BONES FELL ASLEEP during the car ride back to the cabin. He slept all through the night while I stripped both houses of everything that smelled like his brother, down to throwing away the rug that had hidden the symbols for the ritual that split Hazael into several different parts. The others were glad to help in this endeavor, and before dawn broke, the only evidence that Wraith had ever been here was the sheet-draped portrait of the Duke of Rutland and a box containing the Russell ancestral records. Wraith’s remains were buried on the lower section of the hill, marked with a wooden cross that had a warding spell etched onto it. It was the best way I knew to ensure he rested in peace.
Ian and I also answered everyone’s questions as to how their possessions had been possible, and why he, I, and Denise had remained unscathed. We left out only one detail, but I was waiting for Bones to wake up before going into that. I showed off my new warding tattoo, since it was on my hip and I didn’t need to see Ian take his pants off again. Though the chances of any other possessed-human-turned-vampire wreaking havoc in our line were incalculably slim, I saw matching warding tattoos in everyone’s near future. Better safe than sorry.
Then, shortly after dawn, I fell into bed next to my husband. Bones didn’t move, but tendrils of power curled around me, showing some part of him was aware of my presence even if the rest of him was out cold. I didn’t expect him to wake up until that evening at least, so I was startled when, only a few hours later, I awoke to the sound of Bones’s raised voice.
“. . . explain how you could have kept such a thing from me!”
Uh-oh. I hurried downstairs to find Annette seated on the couch with Bones pacing in front of her. She was in a nightgown and he still wore the same salt-stiffened clothes he’d fallen asleep in, so Bones must have woken up and then immediately dragged her out of bed. Considering the topic, I couldn’t blame him for his impatience.
“You knew I had a brother.” His finger stabbed the air near her as he spoke. “You knew because you turned him into a vampire, else the demon in Wraith couldn’t have split off into you first. So I ask again why you never revealed this to me in the two hundred and twenty years that we’ve known each other!”
Now I wasn’t the only one awakened by Bones’s strident voice. Ian came into the living room, and I heard low mutterings behind Spade and Denise’s door. Kira and Mencheres were in the other cabin, but if Bones kept this up, he’d wake them, too.
Annette took in a deep breath, a spasm of pain crossing her features. “Because while I was still human, I swore an oath that I would never tell you about your father’s family.”
His gaze was harder than flint. “Who did you swear this oath to? Who was this person you valued more than everything I’ve ever done for you?”
She met his stare. “She was Lucille, your mother’s half-cousin . . . and the madam of the bordello you grew up in.”
My eyes widened. According to what Bones had told me years ago, Lucille was also the person responsible for him turning into a gigolo when he was seventeen.
“His second cousin was a she-pimp for both Bones and his mother?” I asked Annette in disbelief.
“You make it sound so crude,” Annette muttered. “You have no idea what it was like to be impoverished in the seventeen hundreds. There was no welfare, no food stamps, and no opportunities. When Penelope’s father took the Duke of Rutland’s money and then turned her out into the street, Lucille was the only one who took her in. Could she help it that the only means she had to assist Penelope was by offering the same employment she herself endured? The same was true when Crispin was older.”
“Mind your tone with my wife,” Bones said sharply, but I’d felt the emotions cresting in him. Poignant sparks of remembrance told me Annette’s bleak assessment had been correct. What sounded like coldness when filtered through my modern, privileged viewpoint had perhaps been kindness back then.
“I found out all this after you were arrested for stealing,” Annette continued on, her voice husky now. “Lucille was far from flawless, but she did love you. She knew of my affection for you, too, so she came to me, told me the story of your parentage, and begged me to contact the Duke of Rutland regarding your predicament. He’d never disputed that he was the father of Penelope’s babe, so Lucille thought he might intercede on your behalf. If he didn’t, you’d surely hang.”