Dark Heiress, page 5
part #5 of Ema Marx Series
“Thanks,” I whispered. “You okay?”
“Me?” His brow arched. “You’re the one who just got your dad back only to lose him again. I’m just peachy keen hanging out in a medieval castle that I’m still not convinced isn’t the home of a cult.”
I furrowed my brow.
“Joking.” Anthony grinned. “I’m more worried about you.”
I hugged myself and looked away. I had told them Snow was a doctor; that he warned of the possibility of my father waking up mentally unstable. I hated lying, but their ignorance was their ticket home.
“Hey ... can we, like, borrow a car and get out of here? Just for an hour or something? I mean this place doesn’t even have windows. Kind of suffocating.”
I grinned at the idea. “Actually, that sounds amazing. Wait here. I’ll go ask Brinnon if we can get a driver.”
Anthony nodded. “You know where to find me.”
I took the stairs to the foyer. Now that nightfall was in full swing, the castle came alive with activity. The main entrance stood wide open as teams of men carried several furniture pieces into the newly carpentered room. Two maids fussed over where the handsome dark brown leather settees and end tables should be placed, and the men grunted in frustration as they moved the furniture this way and that to please the ladies. I smiled to myself while passing them, knowing the Queen would probably move it all again.
I cut across the ballroom to the T-intersection at the back and was about to swing left when Brinnon’s harsh tone reached my ears. I paused. Lupa stood before the door, her ears erect as though eavesdropping on her new master. The tawny-coated wolf glanced at me, then returned her regard to the door. I listened too.
“Will you back off?” said Brinnon.
“I just want to see you happy,” said Cecelia.
“I will be,” said Brinnon. “Once I can breathe again. Right now, I am swamped with meetings, getting caught up with Dad’s affairs. The last thing I need is you suffocating me.”
I backtracked a step, pressing my spine against the ballroom side of the wall. I should respect their privacy. Something cold pressed against my palm, and I glanced down to find Lupa. I knelt and scratched behind her ear.
“I sure hope you’re not here to spy on us for Valafar,” I whispered. The thought had crossed my mind.
Lupa huffed and shook her head.
I arched my brow. “So you can still understand me.”
She pushed her front paws off the floor in a bounce and nodded her head.
I grinned and ruffled her fur. “Wish you could talk back.”
She sneezed.
“Bless you. Would you know if Valafar was in the castle? Even if he was invisible?”
A nod.
“Would you tell me if he is?”
Another nod.
“So, is he?”
She shook her head.
I sighed and then pushed to my feet. “All right then. I’m going to trust you.”
Lupa trotted across the ballroom and into a corridor as if she suddenly had someplace else to be. I chuckled, then turned somber. Probably better not to bother the king right now.
Instead, I went to the kitchen. I expected to find Maria or Rudo there, but it was Sara who sat on the counter next to the sink with a wineglass in hand. Though of course, the scarlet liquid inside was not wine.
Sara’s gaze lit up as she noticed me. “Ema!”
“Hey,” I said. “Is everything okay between Brinnon and your mother? I know it’s none of my business, but I sensed some ... well, tension.”
Sara made a pfft sound with her lips and rolled her eyes. “She’s pressing him for a grandchild.”
I nearly choked on my own breath. “What? But doesn’t she already have like a hundred grandchildren?”
“Twenty-two,” Sara corrected. “But none of them are Brinnon’s heir.”
“Huh.” That was all I could think to say about that.
“I know, right? He doesn’t even have a girlfriend. I guess we all kind of got our hopes up at the coronation, but later I realized how outdated that tradition is. I mean, it hasn’t even been a month since Dad passed away.”
I winced, remembering Brinnon’s coronation. After the celebratory dinner, the newly crowned king had asked me to have the first dance of the night with him—a gesture that was traditionally given to the king’s future bride. Brinnon had used it to make a statement. A show of political solidarity. But I didn’t think that was the only reason.
“Sara ...” My heart jumped to tell Brinnon’s secret even though I had promised not to. Though, technically, I only promised not to tell his parents. Surely his sister would understand. Maybe Sara could help him? The LGBTQ+ community had made such huge strides in my lifetime, but Brinnon’s family was very old fashioned. I had to tread carefully. I had to respect his wishes. If he wasn’t ready to come out, then it wasn’t my place to push.
“Yes?” said the princess.
I pulled my lower lip between my teeth as I resigned myself to keeping Brinnon’s secret. “I was wondering if I could borrow a car and go into the city for a bit?”
Sara grinned as she hopped down from her perch. “Of course. I’ll have Rudo send one around.”
I cringed. “Not a limousine, though. Something more inconspicuous.”
“So, the 1940s Horch?”
My gaze widened. “What?”
“Kidding.” She snickered. “Though we totally have one.”
“How ’bout something from the last decade?”
“Bore-ing,” she said before downing the last sip of her drink. She set the glass in the sink, and I thanked the heavens that I seemed to be over the morning sickness phase of pregnancy, even if it seemed like now I had no appetite for the liquid diet at all.
“Want a tour guide?” Sara asked while wiping her hands.
“Who even are you right now?” I teased. “But yes, that would be great as long as you don’t mind the company of humans. It was Anthony’s idea to get a change of scenery for a bit.”
“And why not?” said Sara as she moved past me, heading out of the kitchen. “Berlin is the best city in the world.”
I said nothing to that—because clearly she had never been to Chicago—but also because I couldn’t help the curvature of my lips. I wondered if Sara or Anthony would be opposed to a little World War II history tour.
We walked the length of the Brandenburg Gate and a portion of the Berlin Wall before heading to Check Point Charley. Most of the city was closed for the night, but that didn’t lessen my spirits in the slightest. The endless miles of concrete, street art, and summer air put a smile on my face and a lightness in my chest. Exploring the urban murals, eccentric storefronts, and hidden alley gardens were almost like being back in Chicago, to a time before vampyre was a word in my vocabulary.
“Hey look.” Anthony nodded to indicate something ahead of us. I followed his line of sight to a corner building painted black. At first glance it looked like a café or perhaps a bistro, but the thumping music and scent of cigarette smoke suggested something else. The door opened, and a group of young women in short skirts sauntered out, laughing at some conversation we were not privy to.
“They’re still open.” Anthony jogged to catch the door and held it wide. “Come on, I’m starving.”
“I don’t think the kitchen will be open,” I called out while glancing at Sara.
“Beer’s a food group.” Anthony shrugged then disappeared inside the building.
“I doubt he even has money.” I winced.
“Good thing I do. But no alcohol for you, Mommy.” Sara put her hands in her pocket and sauntered toward the door.
I approached more carefully, holding my hands behind my back as the princess opened the ingress and waited for me. Cupping one hand over the other, I phased the little finger of my hidden palm and let the energy in the air seep into my essence. Thick as molasses and just as rich, the energy swarmed my invisible pinky finger and quickly climbed my palm, wrist, and arm, reaching to my elbow and sliding over my shoulder, then down each vertebra. Unlike blood, which was an instant jolt, absorbing human energy was slower, calmer. Like eating a piece of fruit instead of a candy bar. Still sweet but in a healthier less jittery way.
Loud music and even louder conversation assaulted my ears as Sara and I crossed the threshold. The dim lighting refracted between clouds of sweet smoke and the scent of hops. Anthony waved from a table, and I crossed the sticky floor toward him. The tavern looked like a sports bar with multiple televisions mounted on the walls and a row of vintage pinball machines against the far wall.
“Not bad,” Anthony hollered over the noise. The princess and I would have heard him perfectly if he’d whispered through the explosion of an atomic bomb, but Anthony didn’t know that. Sara ordered us drinks; a dark lager for her and Anthony and a lemon-lime soda for me.
“Excuse me,” she said after the waiter had gone. “Need to use the little girl’s room.” She pushed away from the table and stood, taking her leave in whatever direction the restroom was located.
“This is cool.” Anthony sipped his beer then grimaced. “Wow, that’s strong.” He set the mug down, then nodded at Sara’s drink. “Should she even be out this late?”
It took me a minute to understand what he meant. “Sara?” My brow inched upward, and I laughed. “She’s much older than she looks. Besides, I’m pretty sure the drinking age is laxer on this side of the Pacific.”
“How old is older?” His gaze roamed the establishment then settled on the pinball machines.
I barked a laugh. “Old enough, trust me. She’s also way out of your league, so don’t even try.”
His gaze slid in my direction, and he grinned sheepishly. “That obvious, huh?”
“Well,” I said, pausing to sip my drink. It tasted like chalk. “I did know you intimately. For four years, I might add.”
He chuckled. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Not in this lifetime, Hicks.”
He scoffed, and his gaze drifted to the pinball machines again. “Tell you what, I challenge you to a game—best two out of three. If I win, we agree to let bygones be bygones.”
“That’s hardly fair. We both know you’ll beat me.” The man was a class-A video gamer and had practically lived in our college campus arcade.
He shrugged. “I don’t know, I mean ... you’re different now.”
I nearly rolled my eyes with some remark about the difference just being my hair color, but I bit the inside of my cheek and stopped myself because I knew where that argument would lead. It isn’t just my hair color but my eye and skin color too; the goosebumps on the back of his neck, the insistent dread in the pit of his stomach. The way his deepest, darkest instincts must be screaming at him to run.
I couldn’t begin to explain why my presence triggered such a potent fear in him—or why he was right to question everything that had happened to us since Lilith used him as a pawn to get to me. Instead, I stood and plastered a wide smile across my lips, accepting his challenge. “Game on.”
Chapter 5
Anthony won all three rounds of pinball and celebrated with a fist pump. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
I laughed. Games were just games to me; I wasn’t competitive. Yet, that fact always seemed lost to him.
“Last call,” said Sara. She stood beside the machine Anthony and I had hogged for the last hour. “Bar is closing.”
“Already?” Anthony covered his mouth and yawned.
Sara met my gaze and grinned. “We should probably get him home.”
“Yeah. And I should check on Dad.”
Sara whipped out a cell phone and pressed a series of buttons. “I’ll text our driver,” she said while sauntering toward the bar, probably to pay our bill. I briefly wondered how much the Elite earned per hour, or were Brinnon and I working on the barter system? I take out his enemies, he pays for my kids’ college tuition? I filed that question away for later.
The three of us exited the pub to find our ride idling beside the curb. We climbed into the cab, closed the doors, and fastened our seatbelts. The Brandenburg Gate rose in the distance as we drove by, and I pressed the button on the door panel to lower the window. The sweet summer breeze had cooled in the late hours and the wind puffing past nipped at my nose while whipping my hair across my cheeks. I closed my eyes but didn’t turn away. Thoughts of my father niggled in the back of my mind, but I refused to let them surface. Tonight had been precisely what I needed; good, fun, human, normal. I’d forgotten what that felt like.
But wasn’t it selfish to be out having fun while Dad was fighting for his sanity?
My stomach churned as each individual nerve in my body tightened, the sensation not unlike the gruesome images of a Medieval torture rack. My shoulders curled forward and I grimaced with an odd realization. Is this how tense I’ve been all this time?
I wasn’t even aware at what point I had unclenched. Yet, as I sat there only half paying attention to Anthony and Sara’s conversation, feeling at odds with my body, I realized it was the fun—the ease of tonight—that felt more foreign and uncomfortable than the constant anxiety. I closed the window and opened my eyes, feeling enormously sad.
At some point, the conversation idled. Anthony dozed off, and Sara watched the scenery roll by. “We could stop for food,” she offered quietly. “There is some twenty-four-hour drive-through’s along the way before we reach the highway.”
My stomach grumbled at the idea and I suddenly felt famished. Human energy curbed my appetite for blood, but I had two little peanuts in my uterus that still needed sustenance.
“That would be nice,” I said. “But it can wait. I’ve taken advantage of your money and driver enough for one night.”
Sara chuckled. “Don’t be silly. It’s the law that I take care of you.” She winked then addressed the driver, giving him instructions in German.
I chewed my lip but didn’t argue. Partially because she was right, and partly because I was drooling. The driver pulled into a burger joint and we ordered extra for Anthony and Mom. I inhaled my burger and fries on the spot and would’ve eaten Anthony’s too, but a pothole jarred him awake. He took one look around, noticed the greasy paper bag, and grinned wide.
“Hey, good thinking,” he said while helping myself.
I looked on in envy and considered eating Mom’s burger. But what I really wanted was a tall glass of Anthony’s jugular vein. I wrinkled my nose at the craving. Just when I thought the hormones were on my side for once. Fortunately, we turned down the dusty lane leading to the cobblestone bridge and wrought iron gate of the castle grounds just in time to distract my bloodlust.
Anthony talked about pinball as he pulled open one of the large solid wood castle doors and we entered the newly furnished foyer. Brown leather settees stood tastefully arranged around a low circular coffee table and several square end tables. Bookshelves lined the far walls under the second-story landing just as they had before Jalmari blew up the originals. A maid was re-shelving some of the books. She noticed us as we entered and her gaze widened as she stepped down from her stool to approach the princess, pausing to curtsy as she said something rushed in German. Her words ended and she looked at me, the urgency in her gaze palpable.
“What?” I asked. “What is it?”
Sara smiled at Anthony. “You should get some rest. Matilda will show you to your room.”
Anthony upped his brow. “I know where it is.” He glanced at us as though waiting for a response. “Aren’t you coming too?”
“In a minute,” I said, realizing that Sara was politely getting rid of him. “The babies want another snack.” I patted my belly as Anthony dropped his gaze.
“I’ll never get used to that.” He shook his head with a chuckle then bounded up the stairs while covering another yawn. “Goodnight,” he said before disappearing past the tower entrance.
Sara grabbed my upper arm and pulled me toward the main corridor to the ballroom. “You need to get to the infirmary. The Huntsman has been asking for you.”
I startled in my tracks. Then, as though an electric shock jolted me into action, I ran to the infirmary door and flung it open in the space of a single breath. Snow and Gunther stood at the foot of the bed. The Hunter wore flannel pants and a bathrobe, his hair looked disheveled. Maria and Jesu stood opposite, facing me as I slowly approached. I didn’t know if I expected Dad to be awake or dead, but as my gaze traced his smooth untouched features it dawned on me that nothing had changed. He was still unconscious but breathing.
My vision darted away, to the candles and emblems and precious stones arranged in meaningful patterns along the countertop, each one holding secretes only the Brotherhood would know. Heat rose to my cheeks and I bit back a fit of frustration. “What is it?”
“Ema, thank goodness.” The Huntsman released a breath. “I was just telling your friends that Logan’s mental state is in worse condition than I first thought.”
I faced him as a numbness hit me. “What do you mean? Shouldn’t you be asleep at this hour?”
Snow gave me a somber look. “I was asleep. That’s how I heard him scream.”
The blood drained from my extremities, and I swallowed. “W-what?” Jesu made a sound in his throat, but I didn’t look at him. “What does that mean? He woke up and screamed for help?”
“No, child. At least not physically.” Snow looked genuinely apologetic. “His mind is completely lost to the vortex. His subconscious is screaming out as a reaction to Valafar’s more painful memories.”
My breath punched from my lungs and I lowered onto the nearest seat.
“Ema.” Jesu knelt in front of me, but I hardly registered him.
“So ... so what now?” I asked.
“Are you saying you cannot wake him?” Maria demanded.
“Oh, I can wake him,” said Snow. “But I wouldn’t recommend it. He would be clinically insane. He would harm himself and others. He wouldn’t know he was doing it.”
