Beautiful Secrets: The Complete Trilogy

by Marie Robinson

  “Madam Connacht?” Brom directed his question to my aunt with a polite nod. Even as powerful of a vampire as Brom was, he trod carefully around my aunt.

  “It is about the woman you three have found an attachment with,” she said bluntly. Merlin choked and sputtered and she glared at him. “Oh, don’t be shocked, young warlock. I can smell your sex on that couch you’re sitting on.”

  “Fucking ehh,” he muttered under his breath as he accepted the handkerchief from Brom to clean himself up.

  “Now you three need to know just who that woman is,” she said, and we all watched her carefully. “She is someone my parents feared, though she had not yet been born. Do you recall the story I told you earlier, Romulus, of the beautiful flame?”

  I nodded but knew not to interrupt otherwise. She turned to the others. “Suffice to say, if she is Thaddius Bediver’s child, as Merlin claims, she is the ill-omened destruction of the syndicates. Her line should never have existed and she contains within her a power that should be feared. My father was one of those who ordered her mother’s death, believing it the only way to protect our society and way of life. But her father was unable to do it and instead believed he could raise her in a way to keep us all safe.”

  “Nature versus nurture?” Brom asked, and my aunt glared at him. “My apologies for interrupting.”

  “We watched with cautious fear after her mother disappeared,” she continued, and I grew uneasy. I drained my tumbler and refilled it quietly. Merlin held his out and I topped it off, Brom never having touched his. “We thought he would be successful until the night her powers killed him. Madam Jupiter was charged with her care and our protection. And it seems that the fates have still forced her into your path.”

  Silence fell between us all as we processed her words. I had known there was something different about her, I could smell it in my lycan form. And she’d admitted to being a half-blood to Brom just before he’d fed from her.

  “Did they . . .” I swallowed hard before starting again, but I couldn’t look at anyone. “Did they say how she’d destroy the syndicates?” My fear from days ago reared up in my heart, hating that I’d predicted her being our Helen of Troy. Our beautiful downfall.

  “Only that she would bring about our downfall,” she answered and stood. My aunt came to me and her age-wrinkled hands cupped my jaw and forced me to look at her. Her green eyes held a sympathy and compassion I hadn’t expected and I wanted to throw myself into her arms, seeking her comfort as I did when a child. “I never believed the child should be killed, mo chori. And I still have the hope that, if you three feel for her as strongly as I suspect, you can save us all. That you can save her.”

  “What do we do, aintin?” I pleaded quietly and she stepped back, squaring her shoulders as if she were a general directing us to war. She looked hard at Brom and then to Merlin, both sat up straighter, and chills ran down my back.

  We had bonded over the loathing of predestined fate, the feeling that each of us had a potential within us that would never be unlocked—always constrained by the expectations of our societies. But in this moment, as my aunt sized us up, it felt like that potential was rising to the surface at last.

  The last two nights, I had felt it like the small warning shakes just before a volcanic eruption. Our powers shifting and responding to the woman between us, challenging us and bonding with us at an infinite level. Tonight felt as if we were now in the middle of the calm before a storm. A storm that, if our predecessors were correct, would destroy everything.

  “Our world has needed change for a long time,” she said at last. In that moment, she looked her age, a frailty I had never seen in her before, but her voice was steel. “You must find her. She must be allowed to inherit her legacy and, if it is at all possible, her destruction must be prevented. She has already killed before, lads, and the legends of her heritage have always marked history in the greatness of the destruction. I charge you now with our protection and with hers. And if she must die, you must kill her.”

  It was as if the universe snapped around us at my aunt’s words and I shuddered. I looked to see if Brom and Merlin were as shaken as I, if they felt it too. Even the always stoic Brom looked ashen, his lips parted in as much of a display of shock as I’d ever seen. Merlin looked absolutely shattered and as if he were about to be sick. To be fair, I felt like falling to my knees and retching.

  My aunt looked at us all one last time and left us alone in the room.

  “What the fuck do we do now?” Merlin asked, breaking the silence.

  “We find Ella,” Brom said, his voice strong enough Merlin’s and my eyes were drawn to the vampire. I could feel him collecting his power around him, like static electricity bolting off of coils, filling him. “And then we burn this fucking world to the ground.”

  Chapter 24

  Eleanora

  Eleanora, it’s okay, baby girl.” My father reached for me, his brown hair falling out of the ponytail he’d pulled it back in. He looked worried and I knew it was because of something I did. I shivered and curled up tighter in the corner of his workshop.

  “I didn’t mean to, Daddy,” I whispered. I could smell the smoke coming off of me, it clung to me, but it wasn’t scary. At least not right then. I remembered Mommy smelled like smoke too.

  “I know you didn’t,” he said and he wrapped his arms around me. I melted against him, safe from the magic I felt inside me. “We’re both still learning, that’s all. Your mother would be so proud of you.”

  “I want her back,” I sniffed against his neck, and I felt his hands rub my back.

  “I know, but that can’t happen,” he soothed me. “And Jupiter is here now. I know she’s not your mother, but she’s a good woman. And her daughters are nice.”

  “I hate them,” I whispered, and started to cry again. “I want Mama back.”

  I cried until my eyes hurt and my nose ran and soaked his shirt but he held me, never telling me to be quiet. Only when I pulled away did he finally let go.

  “Hey there.” He cupped my face in his large hand and smiled at me. “Feel like trying again?”

  “Okay,” I said, and accepted the handkerchief he offered for my nose.

  “I’ve got a new idea,” he said, still crouched in front of me. His voice was gentle. I don’t remember him ever yelling at me or Mama. “You wouldn’t typically do this until you’re much older, but it might give you the control you need. I’m going to help you see if you can claim the Bediver legacy, okay? But if it’s too much, we’ll stop and try something else.”

  He stood and offered me a hand up. I trusted my father more than anyone else in the world. He’d held me as I cried the morning after Mama disappeared. I never told him that I felt him crying too. And when he brought Jupiter and my new sisters, he promised I would never have to call her mother unless I wanted to. I never did.

  He walked me back towards the middle of his workshop and picked me up and sat me on the stool I had been sitting on before.

  “Wait right here,” he said, and I watched him with curiosity as he turned back to his workbench. I swung my legs, too short for them to reach the floor, and leaned to the side to try to see what he was doing. But he turned around, a plain box in his hand, and returned to me.

  “This is the Bediver legacy,” he said as he opened the box. “Or one of them, at least.”

  Inside was a simple obsidian ring set into a groove of red velvet. I frowned up at my father. “It’s kind of ugly,” I admitted, and he laughed loudly.

  “It is rather plain, I agree,” he said as he nodded. He pulled it out and held it up in the light, and I could see the faint reflection of magical runes on it. He raised his other hand and snapped his fingers—a matching ring appeared on his left index finger. “I currently wear the other. This one belongs to you, and only you. No one else can ever have it.”

  I grinned, thinking about showing it off to Titania. She’d be so jealous.

  “What’s it do?” I cocked my head
and reached for it, but he held it out of my reach.

  “It connects you to the power of our family,” he said, still watching it. “It will act as your signature and your word. This ring will give you power that is at least equal to mine and let you act as the executor of the estate. It will also, I hope, give you the power to control the magic you inherited from your mother. I need you to promise me something though.” His voice grew soft and I dragged my eyes away from the ring and back to him. He was looking at me like he did when he talked about grown-up things. I sat up straight and waited. “I need you to do your best to not abuse this power. Our family is highly respected in the syndicates and once you claim this ring and bond with it, you will have more than just magical power. And people will try to use you for that. You must not let them corrupt you.”

  “I’ll be good, Daddy,” I said, with as much gravitas as a nine-year-old could produce.

  “Hold out your left hand,” he instructed and I did, chewing my lip as he held my wrist and brought the ring close. It was much too large for me, but he didn’t seem to worry. He met my eyes and smiled. “This might be scary, it was for me and I was older. The magic is going to wash through you. I need you to trust me that it’ll be over quicker than it feels. I love you, baby girl.”

  “Love you too, Daddy,” I whispered, and watched him slide the ring onto my finger. It was cold and heavy.

  “Now repeat after me,” he said, his hands braced on my small thighs, his eyes watching me intently. “I, Eleanora Bediver, claim the Bediver legacy as granted by my father, Thaddius Bediver.”

  “I, Eleanora Bediver,” I began weakly, but swallowed and strengthened my voice. I would make my father proud. “Claim the Bediver legacy as granted by my father, Thaddius Bediver.”

  The ring shrunk until it wrapped tightly around my finger and then kept going even as I gasped. I could feel it sinking into my skin, blue flame and white lightning shooting through my body like falling stars. I could hear my father’s voice, calm, though I couldn’t tell what he said. I trembled under the weight of the magic, the unending fireworks exploding through me. And then the blue flames began to turn orange and I smelled the smoke of my mother once more. The flames battled one another and it hurt so bad in my chest. I could feel my skin burning and I cried out.

  I heard my father shout my name and I tried to find him but I was surrounded by flames, my body turning inside out. I felt his arms wrap around me and I clung to him, terrified. But the flames kept growing even as the blue flames died, the white lightning lessening. I blinked and realized we stood in an inferno.

  “Daddy?” I sobbed, and I felt him squeeze me.

  “I’m right here, baby girl,” he said, but he sounded strange. All around us smelled like smoke and our clothes were blackened. I could hear pounding on the workshop doors and screams from outside. “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Please don’t,” I sobbed, holding tighter as the flames continued to pour out from me. They didn’t burn me but everything around me was on fire.

  “I’m so sorry, baby girl,” he said and I felt him stumble, dragging me to the floor.

  “Daddy, no,” I cried out, as I realized his clothes were on fire too. I tried to smother them with my hands but it only made it worse. I screamed towards the door, begging for help. I looked to my daddy, his eyes tightly closed, but his arms still held me. I closed my eyes and lay down on his chest as the fire raged out from me. The doors broke open and I saw my stepmother there, terror on her face, and then the burning ceiling fell down around us and I screamed.

  My mind felt raw, my heart breaking once more as the truth of my father’s death and my role in it was returned to me. I felt sick, the world rocking around me as I lay on the metal floor of the cage. I curled up tighter, whimpering into my hands, my ruined dress doing nothing to protect me from the chill.

  Madam Jupiter hadn’t lied—I had been the cause of my father’s death. But I wasn’t a murderer. I had been a terrified child with too much power. Power . . . I still had, I realized. That’s why she’d never been able to claim the legacy. I already had it. And with my father’s death, his power had been given to me. His ring wouldn’t work, except for the person I granted it to—just as he’d granted it to me.

  I forced myself upright, groaning as my body ached all over. It felt like I’d been hit by a magical truck and then pushed down a mountain. I blinked my weary eyes, scrubbing the raw tears out of them, and looked to my naked left hand.

  A seagull cried out and I startled, looking around through the darkness. I wasn’t in my father’s workshop anymore. I had thought the rocking was from my exhaustion, but . . . I sniffed, and smelled the briny scent on the air. My parents had taken me to the beach when I was young, and I had loved the smell. It was the same, and the room held no windows. I was on a boat.

  A loud deep horn bellowed out and I heard people shouting above me. I began to stagger to my feet and stumbled on something. I reached down, feeling through the dim light and my fingers brushed smooth porcelain. I lifted it up, trying to angle it to capture the single beam of light filtering through the deck above.

  It was my mask. My stepmother’s parting gift.

  My stepmother condemned me for a murder I didn’t commit and abandoned her duties as a caregiver. She had wanted the power my father held, never knowing I already had it within me. If she’d treated me with love, our lives could have been so different. But now . . .

  I lifted my left hand into the light, my mask loosely held in the fingertips on my right. I thought back on the movement my father had done to make his ring appear.

  I snapped my fingers, my wrist giving a slight twist.

  The ring appeared on my index finger, the runes blazing red on the obsidian, the orange flames kindling to life deep inside of me.

  I am Eleanora Bediver and I’ve claimed my legacy.

  I spread my arms wide and embraced my mother’s magic—fueled hotter by my father’s. Wings of flame flared out, melting the cage while only caressing me with a gentle heat. The shouting above me turned panicked as the flames crept up through the deck floor. I looked at the mask in my hand, the familiar scent of smoke enveloping me.

  I let it fall from my hand into the flames as I walked out of my cage.

  Chapter 25

  Brom

  The door opened and the sounds of the city just before rush hour swarmed me. Merlin slid in beside me, my driver hurrying to close the door and get us back on the road, other drivers vying for a coveted parking spot in the center of the city.

  “Fucking hell, driving through this city gives me an ulcer,” Merlin grunted out as my driver weaved through the stop-and-go traffic.

  “How fortunate I am not ailed by such matters,” I spoke as I adjusted the cuffs of my shirt under my jacket. I felt Merlin’s eyes on me and looked up, arching an eyebrow. The man, dressed in his preferred . . . casual wear, looked at me and nodded at my fidgeting.

  “Nervous?” he asked, and I rolled my eyes.

  “I don’t get nervous,” I insisted, and pressed my hands flat against my thighs.

  “Sure,” he said, but dropped it. “Romulus meeting us there?”

  “That is, in fact, the plan,” I said, and watched the city pass us. So many people flooded this city, and yet, I could only think of one woman at that moment. Her blood’s powers still lingered in my veins and it called to me, tempting me with its delicate nature. Feeding from her, especially while the man beside me claimed her body, anchored me in a way I’d never thought possible. I wanted to possess her, infinitely. But my heart told me it would be impossible—how could I think myself bigger than her? I was a vampire, yes—the most powerful one in the syndicate—but I was a distant moon to her burning star. I was pulled to her power, her presence, my own pull drawing out her warmth, her tendrils of light. To possess her would be my death, but I could love her in her infinity.

  “There’s something you need to know,” Merlin spoke and interrupted my thoughts.

&
nbsp; I waited, silently. He would tell me in his own time. His knee bounced and I reached over, pressing my hand to his leg. He stilled immediately, an amused huff of breath coming through his nose. I pulled my hand away and watched him expectantly.

  “I know what Ella looks like,” Merlin said, and I frowned.

  “Why would that have you so anxious?” I cocked my head.

  “She’s . . .” Merlin stopped and dug out something from his pocket and handed me a piece of folded paper. I took it and he waited until I’d read it.

  Having known Merlin as long as I had, having been with him intimately—it had given us a bond deeper than we shared with Romulus. We all knew each other’s tells and idiosyncrasies, but with Merlin—it was as if we could hold entire conversations with our eyes alone.

  “You fear I will reject her once I see her face?” I said, understanding.

  Merlin snorted and shook his head, but with disappointment. “You collect beautiful things. You hold yourself and others to a standard, and you do not hesitate to dress down those who fail. I’m afraid that even a flash of disappointment from you could break her. She was terrified to reveal her face to me.”

  I took a breath, closing my eyes, knowing his description of my character was apt. I opened them as we pulled down the road I knew would take us to the Bediver’s mansion.

  “Tell me then,” I asked—hoping he could hear the sincerity of my emotions.

  He appraised me with a hard stare. “Her face is horribly scarred.”

  I let his words wash over me and I mulled them over. He was right to fear for Ella; I had been an utter bastard in the past when it came to my expectations of beauty. I searched within my mind, and then deeper, into my heart, questioning if her scars would repulse me. I could do no less—if I had answered immediately with assurances, Merlin would never believe me and seek to protect her from me. And though she was not the one here telling me, she deserved the respect of my consideration and the confrontation with myself.