Maybe but… “Darkness is growing within me.” He could feel it. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold it in check.” One thing was for certain—he knew an alpha wasn’t ever meant to be a vampire. Not even some fucking partial vamp like he seemed to be. “It’s like the two halves are battling inside of me.” Tearing him apart. “And I don’t know which side is going to win.”
Fear flashed on her face, and he knew Annette wasn’t afraid of many things. “Aidan…”
“I think the fire was the tipping point for me.” For him, for Paris. “Jane thought she saved me, that she got me out in time…”
But…
The fire was eating my flesh. The pain was destroying me.
Her hand reached out and her fingers lightly feathered over his shoulder. “But you died, didn’t you?”
He just stared at her. “Wherever I went,” and he wasn’t going to touch that, “Jane brought me back.”
“Aidan…the things that are happening…they aren’t natural.”
He had to laugh as his gaze cut once more to his friend. “Like any of us have ever been natural.” Aidan turned from her. The bloodlust had built within him again. It was there now, almost constant. But he was fighting it. He was controlling it.
For the moment.
How long will my control last?
“Werewolves are natural. You weren’t made, you were born to be a wolf,” Annette said softly.
His lips twisted. “By that logic, Jane was born to be a vampire.” The bullshit line that Vincent had once told him.
“Yes.” Annette nodded. “I think she was. But then Jane met you and everything changed.”
He looked back at Paris. His friend was still out cold. “He didn’t want this change. It should never have happened to him.” Rage pushed inside of Aidan. “I want you to scry, Annette. Go back to the fire. See everything—see what in the hell happened to him.” Because death alone—no, that wouldn’t have changed Paris. Something else had.
Someone else?
Annette gave a bitter laugh. “If only I could.” Then she pointed to a few broken chunks of black glass. “Those are all that remain of my mirror. I can barely see the danger around us, much less look into the past. That’s why I arrived too late to help Paris.” Her voice thickened. “If there had been a way, if I’d known what was coming, I never would have let him have this end.”
This end…The end.
Aidan exhaled slowly. “I’ll get Garrison to bring the blood for him. It will tide Paris over, for the time being. Maybe he can become coherent enough to tell us what the hell happened to him.”
Aidan whirled and headed for the door.
“You…are a good friend to him.”
He stiffened at her words. “Bullshit.” Aidan glanced back over his shoulder. “A good friend would have done what he asked. A good friend would have ended his torment.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I’m just the selfish bastard who doesn’t want to lose the only true brother he’s ever known. I won’t give him up, not without a fight.”
And he wouldn’t give in to the darkness growing inside of him, he wouldn’t lose his fucking self. He’d fight, for as long as it took.
He’d fight.
***
There was blood staining the floor at the Hathway Psychiatric Facility. Jane paced in what had been her brother’s room, but her gaze kept darting to that giant stain of red.
I broke the mirror. I gave him a weapon.
And he hadn’t hesitated to use it.
“It’s a miracle the guard is alive,” Mason said.
Jane glanced over at him. They’d been briefed at the station, and then they’d rushed over to the psychiatric hospital because Jane had wanted to see the scene firsthand. With her enhanced senses, she’d thought that maybe she’d discover something the crime scene techs had overlooked.
“A wound like that,” Mason continued, his gaze on the blood stain, “it should’ve killed him.”
If the guard had been human, it would’ve killed him.
Mason’s gaze rose to hold hers. “Lucky him, huh?”
There was a faint edge to his words. Jane’s eyes narrowed. She’d brought Mason with her because the kid genuinely seemed to have strong instincts, but there was something about his voice, his body language…
Does Mason know? Had he realized just what was really happening in this city? Aidan hadn’t exactly been subtle during their last chat. Jane cleared her throat. “I doubt he feels particularly lucky. I mean, the guy’s throat was sliced open and he was left for dead. I doubt that will go down as his best day ever.”
She paced toward the bathroom. The broken shards of the mirror were all gone now. No doubt, they’d been carefully bagged and tagged. She’d already read the report about Drew’s escape. He’d attacked the poor guard, nearly killed him. Then Drew had used the guard’s keys to gain access to the man’s locker. Her brother had stolen the clothes from that locker right before he’d vanished.
Drew was clever, she’d give him that.
Clever and quite possibly insane.
“So how’d you turn out so normal,” Mason asked as Jane crouched down to study the floor of the bathroom. “And your brother is…well, not?”
She rose. “Don’t be too sure I’m the normal one.” If only. Dammit, there was nothing to see in that room. No new clue for her to pounce on. Jane headed for the door.