I smack him in the arm because I’m definitely not licking his face in front of all these people. “Scram, or I won’t be doing anything to your face later, either.”
He grins. “You’re cute when you’re mad, Slatki.” He stands up and surveys the room. When no one is looking, he puts one hand on the table and the other on the back of my chair and leans down to my ear.
Chills spread down my neck and along my arms.
“But threaten me again, and it’s you and I who will be doing sneaky things behind the bookshelves.”
My jaw drops and I let it hang as I watch him arrogantly walk back to the bookshelf and disappear behind it.
***
The next day after school, I’m on my way to meet my father in Garwin’s library. My father has “requested my presence.” For what reason, I don’t know, so it makes me kind of nervous. I’m also somewhat excited because my father and I haven’t really spent much one-on-one time together since he got here.
When I stroll into the open double doors, the first thing I notice is that the curtains pooling the floor along the far window have been drawn back. It’s a cloudy day, but a ray of light shines through and trails dust in the air directly in front of my father. He sits at a table, looking over stacks of paper.
My dad probably prefers this room because it has that old-book smell. I picture him sitting in a room similar to this one, but hundreds of years ago. Maybe even in Croatia.
The image is surreal. This man is my father, and yet, he’s defeated everyone, even Father Time. My dad is … ageless.
I stand in silent awe and watch him until Emerik closes the doors behind me.
My father looks up, a small smile transforming his ageless face to something more human. “Hello, Brooke.” He slides his chair back and stands.
“Hello,” I reply, much less fearful than the last time he greeted me with those same words.
He steps around the table and indicates for me to take a seat on the large sofa. He sits next to me, his back rigid when I relax into the cushions.
I move forward and sit up as straight as he is.
His chest rumbles with a hearty laugh. “Please, sit however you feel most comfortable.”
I feel awkward and out of place. I don’t really know how to hold myself when I’m around him. “I’m good,” I say with a smile.
“How was school?”
“Okay.”
“Do you feel safe there?” my father asks.
“As safe as anywhere.” I shrug. What’s he getting at? Am I in danger?
He studies me for a moment, and I try to steady my breathing. I want so badly for him to approve of me.
He finally breaks the silence. “Is that because you have Mirko there to protect you, or because you feel school is a safe place?”
“Well, probably because of Mirko. I always feel safer when he’s around.”
My father nods, like that answers a deeper question than he’s asked me. It’s like we have a second conversation going on that I’m not privy to.
I adjust on the couch and consider how to maneuver to get in on it.
“The Zao Duh has feelings for you, and I see you have feelings for him as well.”
I’m stunned. How does he know? I haven’t shown any of my feelings for Mirko when my father’s around. I’ve made sure to be extra careful.
My heart pounds against my ribs, and I fear he can hear every clink and clang it makes, like a hummingbird trying to escape from a brass cage.
“He kissed you when I came for you and Jelena, and you kissed him back,” my father answers.
Oh! I forgot about that. Mirko and I haven’t even discussed how we should explain that if approached about it.
“Yes, I did,” I say, my mouth more than a little parched.
“Your mother tells me he said you two needed to keep your distance from one another since I’ve claimed you.” He’s stating everything now, but he’s studying me, as if awaiting my confirmation—or my lie.
My difficulty in finding words appears to be more out of shock and embarrassment than out of trying to figure out my story.
I frown and nod because that’s all I can do. Not really a lie. Mirko did tell me we had to keep our distance. But I got him to change his mind.
“Wise fellow,” my father says. “I called you in to confirm that this is the situation with you two.”
Sudden anger and frustration over this stupid, unwritten law, which tells me I can’t love who I do openly and freely, wells up inside me. I snap. The words aren’t so hard to find anymore. “It’s stupid and prejudiced that he even had to tell me that. It’s ridiculous that you’re in trouble for fathering me, and that my life means so little to you all because of who my parents are.” I’m almost yelling by the end. And it’s definitely not a lie.
“I obviously do not agree with it. You are proof of that,” my father says sincerely, although his jaw is tilted at a stern angle. “But others do. And as you said, we are already in trouble. We have to appease the right people to have a chance at cleaning up this mess, and rumors of my daughter consorting with a Zao Duh will not be tolerated.”
A part of me is terrified of my father, afraid of letting him down, but the more prominent part is pissed over the injustice of it all. “Whatever.” Typical, bratty teenager, but I don’t care. I stand to walk away.
No. I’m not finished yet.
I spin around and glare at my father, who somehow looks more regal and powerful sitting on the oversized sofa than any other Pijawika I’ve come into contact with. “You’re the most powerful Pijawika in the world. Surely you haven’t been powerless for the past three hundred years over doing something to change these beliefs. If you truly felt people should be free to choose who they love, you’d have done something about it. I mean, for Chrissake, you freed two races from slavery, but you can’t influence people in changing their minds about wanting to kill a melez or those who love a person from a ‘lesser’ race? I still blame you.”
Now I’m done. I spin on my heel and walk out.
Emerik catches up with me a few feet down the hall. “Brooke.” His green eyes blaze.
Now that I’ve expended some of my fire, I can’t do anything but stop and listen.
“You were not raised in our society, so I will pardon your ignorance in this. But you must be mindful of your tone when speaking to Zladislov. He appears to be tolerant of your lack of respect, but I will not.”
Is he really chastising me for telling them what I think? It’s all true. “You’re right. I wasn’t raised in this world. And a good thing too, because I’d already be dead.”
His lips mold into a tight line and then his face softens, as if he thinks it better to use a different approach with me. “Zladislov is stern, but he is not mean. He only desires what is best for you.”
I relax my shoulders. I can’t blame my father for everyone’s hatred against me or Mirko. I’m still disappointed my father hasn’t done more to progress the tolerance of his people, but you can’t make everyone decide they’re okay with something because you want them to be. “Can you tell him I apologize for my tone?” I’m not retracting anything I said, though.
“I shall.” He offers me a gentle smile, and a part of me softens toward him. Emerik is always so intimidating, standing so silent and stoic next to my father. I can see now that he cares for my father beyond his protection alone, and he seems to care about our relationship if he’s taking the time to explain my father’s reasoning.
“Thank you,” I say.
He nods, and while holding his slight smile, he turns with military precision and walks back toward the library.
I guess telling my father off and being reprimanded by his stražar is better than him finding out Mirko and I are hiding our relationship. And I didn’t even have to lie to keep it a secret.
Kaitlynn, though, being the great friend she is, ditches David more frequently to hang out with me, and I love her for it, but it means more lying and hiding fo
r Mirko and me.
It’s a school night, and Kaitlynn’s sleeping over. We stay up pretty late, laughing about David’s little sister walking in on them making out.
“I’m getting a headache,” Kaitlynn says. “Let’s go to sleep.”
We settle in under the covers, Kaitlynn on her side of the bed, and me on mine.
I’m so lucky to have her as my best friend. I hate lying to her, but I try to make it up in every other way I can.
The guilt wears me out and I finally fall asleep.
I wake up to the sound of gagging in the bathroom. I glance up at the clock: 3 a.m. The devil’s hour. I hate that.
I shiver and look over at Kaitlynn, but her side of the bed is empty. “Kaitlynn? Are you okay?”
More heaving.
I fling my covers off and follow the light streaming out of the bathroom.
Kaitlynn’s bent over the toilet. The heaving stops. She sits back on her heels and rests her head on her arm over the porcelain.
“Hey, are you okay?”
She turns toward me with a miserable look on her face. “I am so sick, Brooke. I feel like I’ve been puking for hours.”
And I’m only now waking up?
I must’ve been out.
“Do you want me to take you home?” There’s nothing as comforting when you’re sick as your own bed.
She nods weakly.
I put on some shoes and go downstairs to tell my mom.
I turn on lights as I make my way to my mom’s room. “Hey, Mom,” I say, waking her. “Kaitlynn’s sick, so I’m gonna drive her home.”
She lifts her hand over her head, shading her eyes from the bright light. “All right,” she says, groggily, “but take Mirko or someone with you.”
“’Kay.” I flip her light off and shut the door.
I pass Rorik in the hall on my way back upstairs. “Hey.” I stop him. “You’re up already. Would you mind riding with me to take Kaitlynn home?”
He shrugs. “Sure. Can’t sleep anyway.”
“Thanks. We’ll be down in a sec,” I say and take the stairs two at a time.
Kaitlynn’s still in the bathroom, resting against the toilet, rubbing her temple.
Upset stomach and a headache. Yikes.
I gather her things and step into the bathroom. “You ready?”
“Yeah, but can you turn off the light? It hurts.”
Rorik’s waiting for us in the foyer. “Not feeling too hot, huh?”
Kaitlynn drops her hand from her head to put her coat on. “Uh-un.”
“Hold on.” Rorik steps toward Kaitlynn. He grabs her by her chin and tilts her head to the side, looking close at her neck.
“What the …?” He steps away and turns on the light directly above us.
Kaitlynn winces.
Rorik comes back to look at her neck again. He flips his hand, putting the back of it against her forehead the same way my mom does when testing for a fever. “Were you puking?”
“Yeah,” I say, wondering what he’s getting at.
“We’re not taking her home. We’re taking her to the hospital. She has meningitis.”
“Meningitis?”
“Yes, and it’s deadly.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mirko
Brooke calls from the hospital at four in the morning when Kaitlynn’s admitted. “They have her hooked up to IVs, and wires are taped all over her body. We got her here just in time for them to give her antibiotics, but they said if she doesn’t respond to them, she could die from this. And it could be within hours. People have died in as little as thirteen hours!”
“Do they know where she got it?” It kills me to not be able to hold her, to comfort her.
“They said one in four people actually carry the bacteria but never get sick. She could’ve gotten it from any swapping saliva, sharing drinks with me or anyone at school, kissing David, lots of places.”
“Can they test you? To make sure you won’t get it?” Pijawikas don’t get sick like humans do, but everything with Brooke being a melez is new and untested. I can’t say how her body would respond.
“They gave me and Kaitlynn’s mom and dad antibiotics, and as soon as David gets here, they’ll want to give him some too. But there’s a vaccine for it that I’m gonna get. I wish we would’ve known. If Kaitlynn had gotten the vaccine …” Brooke’s voice cracks.
I comfort her as much as I can over the phone before we hang up. I can’t go because the only way I can stop myself from holding her right now is to put distance between us.
I bet Jaren’s there comforting Brooke as I wrestle with myself not to go.
Son of a bitch!
I brush my hands over my buzzed head. I can’t pace the halls and talk myself out of going to the hospital much longer. I’m really worried about Kaitlynn too. And Brooke is terrified.
God, what will it do to her if Kaitlynn doesn’t pull through?
It’ll destroy her.
The importance of keeping my relationship with Brooke a secret wanes. If I had a legitimate excuse for going, I would jump into the Land Rover and get to Brooke, to hold her in the way only a man can hold his woman when she’s in pain.
But I don’t. And Emerik and Zladislov haven’t been able to figure out the real reason behind the Commission calling Brooke to testify. They’ve also been unable to find out who among Zladislov’s people attacked Brooke in Utah.
So, Emerik’s arranged a meeting with his dad, Orell, a member of the Commission, to try to get some information before Zladislov has to give his testimony tomorrow.
Brooke wants to go to the meeting, but with Kaitlynn sick, there’s no way she can leave her to go on a four-hour road trip there and back. I didn’t bother telling her there is also no way they’ll allow her to go because she’s a melez, and Emerik’s dad is pretty adamant in his feelings about melezes.
He’s also adamant about his views on Zao Duhs, but I can withstand his intolerance to gain information. Brooke, though, has enough to worry about. More bigotry directed at her isn’t ideal.
I told her I’d talk to Zladislov to see about going for her. I wasn’t sure they’d allow me to go, but Zladislov agreed to it.
I don’t know what to expect during the meeting with Orell, but I steel myself on the way. Whatever is about to go down, it isn’t going to be like visiting an old friend.
Orell is a cranky old bastard, set in his ways, and has served on the Commission longer than Zladislov has been its Head. Whatever the Commission plans, Orell should have a good amount of sway in it.
Orell’s house is gaudy and constructed to look like a castle. We’re greeted at the front door by one of his servants—a Pijawika, no less. Once you reach Orell’s status, even the nobler of society are willing to take on lesser jobs for you. The Pijawika leads us to the back of the house into a great room. The furniture is large and medieval in design. The archways curve to a point, like they did in the Middle Ages, and the chandelier, dark woods, and rugs complement the medieval theme.
Orell sits in an oversized armchair with a massive dog at his feet. The dog bares his teeth when we step into the room. “Lew,” Orell says, “settle.” The dog relaxes, but his ears and eyes remain at attention.
Orell stands and waits for Emerik to approach. Emerik kisses him on the cheek. “My son,” Orell says in Croatian.
“Father,” Emerik replies with reverence.
When Emerik steps back, Orell and Zladislov offer each other a slight head bow in greeting. “Please, have a seat.” Orell puts his hand out to the couch adjacent to his chair, and we sit facing double doors that lead out to a pool and a manicured lawn edged with designer gravel.
“I’m surprised you brought a Zao Duh with you,” Orell says to Zladislov, his eyebrow raised. “You know how I feel about them.”
I clench my jaw to hold back my retort. I could take on any one of his men in a fight and come out the winner, if they didn’t use Pijawikan powers. I’m worthy, but that doesn’t matter to
him.
“Yes,” Zladislov replies, “but we have a situation, and he has proven himself useful.”
Damn right, I have, and spoken from the Head of the Commission’s mouth.
“No, you have a situation.” Orell points to Zladislov. “How could you be so careless and dimwitted? Not only is what you did terrible and disgusting—it goes against everything we believe in—but you have now risked a delicate balance we managed to stabilize for the past three hundred years. All for a woman, a human woman.” He shakes his head, his mouth curving down with repugnance. “What of my son?” Orell puts his ring-adorned hand out to Emerik. “Did you consider his safety before you were tempted by that woman? If you are disgraced, Emerik is along with you. You’re leaving him open to your enemies, and it’s clear you have both collected many of those over the years.”
Emerik’s eyes tighten. Does he agree with everything Orell’s saying?
Or does he simply not like how everything affects him as well?
Zladislov appears unfazed, which surprises me. I never thought the Head of the Commission would allow someone to take that tone with him—not even a fellow Commissioner. But that’s what makes Zladislov a great leader; he puts the means to an end before his ego. He demands respect, but he won’t risk something as important as this for it.
“I understand your position,” Zladislov says, “and that is why we’re here. As you know, I’ve been called to testify tomorrow before the Commission, to give you all my official position on the matter. Which I already have. And also as you know, my daughter has been called. The formal calling stated she is to testify about her role in Jelena’s death. I’m aware Dikan filed a complaint, but what is the real motivation for calling Brooke when I asked for no retaliation? And why was I left out of the decision?”
Orell smirks. “Some of the Commissioners have the foresight to capitalize on Dikan’s complaint in an effort to remove you from your position as Head.”
Shit. It doesn’t get worse than this. I knew Dikan was up to something nefarious, and he’s devious enough to get what he wants by acting as a pawn in whatever others want. I should’ve sacrificed a few more years of my life to take him out of this world. The dark place I was in back then would’ve been worth living in a bit longer to protect Brooke now.
Enemy Within (Vampire Born Trilogy, #2) Page 10
