The Oxford Inheritance

by Ann A. McDonald

  “Who are you?” The woman turned to Trish. “What’s she doing here? There are no visitors scheduled. Rose can’t deal with outside guests.”

  “I’m sorry, Janice.” Trish gulped. “I didn’t think, she said—”

  “It’s not her fault.” Cassie rose to her feet, interrupting. “I’m sorry I upset her. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  Janice glared. “Who did you say you were?”

  Cassie backed away. “I’ll go,” she promised. “Really, I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

  Another patient began crying. Janice looked past Cassie, distracted. “You’ve done enough,” she said. “You can see yourself out.”

  Nodding, Cassie sent a last look at Rose. Her mother’s friend was lolling in the chair, her eyes unfocused, her lips mouthing words that nobody would hear. The girl she’d used to be was gone.

  Cassie held back tears as she turned and walked away, back down the hallway and out through the reception area into the cold, damp gloom outside. It was pouring down now in sheets of icy rain, the hills looming dark in the dim twilight, but Cassie didn’t flinch against the cold. She kept walking, her head down against the wind, rain mingling with the tears that finally streamed down her cheeks.

  Rose. Evie. So many more besides. Bright sparks burned out, brittle shells of memory, heavy caskets in the grave. They were supposed to do great things, lead important lives, and instead they’d been left with nothing while their abusers strolled on into their own bright futures, unaffected. Unremorseful. Even Cassie’s mother had had her life stolen: fleeing a promising education, forced to spend years on the run, fearful of who might be in pursuit. Cassie twisted with guilt when she remembered how much she’d resented their nomadic lifestyle, the way her mother would uproot her without warning every few years, driving them on further from any stability or normal life. Cassie had blamed her depression, blamed her for everything, as if they were selfish choices and not the desperate acts of a mother trying to save her child. Margaret had done her best for Cassie, and Cassie had never even known. Never thanked her for the sacrifices that had saved her life.

  Cassie was so consumed by the bitter ache in her chest that she didn’t notice the car approaching from the outskirts of the village until its headlights cut through the downpour, dazzling her for a moment in their glare. She leaped back out of the road just in time as it sped past with a dull roar, splashing her with muddy water from the ditch.

  Cassie swore under her breath as she stumbled back into the road, drenched, but the car was already disappearing into the distance. There was nothing to do but continue on toward the village, her soaked sneakers squelching with every step. Luckily, she was close, the steeple of the local church lit up just around the bend. Cassie thought gratefully of the room waiting for her at the pub, and the cozy fire of the wood-beamed lounge room.

  The sound of a car engine came again behind her. Cassie made sure she was walking on the side of the road, leaving plenty of room to pass, but instead of driving ahead, the car idled slowly behind her, headlights bright.

  Cassie shivered. She glanced back. The lights were too bright to make out the driver, but she was almost certain it was the same car. Why had it turned around?

  Fear clenched in her chest. She walked faster, breaking into a run as the walls of the church came into view through the pouring rain. The car sped up, keeping pace behind her, the engine growling on the empty street.

  Cassie sprinted down the road and turned off through a side gate into the churchyard. She ducked behind a wall and waited, her heart pounding, willing the car to continue past.

  The sound of the engine cut. A door opened, then slammed shut. Footsteps crunched heavily on the gravel.

  Cassie turned and took off through the churchyard, sprinting blindly through the rain. Lights from the church cut through the yard in places, and she veered through the shadows of tombstones and statues. She could hear her pursuer now, his footfalls getting closer as she skirted the main church walls and clattered down the front steps that led out into the village square.

  She caught her breath, looking around for help, but the village was deserted in the rain, empty streets in all directions. The pub was across the square, lit up like a beacon of safety, so she took off toward it, fear screaming in her mind as she heard the footfalls behind her again and the pant of angry breath, closer, closer—

  Cassie was almost across the street when she felt a grip on her arm, and then she was yanked violently back. She screamed as her assailant struck her hard across the face, sending her tumbling to the ground. She gasped for air, reeling from the blow, but there was no time to recover, not when he was grabbing her leg, dragging her into the shadows of a nearby alleyway. Cassie opened her mouth to scream again, but her cry was cut short by the sharp blow of a boot against her stomach. Another blow came, and then another, pain exploding through her ribs with every cruel kick. She curled into a ball, whimpering. The boot came again, aimed for her head, but she rolled out from under the blow and grabbed the foot, yanking hard to bring her assailant crashing to the ground. She scrambled to her hands and knees, but he was on her in an instant, throwing her back down so hard her head cracked against the stones. Pain splintered through her.

  Her attacker crawled up, straddling her as his hands closed around her throat. In the dark of the alleyway, she could only see the shadows of his face, a man she didn’t recognize, totally blank and determined as he choked the life from her body. She struggled, clawing desperately at his face as her lungs burned and vision blurred. But he was too strong, unmovable, and gradually her strength drained away. The darkness rose up to meet her. This can’t be the end, Cassie thought frantically, hopelessly. Not here, not like this.

  Suddenly, there was a sound, the sickening crunch of metal making contact with bone. The pressure on Cassie’s throat eased, and her assailant crumpled down on top of her with a guttural moan. She shoved him aside as something dropped to the ground with a metallic ring. A wrench, bloodstained now.

  “Come on,” her rescuer ordered, extending a hand. He stepped out of the shadows, and Cassie froze as she made out his face for the first time. Her professor, Tremain.

  Her attacker let out another groan, moving on the ground beside her. Cassie broke free from her daze and grabbed Tremain’s hand, struggling to her feet. “Who is he?” she gasped. “What’s going on?”

  “There’s no time,” Tremain ordered, pulling her toward the street. “You have to trust me.”

  But Cassie yanked away. “Why?” she cried. Her heart was racing, and her head still rang with dull pain. “Why should I trust you, after everything you’ve done?”

  Tremain turned back, his face drawn in the streetlight. “I’m trying to protect you, Cassie.” He paused, some unreadable sadness in his eyes. “I’m your father.”

  29

  CASSIE’S HEAD SPUN. IT COULDN’T BE TRUE.

  “I don’t believe you—” she protested, but Tremain cut her off.

  “There’s no time.” He dragged her across the square to where an old blue Fiat sat parked on the corner and shoved her into the passenger seat before crossing to the driver’s side.

  Cassie clutched the seat, reeling. Tremain piled inside and started the engine, taking off with a squeal of tires on the wet street. He careened through the square, glancing anxiously in the rearview mirror. “Put your belt on,” he ordered. Cassie numbly did as instructed as they turned onto the main road and sped out of the village, winding into the hills.

  Tremain’s jaw set with determination as he peered through the dark rain. Cassie shuddered. This man, who had done nothing but belittle and criticize her, who was bound deeply in the School of Night, he couldn’t be her father.

  “How badly are you hurt?” Tremain glanced over at her. “Are you bleeding?”

  Cassie slowly raised a hand to her head. It came away sticky and wet. “Just a little,” she whispered. “My ribs . . . I think something’s broken.”

  “You’l
l have to make it back to Oxford,” Tremain said, not unkindly. “We can’t stop. I don’t know who else they sent.”

  “Who was he?” Cassie’s voice grew stronger. “What the hell just happened to me?”

  “What happened is you couldn’t just leave things be.” Tremain kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. They were speeding far above the limit, driving almost blind through the dark. “What were you doing? They’ve been following you since Gravestone, damnit. In the city I can protect you, but out here there’s nothing to save you. You were lucky I intercepted Henry’s orders.”

  “Orders for what?” Cassie gulped. “Who was that man? Why did he hurt me?”

  “Because you’re dangerous!” Tremain exploded. “Digging into old files, asking questions. I covered for you as long as I could, but once he knew you were visiting Rose, there was no stopping him.”

  Cassie inhaled in a gasp. “You know about Rose?”

  Tremain shot her a scornful look. “We know everything, Cassie. Richard had a soft spot for Rose, and he made a bargain that she’d be left in peace. She’s too far gone to be a threat, rambling about things that nobody can make sense of. Except someone like you.” He wrenched on the wheel again, flying around a narrow bend.

  Cassie grabbed hold of the window rail. “Stop,” she protested, grabbing his arm.

  Tremain shook her off. “There’s no time.”

  “I don’t care,” she yelled. “I need you to stop the car right now!”

  Tremain scowled, but he hit the brakes, pulling off into a low ditch at the side of the road.

  There was silence for a moment while Cassie caught her breath. Then she turned to him. “You said you’re my father.” His face was dark in the shadows, but she searched it regardless for any sign of recognition or resemblance. “I don’t believe you. It can’t be true.”

  Tremain let out a sigh, refusing to meet her gaze. “I didn’t want you to know. It’s safer for you this way.”

  “I don’t understand.” Cassie swallowed. “You’ve been . . . Ever since I started, you’ve done nothing but be a complete asshole to me. Trying to make me drop out, forcing me to be in a room with Sebastian. How could you? If you say you’re trying to protect me—”

  “Raleigh isn’t safe, damnit!” Tremain turned with a scowl. “You think I wanted this? When I realized who you were, who your mother was . . . I’ve been trying to get you away from there. To get you out while you still can.”

  Cassie shook her head, still clinging to the possibility that this was a trick, some kind of game to fool her into trusting him. “Why not just tell me?”

  “If anyone knew, it would all be over. Don’t you see?” Tremain demanded harshly. “It’s about family. The society, it’s in the bloodlines. Passed from generation to generation. If they knew you were mine, they’d never let you go.” He inhaled a ragged breath. “It may not have seemed like it, but I was trying to protect you. And now it’s too late. They think you’re a threat. They sent him to deal with you, and he won’t be the last.” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel in frustration.

  But Cassie didn’t care about her attacker. She was too focused on the other thing he’d said. His words sank in with a slow wave of understanding. “I’m one of them?” she asked, feeling the truth snake through her system, a black poison in her veins. “This thing, this darkness, it’s in me too?”

  “I’m sorry,” Tremain replied, his voice gruff. “That’s why you can’t stay. Right now you’re dormant; it’s all just potential. But if you go through with the rising and they make you a member . . . There’s no going back.” He turned to her, his eyes bleak with an empty resignation. “The things you’ll do, the choices you’ll make . . . You can never take it back. Never.”

  They drove the rest of the way to Oxford in silence. Cassie slumped, numb, her mind whirling with questions she couldn’t ask Tremain. She didn’t want to know what his answers would be.

  She was one of them. The knowledge echoed through her with a terrible finality. Like Hugo and Olivia. She had that in her, in her blood. And Tremain . . . He was part of her too. The father she’d always wondered about was nothing but a weak, corrupted man, bound in service to an ancient evil.

  Cassie hadn’t realized until then the secret dreams she’d been clinging to: that finding her father would somehow provide the family she’d been missing all those years. That knowing him would fill the emptiness, quiet the aching place in her heart that had been broken ever since her mother died. That somewhere was a normal, loving family who would open up their arms and welcome her into their fold, and she would leave her broken, restless life behind. She knew it was naive of her, the hopeful fairy tales of a woman without a home, but now, faced with the stark reality for the first time, Cassie felt those dreams finally die.

  She must have fallen asleep with the mantra of disappointment in her mind, because when Cassie blinked her eyes open, she found the sky pale with dawn. They were turning off the motorway, on the outskirts of Oxford, suburban subdivisions passing by outside the windows.

  “How do you feel?” Tremain’s voice was more impatient than concerned.

  Cassie shifted, feeling the pain in her stomach and ribs. “Okay, I think,” she lied.

  “I’ll drop you at the college. Collect your passport and anything you need. I’ll take you to the airport. We’ll figure out where you’ll go from here.”

  Leave? Cassie shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Tremain told her harshly. “Didn’t you listen to a single word I said? They know you’re after them. That man they sent is only the beginning.”

  “No, you’re not listening to me,” Cassie insisted. “I’m not running. Somebody has to stop them.”

  Tremain let out a bark of laughter. “Stop them?” he turned to her, his forehead creased in disbelief. “What the hell are you thinking? Do you know who they are, what they’ve done? You can’t end this, nobody can.”

  “Have you even tried?” Cassie challenged. “Or do you just bow and scrape to the Mandevilles, doing their dirty work?” Something struck her for the first time, and she gaped at him, her fear rising. “Do you feed too? Do you hurt people like they do?”

  “No!” Tremain ground out. Then he paused. “Not for a long time,” he admitted. “Not since I was a student too. I saw the damage we do. I swore I would never do it again.”

  Cassie thought back, the pieces finally clicking into place. “My mother,” she breathed. “You fed on her.”

  Tremain stared straight out of the windshield, gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white. “I made mistakes,” he said, low. “I’ve regretted them my whole life.”

  Cassie felt bile rise in her throat. Of course, why hadn’t she seen? Her mother’s depression, the mood swings, the suicide . . . She’d noticed the similarity with Evie’s behavior, but she hadn’t considered for a moment that Margaret’s instability might have been from the same wicked cause. The School of Night. Tremain. It was all because of him. Margaret may not have shown the signs of it at Raleigh, but she hadn’t escaped without damage.

  “You know she’s dead.” Cassie’s voice rang with bitter loathing. “She opened her wrists when I was fourteen. I found her body.”

  Tremain flinched. “I didn’t know then. I didn’t know anything until you arrived here. The missing files, the break-in . . . I put it all together.” He turned, pausing at a red light. “I promise you, Cassie, everything I’ve done since then has been to protect you.” He looked at her urgently, pleading with his gaze. “That’s why you can’t stay. Don’t you see? Either they discover you’re mine, or they kill you first. Either way, you’ll never be safe, not at Raleigh. And I couldn’t live with myself if . . .” He broke off, his voice ragged.

  “If I became another of your guilty secrets.” Cassie clenched her fists. “Another victim of your selfish crimes.”

  “It’s not like that,” Tremain tried to protest, but Cassie could see the sp
ires of the college up ahead. She couldn’t take another moment in close proximity to this man, not after everything he’d done.

  “I can’t talk about this anymore, not right now.” She grabbed the door handle, pulling it open. “I need time to think.”

  “Wait,” Tremain cried, but Cassie scrambled out of the car. She slammed the door behind her and started down the street, wincing at every step as she wove through the students and tourists who filled the sidewalks. Her stomach throbbed, and she felt dizzy and nauseated. Her mother was dead, her own life was at risk, and worst of all, she was part of it now. The School of Night, the darkness, the conspiracies. It was in her blood, tying her down. Tremain was wrong when he said she should run. She couldn’t escape this, not even if she tried.

  Cassie turned through the Raleigh gates, her mind still spinning. She’d barely been away a single day, but her brain was flooded with too much new information: Rose, Tremain, the rising—it all blurred together in a terrible tangle, until all she could think of was collapsing in her bed and sleeping for days.

  Her cell phone sounded, sharp through her haze. When she checked the screen, she saw Charlie’s name—and a dozen missed calls.

  “I’m fine,” she answered before he could demand an explanation. “I’m back in Oxford. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

  “That’s not why I called.” Charlie’s voice was heavy.

  Cassie felt a tremor of fear. “What is it?”

  “Rutledge died last night.”

  Cassie froze in the middle of the damp courtyard. “What happened?”

  “They’re saying it was a mugging. He got beaten in the street, and his wallet went missing.” Charlie sounded grim. “He died of a heart attack in the end.”

  “Oh God,” Cassie breathed. Guilt crashed around her. This was her fault. She’d gone looking for Rose; she’d forced Rutledge to talk. He’d been scared, he’d known they’d find out, but she’d wanted answers all the same.

  No, a voice reminded her. This was the society. Their blood, their crimes. And, like Tremain had said, they wouldn’t stop until everyone was silenced. Cassie felt a flash of fear. “Are you okay?” she asked Charlie. “You need to be careful now, more than ever. If they know about him, they have to know you—”