by L. T. Kelly
I rested back in the chair. “Is this why I’m here? A punishment for my mother’s actions?”
Catherine laughed. “Not at all. Bernadette lived a richer existence than any of the clan. Your mother built a thriving business selling her tonics and taught Bernadette all she knew in the short time they shared together. Your mother made her swear to keep the recipes a secret.” Catherine’s eyes twinkled as she stared at me. “I hoped we could share the same relationship they did. It was magical all by itself, or so my mother told me, and hers before her, so on and so forth. It’s quite the legend in our clan. Most believe, despite your mother’s betrayal, she inadvertently saved those willing to move to the city from poverty and death.”
I glanced around the room, trying desperately to put my finger on what I felt deep inside that unnerved me. Was it her or the building?
“I’m sorry you thought we could be friends. Perhaps that would be possible moving forward, but right now, my priority is finding my fiancé and sorting my own shit out,” I lied. I had no intention of getting into anything with Catherine. She may look like me, but I could tell that was where the similarities ended. The woman was creepy as fuck.
Catherine’s smile waned. “Good things come to those who wait. I wanted to tell you more about Bernadette.”
I sighed loudly. Catherine was beginning to piss me off. I couldn’t care less about what happened to Bernadette. My emotions strayed toward the future, not the past.
“Lady, I really don’t give a fuck. I want to find Bartholomew and get out of here.” I pressed the wine glass to my lips and tipped my head back, swallowing the remainder of the contents. I leaned forward, placing the glass on the oak coffee table.
“Before you leave, I have something to show you.”
I huffed and rolled my eyes. Before the chance to dispute her extended trip down memory lane arose, she grinned, leaned toward me and pressed her fingertips to my temple. A colourful explosion buzzed through my brain.
No longer did I sit in the apartment of some nutjob. I stood at my mother’s back kitchen door where she sold her tonic. A man towered above her tiny frame with his back to me, partially blocking my view of her worry-lined face.
“I don’t know that I can help ya.” She offered the man a sad smile, her eyes slanting on her ruddy face, her cheeks redder and rounder than apples. The vision of her evoked the lilac scent of her in my mind. Her loving, warm embraces on cold evenings. The soft, lilting sound of her voice in whispering song as she created her tonics and carried out her chores.
“But you must.”
I would recognise his voice anywhere. It was Bartholomew. My vision blurred as he dipped his head to my mother’s ear. I rushed forward, fearful he may bite her, stopping to hear what he whispered.
“If you don’t take this, Mary, I’ll find your daughter and rip out her throat. Keep it. I’ll pay you handsomely and ensure she lives.”
I reared my head back. Freya had been right. I was the reason the amulet was kept in Dublin. The threat on my life forced my mother into a corner. She hadn’t willingly agreed to care for the amulet. If she didn’t do as Bartholomew requested, he swore to take my life. My body shook, still trembling as the apartment at the top of the club came hazily back into view, as did my distant cousin’s sweetly smiling face.
“You see, Teagan. He’s never really loved you. You’re merely a pawn in his game.”
My heart pounded in my chest, my mouth arid. The entire scene she showed me rocked my world and forced questions to invade my mind. Questions about everything I believed in my world. I didn’t know my mother was a witch, not the slightest inkling, and now this, too?
My mind flood with Bartholomew. The first time he confessed his love for me, his admission that he fell in love with me at first sight, his revelation that he watched over me. Had he actually been hunting me?
I bared my fangs at Catherine. A hiss accompanied the action. The messenger always got shot in my experience, and she would be no exception. The enormous cat pounced between us, his paws pressed against my shoulders, his muzzle pulled back, his white teeth bared and a hiss escaping his throat to match my own.
The woman’s wailing from the corner heightened my senses. I could have sworn that amount of crying was impossible. Had the woman been bewitched to mourn excessively because she chose to love outside of expectation?
“I can’t help that you don’t like what you see, Teagan,” she told me with a face holding too much delight. I flashed to the door I entered through.
“You’re evil,” I told her before whooshing downstairs. Reaching the bar a second later, I flipped over the counter before any human had the chance to blink. My cell buzzed in my pocket I snatched it out. Pearl’s name flashed on the screen.
“I’ve found him,” her voice sounded glum.
She informed me the floor below would be where I could find her.
I rushed down the stairs, pushing through a red-leather buttoned door and stepping into an eerily quiet room. I tensed, wondering whether it was a trap, until I saw Pearl, standing awkwardly, staring at the phone in her hand.
“Not crowded then,” I laughed as I reached her. A small, round bar was situated in the corner, but there was no staff behind it. “What the hell is this?” I glanced around, then turned back to Pearl’s downturned mouth.
“You’re not going to be happy.”
She stepped aside. I tipped my head and then studied closer. The entire room had been set out in booths with long, red velvet drapes. The stench of sweat, alcohol and bodily fluids assaulted my nostrils, causing my brows to gather. I swallowed hard.
“What the hell is this place? I can smell something, but–” My hands flew upward. The room was devoid of sounds, as though we were the only ones present.
“Maybe the booths are bewitched to keep the sounds within?” Pearl said, though her eyes failed to meet my own. Pearl stepped aside and glanced toward a closed, red velvet drape with silent indication.
Gingerly, I peeked through the gap carefully with my fingers.
I took in a naked woman’s back. Long bleach-blonde hair hung down it. Her bottom half was naked, too. She gyrated, with her muscular legs straddling someone. She moaned with pleasure, her head tipped back as she did. The person sitting moved his head around to the side of her thigh. His teeth protruded and sank into her flesh. Bartholomew.
I wanted to move, needed to run away and rid this sight from my vision, but I couldn’t. My body battled with my brain. I endured a white-hot pain, which spread through me like a wild forest fire, destroying everything in its path. This surely was enough proof to myself. This would surely set me free and wrench me from the notion that our love had a future.
Her moans became more intense as he drank from her, his hands kneaded her tight ass. He removed his fangs from her thigh, his lips trailing kisses over the entry wounds. His head moved out of sight as he issued his order.
“Come for me now.”
The woman cried out, leaving me to assume he turned to lap at her juices. I wanted to storm in there, rip the woman’s fucking throat out, punch Bartholomew until my hands broke and bled, but I couldn’t move. Shit, I couldn’t even draw breath. Happy fucking wedding day.
I was yanked backward, back into the disgusting sex den’s empty lobby. My body trembled. I failed to fathom if through unadulterated rage or something much worse…excruciating pain.
“I’m sorry.” Pearl held me to her. “I didn’t want you to watch it any longer.”
I opened my mouth to spew the tormented thoughts from my brain, to extricate them, but they wouldn’t come. Nothing except hollowness existed inside me.
“I did try to warn you, but you didn’t let me finish.” Catherine sauntered into the room, her cat trotting along beside her. “I could have saved you from witnessing that.”
I glowered at her.
“Come on. Let’s go,” Pearl urged me, tugging at my arm.
I followed her, not even able to meet Catherine�
�s feigned solemn gaze as I passed. Fuck Bartholomew, fuck the amulet and fuck Rose. The mantra played continually in my head all the way back to London.
*****
“Why are you here?”
“Jesus, Teagan. You look a mess,” Gabriella said, storming past me into the hallway. “And, not to be cruel, but you fucking stink. Wasn’t it your wedding yesterday?” Her brows gathered. I made to close the door behind her, but it pushed open again.
“Hey.” Grace’s voice came from the other side. “Don’t close me out.” She grinned at me, and I think I managed something resembling a smile in return. “My god, what happened to you?” She stood beside her mother, both of them looking me up and down. “You look like you were dragged through a hedge backwards.”
I’d arrived home and hit the self-destruct button. I didn’t bother to shower or even dress. When the sun set that evening, I slung a long coat over my pyjamas and fed on the neighbours middle-aged cleaner as she left for home. Her blood spilled onto the cotton pyjama top, but the energy to change would have distracted me from my self-pity.
I stared at Gabriella’s and Grace’s laden bags. “We thought we’d give you a party. Sort of a continued celebration from yesterday,” Grace said, waggling her brows and holding up one of her bags, the contents chinking together.
“Yeah, on account of us not being invited to the wedding,” Gabriella said sarcastically and glowered at Grace. This whole thing had obviously been her idea.
“Tell me you have wine,” I drawled, ignoring Gabriella’s comment. I ran out of wine yesterday. I’d arrived back in London in the early hours, and anything that helped to take the edge off the ache resting heavily in my chest, I was a fan of.
She nodded, and I flashed down the stairs to the basement kitchen and arrived in the hallway carrying three glasses before they’d blinked twice.
“Coming?” I asked them both, heading up the stairs to the drawing room. The fire blazed. I lit it shortly before they rang the bell. Half a dozen books lay open around Thomas’s chair, and I slumped back down into it.
“This place is a shithole,” Gabriella stated, looking around.
“Why the fuck are you even here? Just so you can have a go at me?” I spat, my eyes narrowing on her.
Gabriella bit her lip, shaking her head.
“Mom,” Grace said, her voice lilting as though to urge her to show a modicum of civility toward me. Grace took two glasses from my hand, pouring some red wine into the glass I still held.
“I came to say thank you,” Gabriella said, although her expression displayed reverence rather than gratitude.
“For what?”
“For leading Grace in the right direction and getting her out of that place.”
“I thought vampires were sexual deviants until I met witches.” I shrugged, puffed out a laugh and took a long drink of wine, downing over half of the glass in one gulp. They both looked confused when I met their stares.
“It doesn’t matter.” I flapped a hand in their direction. “Anyway, this is all very nice of you, but I didn’t get married and never will be.” I attempted to keep my voice level, but the crack projected nonetheless.
Gabriella leaned forward, her eyes viewing me softly. She never looked at me that way before, and I turned my head away to avoid the pity shining in them. “What happened?”
“I caught him with another woman,” I explained in the simplest way possible. But saying it summoned the image of him with his fingers splayed out over the woman’s ass. Begging her to come undone beneath his tongue. My stomach jolted, and I fought the trembling that commenced whenever my brain replayed the anguishing memories.
“Isn’t that sort of what vampires do?” Grace asked innocently.
“Not this one.” I put the glass back to my lips and drained it.
Gabriella turned to Grace. “No, sweetheart. That’s what men as a whole do. Bastards.” She huffed.
Guilt joined my despair. Marc cheated on Gabriella hundreds of times. He’d confessed as much to me in the beginning. Marc and Gabriella were sworn to each other as children. Marc wanted to make sure he had his fill before the inevitable wedding. Only she truly made him fall for her by the time he snuck off and married her.
Grace’s cheeks pinked up. Her lips pressed together as she busied herself getting another bottle of wine from one of the bags and filling my glass.
“Are you heading back to university anytime soon?” I cocked my head at the young wolf.
“Yes, I’m going back.”
“No more dabbling with witches? You promise?”
“That was so last week, Teagan.” She waved a hand toward me dramatically, brandishing a smile. I wished I had the mindset to overcome a broken heart as fast as she had.
“Good. They’re bad news. Where’s Geo?” I sat up straighter. I hadn’t contacted Geo or Alex since I’d arrived back. How could I shamelessly admit to Alex that he was right all along about Bartholomew?
I’d been convinced by what I saw. Bartholomew had been making a fool of me for the last eighteen years. I didn’t care how feverishly Pearl protested on our way home. Just because you didn’t plainly go about fornicating didn’t mean you were not up to it behind closed doors. There was no evidence either way, except for what I witnessed with my own eyes on the night we were supposed to be getting married. I winced at the sound of his voice in my mind. Bile, combined with blood and wine, stung at the back of my swollen throat.
“We don’t know where Geo has disappeared to,” Gabriella told me. “We hoped you’d have heard from him or Rose. They seem to have vanished off the face of the earth.”
“Don’t fucking say that bitch’s name to me,” I spat, lurching forward on my seat. Wine spilled from my glass and dripped onto the carpet in front of me.
Confusion washed over both their features. I took another long slug of wine. The slur in my voice was evident, but I was a long way from where I needed to be…obliterated.
“She’s the reason all this shit happened. Looking for some fucking amulet so she could give Geo a goddamned baby. I mean, what a sick and twisted bitch.” The tremble in my hands turned to a full-on shake as my rage settled in for the long haul.
“Okay… So Rose has lost the plot, but where’s Geo?” Gabriella’s eyes widened. She leaned forward until her forearms rested along her thighs.
I shrugged. “He promised he’d try to stop her. He doesn’t want it, either, but it appears she’s convinced herself it will save their marriage.” I stared glumly into the roaring fire, considering momentarily whether I ought to throw myself into it. Everything seemed to be falling apart around me.
The phone had rung off the hook since I walked back inside my house, but I ignored it, hoping everything would go away. Nothing within me was capable of answering the myriad of questions I expected would be thrown at me about our lack of attendance at our own wedding.
I looked to both of them, anguish prickling my skin and despair ebbing up and down my spine. “I’m so lost,” I admitted swallowing hard.
Grace leaped up off the sofa and offered me the simplest of gestures, swinging her arms over my shoulders and pulling me to her. “Everything will be fine. I promise.”
Fourteen
Help!
Once awake, I lay for the longest time, trying to remember how the rest of the evening went. The last thing I recalled was Gabriella apologising for being nasty to me over the years and becoming weepy over almost losing Grace. She begged my forgiveness, and I honestly couldn’t work out why. Saving Grace had been easy. What I saw of Grace’s girlfriend when Pearl and I snuck back into the camp, I was glad I had. I’d rather die than allow someone I cared about to suffer in the same way as me.
I heard banging at my front door and chose to ignore it. The previous night’s explanations about what happened in Dublin took its toll on me. I didn’t want to go through everything again.
The whoosh of air downstairs informed me whoever banged on the door gave up and decided to for
ce entry instead. I zoomed downstairs.
“I hope you’re going to get that fixed.” I stood, hands on hips, glaring at Alex. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”
Ryan hovered in the open doorway, looking sheepish.
“We were worried about you,” Alex said, as though it justified breaking through my door.
“We did try to call you. Lots of times,” Ryan muttered, but I blanked him, keeping my focus on Alex.
“Funny, because neither of you bothered when I needed you.”
Alex shook his head. “We were there in Dublin. We found Rose.”
My stomach clenched and my teeth grit. Fucking Rose. In moments such as this, the excruciating pain at the loss of my maker attacked me with envy over the bond others still shared. For fuck’s sake, even Bartholomew’s maker still walked this earth. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes against the searing white-hot pain flashing through my chest. I wished Thomas were here, or anyone trustworthy. The loneliness shivered through me like a snowstorm.
“She was in a right mess. She needs to see you to explain what happened.”
I turned and preceded up the stairs. I couldn’t…no, wouldn’t deal with this shit now. I couldn’t give two flying fucks what state Rose was in. I had to concentrate on getting my own head back to a functioning state.
“Listen to what she has to say.” Alex followed me and grabbed my arm, which I shrugged off.
“Get the fuck off me. Get out of my house and close the door behind you. You’re not welcome here anymore.” My throat constricted with the words of my pressured speech.
“When you’re ready, Teagan. I swear, what she tells you will change everything.” His eyes widened as he spoke, but Alex knew me well enough to know when I wasn’t in a listening mood and to press his point would merely worsen an already diabolical situation.
