by Emily Shore
Reluctant, Raoul surrendered me to Skip. I felt his familiar hands. Felt wind whish around me like I was a bullet traveling through darkness. In the pitch blackness of the endless tunnels, weaving and dodging.
“Hold on, Rin,” Skip whispered.
I was not entirely conscious of anything. White petals smeared together, turning to dark velvet, thick blood bubbling over my entire body. Then, my eyes rolled to the back of my head.
“RIN!”
Skip screaming my name was the last thing I remembered as we plunged into the night where the moon shed her insipid light all around me.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Queen
Raoul's voice ruptured my unconsciousness. “Were we too late?”
“I don’t know,” I heard Skip's velvety reply. “The blood stopped as soon as she hit the air.”
“Look.” Heath motioned to my face, and my eyes slowly wandered open.
Fog and wind curried my parched skin. How had everything suddenly changed? One moment, I was in Skip's arms, surrendering to unconsciousness. Ready to die, ready to be free of the gruesome pain ― the horrific hole lodged in my back. Now…prisms of light from the moon, the harvest moon, laminated my eyes. Meanwhile, Skip's cold hands still noosed my waist. There was no pain. Instinctively, I reached for my back, but there was no hole ― only a fragment of a scar: a remnant of this night.
“Rin,” Heath marveled from above. “Your eyes, your skin…”
Lifting a hand to my eyes, I took in the sight before me. My skin ― incandescent, tremulous and silver. Scintillas sparked along the ends of my fingertips and hair. All cold fire right before a surge of power screamed through my system and caused my back to arch deep, my voice stupefied into a deafening silence. And…unexpected moonbeams engulfed my entire body ― silver tongues injected into my veins, bathed my blood, and sloshed my heart with the gift of vampires and werewolves. Pure ecstasy writing itself into my flesh and blood. Stamping my body, heart, and mind with their signatures.
At last, everything melted away. The night cascaded into silence.
“Rin.” My brother first. He cradled me in his arms, voice creased with concern.
“Hi, Heath,” I greeted him, pressing my lips into a smile ― my voice no longer hoarse or choking. I couldn’t taste blood anymore.
“Are you okay?” He asked, brushing my hair back from my face.
I nodded and peered around. “Better than okay.” I’d evolved.
That’s when I realized how strong I was. But my skin was still as soft and pliable. My hands flew to my chest, and I beamed, parting my lips. Agape but blissful. Was this a reward? Some unknown grace?
A beating heart.
I was still human. Human skin, human flesh, human heart. A hybrid human heart.
Intrigued, Raoul mimicked me and touched my chest. When he withdrew it, his lips pulled back from his teeth, even more pleased than I.
But not quite human.
I was all too conscious of my sudden strength. All the blood in my veins had shifted to pave the way for my unbridled powers. Instead of the slow-moving current that used to be my bloodstream, now it rippled in my veins. A shrieking wolf fire and vampire ice tempest. It would slow but never as much as before. Pale veins pulsed, smooth and even along my arms. I no longer had to call for the silver blood. It was just…there. Braided around my warm, human blood. A silver fortress. I savored this…this supernatural triad. My humanity most of all.
“Brian's waiting for us.” Heath gestured to the earth.
I looked down and observed the silhouette of my brother’s wolf form. All the Council members stood behind him as he paced back and forth, waiting for my descent. Some of the Le Couvènte Guardians were also there to witness my transformation.
“Rin…” I turned around to see Skip approach, wings gusting my curls behind my shoulders. His mind unveiled before me. “I—”
Before Raoul could move toward him, before Skip’s touch could land, I reached out and touched him once. All my father’s eraser power surged from my hand into Skip’s body, causing his wings to retract right before Skip crashed to the ground surrounded by dozens of Guardians. His instinct of self-preservation was strong, but not strong enough for the sleeper Guardians, who could force him into unconsciousness. In his last moments before forced sleep, I registered Skip’s sense of loss. It gutted me. He’d failed. I held my arms together as he drowned in the trauma of being too late. Of almost losing me. Nothing about this night erased the blood bond. If anything, it had strengthened it. Once he was asleep, the pain ebbed, allowing me to focus.
“Put me down, Heath,” I requested, my voice sure and firm. Now, I was ready for my wings to push through my shoulder blades. So, Heath obeyed, and I spread my wings wide to keep myself in the air. Blood still stained the edges close to my back, but the rest were white and translucent. So different from the black thunder wings of all the vampires. Mine were more white fog with bones and veins like frozen lightning.
Alongside the three vampires, I floated to the ground to meet the Council. But my parents came first. By the time, Brian arrived at my side, my mother was still inspecting me, turning me around to ensure I was safe and whole. I knelt and pushed my hands into Brian’s warm fur, thanked him for bringing the Council. Astounded but pleased at my evolution, my father stood behind my mother and calmed her. The Council members were equally taken aback. Confident but keeping my smile soft, I rose to meet my father.
He laid a hand upon my shoulder just in front of the baseline where my wings breached my skin. “Your skin is warm,” he remarked.
I nodded.
“You are no vampire, you are no wolf, and yet…” Dad ran a hand through my warm, mahogany hair and inhaled my new scent, “…you share their power, their traits. Your heart still beats, and your blood still runs. You are―”
“Immortal,” I finished for everyone to hear.
I knew I was. I could feel the lifespan of a thousand generations bathing my blood. This, the prophecy had indicated all along. I could not be simply vampire or werewolf. Both races had to accept me, which could never happen if I was one or the other. During this time of unrest, especially after the Queen’s murder, I had to be both. But I needed to be myself, too. My eighteen years as a human couldn’t change in one night. Now, I’d have more time to develop. And regenerate. My family would not suffer my loss, and I would live to love them more…and Raoul. No longer a sapling, my roots had tangled with theirs; I could stand strong with them.
I turned to address the Council, a muscle ticking in my cheek at the unconscious figure of Skip. I hacked away my urge to wince, any feelings of regret. Now was not the time. “I will meet with you at your leisure.”
Enton Carolton approached me. “We will convene and discuss your future with us after Stefan White's trial.”
I didn’t ask. I didn’t need to. He murdered a Le Couvènte Queen. It was obvious what fate was in store for him.
A cold hand settled on my shoulder, and I turned to Raoul. “I want to go home,” I whispered.
He nodded, acknowledging my need. “Home,” and slowly folded his hand into mine.
I slept all throughout the night and much of the day, compensating for weeks of stress.
Later after dinner, all my family members entered my room along with Raoul. I rolled my eyes and extinguished the flames I’d been playing with. “Should I assign visitation rights?”
My mother responded, tone more serious, “Stefan's trial is tonight.”
I fingered my sheets. “I know.”
“It's difficult to believe he was the Rose Killer.”
I knew why this hit her harder. Not just because Mom’s history with Caroline was stronger than mine. She’d felt Skip’s hands upon her flesh. She’d felt the life draining out of her…right before he restored it. All a diversion. I learned when he’d murdered the Queen. In the short span of time between his helping the Council with the “uprising”. A
n uprising he created and pretended to drive their forces back. Only so he could disappear to the Queen’s location. Enough time to murder her, to persuade her system to shut down, her silver blood to drain. He’d manipulated everyone. Even saving my mother’s life was his twisted version of a gift.
My father stood just Mom, his hands on her shoulders, eyes strained as he expressed, “I knew he harbored ill will toward the Council about his father's death. But no one could have been prepared for this kind of severity.”
“I could have,” I said, hunching over on my bed, resisting the urge to touch my chest where I could sense a deep ache due to the blood bond. “I trusted him too easily.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Rin. He duped us all.” Brian told me.
“I was truly at fault,” Raoul interjected, owning responsibility. “His anger toward me was the greatest.”
I shook my head, straightening. “No…his father’s murder wasn’t your fault. Shaw knew there was unrest. The wolves who targeted him are responsible.” Up till recently, Skip harbored the most hatred toward the wolves, which was understandable. But now, he harbored more hatred toward Raoul for his claim on my heart.
I closed my eyes for a moment, considering Skip’s intentions. When we were last together, I saw his vision of Le Couvènte. “If his wishes had come true, Skip would have imprisoned all the wolves or completely annihilated them in Le Couvènte.” It would have been war.
Yes, war. And he would have made me his blood queen. He would have instituted human and wolf blood farms. We would have reigned on a throne of bodies, including any vampire ones who opposed us.
I closed my eyes, hearing one stray thought that spoke volumes. It was far simpler to intrude and invade upon thoughts now. Some invisible hand had lifted a veil of steel from my mind and replaced it with one as flimsy as cheesecloth. I peered into Raoul's head to decipher more. There was one lingering thought that continued to swirl in his mind. It was difficult not to hear and impossible to ignore.
“May I have some time with Raoul alone, please?” I requested, my eyes narrowing pointedly on my family members.
I felt Heath in my head, but now I could erect a barrier, could push him away. Today, he could not probe me. Victorious, I grinned when he sulked out of the room. I centered my gaze on Raoul. Easing his hand into mine, I was relieved to find it still frigid, conflicting with my human skin: one familiarity I was glad not to lose. “You want to ask me something.” I stared into his warm eyes like iron in flames.
“Reina…” he began but paused.
I squeezed his hand, urging him to continue. “I want to hear you ask it.”
“Why? I didn’t deserve your sacrifice. You saved my life.”
“You saved mine.” I pointed out and reflected on that day. “Long ago, a little girl fell into a river. You pulled her out. A stranger, nothing but a meal ticket. How could I do no less for someone I truly loved?” I clasped his hand in my own. “You came back for me. Even at the Masque, you didn’t let me go.”
“I was willing. But I had to try one last time.” He stood up, broke our touch, approached the window. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“I didn’t either,” I told him and walked toward him, feeling my cheeks burn. Good, it was such a human thing.
“No.” Raoul inclined his head to me. “Something about that day. When I saw you fall into the river, I knew there was something different about you, something special. I had to save you.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the mirror in my bedroom. Something special. An understatement. A shiver traveled up my spine. There was no ghost in the mirror, but I could feel him all the same. I closed my eyes, tried to shake the unwanted feeling, but it stuck: the blood bond.
My eyes revealed everything. “Raoul, there's something I must do. I need to get in touch with the Council.”
Sleeper Guardians for his underground prison.
An intricate key of fused vampire bones and skin.
With a shuddering sigh, I turned the key and slowly opened the door. After breathing in one last deep gust of air, I entered the outer room and closed the door behind me. Contained behind a gate constructed of vampire bones and teeth was Skip. For even a few minutes, I was grateful they allowed me to be alone with him. There was nothing to fear now. I could defend myself with ease. Anything I imagined was possible to create.
His room was larger than I thought ― equipped with a single cot for a bed, a few chairs and an easel with painting materials, Skip's only request. There he was, standing before the canvas. So still. One could have thought he was a sculpture. He still wore was the same clothes from the Masque, but his hair had fallen into a state of disarray. Faded gold tangles down his back and shoulders. When I stepped a little closer, I noticed the painting was another one of me, but I was dressed in a costume. As Christine from the Phantom of the Opera. Staring into the mirror with the Phantom mask in the background.
Skip inhaled a deep draught but did not open his eyes. “I'd know your scent from anywhere,” he murmured. “Better now after the Change. I was a fool to want to turn you. How could I ever give this up?” He breathed but didn’t turn to face me.
“Stefan, Skip…” I began but trailed off. I watched him, wanting to dissect his internal thoughts, but he blocked me with his persuasion. The only thing he had left to guard.
“Yes, I know why you’re here,” he rudely snorted. “You want your resolution, your finality, your closure…”
“No.”
At once Skip pivoted toward me but continued to remain seated so he could observe my facial expressions. Though his voice held arrogance, I could feel his pain. Pain from his failure mimicking his experience as a boy. Pain from his loss of me. Pain from the shame his family now suffered. He was a broken sword. Slivers of diamond and metal. It wasn’t enough for me.
“Reina…what do you want?” His emerald eyes lacerated mine.
“What do I want?” I repeated, shocked, as if he didn’t know. “I’m here to see you broken.” He looked up, eyes softening when I continued, “I’m here because if I could, I’d reach into your chest and watch your heart bleed in my hands. It’s not about vengeance. It’s about balance.” He deserved to hurt like I hurt. And yet, I still wanted to know if any of it was…
“It was.” Skip rose, strode over to the bars and extended a hand, fingers easing through a gap between a fang and a bone.
I shifted back, fists firm at my sides. Yet, the other part of me, forged in blood, warred inside. I clenched my fingers, nails creating tiny crescent marks in my palms to prevent me from reaching for that hand. I refused to let him have any control over me.
“I said I would do more than die for you, and I would,” he emphasized, fingers curling, expectant. “I would destroy for you.”
My eyes hardened. Fire rose up within me, coursing freely. I tasted blood and ash in my throat. “You destroyed her.”
“Instantly. No pain. I promise you. I ensured that.”
“She was my friend! My Queen.” Without her, I wouldn’t have filed the blood claim. Without Caroline, nothing would have been set in motion.
“A false Queen with promises unfulfilled for years.” Skip clenched the bars, knuckles whitening. Revenge for his father. “And you deserved to rise to the throne without reigning in her shadow.”
I growled at him, my eyes hotter than amethysts on fire.
“She knew what she was doing,” he continued, unconcerned over my reaction. “Even with my blocking her foresight, she still had enough pieces. She chose you just as I did.”
Fire sizzled on my fingertips. I needed to control the power threatening to free itself. So, I turned my back to him and gritted my teeth. “You never chose me.”
“I chose you every damn day,” Skip snarled behind me. “I chose to save your reckless mother’s life.” His fingers strained beyond the impenetrable cage, demanding, but mine quivered in response with fiery flickers between their gaps. Like trapped
fireflies. “Above all, you chose me.” His persuasion tickled the edges of my mind, branching out into my body, caressing my blood through the bond. Gentle and light as thousands of feathers. What would happen once they executed him? Would the blood bond dissolve? Would part of me go with him?
“You still love me…” Skip perceived, his hand retreating from the cage as he straightened to counter me. “Why else would you be here?”
I turned back to face him and nodded. “I'm strong enough to admit it without shame. But it doesn’t mean I will save you. Or vindicate you. I’m not your Christine. Just like the Phantom, you’ll let me go. And I’ll walk away.”
“Losing you is worse than death, your highness.”
The truth of his words, his grief echoed in my heart. Heavy as a hundred ghosts. This misguided love or rather…infatuation blinded him, but his anguish was all I’d wanted to see. If only I could place the emotional fractures in a bottle to study them. Cruel as it was, every bit of his damage seemed to help. More than if he was just a psychopath devoid of any emotion. At least this was real. It meant all the anger and pain I felt was justified. Every Skip-woven nightmare, every time I woke near a corpse, every powerful promise, every deceitful kiss…my mother’s healing and Queen Caroline’s murder on the same night.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Rin.”
No, he didn’t.
I was not present at the trial. Neither Council member nor Queen yet, I had no authority. They still took my testimony. In Le Couvènte, the Council always handled murder trials, especially ones that involved the death of a monarch. After visiting Skip, I’d given a private testimony before the Council.
Now, I killed two birds with one stone: practicing my elemental ability and incinerating what was left of my gown from the Masque. The charred chiffon tittered along my hardwood floor, ash tendrils curling in the air and retreated through my window. Black glitters in the air.
