Enthralled: Paranormal Diversions

by Melissa Marr

  “You have my word.” He knew that the things she wasn’t saying were as important as the one she did say: the compromise he’d sought was what she’d accepted. Her other objections—to his servitude, to his pain—were no longer given voice. It was only his death that she was unable to accept.

  He stepped forward until the hand she’d held up in a halting gesture was resting against his chest. “Now, what do we do about this video? And more importantly”—he caught her gaze—“can we watch it before it’s gone?”

  For a moment, she didn’t say anything, but then her serious expression gave way to a mock chastising one and then to laughter. “Did I mention that you are incorrigible?”

  “Not for hours.”

  TWO WEEKS LATER . . .

  Donia and Keenan watched the “making of the new ad for Evergreen Hills Resort.” In it, they were joined by various faeries pretending to film them, apply makeup, discuss costume difficulties, and one particularly entertaining segment when Cwenhild talked about the fact that their “technical team” and “effects team” refused to be seen on film because of their paranoia that they would be pressured to take on more work than they could handle.

  “We thought it was all going to be ruined when someone uploaded the raw footage,” Cwenhild said on the screen. “Luckily, the client thought the viral video was an asset, so it all worked out.”

  The video cut to a resort representative who smilingly added, “Everyone who’s been to Evergreen Hills knows it’s an escape from the busy lives we all lead, so we thought we’d use a campaign to show that a visit to our resort is filled with magic.”

  Off camera, Cwenhild snorted. “Magic.”

  The resort representative sighed. “If you’ve been on the slopes for one of our moonlight specials, it’s easy to believe in magic.” Pointedly, he glanced at Cwenhild. The camera followed his gaze as he challenged her. “Come see us. We can enchant even the skeptical.”

  As the video ended, Keenan laughed. “Your plan was genius.”

  “I decided what to do with the money from the ad,” Donia said in a casual way. She stepped between Keenan and the monitor. “I bought several houses for the court’s use.”

  “With one check?”

  “Well, no,” she admitted. “I added a bit more. . . . I thought maybe if we wanted another vacation, I could send them away for the week, and we’ll stay home alone this time.”

  Keenan laughed again.

  “And then, we could go back there on our own. . . .” The Winter Queen nestled closer to him.

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Oh?”

  “Since everyone keeps assuring me your plan will work, I figure we ought to start planning regular vacations.” She looked up at him. “And you promised me a honeymoon too.”

  The joy that filled Keenan was larger than he thought he could contain. “I think we ought to have two of them, one before I become fey again and one after. Everything I—”

  But the rest of the words he would say were lost as Donia pulled him to her.

  Everything I could want in eternity is possible because of you, he thought, and then he stopped thinking and simply enjoyed being in the arms of the one person in all of forever who made his life complete.

  Facing Facts

  by Kelley Armstrong

  s I lay on my back, gasping for breath, I began to suspect that Tori enjoyed our self-defense lessons a little too much.

  “Come on, Chloe, get up,” she said, dancing around me.

  “Actually, I think I’ll stay down here. It’s safer.”

  Simon walked over. As he helped me up, he whispered, “Watch her face. She telegraphs her moves.”

  He was right. By keeping an eye on her expression instead of her hands, I managed to evade her twice and bring her to her knees once. Then she flicked her fingers, and I went flying into a tree.

  Simon sighed. “No powers, Tori. You know the rules.”

  “I don’t like the rules.”

  “Surprise, surprise.”

  “Seriously. We’re training for real-world confrontations, right? In the real world, if we’re attacked by some Cabal goon, we’re going to use our fighting powers.”

  “But Chloe doesn’t have fighting powers.”

  “Sure she does. She has a poltergeist. Well, when Liz is around. And when she’s not, Chloe has the awesome power of zombies at her fingertips.” Tori waved at the woods behind our rented house. “Raise a dead bunny. It can nip my ankles while I’m throwing you down.”

  “And infect you with the bite of a rotting corpse?” I said.

  “That would be bad.” Simon turned to me. “Go for it.”

  As Tori flashed him the finger, I grabbed her arm and flipped her, then danced back before she could retaliate.

  “Are you blind, ref?” she said to Simon. “Call that.”

  “Nope. Distraction is a valid—” He glanced behind me. “Hey, Dad.”

  I turned as his father—Kit—walked over.

  “Sorry to interrupt your lessons, guys, but I need to speak to Tori.”

  As he led Tori into the house, I stared after them. I had a good idea what Kit was about to do—drop the bomb that would explode what remained of Tori’s old life. She already knew her mother was dead. Now she was about to discover that her dad wasn’t her real father. Kit was.

  It had been a month since the four of us—Tori, Simon, Derek, and I—had been reunited with the guys’ dad and my aunt Lauren. A month since I’d seen Kit look at Tori for the first time, and known, from his expression, that he’d heard the same rumor I had. But he’d said nothing. Not to her or to Simon.

  I’d begun to think maybe he wasn’t going to tell them. Maybe he didn’t believe it. Or maybe he’d wanted to confirm with DNA first, and now he had the answer.

  When they’d left, Simon walked over. “We’d better cut the lesson short. Somehow I don’t think Derek would appreciate me wrestling with his girlfriend on the back lawn. As much as I hate to suggest homework, your aunt’s going to expect us to have that biology project done by tomorrow.”

  We headed to the old farmhouse. Two weeks ago, Kit and my aunt Lauren had decided that, if the Cabal was coming after us, they weren’t hurrying. Kit wasn’t surprised. While the scientists who’d genetically modified us had been eager to get us back, the massive supernatural corporation that funded them—the St. Cloud Cabal—knew Kit would keep our powers in check. So, they could bide their time, which meant we could rent a place and try living like normal people for a while.

  As we reached the house, I heard a vehicle and glanced over, hoping to see our van. When a truck drove past, I felt a pang of disappointment, but I told myself I could better support Tori post-bombshell if Derek wasn’t around.

  Derek is Simon’s adopted brother and the guy I’m dating, though we have yet to go on what you’d call a real date. That’s not Derek’s fault. While we’re on the road, we’re pretending to be a blended family, with Kit and Aunt Lauren as our parents. That means I can’t be seen at the movies holding hands with my supposed stepbrother.

  Derek grumbles that it’s not like we’d be blood relatives, but Kit says it would still call attention to us. We can’t take that risk. So while Derek and I can go out together, we have to keep a foot apart, like at those old-fashioned dances where teachers would walk around with rulers. On the plus side, because Derek’s a werewolf, we always stay in places near a forest. Derek and I spend time alone “walking” in the woods. A lot of time, actually.

  When Derek did come back, he’d want to go for a walk, to relax after grocery shopping with my aunt. It’d been her idea. She’d joked that since he ate most of the food, he should help her get it. Derek had resisted. His dad had taken him aside and said he should go, get to know Aunt Lauren better and show her that this “werewolf dating her niece” thing wasn’t as scary as she thought.

  Right now, though, I could have used Derek’s superhearing. While Simon hunted for his notes upstairs, I eavesdropped on Kit’
s conversation with Tori, trying to hear if he was dropping the bombshell. But I couldn’t pick up more than the murmur of his voice.

  Then, “No!”

  “I’m sorry, Tori. I know this isn’t—”

  “No, okay? You’re wrong. You’re just . . . wrong.”

  The door flew open. Tori barreled out, not even noticing me as she ran for the back of the house. Kit came after her, then stopped short when he noticed me.

  “You told her?” I asked.

  He nodded. As his gaze flitted in her direction, hurt glimmered in his eyes.

  “I’ll talk to her,” I said.

  He hesitated, like he wanted to be the one to do that, and he should be, except he didn’t know her well enough yet, and right now, he was the last person she’d want to speak to. After a moment, he nodded and said, “Bring her back to talk to me, if you can.”

  Simon was thumping down the steps as I hurried past.

  “Tori’s upset,” I said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Simon?” his dad called. “I need to talk to you too.”

  As Simon turned to follow his dad, I paused. Simon was about to get a shock of his own, finding out Tori was his half sister. Should I stick around for him? No. Simon wouldn’t be thrilled by the news, but it was Tori who’d need me.

  I found Tori hidden behind a huge, old oak. She brushed her arm across her eyes and snapped, “What?” then took it down a notch and said, “Sorry, I’m not good company right now. Better go hang with Simon for a while.”

  “He’s talking to his dad.”

  She hesitated, then realized he’d be getting the same news she had. Her shoulders slumped and she leaned forward, clutching her knees, face resting on them, hiding her expression.

  I lowered myself beside her. “I know what Kit said.”

  “He told you?” She looked up, then scowled. “He shouldn’t have. It’s a mistake, and if he goes around telling everyone . . .” She swiped her damp cheeks. “It is a mistake.”

  “Okay.”

  “What? You think it’s true? Duh. Obviously, Kit is not my real father. Do I look Asian to you?”

  She was right. Kit was Korean, and you could see that with Simon, even with the dark blond hair he’d inherited from his mother. With Tori, it wasn’t so apparent. Her coloring was right—skin tone, dark hair, and dark eyes—but all fit for Caucasian, too, and she looked Caucasian. That was why I’d dismissed the rumor when I first heard it. But that was before I met Kit. When I saw him, I knew it was true, because there’s more to “looking like” someone than race.

  Should I play along and let her think it was a mistake? While I was tempted to, I knew what she’d want. The truth.

  “The demi-demon in the lab saw what your mom did,” I said. “She didn’t have an affair with Kit, though. It was in vitro fertilization.”

  “Oh, well, that makes it so much better. She didn’t cheat on my dad. She just had another man’s baby and passed it off as his.”

  “She was . . . ambitious. You know that.”

  “So it wasn’t enough to genetically modify her witch daughter. She had to double the dose, give me a sorcerer for a father. Not like that was liable to blow up in her face. Wait, sorry, blow up in my face, because whatever’s wrong with me, as far as she was concerned, it was my fault, and now she’s not even around to blame, because she’s dead.”

  I thought of that. Of Diane Enright’s death. Of what happened next.

  When I flinched the look she turned on me was so fierce I almost flinched again. “Don’t think of that, Chloe.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “Yes, you were. Dr. Davidoff was holding a gun to your aunt’s head, and you raised my mother’s zombie, which killed him. She killed him. Not you.”

  Yes, but she had been under my command. I gave the order.

  Not only that, but I had to take some responsibility for the death of Tori’s mother, too. She’d been killed when part of the ceiling collapsed on her. That collapse began because I’d freed the demi-demon, and I hadn’t asked her about the possible consequences first. So Diane Enright died. Dr. Davidoff died. Others died. And maybe they all deserved it, but that didn’t seem my call to make.

  After it happened, I’d started staying up late every night, reading or writing until I was so tired I fell straight to sleep, too exhausted to lie there worrying. That didn’t stop the dreams, though. Dreams endlessly replaying that day, showing me all the ways it could have gone differently. All the ways I could have avoided killing Dr. Davidoff. Avoided feeling as if I’d been responsible for the death of Tori’s mother.

  Derek makes me talk about the dreams, pointing out the logical flaws in my alternate scenarios, insisting I’d done what I had to. It should help. It doesn’t, because I’m still convinced there had to be another way.

  “So, apparently, my mother is dead and my dad isn’t my dad,” Tori continued. “And the guy I was crushing on? My half brother.” She blinked. “Oh God. Simon.” She looked like she was going to be sick. “That’s just . . . That’s just . . .”

  “It’s not that bad,” I hurried on. “Derek says it’d be kind of natural, because you guys share the same genetics, so what you were attracted to wasn’t really Simon but, well . . .”

  “Myself? Oh, yeah. That’s better.” She paused. “Derek? When did you discuss this with—? Wait, you said the demi-demon mentioned it? Back at the lab? How long have you known, Chloe?”

  “I, uh . . . heard rumors, but it wasn’t until the demi-demon said it was true—”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I, uh . . . I didn’t think it was my place.”

  “It’s your place if you’re my friend, which is what I thought.” She glowered at me, and in that glower I saw genuine pain. “My mistake, huh?”

  She got up and started to storm off. When I ran after her, she hit me with a knockback that sent me flying into the tree, hard enough that I slid to the ground and sat there, dazed, for a moment before looking up to see her a quarter mile down the road.

  I glanced back at the house, checked my pocket for my cell phone, then ran after her.

  I really needed to start getting more exercise. Long walks and self-defense lessons weren’t compensating for a lifetime spent opting out of sports because I was always the smallest kid on the team. I could point out that, before embarking on my current career path to Zombie Master General, I’d planned to become a screenwriter-director, which didn’t require an active lifestyle. But then I look around at my comrades-in-genetic-modification: Derek the science whiz, Simon the artist, and Tori the computer geek, all of them disgustingly athletic, meaning I have no excuse. Also meaning that when Tori wanted to leave me in the dust, she did.

  Predictably, Tori headed for town, most likely the mall on the outskirts. I was close enough to see the parking lot when my phone barked. Derek’s ringtone. Not my idea—Tori set it up. I figured it wasn’t like Derek would ever hear it, and it is fitting. If he ever finds out, I’ll just pretend I didn’t know how to change it.

  Speaking of barking . . .

  “Where the hell are you?” he snapped when I answered.

  “You’re back? Good. So how was—?”

  “You’re not here.”

  “Because I’m supposed to be waiting by the gate?”

  “You know what I mean. Simon said you went to talk to Tori, but you’re not on the property, so I’m really hoping you’re with her.”

  I glanced at Tori’s back, a half mile away. “Kind of.”

  “She took off, didn’t she? And you went after her, knowing you aren’t supposed to leave the property unaccompanied.”

  “Tori needs—”

  “Tori can look after herself.”

  “And I can’t?”

  A growl. He knew better than to answer. Despite my lack of defensive superpowers, I’d gotten myself—and Tori—out of plenty of scrapes. Sometimes, knowing you don’t have the skills to fight can be a bonus. With Tori, o
verconfidence equals lack of caution and, yes, as Derek would say, common sense.

  “I’m just going to talk to her,” I said. “I’ll bring her home—”

  “No, you’ll come back. Right now. That’s an order.”

  “Well, in that case . . . no.”

  A louder growl.

  “Seriously?” I said. “An order? Has that ever worked?”

  He grumbled something I couldn’t hear and probably didn’t want to.

  “I’m not kidding, Chloe. Stop running, turn around, and—”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I catch her. ’Kay? Bye.”

  I hung up and turned my phone on vibrate.

  I used to think that once we started going out, Derek would change. When I admitted that to Tori, she nearly laughed herself into an aneurysm and gave me a lecture on the stupidity of expecting to change a guy. Maybe I didn’t have her dating experience, but I knew you didn’t go out with someone because you thought you’d change him. That wasn’t what I’d meant. I liked Derek the way he was. I’d just hoped getting closer would mean landing on the sharp side of his tongue less often.

  I should have known better. He did the same to Simon, who was not only his brother but his best friend. Derek had spent the first five years of his life in a lab. No mother; no father; nothing even remotely like a family. That does stuff to you. Stuff that’s hard to overcome.

  I had to understand, like Simon did, that Derek lashed out when he was worried about us. We’re like the weaker members of his pack, and he’s always trying to herd us back behind him, where it’s safe, growling and snapping if we wander off. That doesn’t mean I need to let him get away with it. Just follow Simon’s lead—understand he doesn’t mean anything by it, but don’t let him push me around either, and push back when he steps over the line. Like now.

  Right before the turnoff into the mall parking lot, there’s an abandoned house. Once when we went to the restaurant across the road, Kit asked about it, and the server told a story about how the dead owner’s son didn’t want to move back, but didn’t want his family home razed for parking spaces either. After she left, Kit said the guy was probably holding out for more money and locked in legal battles with the developers.