Before the Storm

by Claire Ashgrove

  “I’m not afraid of you, Halle,” he murmured. “You can’t hurt me. Not that way, at least. I let myself in because I wanted to do this for you. To have you wake up to something just for you.”

  I shuffled my feet, dropped my stare to my toes. No one had ever wanted something just for me. I didn’t know how to respond. Part of me wanted to tell him, “Okay. I’ll do it.” The other part wanted to escape. Escape before he could hurt me.

  Kale turned back to the eggs. “When did you learn that spell, anyway?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumbled. This was safer conversation, and I backed against the counter, propping my feet out before me. As I stared at Kale’s strong back, Tufty appeared in the corner of my vision, poking his head around the corner of the counter as if to ask if it was safe to come out yet. I choked down a chuckle.

  “Do you remember reading it?” Kale asked.

  “I didn’t learn it. It just happened.”

  Tufty waddled closer, and I bent to scoop him up. He nestled down in the crook of my elbow. His soft feathers quieted the tumult of my mind. His warmth was safe and comforting. So unlike Kale, who I innately sensed held the power to destroy me.

  His hand stilled over the skillet for a fraction of an instant. Then, he dished one sunny-side-up egg onto a waiting plate. “You know…” He fished another out of the grease and added it to the plate as well, this one clearly having been in the pan before my little uncontrolled outburst—the edges were singed brown. “That’s a spell most can’t master until they’ve been immersed in magic for several years.”

  I sighed—same old, same old. What good did my power serve if I couldn’t control it?

  “What do you say to trying some more difficult things after we go to the Hall of Memories today?”

  “Hall of Memories?”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “I promised to tell you about your mom.”

  Oh duh. Memories—that fit. She was dead. “That sounds challenging.” Assuming, of course, hearing about my mother didn’t turn me into a wreck.

  “We’ll go into the casting chamber. I think you’ve learned enough to be able to read out of a master arcane book.” He handed me a plate and gestured at the tiny table in the corner. “Let’s eat. I’m starved.”

  I set Tufty down and accepted Kale’s offering. As I moved to the table and sank into my chair, I stared at my food. I was too mixed up inside to consider eating. But beneath all the confusion, unease, and instinctual mistrust, happiness tugged at my conscious. Lurking there like a forbidden promise. Did I dare give it a try?

  Kale slid into the chair opposite and tore off a hunk of bacon. He pulled the newspaper Spring had brought me days ago over in front of him, and flipped it open to the entertainment section. “Want to catch a movie?”

  Happiness. Normalcy. I could have that, maybe, if I was willing to take the risk. But what if I tried and it all fell apart? What if he didn’t want anything to do with me once he found out I really didn’t intend to stick around?

  What if he threw me away when I finally succeeded in killing my uncle?

  “There’s not really anything playing I want to see,” I lied—I had no idea what was even showing.

  Kale finished another bite, regarding me thoughtfully, then set his fork down. “What do you want, Halle?”

  “What do I want?” I was stalling…but sometimes it was just necessary.

  “Yes.” He picked up his fork again, took another bite, chewed, then said, “Other than to kill your uncle. What do you want?”

  “From what?”

  “Life?”

  I shot him an annoyed look. “What do you want?”

  “Nope, we’re not deflecting this on me. I asked first. Are you going to eat that bacon?” He stabbed his fork at my untouched plate.

  “Uh. Help yourself.”

  He snatched the strip up like a ravenous dog. “At least eat your eggs, will you?”

  With another sigh, I looked back down at my plate. Eat. When he was performing microsurgery on my brain. Yeah right. I’d have better luck gnawing on a shoe.

  But the hopeful sheen in his eyes, told me how much it meant to him that I at least pretend like I was enjoying our morning together. And truthfully, I wasn’t hating it. So I cut into my eggs and forked in a mouthful.

  “I want to go to Miami.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s warm. And there’s a beach.” I waited a beat, then added, “And I’ve never seen the beach.”

  “So you’ve never seen the sunset on the beach, huh?”

  “No.” My answer came out breathy and just a little bit awed.

  “Never seen a dolphin?”

  I shook my head.

  “I know this great little cove just off the Keys where dolphins come in regularly. But if you are a little more daring, there’s a spot in the Gulf, out deep, where you can almost always bank on running into Orcas.”

  “Oh my gosh, I love Orcas.”

  “You do?” He seemed to chew that thought in time with the last of his meal. Pushing his plate aside, he gave me one of his devilish, melt-me, half-grins. “They’ll have young calves in December. Think you could shift your plans of Miami?”

  “Shift…my…plans?” Surely, he wasn’t suggesting we go together.

  Kale chuckled. “Sometimes, Halle, you’re exasperating. You’re sharp as a tack and like to play dumb as a rock.” He collected his plate and took it to the sink. “Do you want to go with me in December? Or would having someone around intrude on your plans?”

  Holy. Shit. He was suggesting. And Orcas with calves! Adorable black and white babies with huge expressive eyes and toothy smiles. I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. Elation surged through me. But before it could explode out of my body with an emphatic, yes!, I clamped my mouth shut. Promises were inevitable letdowns. People changed their minds. So, I tempered my smile and answered with a cool, reserved nod. “We’ll see how it goes.”

  “Exasperating,” he muttered, though I suspected it was more to himself than me. He set his mug in the sink and gave me an expectant look. “Ready then?”

  I shoveled in the last of my breakfast, feeling far less queasy than I had when I sat down, and passed him my plate. As he dropped it into the sink, I scooped Tufty up from my feet. “Listen, little buddy, I’m playing with powerful things today. You stay here. No bathtub today—I have to clean it up. You have food and water in your bowls in the bathroom.”

  Surprisingly, when I set him down, he didn’t protest. Even more miraculously, when I followed Kale to the door, neither one of us had to push Tufty out of the way with our toe. As if he legitimately understood what I had said, he hung back near the sofa, watching with bright onyx eyes.

  Quack. His call was muffled and subdued, a quiet goodbye.

  It made me smile. As did the snug way Kale’s hand slipped into mine. I reveled in those strong fingers, closed my eyes, and breathed in deep. The familiarity of his touch soothed something unnamable inside me. Quieted an agitation I only ever sensed when it calmed. When that peace settled over me, it was such an absolute completeness that I never wanted to let go. I almost felt safe enough that I could let him see my real weaknesses. My hidden fears.

  Almost.

  Before he got the impression that I was ready to embark on something that spanned longer than the time I intended to spend with the camarilla, I gently shook my hand free.

  Don’t get attached, Halle. It won’t last.

  Fourteen

  Kale led me down a corridor I’d never seen before. The smooth rock walls still held the artwork that I admired so much, but the tone was more somber. Instead of vivid colors and scenes of rolling meadows, the colors were muted, the murals that of battle, ceremonial rites, and reproductions of paintings I’d seen on the Internet of women and men with their heads bowed in prayer.

  The narrow hall opened into a wide cavern very similar to the room that contained all the m
agical references. But instead of illuminating the entire room, dim lights shone down on tall portraits that were mounted on the wall. Sort of like a museum, only darker, less…showy. Reverent, if I had to choose a word.

  I stopped in front of a distinguished man who looked to be in his seventies. His grey hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck, and he wore a striking navy blue suit that accented the pale blue color of his eyes. High cheekbones and a regal countenance added to the proud set of his shoulders. Though it was merely a portrait, he left me feeling somewhat inferior. “Who’s that?” I asked, the atmosphere demanding I keep my voice low.

  “My great grandfather. Tobias Norwood the Second.”

  I gave him an are you serious look. “He could pass for royalty.”

  “Actually, he was, before he came to America. Some Baron over in Britain.” Kale shrugged and waved me onward. “He brought us all here back in the eighteenth century. Gruff old man. Not very affectionate, probably because of his proclaimed dragon ancestry. But he cared—he always used to have a licorice stick for me. What you want to see is this way.”

  Dragon ancestry… I shoved that to the corner of my mind reserved for things that were entirely too fantastic to be plausible and I probably didn’t want to know the reason for. Though once again, I was reminded of Kale’s age. As I followed him down the wall of portraits, I watched the way he walked, the air of confidence that came with his ever-so-slight swagger. I had to admit it—the guy had an ass that could make me light-headed. “Kale, how are you one hundred and fifty years old?”

  “One hundred and fifty-two.”

  “Okay, give or take. How?”

  He stopped in a darkened corner, one shoulder resting against the smooth wall. “You’ll be timeless too, if you aren’t already. Hard to tell the way your powers are all off-kilter. Part of it’s in your blood. The other part comes with your attunement to the world around you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple. Nature gives off a life-force. You will naturally absorb it. Old age will be foreign to you.”

  I furrowed my brow, puzzled. “Then why did Gerard marry Beth?”

  “His powers are fading, not his age. He’ll always be young in body. It goes back to…” Kale trailed away, looking over my shoulder at something behind me. A shadow crossed his face, but I couldn’t be certain it wasn’t just the light.

  “To what?”

  “The war.” He shifted off the wall, smoothed one hand down the side of his jeans. “Fighting takes a lot out of a person.”

  There was something else, something he wasn’t saying. He’d never answered so quickly or so matter-of-factly. And the way he faced the darkened portrait in front of us, effectively signaling a subject change, made me even more suspicious. What secrets was he guarding? Especially when he’d been adamant about my letting him in.

  Before I could press him further, he murmured a few words beneath his breath and a small orb of light appeared over his open palm, illuminating the painting that had been hidden by the darkness.

  A face I recalled only in my most treasured dreams gazed down at me.

  “Mom,” I whispered, mesmerized by the beauty of her. Her long platinum hair, such a stark contrast to my own, draped richly around delicate shoulders. Wisdom shown in her eyes, the same knowledge that had assured me more than once no monsters lived in my closet. Wisdom I trusted more than I had ever believed in anything.

  I lifted a hand, willing her skin to be as warm as I remembered when I pressed my fingertips to her bare arm. I wouldn’t have known if it wasn’t. She was there, my mother, my rock in a stormy sea.

  I scanned the framed picture, etching into my memory the tenderness in her expression, the hint of a smile that danced on her mouth, the mint green, sleeveless gown she wore. Against a backdrop of onyx, her skin was as pristine as polished ivory. She looked…ethereal. Just the way I remembered her.

  But someone had hidden her in the shadows. “Why doesn’t she have a light of her own?”

  Kale leaned against the wall once more. “Did you know her full name?”

  I shrugged. “Meghan Rhoads. She died when I was eight. My sperm donor never talked about her.”

  “Meghan Elpis Roseen. Your grandparents were very powerful. In fact, your grandfather mentored my father until his unfortunate demise. While they didn’t carry the blood to inherit the camarilla leadership, they carried greater power.”

  As Kale’s voice melted around me, I watched my mother, picturing the way her parents might have looked. No one had ever mentioned my grandparents. Not Mom. Certainly not my father. Frankly, until this moment, I hadn’t stopped to consider who, or what, my grandparents might be.

  “They left camarilla territory to investigate some strange events near the quarry we now know is controlled by the Yaksini. Reports of shadow creatures that hadn’t been seen in this part of the country before. Neither of them expected to find anything tangible. The entire camarilla thought it was just kids playing tricks, or wildlife being mistaken for something else.”

  Drawn into his tale, I turned my attention to him, slowly lowering my hand to my side. “It wasn’t, was it?”

  He shook his head. “No, they were real. Real, deadly wolves that have a bad attitude and an insatiable appetite.”

  I cringed, not wanting to hear more. Already vivid pictures of malnourished canines formed in my head, complete with the snapping of salivating jaws and a sickeningly evil snarl. Beady red glowing eyes—“Is that what was following us?”

  Kale shook his head. “The Jadukara are entirely different. Anyway. Both your grandparents suffered mortal wounds, but your grandmother had an amazing telepathic ability. She managed to call for help. And your grandfather held off the three wolves by putting himself in front of her. By the time our warriors arrived, he was dead and she was barely living.”

  I closed my eyes, sorrow hitting me with the force of a gale wind. What a terrible way to die.

  “She would have never gone if they’d thought it was real at all. She was only a few weeks away from delivering your mother.”

  My eyes snapped open. No, way.

  “Maude—the woman who offered to train you—heard her call for help. She kept your grandmother in stasis until your mother was born. Wherever your grandmother’s mind was, I think she saw dark things. She woke long enough to tell Maude the baby’s name was to be Elpis, after the Greek personification of hope.”

  A whole new wave of reverence washed over me as I looked once more to the portrait of my mother. “Where did Meghan come in?”

  “Maude and the council realized she needed a more common name. They added Meghan.”

  Kale inhaled deeply and glanced around the room, the jerky nature of his gaze telling me once more that he wasn’t revealing the full truth. He exhaled hard, his shoulders sagging as if he carried barbells on them.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “You won’t like it, Halle. Let’s just leave it at your mother was cherished within the camarilla until she married and left.”

  I shook my head, adamant. “No. I want to know.” Whatever it was, I needed that information. Maybe it could explain why I was the way I was. “Tell me.”

  “Halle—”

  “Tell me, damn it!” My voice echoed off the walls. “Why is she in shadows when everyone else has a light?”

  He blew out another harsh breath, then nodded shortly. “Your father was Yaksini. In fact, he was their leader, the same as your uncle is now.”

  My eyes widened to twice their normal size, and I had to brace one hand on the wall to keep from stumbling. My mother chose to marry a Yaksini? Impossible! “H-how?” I squeaked.

  “It depends on who you ask. I like to think she was just that naive and innocent. But for the most part, you’ll find the elders think she absorbed some of those dark wolves’ evil and was drawn to him.”

  Oh, God. My stomach churn
ed. That would certainly explain why I couldn’t control my powers. If she were part evil, evil was known for chaos. And that would mean I carried the same propensity for terrible things as my father did. His blood was mine. And I was as bloodthirsty as he was. I’d killed. I wanted to kill again.

  My fingers curled into the stone as the room around me swayed. I must have stumbled, because Kale’s fingers wrapped around my elbow, his grip strong and steadying.

  “Easy, Halle.”

  “Oh my, God. That’s in me too.”

  His grip tightened, and he dragged me closer, catching my other elbow in his free hand. His gaze bored into mine. “No.”

  “How can you say that? I’m their child.”

  Kale drew me into his body, wrapping his arms around my waist and guiding my head to his chest. “Look at your mother, Halle. Does she look evil?”

  “My father didn’t look it either. I was the only one who knew what he—” I snapped my mouth shut. I wasn’t ever going to say those words. Had my mother known what he did when he finished banging the pots in the kitchen?

  Oh, I was going to be sick.

  I shoved at Kale’s chest, desperate for air. Great gulps of clean air.

  He held me tighter. “Stop,” he whispered, resting his cheek atop my head. “Even if it is there inside you, you can choose.”

  “So my mother chose the Yaksini? Is that what you’re saying?” I pushed again, with all my strength.

  He refused to ease his tight grip. “I’m not saying that at all. Your mother didn’t choose the dark path.”

  “Of course she didn’t,” a brittle feminine voice called from behind me.

  Startled, I jerked my head around. Kale’s grip loosened enough I could turn sideways, and out of the dim shadows, a woman’s form emerged. The long, lithe figure became clear—Beth. I despised the sight of her, but her conviction was so strong I found myself wanting to ply her for more information. A thousand questions surfaced: Had she known my mother well? She sounded like she had.

  “She didn’t?” I asked with no small degree of hope echoing in my voice.