“I would help you,” he told her, but Rosa shook her head again.
“Thank you, but I don’t want that kind of help. I want us to stay together. All of us. We can be a family. If you’ll have me…”
It was Archie who answered by dragging her into a tight bear hug, and while Brodie still felt awkward, he reached for her hand and smiled down at her.
“So it’s decided. We’ll stay here,” he replied when Archie finally let her go. They were both in tears, but at least they were the good kind. It’d been a long while since he’d seen happy tears and the hopeless romantic in him stirred. But then it was replaced by a voice of reason.
He needed to prepare. Rosa would require medical supplies and a sterile birthing area. She’d need medicine and baby clothes. And a contingency plan, should the worst happen.
There was no avoiding the outside world, but he wouldn’t drag her to the mainland if he didn’t have to. “I’ll go across and get everything you need. Make a list and I’ll buy everything,” he then told her, and Rosalie nodded.
“Thank you so much. I’ll get it done,” she promised, and together the three of them then spent the entire day going over everything they would need, both for when the baby was here and for the rest of Rosalie’s pregnancy.
There was so much to get, but Brodie knew he had more than enough money sat in his bank. His businesses were thriving and he’d not needed to have any real input in them for years, which had been all well and good because he’d spent that time without being able to fully transform into his human guise anyway. Good old email and the telephone. Business dealings were easier than ever now thanks to them, and so he’d expanded his portfolio more and more with each year that passed.
“I’ll travel across the water in my misty form,” he told Archie later that night as his beau prepared for bed, “and once I’m there I’ll buy a boat. We won’t be able to transfer everything across via a new chopper plus there will be questions if I turn up out of the blue again and disappear with a second helicopter.”
Archie nodded and then he offered Brodie a sheepish look, like there was something eating at him. The jinni stepped forward and gathered him up in his arms, where he held him for a moment. He’d done it to put Archie at ease, but then found himself settling a little too. He felt calmer and more determined to get everything in order. For Rosalie, and for her child. “What’s wrong?” he asked when Archie stayed silent.
“I was just wondering if I might be able to come with you?” he asked, but they both knew he couldn’t leave Rosalie on the island with just Rafferty for invisible company.
“Why?” he asked rather than dismiss the idea too quickly.
“I was thinking I could hire a car and go visit my parents. Just to check in with them,” he replied. “I know it’s only been eight months, but I miss them. It’d be nice to go have just a quick catch up.”
“It’s a lovely idea,” Brodie replied, but then he decided to be the voice of reason, rather than the bad guy. “But I think Rosalie will have to go with you. We can’t leave her here.”
“Rafferty can—”
“Rafferty can only do so much. His invisibility means he couldn’t help her up if she fell or administer care should she need it. Only if she was unconscious,” he cut in, and was pleased to see the realisation hit home. Archie nodded and shrugged, brushing the idea off seemingly without minding at all, but Brodie knew better. “Soon. I promise. I might even come with you…”
That seemed to ease his woes and Archie grinned up at him.
“Don’t think I won’t be showing you off ‘te everyone,” he teased, his Scottish accent suddenly seeming more prevalent now that he was thinking of home. He was usually so well spoken it was easy to forget his Highland heritage, and Brodie found himself wondering what it might be like to actually go and meet his parents.
Right now, the idea filled him with nothing but dread, but he didn’t show it. Instead, he simply grinned and then nodded.
“I’d best make sure I’m worthy of being shown off then,” he said, making Archie laugh.
“A jinni boyfriend on my arm, that’ll be more than noteworthy,” he replied, and then creased up when Brodie took him seriously. “Just kidding, of course I’d never tell them!”
“No one would believe it if you tried,” he joked in return, and Archie admitted he was right. Humans truly did think the tales of the paranormal were nothing more than a myth, when in reality the creatures were indeed living among them. They were their friends and neighbours. Their colleagues and bosses. In reality, they outnumbered humans by a mile, and while Brodie had never agreed with the vampires’ belief that they should be overthrown as rulers atop this planet they had ended up sharing, he couldn’t deny thinking it would be nicer not to have to hide. Not to have to lurk in the shadows.
Which reminded him. “I’d best get going. Can’t be having a black shadow cross the sea in the daytime now, can we?”
And then he went. He didn’t make a song and dance of saying goodbye. They knew where he was heading and what for, and Brodie was just glad there was no risk in him returning to the mainland. Not now that Marcus had won his war and taken off with his spoils.
Theirs was a fight for another day. Perhaps even another century. Right now, he had to focus on his friends. His family.
Uncle Brodie. Yeah, he could handle that.
After Rosalie having checked and double checked that he had all of her lists, Brodie had to laugh to himself as he spirited across the small cluster of islands and over the land beyond. She was ever so particular, and wanted only the best for her child. It was something he would gladly give her—give them both—and when he reached the closest big city, he took form in a quiet spot right beside the biggest department store he could find. This place had it all, from furniture to fancy wear, and he was sure he could tick off most, if not all, of the items Rosalie had requested. Yes, they might cost him more to buy there rather than shop around, but he wanted to be quick, and he was more than able to pay whatever the final price may be.
Brodie simply had to wait for the damn thing to open, but while he did, he slid inside as mist and then walked around the entire place twice in his invisible form. That passed the time nicely, as well as helped him find everything he needed, and once the huge store was open he found an inconspicuous place to reappear and then started his mammoth task of gathering up everything he wanted. It took well over an hour, as well as three helpers from the store staffing team, but he left with almost everything on Rosalie’s list and a few thousand pounds poorer—not that he cared. Brodie felt great being able to do this for her, and was glad he could show he cared, but as he was walking out of the department store another idea struck him. She wasn’t the only one he cared for, not by a long shot. Archie needed things too. He was getting by on the few outfit choices he had available to him, and so Brodie decided that his wardrobe would also be given a much-needed revamp.
It took the better part of the day, but soon he and his chosen helpers were loading up his newly hired van and Brodie checked off his list one last time. He had everything Rosalie had wanted, and then some. They would be unpacking and unboxing for hours upon his return, and for the first time the old jinni stopped and took a deep inhale of the city air. He realised he actually felt good. Felt happy. It made a damn nice change.
But it didn’t last long.
His mind immediately went from those he wasn’t failing to the one person he had indeed let down. Wynter still needed him. He hadn’t fought hard enough for her. Hadn’t chased after her in the aftermath of their battle with the vampire fiend. Brodie vowed to himself he would avenge her. Wynter was a prisoner not of war, but of love. Marcus had waged his war because of his adoration for her and he had won. She was his to command now and while Brodie doubted she would be in chains, she was still a captive.
He was going to find her. To help Wynter learn and make sure she understood that their kind were not slaves to any other, no matter how foreboding th
eir warnings were or manipulative they could be. She was stronger than Marcus, and the vampire knew it, but he was more cunning and had beaten her down.
But she wouldn’t stay down long.
And Brodie couldn’t wait to see the day when she rose up and took everything from him, just like he had with her.
Twelve
“So tell me more about these new powers of yours,” Phoebe asked when Wynter had finally got the chance to sit down and have some one-to-one time with her old friend, and she couldn’t blame her for being interested in the unusual and unknown. It was a crazy thing indeed, this transformation she had made, and at times Wynter still had to remind herself that she was no longer human.
But, like with Wentworth, she wasn’t a performing monkey about to give Phoebe a show.
“You’ve seen enough to know I truly have changed, but haven’t we all?” Wynter answered, and her friend nodded in answer. “Like you, Phoebe. You’re here. You survived when so many others died thanks to Marcus’s insatiable thirst. How?”
“I honestly don’t know,” she answered, and then turned pale as her mind went elsewhere, undoubtedly back to whatever awful night it was that Marcus had laid waste to so many other lives. “He was tearing through everyone at the club. Not a soul was spared, but then he reached me and it wasn’t like he consciously chose not to feed, but as if he wasn’t seeing me at all. He just looked right through me and carried onto the next poor soul.”
“Like some kind of magical force had stopped him?” Wynter mused aloud.
“Maybe. But it was so terrifying I couldn’t think straight. I could see then what Warren had been talking about all those times when he’d hated on the vampires who paid to feed on us. For me, I’d just kinda always gone along with the feeding because I knew it was required of me. I never even contemplated fighting back, and don’t think I would have if Mr Cole had torn open my vein and drank me dry.”
“You were under his spell, just like all the others who let him murder them,” Wynter replied, and then dropped her voice, “you still are. He has that kind of power over every single one of you.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I cannot see the truth. I know it’s wrong and that I shouldn’t let him, but I just overlook it. My senses are altered by a more pressing desire.”
“One that’s telling you to serve him and do everything he says?”
“Right…” Phoebe confirmed.
Wynter leaned closer, peering into her friend’s eyes. She had to know what was going on behind the closed doors of Marcus’s office. No matter how many times she tried to convince herself it wasn’t a big deal, it still was, and it was killing her seeing the humans come and go. Tearing her apart to know she could not satisfy him the way each of them were. Those days of her being his Blood Slave might be over, but there was something about it Wynter found she missed. Perhaps the closeness of the moments they’d shared, or the heat of knowing Marcus wanted her so much. Either way, it was a bittersweet victory to no longer have to let him feed on her blood.
“But he fed from you yesterday, didn’t he?” she asked, and Phoebe frowned. Her brow furrowed and she tried to answer, but couldn’t. Not even a simple yes seemed to be able to leave her lips. “Show me your marks,” she tried, and again her friend couldn’t seem to respond.
“Stop, please,” she eventually hissed, and Wynter could tell Marcus’s hex truly was hard at work. He had made sure those who had fed him were sworn to secrecy regarding their time with their formidable leader, and she was desperate to know why.
“My love,” a deep, throaty voice broke the intense silence that’d descended between Wynter and Phoebe, and they both turned to look at the redhead who had just arrived out of nowhere to join them.
“Marcella? I didn’t realise you were here,” Phoebe replied, and the witch shook her head but still offered her a small smile.
“She’s not the woman you thought you knew, Phoebe. Marcella is Marcus’s Priestess. She’s his most loyal servant and the powerful witch behind everyone’s curse,” Wynter answered for her, and saw as her friend gulped hard and stared up at Marcella, as though looking for some sign that she was indeed so far from the façade she’d hidden behind back at Slave.
“Whoa, well it’s nice to see you anyway,” Phoebe eventually answered.
“Did you have something to do with her surviving the cull?” Wynter interjected, and Marcella nodded.
“I saved her because I owed you both a life,” she told them, and at first Wynter didn’t know what she meant, but then it dawned on her. David. He was Phoebe’s cousin and she had murdered him.
She shook her head, trying to signal for Marcella not to say anything further, but it appeared the Priestess didn’t care about saving her companion the hurt that would undoubtedly be caused by her revealing the truth. She evidently didn’t need to worry herself with the dealings of the humans in Marcus’s employ any longer, so had decided it was time the truth was out.
“Why?” Phoebe asked, clearly having figured out there was something going on, and once again it was left to Wynter to explain on her behalf.
“Because of David. He didn’t fall down those stairs. He was killed because he tried to attack me,” she told her, and looked up at Marcella with a scowl.
“There was more to it. That day he attacked you, it was my doing. I sent him to you, thinking you’d welcome his advances, and then he took things too far. I took his life because the bruises he’d left on your body were my fault, and because if I hadn’t intervened he would’ve raped you.”
Phoebe broke down in tears at hearing the news. She’d clearly mourned her cousin and had thought the best of him, and now she was being told a story quite to the contrary.
“Who are you people?” she finally spat, and stood with haste before storming away. Wynter didn’t even try to answer her, or appease her poor friend. She simply looked up at Marcella and sneered.
“I don’t think I know anymore, do you?” she seethed, and then stormed away as well, but Marcella wouldn’t leave her alone. She followed Wynter out the room and towards her newly appointed private office, keeping two steps behind her the entire way.
There, Wynter threw herself inside and felt glad she’d taken the tiny office towards the back of the mansion and made it her own. She’d warded it against any intruders, and was glad she had. It was her small piece of solitude in an otherwise bustling house, and with her mind racing, thought nothing of slamming the door in the Priestess’s face once she was inside.
“We need to talk, Wynter. Let me in,” Marcella called from the other side, and she answered her with an expletive. It felt good telling the insensitive witch where to go, but that feeling didn’t last long. A cold chill swept down her spine and she pulled her hand away from the door, feeling like it’d just burned her.
And then pain wracked through her chest like she’d just been stabbed through the heart. Wynter crumbled in a heap on the floor, clutching at her gut, just as the door burst open and flew right off its hinges.
Marcella was standing at the threshold with a sly smile curling at her lips. “Don’t make me ask twice. I hate seeing you in pain, my love, but I am not against punishing you for your insolence,” she demanded, and then stepped inside. She then offered Wynter a hand to help her up.
The pain subsided in an instant when she took it, and with her touch the jinni’s mind was filled with visions from their past. Of the numerous moments they had shared together both good and awful, and she saw red.
Wynter wasn’t going to take that lying down, and so she wrapped her free hand up around Marcella’s throat and pushed her backwards until the pair of them collided with the wall.
“I’m not your daughter, so don’t think you can tell me what to do!” she bellowed, but it didn’t matter what she said, because her hand was slowly unwrapping itself against her orders. Wynter had backed off before she was remotely ready and she knew exactly why.
“What were you saying?” Marcella sneered, and
Wynter decided to wipe that smug look off her face. She didn’t understand these visions she’d been having, but there was one thing she had seen incredibly clearly indeed. A snippet of the future. This gift had to be of Mara’s doing, and it was evident the witch’s power inside of her was growing stronger if she was able to see not only what had been, but also what was yet to come.
“You know you’re having twins, right?” she replied, and the news had the desired effect. Marcella’s smile faded in a second and she shook her head. “I wonder which one Marcus will let you keep…” she added spitefully.
“That’s impossible,” Marcella insisted, but Wynter didn’t back down.
“I saw it. Two baby girls…” and she was telling the truth. Like a snapshot, she’d seen her. There had been two babes in Marcella’s arms, each suckling at her breast.
Her shock soon turned to anger and Marcella lashed out. She slapped Wynter across the face with the force of twenty men, but she barely flinched, and so the Priestess went for her again and again.
When she’d finally had enough, Marcella stormed away. As she did, she lifted her hand and snapped her fingers, and the door that’d laid there in pieces on the ground shot back up. It was repaired and on its hinges again a split-second later.
It was only when the door slammed shut and Wynter heard the distinct click of the lock that she reacted. She lunged for it and screamed with anger when she found her only exit magically welded closed.
Marcella knew she hated being confined. That it downright terrified her to have locked doors sealing her in, just like when Marcus had shut her away at the club. Wynter bellowed curses through the immovable blockade, but her anger soon turned to fear, and she crumbled into a heap when she heard nothing from the other side. No one was there. No one was coming to rescue her.
Even in Death Page 11
