by Talia Vance
So much for happily ever after. “Killian murdered her?” I can’t keep the shakiness from my voice. The whole heart-ripping thing hits a little close to home.
“It’s been that way ever since,” Sherri jumps in. “Killian’s descendants exacting revenge every seventh generation.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Sasha shakes her head vehemently. “Not now, Sherri. It’s too soon.”
“There was an attack tonight.”
Sasha’s pale skin goes whiter. “Tonight?”
“They came after Brianna. I saw the flashes of silver light. Two humans were hurt.”
The anger that Sasha masked earlier returns to the surface, hardening her features to a point. She’s even more beautiful when she’s angry. “So it’s true. The Sons are here.”
“And they’re hunting.” Sherri takes a sip of her Diet Coke, not the least bit fazed by the direction this is going.
“Hunting?” I ask.
The gleam in Sherri’s eyes is somehow more disquieting than her words. “For us.”
So it isn’t enough that I’m the lucky number seven in my family who gets saddled with crazy powers, not enough that I’m bonded with a guy who wants nothing to do with me or that my two best friends think I’ve morphed into some kind of disloyal skank. Might as well throw in the fact that a bunch of demigods want me dead.
Sasha explains that the Sons of Killian have mastered their powers over the centuries, using them to increase their prowess as crusaders against magic. They’ve hunted and killed Danu’s descendants, nearly succeeding in eradicating magic from the earth. Except, of course, their own.
I half-listen while Sasha talks about the rumors that the Sons of Killian have increased their powers through selective breeding, deliberately seeking out women who have some ancestral link to the gods and goddesses. Over the centuries, the Sons have been extremely successful. And as far as Sasha can tell, the three of us represent the last of Danu’s direct descendants. The last of the Seventh Daughters.
It all seems a little coincidental. “Don’t you think it’s strange that we’re all here?” I ask. “The three of us? And the Sons?”
Sasha practically rolls her eyes. “It’s inevitable. We’re drawn to each other. To magic.”
Even as I listen, my mind keeps wandering back to Blake bathed in silver light. He didn’t attack me—not on the beach, and not when we were alone together in the Heights. I’m pretty sure that tonight, he saved my life.
The lecture over, Sasha walks over to the mini-fridge, her hips swaying. “We can’t launch an attack until we know which ones are the Sons. And Brianna isn’t seventeen yet.”
“She’s got powers,” Sherri replies, as if I’m not sitting right next to her. “I say we nuke ’em!”
“Nuke?” Sherri has my full attention now.
“Spontaneous combustion.” Sherri says the words slowly, drawing out the syllables as she twists a piece of gum around her finger. She snaps the gum back into her mouth, flicking her hand toward the plant in the corner so casually it might be an afterthought. The plant bursts into blue flames, dark smoke rising against the wall.
“Sherri!” Sasha waves a hand at the plant with more haste. The fire is doused with a surge of water that materializes out of thin air. All that remains is a charred pile of ashes and the thick smell of damp briquettes. “You’ll set off the fire alarm.”
“You get the point,” Sherri says to me.
I do get the point. And more—the blue fire sends off alarms in my head. “The wildfire,” I say. “That was you.”
Sherri shrugs. “It wasn’t like I planned it. I was having a bad hair day.”
I understand all too well how it could happen. What I can’t understand is Sherri’s nonchalance. “Those were people’s homes.”
Sherri laughs. “They’re just humans.”
“How can you say that?”
Sherri glares at me. “The humans are meant to serve the gods, and they need to be put in their place. When the gods return, the humans will pay with more than a few possessions.”
“When the gods return?”
Sherri rolls her eyes. “Have you been paying attention at all? Maybe I should put it in terms you understand. Earth minus the Sons of Killian equals the return of the gods. It will be amazing. We’ll rule alongside them. And you can help us.”
At the mention of me, Sasha brushes a piece of lint from her jacket. “She’s not ready. We need to keep her hidden until she turns seventeen. You can continue your efforts to infiltrate the Sons.”
Sherri shakes her head. “Like that’s going to be easy now that they know about her?” The way she says “her” is not exactly flattering. “They’ll be looking for us now.”
Like the blue wildfire wasn’t a giant clue? Still, there’s no denying that I’ve compromised the Seventh Daughters. It might have helped if I’d known the danger ahead of time.
Sasha sighs. “They must be surprised to find even one of us. They won’t suspect there are others. There’s no reason to change our plans.”
“What are you planning?”
Sherri’s face twists into an expression that reminds me of her former self, hard lines and distorted features. “To hold hands and sing ‘Kumbaya.’ What do you think? We’re going to stop them from killing us and finally end this thing.”
“How?” For some reason I need to hear her say it out loud.
“The blazing inferno wasn’t enough for you? I forgot how slow you can be sometimes.”
The last vestiges of shame and guilt I’ve carried since dumping Sherri freshman year float away on a cloud of indignation. “You can’t kill him.”
“Him?” Sherri narrows her eyes.
My pulse quickens in my throat. I’ve said too much. “The Son that attacked me and Austin.” At least Sherri doesn’t know there were two.
She blows a strand of her newly straightened hair off her face. “I’m not going to sit around and wait for the Sons to kill me. You of all people should understand why we have to do this. You should be dead right now. Why aren’t you?”
I can’t let them find out about Blake. I stare down at my can of soda. “He never got close enough.” I slow down my words before I blurt something that will reveal too much. “Austin got in the way. Then I sent the Son flying into the fountain and he passed out.”
Sherri watches me with the intensity of a sniper, keeping me squarely within her scope. I want to go back to being invisible. “But he got away.”
How does she know that? “Right.” I stumble on the word. “I was helping Austin and he disappeared.” I’m not sure why I don’t out Jonah as a Son. It would serve him right to have Sherri after him.
Sasha tries to mask the look of skepticism on her face and fails. I wait for her to call me out. She saunters back over to the table with a can of Coke, full sugar. “I’ll keep her at my house until her birthday,” she tells Sherri. “It’s safe there.”
Sherri nods. “Fine. It’ll be easier without her around.”
“I can’t just disappear for a week.”
Sherri grabs my arm when I try to get up. “Don’t be stupid. They know who you are now. And they won’t be happy. Not only did you get away, but there were humans hurt. It’s way too public.”
“So they can’t risk another attack for a while.” I hope I’m right. Besides, some of us have priorities that do not include fighting over something that happened a thousand years ago. I have no intention of getting involved in this battle.
Sherri and Sasha exchange another look. Sherri finally lets go of my arm. “It’s your funeral. Just don’t mess this up any more than you already have.” The threat hangs in the air. Way to make new friends.
“We’ll be in touch.” Sasha flashes a gorgeous smile that’s meant to charm me
and comes nowhere close. I rush out of the conference room before they can change their minds about letting me go home.
I’m halfway down the corridor of the dark office building before I realize I don’t have my car. Waiting for Sherri is not an option. I need to get as far away from her as I can. Unless I want to enlist in her blood war.
I keep walking, not stopping until I reach a gas station several blocks away. There’s only one person who will understand any of this. I wait until I’m inside the mini-mart before I dial the number.
Blake answers on the first ring. “Are you okay?”
I wish people would stop asking that. I don’t even know the answer anymore. “I need a ride.”
“I don’t know if I can get away.”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
“I’ll try,” he hedges, but I know he means yes. I don’t even stop to question how I know.
TWENTY-TWO
I feel Blake before his SUV pulls into the parking lot. The anger that’s simmered underneath the surface is gone, replaced by something stronger. Resignation?
He stares straight ahead as I climb into the car, but there’s a wave of relief that mixes with my own. It matters to him that I’m safe. We don’t say anything for the first few minutes of the drive. Somewhere along the I-15, the silence becomes unbearable.
I look at him. “Are we going to talk about this? ’Cause I’m a little freaked.”
Blake doesn’t answer. He sets his hand on the top of mine and squeezes. I close my eyes and relax into the artificial warmth. It’s weird how danger feels so much like safety. His thumb rubs my wrist, brushing the silver chain.
When we get to R.D., he doesn’t drive toward my house. “Where are we going?” I ask. I finally feel the wariness I should have felt when I first got in the car.
“The Heights.”
“I think I just want to go home.”
“Not yet.” Blake finally turns toward me and I have to suck in a breath. I might never get used to the fact that Blake Williams is Looking. At. Me.
“The Sons don’t ask questions, Brianna. If there’s a threat, it’ll be extinguished. End of story. The only thing that’s kept them from hunting you down so far is fear of exposure. It won’t last long. You need to be prepared.”
“Them? More than Jonah?”
“Jonah’s a punk. He’s the least of your worries at the moment. Most of us don’t even care about the old wars, but Rush and his group are another story. Jonah’s got them fired up. You need to be prepared to fight.”
“Fight?” I have a different plan in mind. It consists of going home and burying my head under my pillow until this all blows over. Not exactly proactive or realistic, but better.
“It’s fight or die.” Blake pauses. “So what were you doing in Mira Mesa anyway?”
I search for an answer. “I left the party with a girl from school and she brought me there.” Not a lie. Not the truth either.
“To a gas station?” Blake isn’t buying it. Of course he’s not. He can feel my discomfort.
I can’t tell him the truth. I may not want to be part of Sherri’s blood war, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to throw her to the wolves, either. “We aren’t exactly friends. But it’s not like I could stay at Joe’s.”
Blake pulls into the vacant lot where his house once stood, driving up the charred driveway to the concrete pad. He lets go of my hand but doesn’t move to get out of the car. “Why didn’t you leave with Christy?”
“She’s kind of mad at the moment. She thinks Jonah and I … ” I let my voice trail off. I can’t finish the sentence. I rub my neck where Jonah’s hands squeezed it. I have to remind myself that I can still breathe.
“I shouldn’t have left you there.” Blake’s eyes are soft, and I’m struck by the difference in him. In the quiet moments when he’s not smiling or flirting, he’s almost another person. This is a boy that a girl could fall in love with, if he ever gave her half the chance.
“It’s not your fault.”
“He could’ve killed you.”
“You stopped him.” I can’t resist reaching across the car to let my fingers trail along his shoulder.
He shakes his head. “You don’t understand. I almost didn’t come.”
My hand slides down between his shoulder blades. “You did.”
The air is still, crackling. He leans toward me, his breath on my neck. “What is this, Brianna?”
I don’t dare move, for fear he’ll pull away.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.” He kisses me. Soft. Warm. Not nearly enough. He stops, leaning back against his seat. He runs his hand through his hair with such force that he ends up looking slightly crazed, his blond layers sticking up and out at odd angles.
Maybe Sherri was right. Maybe I’m a little slow on the uptake. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way. What does that mean?
“What wasn’t supposed to happen?” I ask. He just sighs and looks out the window, ignoring my question.
What? Blake wasn’t supposed to like me? Of course not—he was supposed to kill me. I grab his arm, forcing him to look at me again. “Should I be dead right now?”
His eyes are sad, resigned to the truth even if he won’t come right out and say it. “It’s complicated.”
“But I should be dead, right?”
He doesn’t say a word, which is as much of an admission as a full confession. He’s every bit as thick as Sherri and her little death squad.
“I am not Danu,” I state. “I don’t care if she burned down a farm or caused a drought or stole someone’s husband. She’s been dead for a thousand years or more. And I have no intention of dying over something my great-grandmother to the hundredth power did or did not do.”
“I know you’re not her.” Blake’s eyes are a swirling mix of emotions that barely hint at the spin cycle of anger and grief that rises inside me. “You’ve done what she could never do, haven’t you? You’ve bound me to you in a way I can’t escape. Made me feel things that go against everything my family stands for.”
“Your family? Is that what this is about? What about you? What does Blake Williams stand for?”
He stares outside of the car. The charred trees outside look almost alive as the shadows of their bare branches weave and twist around each other. “Can this wait? I’m trying to help you here.”
“I’m still getting over the fact that you regret saving my life.”
He spins to face me. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’ve let my family down in every possible way. I’ve attacked one of our own, and now I’m about to deceive the entire Circle.” Blake’s lips curve up gently in a smile that’s at once sad and imperfect. “But I don’t regret saving you. That’s the problem.”
My mouth is dry. “Oh.”
He flashes a grin, armor securely back in place. He even manages to quell the spinning in my stomach. “Besides, letting you die would be a bit like losing a piece of myself, wouldn’t it? No way in hell I’d let that happen.”
I want to grab him and wipe that stupid smile off his face. “Can you be real for more than thirty seconds at a time?”
He laughs. “Trust me, you don’t want real. Real is a pretty twisted place. You’ve seen the blackness that fills my soul, remember?”
I turn away. It should be obvious that the black soul was mine. Blake practically glows with silver light even when we’re not in the midst of some bizarre soul bond. And I didn’t need to see my soul to know the darkness inside. I’ve kept it at bay for the last three years. Sasha may think that Danu just wanted to live in peace, but from what I’ve seen, Blake is right. Having power is dangerous when your heart wants vengeance.
“Hey,” Blake says, his hand rubbing my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Was it that b
ad?”
I shake my head. “What if it’s not you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The black soul. What if it’s me? What if I’m some kind of evil, vindictive, psychotic killer?” There. I’ve said it out loud. What I’ve feared since I was thirteen. Since I almost killed two kids in a fire. For what—disappointing me?
Blake laughs. Not the reaction I expected. “I hate to break it to you. You’re all of those things.”
“This is where you’re supposed to tell me I’m imagining things. That it’s all going to be okay.” That I can choose who I want to be. That I can change my nature.
“There’s a reason my kind has hunted your kind for a thousand years.”
It’s my turn to look away. “It all seems so pointless.”
He takes my hand in his, letting his fingers weave in between my own. “It’s just the way it is. Kill or be killed. For all I know, at some point you’ll come after me, and one of us will have to kill the other.”
“I won’t kill you,” I say, too quickly and too loud. It doesn’t sound like the truth even to me.
“You don’t know that. For now, you need to understand what you’re up against. It’ll make it easier to keep you—and that little piece of me inside you—alive. There are seven of us who are Seventh Sons. Jonah you know, and you’ve met Rush. Micah and Jeremy are my cousins. They’re good guys.”
I raise my brow, not masking my skepticism.
“It’s the old guard you have to watch for,” Blake continues. “Rush, Levi, and Dr. McKay.”
“The geneticist?”
Blake nods. “He’s actually not as rabid as the other two. They’re kind of extreme in their beliefs. I always thought they were a little nuts, believing in the myth of the bandia. But now … ” He lets his voice trail off.
“Now what?”
Blake grins. “Now I know better.”
I want to bottle that smile and keep it with me.
