by Melissa Marr
Far better to live a mortal lifespan and die naturally than to transform into a monster.
Chloe paused and stamped her foot. “Evvie! Come now. Your grandmother isn’t feeling patient tonight.”
“Is she ever?”
Chloe scowled. “She’s far more patient with you than I would be.”
“Yes, Mother Chloe. I do realize that.” Eavan followed her mother into the sitting room where the rest of the family would be waiting. Of course, calling it a sitting room was a bit of a kindness. It was something between a bawdy house and the results of a Victorian decorator on acid. Aunt NeNe had her foot propped on an honest-to-goddess stuffed elephant foot that was fashioned into an ottoman. Gold tassels dangled from the cushion atop the atrocity. All around the room, floral patterns clashed with one another; gilt-framed art cluttered walls and shelves. Dressing tables that had no place in a front room were scattered about, like the desks in an untidy classroom. On each table, Eavan could see a jumble of silver hand mirrors, ivory combs, feathered hair barrettes, and crystal bottles of perfume with elaborate atomizers.
And her family sat—in dishabille—on overly plush divans. In the center, like a queen holding court, was Nyx, Eavan’s grandmother and matriarch, her judge and torturer. Nyx held herself regally, watching with serpent-cold eyes. “Eavan.”
It wasn’t a warm welcome, but no one there thought Eavan deserved Nyx’s warmth.
Even me.
Ever since Eavan had told Nyx she wasn’t moving home after college, things had been more strained. Glaistigs didn’t live away from the clan. It simply wasn’t done. Of course, no other glaistig clan would be foolish enough to challenge Nyx’s decision to violate tradition by allowing Eavan a touch of freedom. The same cruelty that had left scars on Eavan’s back allowed Nyx to defy tradition now: crossing Nyx was painful more often than not.
Beautiful monsters. My family.
The three of them looked like sisters, like her sisters. They appeared to be only a couple of years older than Eavan—wrinkle-free, lustrous hair, bodies as sculpted as professional dancers. In high school, her “guardians” had incited equal parts envy and curiosity when they attended school events. In college, people assumed they were her sorority sisters or asked if she was part of a modeling agency. Luckily, they hadn’t visited her en masse at the office yet. Their unchanging nature would eventually elicit too many questions. As will my own. Eavan wasn’t sure when it’d started bothering her, but it irritated her more and more—their immutable nature, her own now-unchanging body.
For now. Choosing mortality meant Eavan would eventually age and die. She’d age more slowly than mortals, but it would still happen. Glaistigs didn’t. They brought death, but didn’t suffer from it.
“What are you wearing? It’s so”—NeNe fluttered her hands around as she took in Eavan’s skirt, which reached just below the knee—“opaque.”
“It’s wool.” Eavan leaned down and kissed her aunt’s cheek. They might be monsters, but they were still her family. “Just like I’ve worn to every other meeting.”
“I must’ve repressed it.” NeNe sniffed. Like the rest of the women, with her gauzy camisole and thick tumble of hair, NeNe looked as if she were awaiting clientele, not expecting a visit from the girl they’d collectively raised as their daughter.
“You know, what this place needs is a stripper pole.” The words were out before Eavan could stop herself, but no one flinched. Eavan could say whatever came to mind here. Home wasn’t where Eavan wanted to be, but she couldn’t deny how right it still felt to be there. Glaistigs were clan creatures, and although Eavan was clinging fiercely to her humanity, she was still part of the clan. “A pole would fit right in,” she added. “Just like at your clubs.”
Grandmother Nyx nodded. “I was just saying that, wasn’t I?”
Chloe handed Eavan a brush before answering, “She’s joking, Mama.”
Nyx shrugged, lifting one delicate shoulder in a graceful move that belied her centuries. “It matters little. She’s right for a change.”
Eavan smothered a laugh; Nyx knew that Eavan had been only partially joking. It would fit in, and they’d enjoy having it here. Sometimes when all the rest was set aside, Eavan suspected that Nyx was the only one who truly understood her. The older glaistig didn’t approve of Eavan’s urge to live as a mortal, but she understood the impulse to forge new rules. Following a path simply because it had always been done that way wouldn’t make sense to Nyx. Of course, neither would chastity.
Eavan sat on the back of the sofa, perched behind her grandmother, and began unplaiting the woman’s thick rope of hair. The tendrils were like living things in Eavan’s hands, as if night had taken solid form. “You look lovely, Grandmama.”
“Of course.” Nyx stretched; muscles that shouldn’t exist rippled under her wrinkleless skin. The strength in those muscles would make it a simple thing to crush Eavan’s throat—and no one would stop her. Eavan learned that lesson years ago when she stood up to Nyx the first time.
And a dozen times since.
Nyx wasn’t callous, no more so than anyone else in the house, but she was in charge. Forgetting that was unwise.
“Bring him in,” Nyx said.
The tension in Eavan’s body rose. She paused a heartbeat longer. “Him? Grandmama, what have you—”
“You’ve stopped brushing, Eavan. I don’t like that.”
Dutifully, Eavan resumed the measured strokes, gripping the olivewood handle, pulling the tufts of boar bristles through the thick tresses, keeping her eyes on her task—and not looking at the man who’d entered the room.
Like a lamb to slaughter.
“I’ve checked all the windows,” he said by way of greeting.
“Lovely.” Nyx rolled her shoulders. “Keeping brushing, Eavan.”
“Yes, Nyx.” Eavan stayed in her increasingly uncomfortable position on the back of the sofa where Nyx was seated. She didn’t look up at him. If Nyx had brought him here, had insisted Eavan meet him, he was dangerous. His voice alone, a deep growling bass, was proof of that.
Temptation. Eavan knew her family wasn’t above underhanded tricks; treachery was their first instinct. Perhaps it’s not that. She knew better though. Nyx didn’t rule one of the strongest clans of glaistigs by accepting defeat. Ever.
“The windows aren’t secure at all,” the man added. “A screwdriver and—”
“Right, so we’ll replace those. NeNe?” Nyx made an imperious motion.
“Here.” NeNe held out a blank check. “Fix whatever needs fixing.”
“Our home’s security is very important, Mr. Owens,” Chloe said.
“It’s Cillian, ma’am,” he corrected.
Eavan paused at the change in timber of his voice; he also sounded almost as assertive as Nyx. When Eavan looked up, her fears were confirmed: he was perfect, a visual feast, lean, confident, and seemingly unintimidated by the nest of vipers he was in. His instincts should be telling him to flee or to bow before Nyx. He did neither. He stood there as if oblivious to her charm, to all of their allure.
Eavan couldn’t help but stare, just as Nyx undoubtedly expected. He was fit without being bulky, muscular and toned. If not for his almost pouty lips, his face would be too stern. As it was, he looked just this side of fierce—not easily daunted or foolishly aggressive. It made her want to see what it took to provoke him.
I am above this. I am stronger than instinct.
The older glaistig looked back and caught Eavan’s gaze. A guilty blush burned on Eavan’s face.
Nyx’s posture hadn’t changed, but she had her confirmation: Eavan was intrigued.
Too much so.
The man made a note as he said, “I’ll have one of my associates drop by to go over the literature on the different options for replacing the windows.”
“Whatever. Really, my cousin’s safety is really the difficult thing, Mr. Owens. As I said, that’s why I needed you here today.” Nyx caught Eavan’s hand and tugged s
o that their clasped hands were resting just over her collarbone. “Eavan doesn’t seem to understand how dangerous refusing to stay with the rest of the family is. A young girl in the difficult world all alone…”
“Is she in some sort of danger, ma’am?”
“Inevitably. She’s foolish, you know.” Nyx squeezed Eavan’s hand until tears threatened. “I worry so over her. Beautiful. Wealthy…and with the things I see in the news…Did you know there were shootings just up the street from her flat?”
Eavan blinked the tears away. Her voice was clear, though, as she said, “I’m not moving home. No matter what…happens.”
“I’ll accept that,” Nyx said mildly. “In fact, I’ve hired Mr. Owens’s firm for that very reason. I’ve taken a lease on the vacant flat across from yours.”
“I don’t think—”
“Or you can move home.” Nyx looked back at Eavan. “You have choices. Prove to me that you can do as you’re told or return to the fold where I can look after you. I’ll not have you die to prove a point.”
“Nyx,” Eavan pleaded, “please?”
Nyx turned away.
“I want to apologize for making you stay in Eavan’s dismal building, Mr. Owens. How anyone could want a tiny little nest in some ugly modern thing…It’s appalling.” Nyx’s reply couldn’t have held more vitriol. She sighed melodramatically before adding, “NeNe and Chloe will go over the other details with you. Eavan and I have things to discuss in private before you two leave.”
And with that, Nyx dismissed him, and NeNe and Chloe were at his sides almost instantly to assure that he was removed from the room. Nyx spoke, and the world obeyed.
Except me.
“Tell me about your associates, Mr. Owens,” Chloe murmured as she trailed fingertips over his stomach.
“Chloe.” Nyx curled her mouth into snarl. “Not acceptable.”
“Yes, Nyx.” Chastened, Chloe ducked her head and hurried the man out of the room.
Eavan repressed a shiver as everyone left her behind.
Not that witnesses would matter.
Eavan stood. Wordless, she walked over to place the brush on one of the vanities.
Nyx pulled the dark spill of hair over her shoulder, where it coiled into a rope that would’ve made Rapunzel jealous. She turned her gaze to Eavan. “Do you think it’s easy for me to think of you vulnerable to the dangers of the world?”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“I’d rather you didn’t die.”
“I’d rather no one died,” Eavan said.
“Sometimes death is necessary.” Nyx made a fluttering gesture with her hand as if to shoo away an insect. “Yours is not one I’d like.”
Eavan bowed her head. She’d lost. She’d lost months ago, but simply hadn’t known it yet. Nyx had concocted some story, hired a bodyguard, and effectively entrapped Eavan. She’d been sentenced to spending her time around a tempting mortal.
How am I to do anything about Daniel now? Eavan wasn’t about to admit that she’d been hunting the drug dealer. Nyx was always surly over dealers. She liked her strip clubs well enough, but refused to allow any drugs in her clubs. Unlike Daniel.
“He’s pretty.”
Eavan turned to stare at her grandmother. “What?”
“The man. He’s pretty. The type you try not to look at.” Nyx stretched her legs out on the divan. “I notice, child. I’ve been noticing for years.”
Eavan didn’t dare turn her back on Nyx, so she settled for a shrug.
Nyx laughed, sounding joyous as she often did after long days of partying.
“I’m not like you, Grandmama. I won’t be.” Eavan’s mouth was dry. It’d been months since Nyx struck her, but the possibility was always there. “Putting him in my path doesn’t change that. You’re wasting money hiring him to ‘protect’ me.”
“I haven’t forgotten how difficult that first time is, sweetie.” Nyx held out a hand.
Eavan went to her. She took her grandmother’s hand as she sat at the woman’s feet. Centuries of experience hid under Nyx’s flawless skin.
“I’m not going to do it,” Eavan whispered.
“You will.” With her free hand, Nyx pulled the pin from Eavan’s bun. It’d been only a week since it’d been cut, but it was already past her shoulders. Nyx ran her fingers through it, loosening the strands so they drifted freely. “You’ll hunt. You’ll fuck. You’ll kill.”
“I’m not like you.”
Nyx squeezed her hand—gently this time. “You’re a glaistig, love. You’re exactly like me.”
“I’m not a murderer.”
“It’s the natural order of the world.” Nyx smiled indulgently. “The higher beasts eat the lower. Do they get upset over eating other animals? The predators thin the herd, taking away the diseased or aberrant or weak. It’s natural.”
“It’s not.”
“Humans do it. Kill animals. Raise them like pets and butcher them…our way is far more humane. At least we don’t wear their hides for garments. We’re far more civilized.”
Eavan looked at Nyx’s hand-sewn leather boots. They were butter soft, custom made of the eel leather Nyx preferred these days. “And if they were able to be crafted into clothing you liked?”
“No.” Nyx ran her fingertips over a boot. “Mortal skin isn’t as silky…Plus, it’s just gauche.”
“Gauche?” Eavan asked. “And a stripper pole in the parlor?”
“Practical,” Nyx said. “If you are so sure you can be a mortal, here’s your test. Prove to me that you don’t have the same lusts we all do. If not, he seems a good sort to keep around for at least one of your appetites. We picked him especially for you.”
Eavan sighed. “Sometimes I really hate you.”
“I know, dear.” Nyx stood and pulled Eavan into a hug. “It’s one of the reasons I respect you. Let’s go find your new temptation.”
As if I need another one. Resisting hunting Daniel was using up all her self-control. Resisting another entanglement was the last thing she needed.
Maybe he’s a bore…a girl can dream, right?
5
Cillian waited outside in the overgrown yard behind the house. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was left to grow wild, but like everything, the truth was in the details. There were plants in this yard that he hadn’t seen anywhere else in the Triangle area, ones that wouldn’t flourish, even in the Raleigh humidity, without attention. The illusion was one of disorder, but the truth was that this was cultivated fecundity. His current job depended on his noticing minutiae, on seeing past the lies people wove, and on creating his own illusions. Those were the skills that would help him pretend to know nothing about Eavan, despite the hours they’d be forced together.
“Mr. Owens?” Nyx stood on the back porch.
“Ma’am?” He turned to face her.
Nyx paused as Eavan kissed her cheeks; then she turned her attention on Cillian. “You’ll keep her safe.”
“I’ll do my best to not let anyone harm her,” he said. It was the best he could offer, especially as he had no idea who or what Eavan was. Was Brennan human? That information was the sort of thing that the C.D.A. was never privy to, but it did make a difference. The first time Cillian had had his ribs broken, he learned exactly how much it could matter.
Eavan took a step backward. “I’m not that fragile.”
“You’re more fragile than you should be, Evvie.” For a strange moment, Nyx was the one who looked truly vulnerable. Her thus far implacable calm vanished. She licked her lips anxiously. “You’ll let him teach you what you need. You’ll be careful. He’s good at what he does…and the things you…I picked him for reasons you—”
“Nyx.” Eavan backed down the porch stairs and looked up at Nyx. “I’m not actually in any danger. You and I both know that. Hiring him”—Eavan glanced at Cillian—“is a control tactic. It won’t change anything, but you don’t have to pretend it’s a legitimate bodyguard situation.”
Eavan gripped the banister in front of her to keep from stumbling. Blood slid down her chin from a cut lip.
Cillian started forward.
“Stay out of it.” Nyx didn’t even look his way. Her attention and her next words were for Eavan. “You’ll let Mr. Owens guard you as carefully as if there were hellhounds pursuing you, Eavan, or you’ll move into this house. I make the decisions in this family, and this one is not negotiable.”
Eavan stood motionless, staring at her cousin as the blood dripped from her mouth. They both had all of the affect of statues.
“Don’t challenge me, Eavan. The consequences would be very unpleasant.” Nyx’s hair seemed to move of its own accord; the dark tendrils twitched like restless serpents around her shoulders.
Cillian stood there awkwardly. He wasn’t sure either of them should be trusted, but instinct told him that there was a threat to Eavan whether she was inside the house or on her own. It shouldn’t matter as much as it did, but he had a longtime habit of cheering the underdog.
“Am I understood, Eavan?” Nyx asked.
Finally, Eavan bowed her head. “You are, but I’ll prove that I don’t…need him.”
“I almost wish you were right, Evvie,” Nyx murmured. Then, before anyone could say another word, she spun on her heel and stepped back inside the house. She didn’t close the door. Instead, she left it open so they could watch her walk away swinging her hips like an invitation. Her footsteps echoed as she went into the room, a heartbeat rhythm beat out by her sharp heels.
And Cillian couldn’t look away. Seeing Nyx go made him feel like he was losing something—even though she made his skin crawl.
“Are you all right?” Eavan’s voice drew his attention from the open door.
“Are you?”
“I’ll be better once I’m out of here.” She dropped her shoes to the ground and slipped her feet into them. Then she pulled out a tissue and wiped the blood from her face.
