by Chloe Adler
“So what? You suddenly lost your ability to communicate? You go to Jared first about the secret we have to keep in order to survive, instead of coming to us? Something you say convinces him that spying is a good idea. And then, if that weren’t enough, you suspect my own brother of doing something illegal and immoral? Burgundy, how can we trust you now?” Elijah put a foot on the ground and swiveled, but Tiyah held up a hand.
“Please, honey.” Her tone was soft, soothing. “Let's get Jared back safely and then we'll discuss this.”
Chapter Nineteen
The sun was setting as we drove in heated silence to my dad's house. I'd texted Alec, who said he'd meet us there after he shifted. The front porch lights blazed and I rang the bell, posing with my hands on my hips and the evilest eye I could muster.
Turns out, werewolves were expert scent trackers. The plan was for Elijah and Tiyah to find Jared while I distracted the witch. And if Alec was there to help them, all the better.
After five minutes of me ringing the bell—the last minute, continuously—Margery finally opened the door. “Burgundy, what an unexpected surprise. Your father isn't here right now.”
“That's okay, Margery, I wanted to talk to you.”
“I wish I could, dear, but now isn't good for me.” She took a step outside, closing the door behind her. “Let's figure out another time.”
“Let me ask you something before I leave.”
Her mouth popped open even as her eyes narrowed. “Yes?”
“Why did you marry my dad?”
“Because we're in love,” she answered like I was a moron.
“The truth, please. If I'm going to give you what you want and disappear from his life, don't I deserve to know?”
A sly smile spread across her plastic Barbie mouth. “Okay.” She leaned against the doorjamb. “You know, you are the complete opposite of your mother. Good for you, standing up for yourself.”
Jesus, this woman charged by the hour—did she pad her billables with this obsequious fluff?
She took a breath, then huffed. “Besides the fact that your father and I complement each other in so many ways—”
I arched a brow.
“—his prestige and financial security will secure a place for me and my daughter.”
It was that base? “You're a lawyer as well. Surely you have plenty of your own money. You told me so yourself.”
“A couple million compared to your father's billions is nothing. I became a lawyer late in life, quite late, and I'm tired of working. This way Deenie will be able to go to any school she wants and pursue a career of her choice. I can quit working and travel the world. It opens every door.”
“My father can just divorce you and you'll lose everything. Especially if he finds out you only married him for his money.”
Her laughter rang out in a cackle worthy of a Disney villainess. “Your father married a divorce lawyer, dear. You don't think I knew what to do so he can never leave me? He'd lose everything, I made sure of that.”
I snarled, lunging for the woman's face. If I tore her repugnant lashes out, would Dad still want her?
Deenie shrieked, and from the corner of my eye, I saw her draw a symbol in the air. My hands stopped a mere inch from her mother's face as if they'd hit a pane of glass. Turning to look at her daughter, I caught fading wisps of smoke disintegrating.
A loud crash and the sound of breaking glass came from downstairs.
“Girl,” her mother snarled, “leave her.”
Margery threw the front door open and took a step inside, but I yanked her back, spun her around and shoved her a solid ten feet down the elaborate flagstone entryway. She didn't teeter on her four-inch Louboutins—the bitch was nearly as solid in them as I was—but a race between a pissed-off vamp and a pearl-clutching cliché of a trophy wife? No contest.
I rushed through the doorway, then slammed and locked the door in her face. The thump of her body flying into the ten-foot oak monstrosity was oh so gratifying.
I dashed toward the sounds of a commotion, down a set of stairs and into a long hallway flanked by multiple doors. But I didn't have to time to pause and check each one. A loud growl drew me to a door at the end of the hallway, and in a split second, I was inside.
A thousand-pound brown bear stood over a cat carrier with a red fox inside. Elijah and Tiyah were crouched together in the opposite corner, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. But Alec took a step toward them anyway, one giant paw raised.
“Alec, no!” I cried out.
His head whipped in my direction. I pointed to the broken glass sliding door. “Go!” To my shock, he actually listened. He leapt through the window, clutching the cage to his chest, as someone—two someones?—barreled down the hallway behind me.
I whipped around to face whoever it was, then did a double take at what passed the threshold. At first glance, it looked like Margery and her daughter, but their facades wavered, as if the air between us was simmering with ferocious heat. A loud pop echoed around us. The silver-haired twins distorted, their faces melting from the ones I knew into something entirely different. Something ghastly. Both mouths gaped open in a scene worthy of Edvard Munch. Something crunched behind me, and I spun around. My lovers stood, ready to pounce on the witches, to protect me, but there was fear in Tiyah’s eyes. For me or them?
“I’ve got this,” I mouthed to them. Then I jutted my chin toward the gaping window.
They turned and fled through the broken sliding glass door.
With everyone I loved safely out of the line of fire, I heaved a quick breath of relief. I spun around, facing the witches whose facades were back in place. An illusion? A hallucination? A seriously delayed acid trip from my younger years?
Margery folded her hands over her chest while Deenie glared at me.
“Does my father know you kidnapped my best friend?”
She shook her head, the white bob sashaying with the movement.
“So why'd you do it?”
“He's the one who came to us. Caught him sniffing around outside. Didn't know what he was up against.”
“You could have ignored him or shooed him away. But you didn't.”
“Ah, yes, well, that's not my style. Someone comes sniffing around me and my daughter,” she narrowed her eyes, “I show them who's boss.”
Deenie beamed, blinking her own mascara-clad eyes like a younger clone of her mother.
“But you're not asking that, are you, dear? You're asking why I imprisoned your friend, correct?”
I crossed my hands over my chest.
“To show you where the game really stands. If you don't leave your father to me and sever contact with him forever, I'll make sure that all of your little friends suffer. And I don't mean they'll be caged. I mean, they'll be dead.”
I had no intention of finding out if this woman was bluffing. Had I wanted a relationship with my father—if he'd treated me with kindness and respect—her threats would not have stopped me. But seeing as he was blinded by this beast and had already chosen her over me, I wasn't interested in pursuing anything with him.
“All of this just for my father's money. Seems too superficial, even for you.”
The hag's lips curved up into a grimace I suspected was a smile. “Money and power. Deenie and I will be set for our very long life, and with you out of the picture, your father won't be torn between,” she air quoted, “ 'loyalties.' ”
“And?” I said, waiting.
“And?” She tossed her hair.
“Admit it, Margery, you did all of this just to see if you could pull it off. It gives your measly existence a jolt of superiority so you can pretend you're better than.”
She coughed out a laugh. “I don't have to pretend. I am better than you. But, I'll concede, I do love the challenge. The chase. The game. I love bringing you to your knees—figuratively, of course.”
“You're really sick.”
“What's this?” My father entered the room, looking
between the three of us and then at the broken glass. “Maria, what have you done now?”
A bark of laughter erupted from me. “What have I done? When you wake up from your midlife crisis in a few years, Dad, remember this. Remember that it was your choice to treat your only daughter like a piece of shit and push her out of your life. Your choice to completely abandon your wife and children. Your choice to marry a monster.”
His face reddened and he lunged for me, but I sidestepped him and he grasped air. I knew him too well.
“When that day comes, don't bother trying to claw your way back to your real family because we won’t be here for you anymore. That bridge has been burned to ashes, and you're the one who lit the match.“ With my uncanny speed, I disappeared through the broken window, not bothering to look back.
Chapter Twenty
Tiyah and Elijah weren't answering their phones. I debated showing up at their boat but I wanted them to have time to cool off, time for Tiyah to bring her husband around. Instead, I texted Alec and Jared.
Where are you two? Are you OK?
Alec pinged back. We're safe, at Casa Mañana. Tucked Jared into bed. You?
I stopped at Sadie's. Why did Jared get end up at Margery's in the first place?
He felt obligated to help. You know him. He didn't want you to lose your house.
Shit, it really was my fault that his life had been in danger. Of course he felt obligated. It was his way of “paying me back.” When had our friendship become so inauthentic, so filled with give and take?
Talk later? I'm going to snuggle my boyfriend now, Alec texted.
Sure, give him a kiss for me, I responded, putting my phone down on Sadie's coffee table.
Ryder brought me a second cup of hot cocoa, then plopped down on the couch next to his fiancée while she cradled me on her other side. I spent thirty minutes confiding in them, telling them everything from the existence of werewolves to the spell my stepsister had cast on me.
“I'm so sorry you had to deal with that. And poor Jared. What was he thinking?” Sadie said.
I flinched. “I think he felt obligated to help.”
“He has been expressing a lot of guilt about living there rent-free with Alec. It's tearing him up.” Her voice was firm.
I needed to make all of this right somehow. “Jared's not beholden to me for helping him. I don't know exactly when our friendship became so skewed.”
“When Alec moved in, I think. Jared's been feeling subpar. Not only can't he fully support himself, but he can't support his man either. It emasculates a guy.”
“He's in school full-time. When he becomes a chiropractor, he'll likely make much more money than I do. Why can't he help out then?”
“Because you've been helping him since he was eighteen, Burgundy. That's years of not being able to carry his own weight, and now he's doubled the load. You know how independent he is.”
I did. Had I been supporting him all of these years so he'd be dependent on me and never able to leave me? Or had I done it as a carrot to dangle in front of him, just like my father did to me? Or the most pathetic reason of all—had I done it so that he would love me because without money I wasn't worthy?
“Hey.” Sadie put her hand on my shoulder. “Whatever's going on in your head right now is probably wrong. Jared loves you for who you are, not for what you've provided. That's why he went out of his way for you today.”
“Great, that doesn't help. I feel so guilty and angry—with myself.”
“Not productive.” Sadie got up and went into the other room while Ryder rubbed my back. She returned moments later with a large book.
She placed the ancient-looking tome on her living-room table and opened it up. A musky scent invaded my nostrils, making me sneeze.
Sadie flipped through several pages and I caught the title of one chapter: Blood Lines. She stopped on a page depicting two women who looked exactly like Margery and her daughter. Straight, stark-white hair and large, dark eyes. Their iridescent skin looked inhuman. Next to them were symbols drawn in smoke. Sadie tapped the page, which read, Ordo Hermeticus Aurorae Aureae (Order of the Golden Dawn).
“But . . . how did you know?”
“I didn't. I vaguely remembered this picture from leafing through the book when I was a little girl, with Aurelia.”
All three of us leaned closer to the book.
“Is it black magic?” I asked.
She shook her head. “All magic can be used for good or bad. White or black. Depends on the practitioner.”
We all returned our gaze to the volume, reading in silence.
I pointed. “It says that the belief system of these witches is self-serving. They believe you can live as gods on Earth.”
Ryder nodded. “That makes sense. Our belief is the opposite.” He gestured between Sadie and himself. “We glorify nature. Both our families spring from the same lineage, Neo-Paganism.”
Sadie continued, “We respect the Earth and the heavens. Margery's practice puts themselves first, even above other humans and Signum.”
“So basically the Order of the Golden Dawn is a cult of narcissists?” I asked.
“Looks that way.” Sadie pulled a face.
“Great, so I'd call that evil.” How could it be labeled as anything else?
Sadie shook her head. “Not evil. Self-serving.”
“There's a difference?” I asked.
“They're not Satanists.” Ryder tapped the page. “They don't kill people, mutilate or destroy. They bend and manipulate reality for their own personal gain.”
“So this is really why they want me out of the picture, not part of my father's life.”
“Removing the only foreseen obstacle. That does make sense,” Sadie said.
“They're planning to use his power and prestige for personal gain,” Ryder added.
Hadn't Margery confirmed exactly that?
Sadie picked up the book, studying it closer, turning a page and reading some more before she let out a long breath. “It says here that werewolves are their kryptonite.”
“Well that explains her vehemence, why she doesn't want them in the Edge. But why do they fear werewolves so much?”
“Apparently, werewolves hunt and destroy their kind and other offshoot orders because they're 'destroyers of the light.' ”
I tsked. “That's certainly colorful. But what the heck does it mean?”
“Not a clue. But I know who you can ask.”
The next morning I parked in front of city hall and sat waiting in the lobby. Picking my cuticles passed the time as the Council met behind closed doors.
When the door to the meeting room door finally opened, it was flung with so much force that it slammed into the opposite wall. My dad stomped out, his voice deep and angry. “The vote was rigged.”
Benedict hurried out after him. “Mr. Rosales, wait. What are you talking about?”
“There's a werewolf on the Council, disguised as a shifter,” he snarled. “Are you going to pretend you didn't know?”
I jumped to my feet, freezing in plain view. Holding my chin high, I kept my eyes trained on Benedict. My breath grew shallow as I willed my legs to take root. Let my father see me. Even though it hurt like hell, I didn't have to show it. I wanted him to believe that I couldn't care less about him. Mask firmly in place. A seamless façade.
“No, Mr. Rosales. To whom are you referring?”
Other Council members flowed out of the room, only to stop in their tracks at my father's ugly expression. Worried eyes darted around.
“Him.” My father pointed at Jonas, who had filed out with the others. “He's a damn werewolf.”
Benedict turned to him. “Is this true?”
People gasped and the woman closest to him retreated back into the room.
“Yes, sir,” he responded loudly, his chest puffed out, eyes locked on my father.
“Would you like to explain yourself?” Benedict's voice was composed.
“How is it fair to
vote on our race without having one of us present?”
My father stiffened, flashing his fangs.
Benedict held a hand up. “Hervé, can you take the others back inside? I'll be in presently.”
“Without him?” My father's eyes were wild.
“Yes, for a revote.”
Grumbling under his breath, my dad and the others returned to the meeting room.
He hadn't even bothered to acknowledge my presence. Good.
Benedict turned to Jonas. “I understand your position but I'm afraid that's not how things are done here. We have to vote again without you. You can wait here for the outcome, but I'd advise you to leave. For your own safety.”
Jonas bowed his head.
“I'll call you as soon as the meeting adjourns.” Benedict disappeared back inside, closing the door behind him.
At the audible click, Jonas faced me. Guess my housefly impression needed work. “Why are you here?”
“I was hoping to talk to you.”
“Me? Why? I need to get out of here and warn my brother. If things go south in there—”
“This isn't the 1800s, no one's going to run you out of town.”
“I wouldn't be so sure. People fear what they don't understand and the response to fear is usually aggression. Violence.”
“Call Elijah, but then . . . give me five minutes, that's all I'm asking you for.”
Sitting at an outside table at a cafe across the street from city hall, I sipped iced tea and waited for Jonas.
As he stood on the sidewalk talking on his cell phone to Elijah, gesturing animatedly, I couldn't help but note their similarities. There was much I didn't know about this breed of Signum, but I wanted to learn. Not just because they fascinated me, but because two of their people had lassoed my heart, cinching it up tightly.
His call apparently at an end, Jonas stowed the phone in his pocket, made his way across the patio and took the chair opposite me.
“Thank you for agreeing to have coffee with me,” I said.
