Covet the Night, page 20
"Then start acting like the 'adult' you claimed to be when you showed up here unannounced and show some respect to your hosts. Besides, the topic you are treading toward is not suitable for the dinner table. Is that clear?" Irina's chilly scowl translated effortlessly into her frosty retort. It seemed to have little effect on her niece. River's jaw worked as she broke eye contact with her aunt. The room, lined with tension, seemed to usher a sigh of relief. "Who's ready for dessert? We have—"
"I'm a hybrid like you, Deval, and my aunt," River revealed, raising her head enough to meet William's shocked expression. "I’m half witch, half lycan, but my second nature is barred from me. I can't unleash my wolf, and I don't know why. I've been looking for answers for years, and your pack's private collection is the closest I've come to finding anything remotely reliable."
Not a breath was taken at River's blunt yet impassioned declaration.
Slack-jawed and wide-eyed, Gwen’s incredulous gaze darted around, waiting for someone to meet her eyes and confirm the startling revelation. None did, but it hardly mattered. A wave of dizziness hit her as she sucked in a breath. She reached for her champagne and downed it.
"Seriously, River?" Bailey raked her hands through her cinnamon hair, tousling the unruly waves even more. The she-wolf’s searing glare shot to Gwen. "If you breathe a word of this to anyone in your household, I will come for you."
Gwen hoped her eye roll was enough to convey that she'd do whatever she pleased and wasn't scared of the she-wolf.
Bailey growled.
Message received.
"Oh, for the love of—" Irina growled too and hid her face in her hands. "River. Really? Must you air your personal business so thoughtlessly?"
Gwen noticed the slight waver in River's steely facade, but she had no chance to respond. No one did.
The lights above flickered, drawing puzzled frowns upward.
Gwen's next breath felt wrong. It was too thin, too brittle. Her next inhalation, the air was even thinner. She pressed a palm over her heart. She looked around the room. Though the vampyrés and hybrids didn't need oxygen, they clearly felt something in the air. It scorched Gwen's throat, but her burning lungs begged for one more small breath. She managed with a choking gasp and was awarded the most dazzling sensation—pure relief. Her nausea abated. Her fatigue vanished. She sagged as magic crackled visibly in the air and lapped at her skin seductively, reminiscent of Valdora's magic.
Gwen's eyes widened at the thought.
Just as soon as the magic arrived, it left in a violent shake of the table that toppled glasses and rattled plates and silverware.
Gwen greedily sucked in breath after breath, looking around the table in confusion. Everyone seemed unfazed, as if they'd encountered this magic before, and yet concerned at the same time.
"What the hell just happened?" Gwen asked, spying where everyone's gaze was locked: the dining room entry and the hall beyond.
Briar stood. "I'm afraid it's a family matter. Let's allow them to tend to it privately, shall we? How do cocktails sound, Gwendolyn? I make a fabulous French 75."
Gwen's first instinct was to protest, keen to know what the Vranas were hiding, but then logic set in. This might be her only opportunity to complete her task and carry out her soon-to-be sisters’ vendetta.
With the pain a distant memory thanks to the unexpected magic, she stood.
"I'd be delighted."
XI
D
espite being the first two to stand, Briar and Gwen were the last to leave. The other occupants dashed from the room with purpose, some splitting off in different directions while the majority marched down the long hall. Briar led Gwen in the same direction, opening a door near the end of the hall on the right side. The Vranas and William spoke over one another in the room opposite.
"Come in."
Gwen hesitated in surprise. Gone was the sleek and dark modern aesthetic of the Vranas’ common area and dining room, replaced with a messy and touch-too-warm study.
"Go on, then," Briar urged.
Gwen entered and breathed in the scent of musty leather, wet wood, and some unnamed spice. Books lay open hazardously around the room. Floor-to-ceiling shelves dominated, filled with cloth-bound spines, thick and thin, and various collections of oddities: bird skulls perched in domed glasses, candles, dried roses, miniature globes, and—Gwen squinted—if she was not mistaken, a violin. She glided to the cozy outfit of oversized leather chairs in the middle of it all. There were four in total set around a cherrywood coffee table that was half covered in scrolls and empty glasses.
"Pardon the mess." Briar swept forward with her vampyric speed and relocated the rolled parchment to a sturdy desk, taking up space along the farthest wall near a door. "For all his neat presentations, my love is disaster behind the scenes. And whenever he throws himself into a passing fancy, his attention cannot and will not be disturbed for anything." Next, she collected the empty glasses. "Or clean up, for that matter."
Gwen's eyes swept the room again. The coffee table and large desk suffered Sebastian's ravenous scholarly appetite most, for every other surface in the room—a podium, a secretary's desk nestled near a wide-mouthed fireplace, a few side tables with stained-glass lamps—was dust-free.
"Take a seat." Briar's cool composure had returned full force. A smirk played idly at the corner of her lips. "I'll fashion us a drink. What would you like?"
"Bourbon, if you have it."
The request caught Briar off guard. Her green eyes gave Gwen a once-over as she moved deftly to the bar trolley near the door they entered through. She passed a contrite smile over her shoulder. "Unfortunately, we don't. Jax, maybe, but—"
A loud inhuman shriek sounded. Gwen stopped before her chair—it had a perfect view of the door—and frowned. What the hell is going on across the hall? Her gut said Jax. Briar's cool gaze dared her to ask as she returned from the bar. They both ignored the way the scream cut off abruptly.
"Will scotch do?"
Gwen sat with care. The damnable magic in the dining room was already having an adverse effect. There must be some small trace of the tincture still running through my veins, she thought. It was the only explanation for the dull throbbing that echoed unnaturally in her bones. "Scotch is fine. Dewars, preferably."
"Let me see." The vampyré made a pleasant humming noise. "Bash has the twenty-five-year-old signature. Will that do?"
"Yes."
"Neat?"
"On ice and with olives."
A rise of the muffled voices lured Gwen's gaze back to the door. She wished it was cracked open. She'd give anything to understand what was going on just beyond the other door. Curiosity and Gwen had always been on rather friendly terms, with her seceding to curiosity's wanton wiles on too many occasions to count.
With effort, she pulled her attention away from the door and back to her present predicament. Learning what the Vranas were hiding came second to the task Laurel assigned.
The little vial in her pocket was almost forgettable. Its frame was so slim and light that on occasion, Gwen pressed her hand to the concealed pocket to make sure it was still there.
She accepted her drink, hiding the downturn of her lips as she sipped.
How was she going to slip the mixture into Briar's drink? She didn't possess vampyric speed, and her heartbeat would undoubtedly give her away. Briar would be keen to any of Gwen's movements and sounds tucked away in this room together.
Her dismay melted as she lowered her glass and squared her shoulders. She would use the disturbance from the other room as cover. But the disturbance would have to be louder—much louder because Briar was centuries old and the picture of poise and control.
"Is the scotch to your liking?"
Gwen held the hammered glass tumbler with both hands, gliding her fingers over its smooth grooves and crests. "It's nice."
Briar sank into the chair opposite Gwen, eyeing her studiously over the rim of her crystal goblet. A tide of crimson that matched the vampyré’s hair swallowed her irises. As the goblet lowered, her smirk was on full display, with the tips of her fangs peeking out. She licked her lips clean of blood provocatively. Gwen glanced away with an eye roll.
"I don't bite if that's what you're worried about."
"I'm not concerned."
Briar cocked a brow. "Is that right?"
Mimicking the other redhead's posture, Gwen leaned back and tossed one leg over the other. "If there's even a scratch on me, heads will roll."
"Just a scratch?" Gwen bit her tongue to keep from retorting as Briar's smirk turned sickly sweet. "Dear girl, if anything were to happen to you, they'd forget you by the next day." Briar dipped forward as if she was prepared to deliver some salacious secret. "Don't forget. I know all their tricks. In fact, I came up with a few of them myself."
A scoff scraped up the back of Gwen's throat. Though the words burned a hole in her heart, she delivered them with perfect intonation. "They'll forget me just like they forgot you—but never the slight."
Briar pushed herself back, holding her goblet aloft imperiously.
Shouting erupted across the hall. Something shattered. Several curses followed. Briar made no indication that she heard or cared, not even when the very seats they sat in rattled from some unseen source.
If that didn't distract Briar, what would?
"What makes you so special, hmm? What is it that they see in you? I've been wondering all night. You have fire, there's no doubt about that, and you're no store-bought redhead, so what is it that gives you the extra something my sisters are always on the lookout for?"
"Former sisters," Gwen countered after taking a sip of her scotch. She swished the stringent liquor in her mouth before swallowing. The burn that followed was a familiar comfort and bolstered her. Delicate notes of honey with a hint of smoke saturated her taste buds on her next drink. Warmth seeped into her belly, the cordial mix of magic and alcohol holding off the worst of her rebounded pain as Briar watched her without emotion. "My future sisters."
"Touché," Briar conceded, dark lashes sweeping down to peer at Gwen with half-hooded eyes. "Perhaps I asked the wrong question. I'm sure there's more to you than meets the eye, some spark that piqued Laurel's interest. I think the better question is, why did you accept? What did she have to do to convince you that this eternal life was worth your last breath? Was it the promise of sisterhood? Strength and power?" She tilted her head a fraction. "Did they promise you eternal love?"
Gwen clenched her tumbler tighter at each question. She’d hit the nail on the proverbial head. Was it a crime to desire love and sisterly affection? Though the latter was something she’d never experienced before, Gwen envied the pure devotion of the sisterhood. As for strength and power, being in the undisputed grip of cancer left her yearning for so much more.
Enough so to leave her human life behind and take on this hazardous initiation.
A bittersweet smile crawled up Briar's lips as her gaze hovered briefly over Gwen's white knuckles. Initially, hearing the Beast's predicament had amused her, and as such, she’d been unable to stop herself from nettling the girl at the dining table. Now, she supposed, she ought to help like she said she would.
Briar stretched her neck from side to side, rolling it with feline grace till a satisfying pop sounded. If anyone aside from William could change her mind from joining the Roux, it was Briar.
"How about we make a deal? I'll tell you my sordid little story, and you tell me yours. That's fair, isn't it? I doubt you even know a fraction of my true history, what with me being 'forgotten' and all."
Fine-spun pain was weaving itself into Gwen's muscles. Thankfully, the pain wasn't too severe, but its persistence was grating. She took a long drink, sucking in a tight breath as she finished off her glass and felt delicious liquid heat relax her body.
"I'll take that as a yes," Briar murmured. The vampyré stood and poured Gwen a double with supernatural speed. Gwen muttered her thanks as she accepted the glass.
A startled feminine cry made both women flinch. Gwen briefly eyed the door, her curiosity burning as brightly as the scotch down her throat.
"Shall I start?" Briar readjusted her seat. Not many knew her story, and certainly no human.
Gwen nodded, but Briar's gaze was elsewhere, seeing everything and nothing at the same time.
"My sister, Iris, and I were turned in 1841 at the ripe age of twenty-four. We could have had the world, but fortune never seemed to be on our side. At four, our mother abandoned us at the circus. She had too many other mouths to feed, I suppose. We always dreamed of leaving that dreadful place, but one way or another, life always found a way to keep us there: lovers, jealous husbands, and sisters, babies, money—always money."
"You were married?"
Briar raised both her eyebrows. "We were both married. Iris first at sixteen to a man who worked the menagerie. It was all very passionate. They fought and made up, fought and made up. Round and round they went like that bloody awful carousel. She couldn't leave him if she wanted to," she explained. "Not really. It was something in her blood by then. Being abandoned left its mark on both of us, but for Iris… for Iris, it dug deeper. She thought securing a husband would fix what had been broken in her heart so long ago. Instead, it only turned the pieces to dust. Nobody besides me could understand and accept the intensity of her love. Our mother certainly couldn't. Iris's husband didn't either.
"When she lost the baby after one of their more physical fights, that was the tipping point. She'd been beaten one too many times, lost out too many times, and forgotten in the aftermath." Briar ducked her head and gulped the contents of her goblet without remorse. She licked the viscous trail of blood from her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue. The crimson tide did not abate from her eyes as she continued in a distant voice.
"She killed him," Briar confessed. "I helped hide the body, and we ran." She shrugged and put on a self-deprecating smile. "What are sisters for, after all? They looked for us, of course. It wasn't easy to hide, not with our hair and faces. Not with the manic state Iris was in for months after the ordeal. But we survived."
"How?" Gwen couldn't help but ask.
Briar's sights came rushing back into focus.
"We refused to surrender. We got as far away from the circus as we could, which inevitably led us west to the wilds of Wales. The people there didn't like us much, not at all, but we made it through our hardships by leaning on one another."
Gwen folded her arms as best she could around her middle while still holding her glass. Her brows hunkered down as she studied the vampyré. "How did they find you?"
"They didn't find us, little one. Iris found them." A strict line formed across Briar's lips as she stood slowly and meandered to the bar cart. "As most things in life go, just as we found some semblance of normalcy—some good—it all went up in flames.
"I married a cobbler's son. He was sweet and shy, and he loved me. He allowed Iris to stay in our little home with us. I'm certain it was this act of kindness that sealed Arthur's fate. I should have known better—it's something that still plagues me to this night." Briar returned to her seat, sipping idly on her fresh blood. "Would I have saved us this eternal fate if I'd have given my love only to my sister? Would Arthur still be alive? Iris never liked to hold back her feelings, and she had nothing but vicious jealousy when it came to me expressing my love for another. She once pushed a small child in front of a moving carriage at the circus because she'd thought I'd made a new best friend."
A dry chuckle escaped Briar. Its bitterness scraped at Gwen's insides. When she met Gwen's eyes, she was once more cool and unaffected.
"Really, I should have seen it all coming. The circus planted wild dreams in Iris's head. She loved the occult and macabre. She believed completely in the supernatural world. I should have known she would have tried to cage her two loves into one somehow—me and magic. She was never one to take things lying down."
"So, what happened?" The firelight glinted off the amber liquid in Gwen's tumbler.
"Arthur was killed, and the town blamed me. She forced us to run, and we were caught, but not by the masses hunting us."
"The Roux?"
Briar lifted her goblet in salute before taking a hearty drink.
"The Roux. Our salvation. The answer to all our problems. They could make us disappear, hide us from the law and give us so much more: riches, security, strength, power. We'd never go hungry within their ranks. We'd never have a care in the world, for we'd be part of a family that loved just as fiercely as us. All we had to do was give them our lives and follow their rules." Briar paused, drumming her fingernails along her chair’s wide arm. "And since we weren't in a position to say no, we said yes. I didn't learn until much later that Iris had orchestrated the whole thing with a handful of contingency plans at the ready should one little thing go wrong. She worked on her plot all year long. Always so tenacious and scheming, my fair Iris. She truly exemplified the Roux's motto: Semper Paratus."
Gwen shifted in her seat with a grimace. "That's…."
"Insane?" Briar cocked an eyebrow. "Indeed. Unfortunately, not even death could rid her of such an ailment."
The color wiped from Gwen's face as she realized vampirism might not be the cure-all to her cancer. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, my dear girl, my sister was a sociopath. The only capacity for her warped kind of love was aimed solely at me. That didn't change once we turned, especially since the sisterhood wasn't what our sire, Ren, had promised. We received in spades the strength and riches, even the security she promised. But a family who would love us as fiercely as we loved one another? No. They failed us. She failed us.
“Ren never really wanted us. She was pressured into it. When she presented us to the sisterhood it was with a twisted version of our history to hide the fact that it was Iris’s maneuvering all along that landed us in her path. Clever, but very mentally ill, my sister."
Gwen sat up straighter, her gut clenching. "Do all illnesses carry over?"
