Tainted Blood: A Generation V Novel

by M. L. Brennan

  Simone paused and looked at me, and her large eyes were completely serious. “Your brother told me everything,” she assured me. “I was nearly caught in an avalanche on Broad Peak. If I hadn’t stopped to hammer in an extra piton, I would’ve been swept off the mountain. Believe me—I understand what risks mean.”

  And looking at her, I realized with a sinking heart that everything that Bhumika had once told me was true. Chivalry had told Simone what she would sacrifice by being with him, and that the end was inevitable. She’d nodded and said that she wanted to be with him anyway, but she hadn’t really accepted it. She hadn’t believed in her heart that being with him meant that she would die, decades sooner than she would if she left him behind and never thought of him again. In some quiet place in her soul, she was sure that she would survive this, that she would do what every one of his wives before her had been unable to do. And how could she not? This was a woman who had conquered mountains, who trusted her body in the most dangerous places on Earth—how could she possibly believe that her body would fail her?

  And Simone loved my brother. It was clear from every line in her body, and every expression that crossed her face. She loved him, and she would have him, and it would kill her.

  Madeline’s voice slipped into the conversation with a social finesse honed over centuries, subtly suggesting that Simone give us a moment to discuss business matters. Simone agreed readily, explaining that she still had a lot of calls to make to coordinate her move, and she’d go up to Chivalry’s bedroom and get a few more of them done before dinner.

  “I committed to guiding three groups up Washington next month,” she explained to me, “and I’m trying to find a substitute guide. But if I can’t find anyone I trust, I’ll have to do them myself.”

  Chivalry cut in with a smile. “If you want to lead the expeditions, of course you should. I meant it when I said I supported your career. I’ll just tuck myself down at a hotel and keep the hot cocoa ready for you.”

  I had to look away from the look the two of them exchanged. The moment the door had closed behind Simone, Prudence said sourly, “I guarantee, Fort, dinner will be nothing except tales of alpine adventure. Apparently above a certain altitude, climbers choose to pee in their old water bottles. I had not thought that physiologically possible for a woman, but Simone has assured me that every female climber she knows also does it. What a very pleasant addition to our table.” The glare she gave Chivalry was cutting. Apparently her attempt to line up a “suitable” partner had failed dismally.

  “Darling, you’ve made your opinion extremely clear,” my mother said mildly. “Now, I’m very eager to hear about your brother’s success with the metsän kunigas.”

  So I told them the highlights of the last few days. They listened with interest, with occasional compliments or critiques (my sister very notably responded to the discovery of the bloody knife with the question of why I didn’t simply kill Ilona and Dahlia then and there)—until I got to the part about allowing Gil to become karhu. Then, very suddenly, the mood in the room changed, and both Prudence and Chivalry began excoriating me for poor management and worse decision making.

  “It solved everything!” I protested, not surprised that Prudence was angry with me, but worried at the way that Chivalry was very vocally joining her side. Usually, even when I pissed him off, he avoided yelling at me until after Prudence was out of the room.

  Now, however, his voice was cutting. “It solved nothing, brother, save your own desire to avoid your duty and execute Carmen. Instead you allowed, and not simply allowed, but raised up, a completely unsuitable leader.”

  “Your inexperience led to the problem,” Prudence said, aggravation clear in her blue eyes, but her voice actually more moderated than Chivalry’s. “Perhaps this is one of those teachable moments that our productivity consultants are always nattering on about at work. I’ll go over tonight after dinner and kill Gil. Then the problem will be solved.”

  “You can’t do that!” I yelled, and she simply gave me a long-suffering look, and raised one eyebrow, daring me to find a way that she couldn’t.

  It was my mother who stopped things, tutting softly from her blanket cocoon. “My darlings, no one will be killing Gil Kivela. At least, not tonight.”

  “Gil is the best leader for the metsän kunigas,” I said quickly, trying to capitalize on the first part of my mother’s comment while ignoring the more ominous second part. “His sister doesn’t want the job, and he’s really committed to trying to do what is best for the bears!”

  “We’re not talking about what’s best for the bears, Fortitude.” Chivalry’s use of my full name, plus the glare he was sending my way, let me know just how pissed he was with me right now. “We’re talking about what is best for our interests, which would’ve been to have a conservative leader like Dahlia.”

  “But we rule them, and that means we have a responsibility for their welfare!” I argued.

  “No, little brother.” Prudence’s voice was icy. “They serve us.”

  Chivalry was pacing, clearly trying to calm himself down. “Gil will be a problem. He’ll push for more self-rule, more rights—and what happens if we give those to him? Will we then give those things to the Neighbors, or the ghouls, or, heaven help us, the witches? And what concessions will Atsuko Hollis then push for, since I have no doubt that she will have a choice list waiting. Brother, I know that it is difficult for you to understand, but the wisest thing to do in that situation would’ve been to kill Gil and appoint Dahlia.”

  I sputtered. “Yeah, she would’ve been so eager to follow our orders after I murdered her brother!”

  My mother’s voice was quiet but hard. “She has children, Fortitude. Dahlia would’ve swallowed her brother’s death to protect her children.” She sighed loudly, a frumpy, elderly little puff of irritation. It would’ve been cute had it not been expressed over my reticence over murder and threats to children. “But now you have appointed Gil as leader in my name, and now is not the time to show a division by sending your sister to rectify the situation. So Gil remains karhu. But you, my son, will be dealing with him.” She locked her flinty blue eyes on me. “And for his sake, I would strongly recommend that you keep him in line with whatever lovely friendship you seem to have formed. Because if you cannot control his demands, it is no difficult thing for Prudence to dispatch both siblings, and let little four-year-old Anni become karhu. Child rulers always make such convenient puppets.” There was a low knock on the door behind me, and she smiled genially. “Ah, supper is ready. How timely.”

  Prudence leaned down and lifted our mother into her arms as if she had the weight and consistency of cotton candy. My brother, meanwhile, grabbed my arm with bruising force and kept me from following them.

  “You’re acting without considering consequences, Fortitude,” he hissed at me. “That will catch up with you, probably very soon, and this time I will not step in to rescue you.”

  My head was filled with the knowledge of just how many dangerous plans and webs I’d gotten myself involved with. Not just Gil and his hopes for the metsän kunigas, but Valentine’s movement for witch unionization, and Lilah and the Neighbors as they tried to restructure their world. The knowledge that it wouldn’t just be Prudence who would argue against any support I gave them, which I’d expected, but Chivalry as well, was frightening. But at the same time, I could feel the deep wrongness in choosing only the path that served the vampires and ignored what the vassal species wanted for themselves.

  I was angry at my brother, I realized as I turned to look at him. Maybe for reasons that weren’t even fair, since I knew that he didn’t look at things the way that I did, but I wanted to hurt him when I asked my question. “Did you feed Simone your blood?” His face became a cold mask of insulted outrage, but I kept pushing. “She loves you so much—is that actually real, or because you gave her a glass of your blood and told her that she loved you?”

  “I’m not our sister,” he said, and I’d never
seen Chivalry look at me like that before. His voice was controlled and measured, but there was a deep, awful rage beneath it. He stared at me. “We will not speak of this again.” Then, not looking to see if I would follow, my brother turned and left the room, leaving me with that terrible uncertainty.

  Dinner was awkward. Mother sat at the head of the table, and I watched her hand shake as she lifted her wineglass. Simone did indeed turn out to have a number of alpine stories. I purposely triggered the pee-bottle story by asking how people went to the bathroom at such high altitudes and cold temperatures, just to see Prudence grit her teeth. It was worth the expression on her face to have to sit through a lecture about the existence of products like GoGirl.

  Prudence stalked away from the table as soon as the dessert dishes were cleared away, and at a signal from our mother, Chivalry collected Simone and made himself scarce as well.

  She stared at me very seriously, and said, “Don’t antagonize your sister, my son. Now is the time for all of you to bridge your differences.” Looking in her eyes, I knew that this was the closest she would ever come to admitting to me that she was dying. Then she cleared her throat and fussed with her thick glasses, the ones that she liked to wear for effect. “Now, what fine plans do you have this evening?”

  I looked at her across the table. She was a monster, a killer. And she was also my mother, and even though her love for me was a terrible thing, it was still love. She wouldn’t be alive much longer, and I couldn’t even imagine my world without her.

  “I’m going to look at a used car over in Middletown,” I said abruptly. “Would you like to come with me?”

  She looked startled for a moment, and paused.

  “I know it’s only seven,” I said, “But it is November. It’s completely dark outside.”

  A slow smile spread across Madeline’s face, one of rare, real delight, exposing those long dangerous fangs. “Yes, my darling,” she said. “I believe I would like to go. Very much.”

  That was how I ended up driving my mother’s Rolls-Royce, with my mother ensconced in the passenger seat and Prudence, Chivalry, and Simone clustered awkwardly in the back. Middletown was right next to Newport, and we followed Route 138 over.

  “Really, Fortitude,” Prudence said. “New cars are nice. They run, they smell good, they assist the economy. Don’t you want to help out some job-creating business owner running a car dealership?”

  Chivalry cut in. “If it’s about the money, you know that I’d give you any sum to keep another of these wrecks from being inflicted on all of us.”

  “I’m buying my own car,” I said firmly, for at least the fifth time. “A car I can afford.”

  “Then will you let me lend you the money?” Chivalry asked. He wasn’t quite begging, but there was an edge of desperation in his voice. “I’ll even do it at a ruinous interest rate if that makes you feel better.”

  My mother just smiled.

  The owner of the car was waiting for me at his house, just as he had promised over the phone. He seemed extremely surprised at who exactly had come to look at it.

  It was a first-generation Volkswagen Scirocco, the “S” version in Cosmos Silver Metallic, and it was older than I was. A three-door coupe with a five-speed manual transmission, it was remarkably light on rust.

  “It was my winter beater,” its owner explained. “But my wife finally insisted that we get a Volvo.” He looked at me, impressed. “Most people haven’t even bothered to come out and look at it because of its age.”

  “It’s even uglier than the last one. How could you possibly have managed that without it being an express desire?” Prudence sounded almost wondering as she stared at the car. She leaned closer to peer in the window, then curled her lip. “There is trash in the backseat.”

  “Those are parts,” I explained to her. “Replacement parts for the car. That’s actually kind of a bonus because it will make maintaining the car easier.” I hoped.

  She stared at me for a long minute, then turned with incredible dignity and wordlessly returned to the car.

  Chivalry just looked at me mournfully. “Really, Fort. A German car?” Two world wars had left my brother with strong feelings about certain European countries.

  A truck pulled into the driveway behind us, and the lanky form of my mother’s mechanic, Lou Gilliard, unfolded. Chivalry must’ve placed the call before we’d left the house. Lou gave a long-suffering sigh at the sight of what was in front of him, then popped the hood, pulled out a small flashlight, and began his examination. He started it, listened to the engine, then took a quick look at the undercarriage. Turning to me, he said flatly, “You really know how to pick them, don’t you? Go ahead, and on your head be it. You’ll be fixing it before the groundhog looks for its shadow.”

  “We appreciate you coming out,” Chivalry said. The expression on his face clearly indicated that his final hopes that this car would not be purchased were ebbing away. Simone looked quietly amused by our strange little passion play, but she reached out and slid a comforting arm around Chivalry. I tried to suppress a shudder as I looked quickly away, my mind all too ready to supply the image of Jon gazing adoringly at Prudence in her kitchen.

  “Always a pleasure, Mr. Scott.” He nodded to the rest of my family. “Mrs. Scott. Ms. Scott.” He looked at me and gave another long-suffering sigh. “Fortitude.” Then headed straight back to his truck.

  I pulled two hundred dollars from my pocket and handed it to the slightly stunned owner, receiving the title in exchange. My siblings looked at me stone-faced, but my mother laughed and shook her head. “Have a safe drive home, darling.”

  I kissed her lightly on one frail cheek, the skin so thin that it felt like waxed paper under my lips.

  She reached one hand up to catch my chin, holding my face near her. I stared at her in the cold night. “My littlest baby,” she said, so softly that I could barely hear her. “What a strange delight you are to us.” Then she gave my jaw a small, affectionate pat of dismissal, and turned, reaching for my brother’s strong arm and the support he would give her to the Rolls.

  I got into my new car, feeling the ancient and cracked leather and every spot where it had been held together with duct tape, and drove away. The heat worked, in a certain petulant way. The radio was broken, but there was a Born to Run cassette in the ancient player, so I had music while I drove. I headed over the bridge, up to Providence, and didn’t stop until I’d pulled into Suzume’s driveway.

  I honked the horn, and saw the face of a fox peep out from under her front curtains. A moment later, Suze came out the front door, pulling up the zipper to her parka. She was wearing sweatpants and a pair of slippers, but I wasn’t entirely certain that there was a shirt on under that lime green parka. She took a long look at the Scirocco and shook her head slowly, then crossed over to the driver side window.

  I rolled the window down with the hand-crank and smiled at her. Bruce Springsteen was singing about love, and everything seemed magical. “So is this a car you’d be willing to be seen in?” I asked her.

  She leaned into the open window, resting her elbows on the door, and said, “Absolutely not.” Then she leaned farther in and kissed me, her tongue sliding into my mouth and her scent filling my head. She pulled back and reached inside to open the door.

  Climbing in, she straddled my lap, and her dark eyes gleamed under the flickering interior light. “But apparently I’m willing to make a few compromises, as long as you’re the guy driving it.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  M. L. Brennan lives in Connecticut with her husband and three cats. Holding a master’s degree in fiction, she teaches basic composition to college students. Her house is more than a hundred years old, and is insulated mainly by overstuffed bookshelves. She is currently working on the fourth Fortitude Scott book.

  CONNECT ONLINE

  mlbrennan.com

  twitter.com/brennanml

  A Generation V Novel