She sighs. “I’m sorry all of it, every piece of this, is such a mess,” she says. “But I’m really glad you’re here. And I’m really glad we’re getting this time.”
I smile. “Me too,” I say. “None of it is how I thought it would be, someday. But we roll with the drama, don’t we?”
She smiles. “I guess it’s what we do.”
Chapter 15
I’m mentally depleted by the time I walk back into Eshan’s room an hour before the sun will come up. It’s been an incredible day, but so draining.
I’ve just taken my shoes off and changed into comfortable clothes, about to climb into the bed, when my phone starts vibrating.
Larkin’s name displays across the top.
With my heart jumping into my throat, I step out onto the veranda and answer.
“Larkin,” I say breathily. “What have you found?”
“I’ve been watching the house since I arrived in town,” he immediately reports. “No one has been here since.”
“So, if there were any other players involved besides the one Cyrus killed, they’ve moved on,” I say, my stomach sinking. Who knows where they’ll go from here.
“I don’t think so, Sevan,” he says. “There have been two cases of animal attacks at the hospital. The victims don’t remember anything, but they have bite marks and were missing a lot of blood.”
I sink into a chair. My face feels cold suddenly. “So someone is still in the area. But how would they not know Cyrus has left?”
“They could think he’s gone just temporarily,” Larkin speculates. “Or perhaps these attacks are separate.”
“Somehow, I doubt it,” I say. I straighten in my seat, holding the phone to my ear. “Either way, I think it’s time to get the House of Valdez involved.”
“I called them just before I called you,” he says. “They will arrive in a few hours.”
I nod. “Good. Something with this still doesn’t sit right, Larkin. It was an attack on Cyrus, but it was weak. Almost as if they were only testing something. I just don’t know what, yet.”
“I will, my Queen,” he says, and then ends the call.
I turn and walk back into the bedroom. Silently, I stare at my phone, tapping it on my hand as I consider for several long minutes.
There are people I care about that are still in Greendale.
Amelia. Tanner. Emmanuel. My parents are in the next town over, but not far.
Just a month and a half ago, it was a serial killer who was shredding women and decapitating them. This was only two people bitten, but the danger is still very real.
I sit in the chair in the corner, still staring at my phone.
We do this, over and over. Bite innocent people. Take their blood.
I picture Amelia, puncture marks in her neck, her eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. I picture my mom, stone white, never to offer me a smile again.
I walked into the room, and the smell of it hit me before my eyes could register what was happening.
Blood.
I smelled blood.
And there was the man lying on the floor, blood running from his neck, spilling onto the floor. Four puncture marks sank deep into his skin.
“Hel…” he struggled for breath. “Help me.”
Fear set his eyes wild.
Kneeling over him—blood, so much blood, dripping down his chin, was my husband. My Cyrus.
He looked back at me with wide, startled and terrified eyes. Eyes that were glowing red. Eyes that were framed with sprouting, raised black veins.
“Sevan,” he breathed, his voice cracking. He looked down at his hands, also covered in blood. And then down at the man. As if startled to see him lying there, dying, Cyrus scrambled back away from him, backing into the wall. “Sevan, I…”
A little whimper-scream muffled over my lips as my eyes filled with tears and I backed across the room. “No,” I muttered. “No, no, no.” I shook my head, over and over as if it could make the last few minutes disappear. “You promised. You promised you would never let this happen again. You promised it would only happen once. You promised you would fix this!”
Cyrus knelt there, his breathing ragged, his eyes still that brilliant red, glowing so bright. Brighter than anything save the sun.
“I promise I have been fighting it, Sevan,” he pleaded. “The burn…” He actually made a coughing-growling noise, sounding very much like a predator. “I swear I am burning alive. It calls… I can feel it, the only thing that will stop it is blood.”
“These are people, Cyrus,” I said, my voice a trembling whisper. “Real human beings. Just like me. Just like…” My lower lip trembled as I stared at the man I married. The man I didn’t even recognize any longer. “Just like you used to be.”
Cyrus tucked his knees up to his chest, making himself very small. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t supposed to be this way. It worked, I can feel, it worked. But this…” He stared down at his blood-covered hands. He just shook his head, at a loss for words. “I do not know how this is science. How this is magic.”
I backed up, toward the door. To escape. “This is neither, Cyrus,” I said quietly. “You went against the gods. And now you’re cursed.”
I turned. And I ran.
* * *
A sharp gasp rips through my throat, as if indeed I have been running. The space around me is blurry. Dim gray covers everything. It all feels like smoke.
But it’s all here, and I exist in two worlds.
The present.
Here in this room, at the House of Conrath. My brother lying on the bed as science and magic once more changes a man.
But I’m also in the past, inside a body that has long since been buried in the ground.
I reach a hand out, trying to grasp…anything. To feel what is real.
All I feel is air.
And then dust chokes my lungs.
And I grip the smooth, firm surface of the fruit.
Chapter 16
I glared at the man as he put the apple in my hand, acting as if he were giving me gold.
He smiled. Though it was more of a sneer. A sidelong look, with the devil in his eye.
Kevork was an ugly man. He had a bulbous nose, turned red by too much wine. His skin was pitted and pocked. His hands were gnarled and his nails were always stained yellow, just like his teeth, the ones that were left, anyway.
“Come,” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me down the street.
It was lined with tents and merchants. Loud voices called, pitching food and spices, jewelry and shoes.
Dust billowed in the air. It was suffocating, especially in the heat of summer.
I loved the market. It was my favorite thing to do, to just wander and take in the sights and smells. Nothing was more alive than the market.
But today I was with Kevork. I’d rather be anywhere in the world than with the man I’d been promised to.
He greeted the man selling silk and cotton fabric. They laughed and joked and began talking money.
I stood there, not better valued than a fat sheep. Kevork held up fabrics to me, commenting on if the color would match my hair, bring out my eyes.
How it would cling to my figure.
How easy it would be to rip off come our wedding night.
Bile rose up my throat as I just had to stand there like a statue while these men laughed about young women on their wedding nights.
I was already an old bride. I’d fought my parents for the last few years, stalling them, telling them I refused to be pushed into a marriage.
But no more.
My parents had given my dowry to Kevork and told him we had to be married by the next moon cycle.
My fingers rolled into fists and my jaw tightened as my betrothed settled on some fabric for my wedding gown and paid for it.
I’d been born comfortable. Not the most wealthy in town, but certainly better off than the majority. But I hated it. Money brought arrogance and pride and the loss of humanity.
I was just a pawn my parents could use to further advantage themselves.
“Come,” Kevork said, grabbing my arm and dragging me further down the street.
“Do not touch me,” I hissed, keeping my voice quiet as I jerked out of his hold. I looked around, making sure no other heard me.