“You already got answers. You just didn’t like them.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” I said through clenched teeth.
“I’ve got a lot of a lot of things,” he answered, still moving closer. “Call it the unintended spoils of a very long life.” His eyebrows arched. “And I never said you were a Conduit.”
“What?” I asked, half stunned and half exasperated. If he changed his story now, I might really snap. Forget claiming to never see him again, I might kill him on the spot.
“A Conduit—the witch counterpart you referenced. I never called you one.”
He couldn’t be serious. A part of me had actually considered this, had actually held onto that shred of trust in him. And now he was saying he didn’t say those things?
“You did!” I yelled, stepping toward him before remembering my resolve to stay as far away as possible. “Not that it matters,” I cut out, “since you’re batshit crazy. But you did.”
“I most certainly did not.” He’d taken a few steps of his own—or rather, more than a few—and was almost on me now.
His chest heaved as he neared, as if he was becoming increasingly short of breath. I wondered about the change, about the monster he became, and about how difficult he said it was to control himself once it took him over. Was that what was happening now? Was I about to be torn apart?
He stopped, his body language softening as though he sensed that fear I had just moments ago denied feeling.
“I didn’t say you were a Conduit,” he repeated, more lightly this time. “I told you what you were, but you didn’t let me explain before you ran off.”
“What am I then?” I asked, my voice quivering as much as the rest of me did.
“Other than a beautiful pain in my ass?” He grinned. “You’re a Supplicant.”
“I’m also a Virgo,” I said. “Doesn’t mean anything to me, since I don’t believe in that stuff.”
“You wouldn’t be here unless some part of you did,” he countered, and he was right. “And as much as you want answers, I want to give them to you.”
I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. He was standing too close to me now, and my stupid heart was fumbling around in my chest like a teenage girl’s moments before her first kiss.
“Then give them to me,” I said, trying to exert confidence with my voice.
His head tilted to one side and his gaze bore into my own. “Conduits perform magic. Supplicants, Charisse—Well, Supplicants are magic.”
He ran his forefinger lightly down my arm, causing every cell to stand at attention. I should have been afraid. I should have slapped his hand away. But I was frozen, consumed by a desire for him to keep touching me.
“There’s a limited source of mystical energy in this world, Charisse.” His finger traced my palm, sending sparks through me. “Increasingly limited, as it turns out. Nowadays, it’s only found in ancient relics and specific geographical hotspots.”
His finger moved from my palm and rested across my cheek, flirting dangerously with my lips.
“And in people like you, of course. I told you there was magic in your blood, and there is. Resting inside of you, Charisse, is the essence of everything in this world that’s worth having.” He moved his finger and cupped the back of my neck with his huge hand. “All beauty, all wonder, everything that poets write about and painters try to capture with a brush—it’s all because of you. It’s all inside of you.”
I swallowed hard, cursing the way heat was spreading through my body, the way my skin tingled beneath his touch.
“You…” I started, my voice a whisper. “You look like shit.”
It wasn’t true, of course, though he was disheveled—a shell of the dapper old-school gentleman I had come to know. He was still him: magnetic, intense, and quite possibly completely irresistible.
Of course, I didn’t want him to know that.
“I do,” he conceded, running his fingers down the nape of my neck. “I thought I was never going to see you again.” His eyes darted to the floor and then back to me. “The prospect took its toll.” His lips pursed. “I don’t want you to worry, Charisse. I protected your father for as long as he allowed me. And I’ll protect you, too. I swear it on my—”
“My father?” I asked, my eyes glazing over. He had mentioned him the other night, but I’d been too angry to consider it. But it would explain the picture I’d found in Abram’s study. “My father’s a—”
“He was a Supplicant as well. Yes.”
“Was?” I asked, my voice quivering.
I hadn’t thought about whether my father was alive or dead for a long time. Sometimes I would pretend he was dead. It somehow made things easier. He was the bastard who left me. Who cared if he died?
But I was beginning to think there might be more to my father’s story than what I knew, and being confronted with the possibility of his death now wasn’t making anything easier.
The look that passed through Abram’s eyes told me all I needed to about my father’s fate. But he continued anyway.
“He was a good man, Charisse. One of the best friends I ever had. I know it must be hard for you to entertain the thought that he loved you, but—”
“No!” I said, shaking my head, surprised at the stream of hot tears that drove their way down my cheeks.
“Charisse, things were complicated,” Abram answered, wiping my tears away with his massive and powerful thumb. “There were factors involved that none of us could see coming, least of all him. I told him that I could keep you both safe. That nothing would ever harm you. I promised him that. But he couldn’t bear the thought of putting you in danger. It was all for you, Charisse.”
“Then he should have stayed!” I yelled, batting Abram’s hand away. “You have no idea how hard things were for me and my mom. She worked herself to death—literally to death! And all because my dad didn’t have the balls to stand up to the people who were after him.”
“You know they aren’t people, Charisse, not really. And you should know, he did stand up to them. That’s how he wound up dead.”
My mind revolted the idea. I couldn’t let go of being angry at my father. It was my only line of defense at not falling completely apart at the idea I had lost him.
“So Conduits killed him,” I said. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“They’re monsters, Charisse. Like me.”
“You’re not a monster,” I said instinctively.
And I meant it. In that moment, looking in Abram’s repentant eyes, I realized that not only did I believe everything he said to be true, but I always had. Ever since the first words came tumbling out of his mouth, I knew that my life would never be the same. I had run away because I was afraid—afraid of what he was saying, afraid of what I was feeling for him.
“Charisse, I was a monster before I ever became a beast. That is why Satina cursed me. And I am every bit the monster they are now, but without their ability to channel magic myself.”
“You’re a different kind of monster now, but you aren’t a monster where it counts,” I said, my fingers tracing over his chest, across his heart. My face flushed hot, and I quickly dropped my hand away. “But that doesn’t excuse anything you’ve done. And it doesn’t excuse my father for leaving me in this world not knowing the truth.”
“He had your best interests at heart,” Abram answered. “If he were here—”
“If he were here, he would be alive!” I shouted. “But he isn’t. I’m sure things were complicated. Things always are. But you don’t leave the people you care about, Abram! Love doesn’t run.”
“It doesn’t?” he asked, his voice suddenly strained. Abram blinked hard, and his expression said everything he didn’t. Love doesn’t run. But that was what I had been doing every step of the way.
I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, Abram shook his head and continued.
“You have every right to be upset,” he said, “but not at your father.
He only wanted to keep you out of harm’s way.” He folded his arms over his hulking chest. “Part of my curse, a piece of what Satina did to me, was penance. She had found me lacking in life, heartless, and without even the slightest compassion for humanity. To that end, she compelled me to help people who were in need. I doubt she had in mind that I would be protecting Supplicants, but I made that my mission. And that is how I came to know your father. The people who came after him, looking to use his blood to power horrible spells, they were vicious. We both knew they would stop at nothing to drain every drop of blood from his body. And, because you were like him, from your body, too.”
“Bullshit,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Blood replenishes. Why kill a never ending source?”
Abram stepped in closer, intimidating in his stature. His face hard, his eyebrows lifted as though to question me challenging him. My heart skipped a beat, and my body betrayed me with the complete wrong reaction—arousal.
I swallowed around the tightness in my thought. “Well?” I asked, the confidence in my tone wilting. “Explain that.”
Abram’s nostrils flared. “Greed. Not only do these…creatures…lack self-control, but the bigger the spell, the more blood they need to perform it. Fresh blood, Charisse. And yes, they will bleed you dry and take your life for one spell. They’ll take a dozen lives for one spell if they need to. Then they’ll move on to the next Supplicant—which is why your father left you. They had found him, and though they hadn’t tracked him back to his home yet, it was only a matter of time. He had hoped to take them out and return to you when everything was said and done.”
I shook my head, not understanding.
“He left you to keep you safe, Charisse. To stop them. To attempt to accomplish what I could not.” He paused, his jaw tensing and his hands balling into large fists at his side. “Had I done my job—had I been able to keep both of you safe…” His hands splayed out widely at his sides. “If you’re looking to blame someone for the way your life turned out, for all that you’re lacking, look no farther than the man who stands before you.”
I wanted to scream, to rear back and slap him. How dare he rob me of this? My father left me, and now I was just supposed to forgive him? Now I was just supposed to place the blame on this man—this man who I couldn’t have hated no matter how hard I tried?
My whole body was trembling now in my effort to resist the emotional hurt ravaging my body, but I steeled myself against the tears. “So what? They got him before he could get them? They used my dad’s blood, and that’s all he was good for? They ran out, and now they want me?”
Abram shook his head. “Yes, and no. Yes, Conduits do use people for their blood. That’s all they care about, that is all the value a Supplicant has to them. But no, they are not after you because your father’s blood ran out. They have always wanted you. They just don’t know it yet.”
“What does that even mean?”
Abram sighed. “A while ago, rumors began in our world about a Supplicant girl—one who was an extremely potent being of magical origin. They didn’t know it was you, though if they knew you were a Supplicant at all they would have gone after you anyway. But now they are hunting you specifically.”
“Something must have changed, then,” I mused under my breath.
Abram nodded. “It was not long before you returned here that the rumors took shape. A location—this town. A woman—fitting your description.”
“And that’s why those women were killed,” I answered. “Monsters want to bleed me out to make a voodoo cocktail. But couldn’t they tell those girls weren’t Supplicants?”
Abram titled his head back slowly. “That is the ever-concerning mystery. Whoever is after them…they aren’t a true Conduit. If they were, they would have known those women were not Supplicants.”
I shuddered hard. “Those poor girls.”
“More people I couldn’t save,” Abram said. His voice had dropped to a bitter growl. “But I won’t make that mistake with you. I’m here because of you, to keep you safe. I made a promise to your father, and I intend to keep it.”
“What are you going to do then?” I asked breathlessly.
“I’m going to find that creature who’s after you, the one who chased you into this house that night, and I’m going to relieve him of his head.”
Abram had gone to clean up, leaving me standing in the foyer, reliving the craziness that had just unfolded around me. My mind was spinning, which might as well be its new default for all the times it had happened lately.
That was when I heard her voice.
Chaaariiiissssseeee.
It was the girl. I shook my head, remembering what Abram had said. She wasn’t a girl. That was Satina, the woman who had cursed him. The Conduit was calling to me, just like she had the other day.
I didn’t want to, but I found myself moving closer to her room. She sang my name again.
Chaaariiissseeeeeee.
It was a siren song, a call that pulled me toward it without need of my cooperation. And somehow both the room here and the room at the club called me in the same way. But how could that be? She was here.
I crossed the threshold to the room before I realized where I was. She sat on the floor, still chained to the wall.
“Are you here to help me?” she asked in the same ‘poor me’ voice she had used the first time I saw her.
Suddenly, I snapped out of my fog. “Stop,” I growled. “I know what you are.”
“Do you?” Her face dropped all pretense of innocence, and she snarled at me so viciously she barely looked human anymore. “And do you know what you are, Supplicant?” When she said the word, her voice dripped venomously, so much so that I stumbled a step back. “Do you really know?”
Her mouth twisted into a haunting grin, and her tongue flickered between her lips.
“Stay away from me,” I said, taking another step back, this one more determined. “Satina.”
“Oh, someone’s been brushing up on their ancient history, I see. Did he tell you the rest?” The Conduit arched the dead woman’s eyebrows. “Did he tell you what happened the night I died?”
“Of course.” My back knocked into the far wall. “And if you think I’m going to listen to some idiot girl who gets herself so twisted up over a man that she throws herself off a building, then you’ve got another thing coming.”
For the first time in my life, I heard an honest-to-God cackle. It escaped her lips as she threw her head back gleefully.
“Is that what he told you?” She shook her head. “I must not be the only one who’s found herself in the throes of that man’s charms.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“If you’re willing to accept that pile of horse manure, than you’re in deeper than I imagined.” She leaned in closer, so close that the shackles pulled tight. “I didn’t throw myself, Supplicant.” She smiled again. “I was pushed.”
Chapter 18
“Pushed?” I asked, crossing my arms. “That’s not what Abram said.”
“Of course it’s not,” Satina spat back. “He’s the one who pushed me! Did you expect him to offer that up?”
This was too much. I wanted—no, I needed—to be done with this back and forth. Abram was good. Abram was evil. The whole thing was enough to give me whiplash.
“You’re a liar,” I ground out, “and I won’t fall for it again.”
It was one thing to finally make my peace with the existence of magic, Conduits, Supplicants, enchanted beasts, and leprechauns. Okay, so I might be winging it with the last one. But it was something else altogether to put my trust in someone the way I had just done with Abram. And standing here, watching this ridiculous creature threaten the stability of that trust with some horrible lie, wasn’t something I was prepared to do.
Even if, somewhere in the back of my mind, I still wondered if it was true.
Satina sighed. “You know, I don’t see what he sees in you.” She eyed me up and down with a sneer. “You’re not his
type. He’s never been with a chunky girl before.”
“Curvy,” I corrected, then I waved my arm at her. “No different than you.”
“This?” she asked, looking down at her own body. “This is nothing more than a borrowed opportunity. I was waif-like and beautiful in my time…back before your boyfriend killed me.”
“You killed yourself,” I said, finding it suddenly easy to not feel bad over the loss of her life. “I know that’s probably hard for you to deal with, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”
Satina leaned back, letting her chains hang loosely in the air. The look on her borrowed face was cool and collected. She eyed me up and down as if I was a slab of beef and she was picking the choicest parts to chop off.
A shudder ran through me. This woman…well, first of all, she wasn’t a woman at all, at least not the one I was looking at. She was a creature, some sort of spirit who had slung on a poor girl’s corpse and was wearing it around the same way I’d have worn a pair of Louboutins.
She was a walking obituary. Or more aptly, a sitting, chained-up obituary. And she wanted something from me.
“You better hope you’re right, Supplicant. Otherwise, I think it’s safe to say that you’re in over your pretty little head.” A disgusting smile parted her dry, cracked lips. “He was good, wasn’t he?” She rolled her eyes, seeming to relish some unspoken memory. “He was amazing back then. Not good enough to make up for the murder, mind you, but I can only imagine what a dozen decades of experience has brought to the table. Let me ask you, is he still a moaner?”
I shuddered again, thoughts of Abram and I in the Castle, thoughts of Satina and Abram all those years ago.
God, he was a moaner.
“Shut up! He didn’t murder you!” I yelled. “He’s not that kind of person.”
Granted by the Beast Page 13
