Even in Death

by Eden Wildblood

  So much had changed, and yet those days were no different to her life now. She was still trapped. Still broken on the inside, irrespective of her powers and utter transformation from human to jinni. Continuing her immortal existence as a dutiful captive seemed unavoidable, and Wynter figured perhaps she would remain so for the foreseeable future. It didn’t matter whether they were on that island paradise, holed up in one of his clubs, or at the mansion, she knew she’d be confined to whatever perimeter Marcus set for her. Bars as unbreakable as the ones Brodie had locked Jakob inside, even if they were invisible.

  Wynter swallowed the lump in her throat at the thought, and watched him with a scowl as he climbed out of his seat and then walked around to her side. It was him who opened her car door rather than the driver, with his hand outstretched and a knowing smile curling at his lips.

  She had to force herself out of the car, and knew Marcus sensed her unease, but he ignored it.

  He simply kept her hand in his as he led her up the stairs and to the door of the huge house, using their bond to keep her compliant. He knew the effect his touch had, and didn’t seem to want to let her go. Didn’t want her to think for herself or speak her true mind.

  She wanted to throw every swear word she had at him. Wanted to refuse to go inside, but could do nothing of the sort, and soon she was standing in the most elegant entrance hall she had ever seen. She’d been there before at night, so hadn’t noticed half the splendour of the place in the darkness. Hadn’t seen just how grand the marble staircase was from the doorway. Or how it stretched up and around to both sides, showing how there was not just one, but two upper floors that lay either side of the centre. There was attention to detail everywhere she looked, and it was stunning, but still didn’t feel like a home.

  Outside, the weather was bright and the mansion had been bathed in sunlight, but once they were inside, the house seemed cold and full of dark secrets. Evil. It needed a major redecoration if she had any hope of being comfortable there, and she reminded herself to tell her husband so when she was free to speak her mind again.

  “You remember the mansion?” he finally asked as he drew her further into the house, and she nodded. It wasn’t time yet.

  They then passed numerous closed doors, and stopped only when they reached some kind of study that seemed to have been prepared for their arrival.

  Inside, a fire blazed and yet Wynter couldn’t feel the warmth from it. She actually felt cold from the inside out, and knew it was because she was so empty. Wynter turned to Marcus with a frown.

  “Why would you bring me back to this mansion?” she asked him, “of all the places we could go, why here?”

  “Because this is our home now. I’ve gutted it of everything that once was and discarded all remnants of both Camilla and her dead progeny. I have even employed an entirely new set of staff to tend to our needs. You and I will live here, along with the hordes and, of course, the Priestess and her husband.”

  “And what if I don’t want to?” she demanded, and wrenched her hand from his in a bid to break their contact. Marcus was too quick though. He closed the gap in less than a second and pressed himself against her, wrapping his arms around her back, but it didn’t deter her. “What if I don’t want to live in this house where I watched you fuck another vampire? Where I spent day after day locked away with…with…” she couldn’t say his name. Not to him. He didn’t deserve to hear how she was still grieving the loss of her true soul mate.

  “You don’t have a choice, my sweet. This decision has been made,” he barked icily, and then kissed her cheek before finally letting her go.

  Marcus then watched in what seemed like intrigue as she forced her true emotions to the forefront. As she pushed aside whatever magic made her want to adore him when they were touching and finally lifted the veil so she could give him a real piece of her mind.

  “I will never love you,” she hissed vehemently, “you’ve been so cruel to me and always so very selfish. I’ve seen the rage inside of you and the demons you can never hide from me again. Don’t pretend that there was no other choice in this. You brought me here on purpose to spite me in some way. To hurt me. Always teaching me lessons, aren’t you? The big, bad vampire always gets his way.”

  She didn’t know what’d come over her, but truth was spilling from her lips in droves and Wynter couldn’t stop herself. As silence descended, she was shaking and was terrified he would lash out at her, but knew it would be worth it. He might think he’d won her over, but she was more than willing to prove him wrong.

  “And the little fighter always gets beaten down, but that doesn’t stop her from getting back up, does it?” he answered matter-of-factly, and then had the audacity to offer her one of his devious smiles. “You will do as you’re told, Wynter. You’ll stay and you will make this house your home. Our home. Every room has been emptied and is a blank canvas now, ready for you to put your own mark on it. A great deal of effort was made to cleanse this house of everything it once was, so don’t be so quick to look a gift horse in the mouth. I could’ve forced you to live among Camilla’s things, but I didn’t.”

  Marcus then stormed away, leaving her there, and Wynter knew he was right. She didn’t have any choice but to stay, but would thankfully be able to make the huge mansion her own. And at least this way, the others would be with her too, including Marcella, who was final speaking to her again.

  She wasn’t going to be alone any longer, which was a far better alternative to him having taken her somewhere to live just the pair of them.

  She took a look around the room he had led her to, and at first wondered why this had been the only one decorated, but then she spotted the huge desk over by the window and it clicked. He always did like to keep her locked up in his office, and now seemed no different. The desk he’d strewn her over on many an occasion had evidently been painstakingly rebuilt following his brutality and was now here, and atop it stood one of his trusty computers. Work would evidently go on, but from the looks of it, he was planning to do it from the mansion now.

  Wynter went over and stroked the old wooden desk, and was met with a shock when she picked up on something there. Memories suddenly rushed through her. Scents and sounds filled her senses, and yet she knew they weren’t happening in the here and now, but in the past. She saw herself lying there, legs wide, as a drop of blood rolled down onto the desk beneath her, and found the spot with her fingers where the tiniest hint of a stain still remained. Parts of herself had been left behind here. Her blood and tears were aplenty, and she was somehow able to sense them all. She could see the memories clearly like a movie in her mind.

  Wynter thought it had to be a strange new development to her powers, and one she wasn’t entirely convinced was a Jinn thing. Perhaps it was her witch side that was growing? That would be a curious new advancement. There certainly wasn’t an endogenous reason for this change in her, so perhaps the shift was indeed coming from an inside source? The most powerful supply she had ever known and yet ran through every fibre of her new being. It had to be a witch thing.

  The sounds of voices reached her then and Wynter retracted her hand from the desk so no one caught her tinkering with her new power. She also decided she would keep the visions to herself for now and figure things out on her own. Marcus had dominion over every aspect of her life, but he couldn’t have it all. Some things she would keep for herself.

  Still curious regarding the voices she’d heard, she turned invisible and went to investigate, but when she tried crossing the threshold of the doorway, Wynter found herself hitting what felt like some kind of invisible barrier there. She couldn’t cross through and out into the hallway no matter how hard she tried and at first she cursed Marcus for keeping her prisoner somehow. But then, as soon as she turned back into her human form, Wynter was able to cross through it with ease.

  She was still stood staring at the doorway with a frown when Marcella approached from the other side and caught her trying to figure it out.
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br />   “Every doorway in the house is warded, my love,” she told her, knowing as always exactly what was going through her mind. “Each magical creature must be in their human or equivalent form to cross through or else they are trapped. It’s simple magic, but a security measure I find quite pertinent. After all, you were coming through invisibly with the intention to snoop, did you not?”

  Wynter opened her mouth and went to lie and tell her no, but she knew it was no use. Marcella already knew and so she simply smiled and shrugged.

  “Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she replied, and then looked behind the Priestess to the commotion going on there. Jack was seeing to his and her luggage, while the alpha seemed to be carrying Wynter’s things up the huge stairway, and at the front of the house stood Marcus.

  He was outside on the steps talking to a group of men Wynter had never seen before. They hadn’t travelled here with them either, and so she went to go and investigate who had been so quick to come calling, when the witch beside her put a hand on her arm and shook her head.

  “They are the High Committee of Vampires. You must not intrude on their conversation with Mr Cole,” she demanded, and Wynter did a double take.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, and then quickly followed Marcella back inside Marcus’s new office.

  “He drank dry hundreds of his Blood Slaves and then burned his clubs to the ground. He might be one of the most powerful vampires to walk the Earth, but he is still culpable for any actions that impact the future of his kind,” she told her, and at first Wynter felt fearful for him.

  But then that reaction was quickly replaced with hope.

  Perhaps, at long last, someone might actually make him pay for his selfish actions. Might they imprison him? Or drag him away? She hoped so. At least that way she might be free of him thanks to the actions of this Committee, and Wynter found herself once again wanting to go and eavesdrop on what the group of vampires were talking about on her new doorstep.

  Surely he would never let her get close enough to find out, though. Marcus had taken her to his office on purpose and had clearly sent Marcella up to keep her there, and so she knew she would have to change tactic if she had any hope of playing her husband at his own game.

  Wynter started by utilising one of the skills she had finally perfected and conjured up the most perfect of outfits to wear. She closed her eyes and imagined it clearly. Something right out of the pages of the expensive magazines she had used to devour what felt like a lifetime ago. The long bejewelled dress and delicate heels were nothing like her usual either comfy or corporate style, and yet she moulded them around her body perfectly. Thanks to her own kind of magic, she could create anything her mind could put together, and within seconds Wynter was dressed to perfection and even the finishing touches to her hair and makeup were naught more effort than a snap of her fingers.

  “There we go,” she then told her companion, “the lady of the house should always ensure she greets her guests, after all,” Wynter added with forced enunciation to make herself sound posh, and Marcella couldn’t seem to find any argument with her new plan.

  “Fine, but do not invite any of them in,” she warned though.

  “I thought that was just for in the movies?”

  “Some of the myths are true, and that is one of them. Yes, you’re allowing them entry, but give any vampire free access to your home and they will indeed utilise it whenever they wish—unannounced and unwarranted. Even with one another. Your husband will not want any members of the Committee being granted access to the house, and neither should you.”

  Part of her wanted to go out there and welcome them in just to spite him, but the seriousness in Marcella’s tone stopped her.

  “Why?” Wynter asked.

  “Imagine yourself ten years from now. Perhaps you have rekindled your relationships with your family and friends and they’re here to visit, only for them to come across one of those ancient vampires in the dead of night. You’ve refused to let Marcus claim them as his Blood Slave, so they’re not protected. There’s nothing to stop one of those vampires out there draining your mother, or best friend dry.”

  Shit. She was right. All games aside, if this was going to become her home, then she knew she had to protect it.

  “Okay,” Wynter promised, and then she set off for the front door, gliding effortlessly on the tall heels that felt like air against her feet. Evidently gone were the days of forcing herself to wear shoes or clothes that were uncomfortable or that physically hurt her. The jinni was able to wear whatever the hell she wanted and didn’t need a closet full of clothes to make it happen. That was much better.

  She only wished Brodie was here to teach her more about this stuff. Wynter missed him terribly, and Archie, and just hoped the two of them were doing okay. But now was not the time to dwell, so she forced all thoughts of them aside. It was not useful fixating on those she had left behind. Not when there was so much she had to do if she had any hope of sorting out her own predicament.

  “Ah, and this must be your stunning new wife,” one of the vampires called in greeting as Wynter strode confidently out onto the front step of the house and joined them. Marcus turned to her and his icy eyes burned into hers at first, but then even he could not seem to deny she had done well in dolling up and coming to greet their guests.

  “Please forgive me gentleman, I was busy getting the house in some kind of order,” she replied, and then took turns shaking each of their hands and exchanging polite kisses on the cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Wynter added, and was sure to make note of the five stoic vampires’ names.

  First, there was Mr Dickens. He was certainly not someone she would’ve hoped to come across back when she was human. Even though she was far from that now, his presence still irked her. He seemed to hold each of those beside him in utter contempt, including her. Not a nice man at all, or so she felt.

  Next, she was greeted with the slightly warmer smile of a younger looking man named Mr Richards. Despite his youthful appearance, his pale eyes were cold and wise, giving up his true age. He seemed more bored than much else, but not so much of a threat.

  She carried onto the next two men, who were identical twins who’d evidently turned on the same day. Both were named Mr Dawson, and one bore the scars of war on his face, while the other seemed to carry his perfection like some kind of a trophy. His pompous manner only made her like him less, while the scarred brother seemed worldlier. Like he had lived a real and honest life before being turned. She wouldn’t want to mess with either of them, but didn’t get the impression they were at the mansion to lay down the law anyway. Much to her annoyance.

  Lastly, a broad smile was her welcome and Wynter was pleased to finally be offered a Christian name, rather than a mere title and surname. It hadn’t escaped her that the others wanted her to greet them formally, and yet they had each been wary of her as she considered them. She was a jinni after all. One moment of rage and each of their necks could be snapped like twigs, and even though they might all be older and wiser than she, the fact remained that Jinn were indeed the far superior race. Especially when at full strength, which she knew she would always be.

  “Wentworth Mayweather, at your service, my lady. And what an honour it is to meet such a sublime young woman,” he began, and then corrected himself, “I mean jinni, of course.” He then placed a gentle kiss on one cheek and then the other, and even offered Wynter a polite little bow. Now, that was more like it. She took an instant like to Wentworth and beamed back at him.

  “The honour is mine,” she answered.

  “As you can see, gentleman. I do indeed have my hands full here. Please do rest assured I will make good on my promises before the year’s end,” Marcus then interjected, and the group turned to him as one, including Wynter. She wondered what he had promised them, but knew she could never ask him outright. He’d never tell, even if just to play his games and taunt her.

  She then went to his
side and slid her arm around his waist as she forced herself to smile at the Committee members as they prepared to leave. So, her dreams of recompense were unfounded. Marcus wasn’t necessarily in trouble at all, and in fact he seemed to have the five of them wrapped around his little finger.

  Maybe he truly never would be thwarted. She’d always known, and yet still hoped that one day things might change.

  Wynter knew she would never let go of that fantasy, and was glad to still be herself underneath the bravado and with the witch’s heart pulling her towards the man she still hated. It was a good realisation that she could be both, and it meant that at least while she was stuck there, she wasn’t living a whole lie. She could indulge herself and give into Marcus’s need for her, while secretly plotting his demise and hoping for a chance of escape.

  Who said you couldn’t have it all?

  The matter evidently settled, four of the five vampires then climbed back into their chauffer driven cars and sped away, but Wentworth remained, and as soon as they were alone he seemed to loosen up, as did Marcus.

  Their remaining guest then turned to Wynter and he clapped his hands excitedly.

  “Well, my dear, it seems you really do exist. Marcus here has been spinning us story after story this past few months about how his soul mate was taken by a jinni and forced to become one of them. And of course how he was then obligated to avenge you and bring you home. I’m glad to see you two are back together at last, and that congratulations are in order!” he cried, and was positively bouncing as he spoke.

  So, that was Marcus’s story, and the reason he had given for laying waste to hundreds of Blood Slaves and the clubs that had housed them. He wasn’t just a wretched and selfish bastard, but apparently a brazen liar too. And not only with her, but with others of his kind.

  “Thank you,” she answered, and went to offer Wentworth a fond farewell, but was surprised to find him following her and Marcus into the house. He’d been invited in? Well, she and her husband were certainly going to have words about that when they were alone.