn’t known what was coming.
Taking out a copper key, she threw the dead bolt and pushed the door open.
As the sunlight rushed in over her shoulders, the varnished hardwood floors glowed like they’d been coated with honey.
No furniture or rugs inside yet, but Fritz and all the doggen were going to move into the aboveground houses in the next couple of days, so Wayfair deliveries were coming.
It was the perfect ruse for humans, a community of octogenarians with sweet faces, who lived with their younger generations.
Of course, getting the staff to agree to the residences had been a struggle.
None of the doggen were comfortable with such nice digs, but it wasn’t like a neighborhood of empty houses was going to carry the lie.
Beth had had to put down an order.
Stepping over the threshold, she shut things, and headed for the back.
Her footfalls echoed all around, the unadorned walls playing backboard for the sharp volley of her shoes, and she could have done without the lonely soundtrack.
Soon enough, she entered the bright and cheerful kitchen and crossed directly to the walk-in pantry.
Talk about your grocery shopping. The now-filled shelves were set with an orderly selection of dried goods, snacks, boxes of spaghetti, and the preserves of fruits and vegetables.
So like Fritz. To hell with beds or a couch, work came first. Bet the laundries were filled with detergents and fabric softeners already.
Underneath the Ball jars of peaches, she triggered the release.
The pantry door was immediately covered by a steel panel, and then a side pocket opened up and a retinal reader extended out on an arm.
After she tilted forward and a beam scanned her right eye, there was an airlock release, and the section of shelves swung open.
The hallway that was revealed was also steel, and when she entered, she and her son were once again locked in.
There was a pause, and she thought about what V had always said: “With safety comes inconvenience.”
Moments later, the wall in front of her shifted to the left to reveal a steel staircase which she entered and descended. At the bottom, there was yet another steel door, and she had to wait to be allowed in again.
Finally, she and L.W. were in the underground corridor that ran in a circle for a good half mile, connecting all the private residences, one to another. There were also spokes from each suite of rooms that funneled into the center’s common meeting space.
“Maybe we’ll call this the wheel,” she said as she headed off to the right.
When she came up to the fourth doorway, she stopped. There was nothing special about the steel panel or the jambs around it or the copper knob that glowed like pink gold, but which would, over time, get a patina with handling.
To her, it was the grand entrance to the Promised Land.
And even though she had been here many times, and had picked out the furniture and fixtures, the appliances and the rugs, this time when she went inside, everything was going to be different. Tonight, this wasn’t just a construction site or a place that had to be decorated, it was home.
L.W. squirmed in her arms, and she put him down. Predictably, he didn’t require any time to steady himself, and he didn’t stay with her. He immediately walked away.
She refocused on the door.
The second copper key she took out vibrated from the way her hand shook, and she told herself to get over it. This was the plan. This was the solution.
This was going to be the very first good thing that’d happened in years.