Covet the Night, page 43
"Don't be," she uttered, stunned. Gwen looked to Antonia. "Did you know?"
"Peony is the matriarch of my line," Antonia said with mild condescension. "Of course I knew."
A horrible ache developed in Gwen's chest that surrounded her heart and squeezed.
"Are you all right?" Becca asked.
"I'm… fine."
Gwen grappled with the information and how it would impact the court. From the talk she overheard in the corridors and the Styx, she knew the vampyrés stood on tenuous ground with their supernatural counterparts. If such laws passed, surely there would be unrest. And what would become of William, who was only half vampyré?
Gwen copied Becca's earlier restlessness with the rose petals, splitting and depositing them on the floor. She wasn’t going to correct them if they thought William was using her to prevent such laws from coming into existence.
"There's only one question left," Becca said. "Do you want me to read it for you, Antonia?"
"No," Antonia said with a sudden bright flush staining her cheeks. She snatched the final paper out of the bowl, her speed emulating the vampyrés they were destined to become. Her eyes flitted across the paper, her cheeks sucking in minutely. Finishing, she crumpled the paper in her fist.
"Antonia?" Becca's concern was palpable. Antonia couldn't peel her eyes away from her fist. Becca turned to Gwen for guidance.
"Antonia, what does your—"
"I don't believe you." Gwen jerked back at Antonia's sudden venom. She wore an impressive glare that she aimed directly at Gwen. "It doesn't add up."
"I don't know what you mean." But she had a bad feeling he did.
"Sunlight rings are the highest means of currency and status in the court, and he gave it to you because you kept his secret?" Antonia gave a single firm shake of her head as her top lip reared back. "I don't believe it. Why did he really give you that ring? What did you do to get it?"
"I told you what I did," Gwen hissed, her throat constricting as it fought to answer in full. "Please, I—urgh!"
"Just answer, Gwen," Becca begged.
"Yes, Gwendolyn, answer the question."
Gwen glowered at Antonia before her traitorous tongue revealed the truth she’d learned only a few nights earlier. "Because I'm his soulmark."
Confusion wrinkled Antonia's features, and a glance at Becca showed the same reaction.
Gwen massaged the sides of her throat, pausing as an odd sensation grew in her sternum. Pleasant worry drifted through her system courtesy of her soulmark, loosening her tension. She sighed, her hand drifting back down to her lap.
"What's a soulmark? I don't remember that topic being covered this past week."
Gwen shot a wry smile at Becca. "It’s the equivalent of a soul mate," she explained, not bothering to fight the magic compelling the truth from them anymore. “They share a soul that has been split in two, and until they complete a series of binding ceremonies, they each only have half a soul."
“Does it hurt having half a soul?”
Gwen contemplated Becca’s question before answering, “It doesn’t, but now that I’m aware of it, I can tell something’s missing. It’s strange, but it doesn’t hurt.”
Antonia's gaze was hard and distant, Becca's intensely focused with a small knot in the middle of her brows. "How do you know if you're a soulmark? Or who your soulmark is?"
Gwen briefly touched her chest. "You bear matching soulmarks. Mine is distorted because of my scar, but—"
"How did you get that scar?"
Gwen bit her tongue to curb the waspish tone she wished to use. "A car accident. The scar is from the heart surgery I underwent." Becca nodded, her studious look softening. "William and I each bear the triquetra on our skin. He recognized mine during my failed seduction and couldn't kill me."
"Wow," Becca breathed. She shifted in her seat to sit cross-legged and propped her elbow on her knee so her chin could rest on her fist. She studied Gwen's scar like it was a puzzle she couldn't quite wrap her head around. Gwen could practically see the gears of her mind whirling as she computed this new layer of the supernatural world.
"I didn't even know until a few nights ago," Gwen told them, skirting her gaze to Antonia. "William told me in the Styx."
Antonia's jaw remained locked and her expression cold.
Becca cleared her throat and leaned forward a touch. "What will you do?"
Gwen laughed under her breath, her thumb and forefinger rubbing a velvet petal as she sank into her thoughts. "I don't know." She tacked on a helpless shrug to her answer.
Antonia sniffed haughtily and jutted her chin in the air. "Well, I know what you won't be doing. You can't be a Roux if you're so intimately connected with that… that monstrosity."
"He's not a monstrosity," Gwen fired back. The two women scowled at one another, their faces the same shade of red. "And I will become a Roux."
A pregnant pause, coarse with pent-up anger, rocked the space between them as their muscles locked in tandem. Gwen was suddenly aware of the knife's precarious placement, an equal distance from both of them, which meant it was just a matter of who acted quicker….
Antonia lunged, hand knocking the bowl back in her desperation to reach the knife first and with it the—
"Where is it?" she shouted. Her groping hand sifted through the dense layer of rose petals without luck.
Gwen hovered near her, searching as well.
"Looking for this?"
Both froze at Becca's nonchalance. She held the blade confidently and eyed the pair with easy composure.
Antonia reeled back stiffly. "You don't know what you're doing," she reasoned through clenched teeth.
"I do. Premed, remember? Plus, I used to go hunting with my grandpa when I was young. Some things you just don't forget, like skinning a rabbit. I assume it's roughly the same technique for a human." The color dropped from Antonia's face. "And let's not forget, I'm the only murderer in this room. If I'm worthy of the Roux, Gwen is. What's your problem anyway? This entire initiation, you've been a bitch to everyone—especially to Gwen and me."
Splotches of red started to bloom on Antonia's face. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip as she struggled against the magic, and failed, as they all had. "It's not me… it's Peony. She doesn't trust Cassia. She's paranoid that she's going to attempt a coup."
"But Peony treats Cassia like her right hand." Becca frowned, toying with the blade in deep contemplation.
"There is a saying: keep your friends close—"
"And your enemies closer," Becca finished. She straightened in her seat, her brow still marred by the diligent working of her mind. "And Gwen?" Antonia's flush returned twofold. "Does Peony have something against her too? Or is it more personal than that?"
Gwen held her breath in anticipation. Antonia refused to meet her eyes, shaking like a leaf in the wind as she continued her fight against the magic. "Peony says Violet's line is too big. She fears they'll also attempt a coup if they gain another sister. She instructed me to find a reason to eliminate Gwen from the initiation tonight." Guilt pulled her features down as she glanced at Gwen. "I didn't want to," she admitted. "That's why I was late to join you in the hall. Peony… Madame Roux"—she corrected swiftly with a sniff—"said my afterlife would be far more difficult to navigate with you in it."
Gwen released the breath she was holding. She didn't know what to say to that.
Antonia caught her eye.
"I won't do it," she promised. "I can't." Antonia bit her lip as she straightened the line of her shoulders and let out a shuddering breath. "My… animosity for Gwen isn't only because of Peony's direction. It's because she reminds me of my sister."
Both Becca and Gwen opened their mouths to add to their ever-growing line of questions when Antonia shook her head. She reached for her crumpled question that was flung aside in the initial scramble for the knife. She swallowed visibly as she opened it, her throat seeming to buckle as the words crowded up and out her throat.
"What happened to Ana?" she read aloud.
"Who's—" Becca started, but Antonia was ready for the question.
"She's my sister."
Gwen drew in a lungful of air. "What happened to her?"
"Many things," Antonia bit out. "She’s my younger sister, and she’s a fool. A lovesick fool." She looked meaningfully at Gwen. "We weren't raised glamorously in America like you two. Drunk mother. Lazy, useless father." She scoffed, her accent growing thicker by the second. "Ana got pregnant at fourteen by her soul mate and left to live with him. But he was no better than what we were used to. He was worse. Drunk and lazy with a penchant for leaving bruises on her face."
"I'm sorry," Gwen said, the words soft and sincere, holding Antonia's troubled gaze. She bowed her head, her vibrant red hair creating a curtain around her face. "What happened to her, Antonia?"
Antonia's shoulders jerked up and down. "I'd been in contact with Indigo for several months by the time Ana was living with her boyfriend. I… I begged them to take me."
"And Ana?" Antonia lifted her gaze solemnly to Becca.
"I asked them to kill her asshole boyfriend so my nephew could have a chance at life," she blurted. "So Ana could have a chance at life. Better to live with our shitty parents than a man who beats you." Antonia gradually righted her posture and stared beyond them with the hardened resolve Gwen had grown used to seeing her wear. "Indigo was indifferent to my request but fulfilled it nonetheless. She killed him. And do you know what my stupid sister did? She cried a week over her soul mate and then found her way into a new man's bed." Her scorching gaze lit upon Gwen. "When I see you, all I see is her mistakes. You'll throw away your life—all the Roux have to offer—for a man?"
Gwen paled. "I'm here, aren't I?"
Antonia didn't answer right away. Her eyes focused once more on some faraway point as her cheeks drew in. "I was to blame for Ana's fate. I didn't protect her as I should. I didn't warn her. I vowed when I left to never hold my tongue again." She clasped Gwen's wrist and squeezed. "Don't throw your life away for him."
"She's here with us, Antonia." Becca slid the knife away from their group and crawled toward the pair to close the distance between them. She took both their hands in hers. "We're all here because we're survivors. Not everyone has it in them to do whatever it takes to survive, but we do. Each in our own way. That makes us all worthy."
Gwen's throat tightened at the unexpected warmth and acceptance. She squeezed Becca's hand, then Antonia's. It was a strange and overwhelming moment to find herself so utterly in tune with these two women—my sisters—made all the stranger and frightening when they were pitched into darkness.
XXVI
T
here was black, and then there was nothing. Gwen didn't know how long she was unconscious, though hazy memories flickered in her mind's eyes, dashed with red. Red hair. Red blood.
A nagging twinge bit between her shoulder blades. She groaned and tried to stretch, but her movement was restricted. Her eyes creaked open weakly. At first, her sight was as blurred as the inside of her head. There were shadows and glimpses of movement, and then she screamed, bringing everything into focus.
Becca.
"Oh God," Gwen whimpered, snared in panic's grip. She made a gallant attempt to reach Becca, but her struggles only tightened the bindings fastened around her. "No, no, no," she muttered with vehemence.
Robed figures wearing masks were pulling Becca from a table, the view partially obscured by several tall and slender cylindrical machines injecting steam into the air. Becca hit the industrial ground with a clang and curled into a ball. Her whimpers and cries mixed with the machinery's workings as their robed kidnapper hauled her away. A trail of blood tracked after her.
"Boo."
Gwen's head snapped back, hitting whatever pole was behind her with a crack. She hissed, staring at the ghastly masked figure standing in front of her. She took in its garish mouth pinned up too high that revealed monstrous teeth and eyes set to bulging. The masked figure cocked its head and leaned toward her. She spat in their face, watching with perverse satisfaction as they jerked back.
She should be scared, but all she felt was rage.
The masked figure leaned back and stood still before cranking their attention toward the metal landing Becca was pulled from. A feminine voice shouted from behind the mask, "She's awake!"
"Make sure the other one stays under!" another female answered. "We gotta clean up."
"We're going to kill you," the ghastly masked female stated as she turned back to Gwen, voice monotone. "It can be fast if you choose to cooperate and answer our questions—not painless, unfortunately, but swift enough. Or it can be slow, like your friend."
Gwen's glare was glacial, her nerves a riot. "I came here to die. I'm not afraid of you, you fucking coward," she seethed, every muscle straining as she reckoned with her burgeoning pain.
A spindle of fear spider-walked her spine. Though the mask concealed the woman's expression, her body language spoke volumes beneath the thin covering of her black-cherry robes. Rigid shoulder line, clenched hands, and the quick rise and fall of her chest? She was just as angry as Gwen.
"What the fuck is wrong with you anyway?" The masked female stepped closer, her body bumping into Gwen's.
Gwen remained silent, though a scream coiled at the back of her mouth. The contact drove her wild with rage, but there was nothing she could do about it. Her wrists were bound behind her back by a coarse rope that also wound around her torso, scratching at her skin.
"You're sick," the woman said, followed by a cold, humorless laugh. The sound echoed dully against the inside of her mask.
"And you're insane. Do you have any idea what they'll do—"
A gloved hand clamped over Gwen's mouth with bruising force. Blood spilled inside her mouth as her teeth caught on her tongue, pain cutting at the back of her skull.
"You weren't kidding before when you said you came here to die, were you?" she mused. "Your coloring's all gone to hell—in both your aura and chakra. All except one place." The woman pressed snugger against her. Gwen winced as the woman jabbed a finger against her soulmark. "Right here. So many secrets," she pondered before abruptly stepping back. "Yet so little time."
Gwen gasped, taking in lungfuls of air as she glared daggers at the masked woman. The only reason she didn't respond with some caustic retort was because of the sight to her left. It was Antonia, bound in the same fashion as Gwen to a metal post a few feet away.
"We're saving her for last. She's supposed to join the current Madame Roux's sister line, right?" Gwen held her tongue, bitter copper coating her taste buds. But her resolute silence didn't matter. In the woman's reply, she could hear her smug smile. "We've got something special in store for her, and you too, of course." She reached up with her gloved hand and tucked back a few of Gwen's curls. "The other girl was just for fun, really."
The anger building inside Gwen snapped at her kidnapper's husky laugh. An unbearable tightness came over her feverish skin.
"This room will be painted with your blood by the time we're through with you," Gwen's entire body heaved with the intensity of her anger. She craned her neck forward to go nose to nose with the masked woman. "He's going to rip out your heart for touching me—
"Who—" the woman tried to interrupt.
"—and the sisterhood is going to rain hell down on all of you!" Gwen's furious declaration echoed in the mechanical room. The woman stepped back. "You'll never get away with all the heinous crimes you've committed—the Cellar, our initiation. You'll burn."
The woman shook her head. "You don't know a goddamn thing."
"We're ready for her!" a voice shouted. "Bring her up."
"With pleasure," her kidnapper purred, producing a wand from a concealed pocket and jabbing it in Gwen's neck. Its touch was electrifying and set every nerve ending on fire.
Gwen's body jerked of its own accord, then slumped forward as the wand retreated. Her head swam with pain. She distantly registered the hands working to untie her from the post, but not the rope that bound her hands. When they finished, she fell into their hold completely.
"Let's go, princess. You've got a date with the reaper."
Urgency surged through Gwen as the goal of their progression was made clear: the metal landing. Fighting against her pain and exhaustion, she dug her heels into the ground.
Her struggle was futile.
They herded her up the small set of metal stairs, then to the table they pulled Becca from. Her blood still stained the ground. Gwen searched for her friend, finding her curled up on the ground not far away. Becca's hollow regard followed her. Gwen swallowed at the amount of blood pooling around her body.
"Let me go," she demanded weakly, breathing hard as they hauled her on top of the table. "Let me go!"
"She needs to be spread-eagle if the ceremony is going to work," a thicker woman in a devil's mask instructed.
"But her wrists are bound," another masked participant pointed out. He was holding down Gwen's left leg.
"Then unbind them, you idiot," the masked devil snapped. "And hurry up. We've got another hour at best."
Several people swarmed the table, working in tandem to undo Gwen's bindings while keeping her constrained. She fought against them with everything she had, earning another excruciating zap from the ghastly masked female for her efforts. Gwen fell limp against the table as the world turned black.
"I asked you a question, Murphy. What the hell is wrong with her?"
Gwen came to with a gasp, her chest and head heaving upward as cold water awakened her. She blinked the water from her eyes, shaking her head to stir the last drops from her vision before sinking down. Her arms and legs were tied to the corners of the table. Her insides felt… wrong.
How long have I been out? she thought.
