by Isabel Wroth
If he liked it, that is.
Kerrigan suddenly found herself nervous he wouldn’t, wondering what was on his mind as he studied the interior.
It was cool enough to warrant at least a thick sweater inside, the walls unfinished and open to the studs all the way from the front door through the open space that was the living room and kitchen.
“I picked the open floor plan because I feel like I’ve spent the last twenty-three years in a dorm.” Maksim gave her a penetrating stare that made her feel the need to continue babbling.
“The kitchen will stretch out along either side at the back of the house, breakfast nook over there in the bump-out that looks out on little reflection pool. There’ll be a big fireplace here between these windows, couches, and chairs. Upstairs is the master.”
He followed behind her on her way up the unfinished stairs, his fingers tangled with hers.
“I loved the way Uriah situated the upstairs of his home, so I asked for something similar. The master will be on the left, one guest room, and an office to the right, with a small library up here on the landing.”
Maksim was smiling as she described the home she’d built for herself, looking around with curiosity while she pointed out where everything ought to go, following her back downstairs.
“Under the staircase, here, I asked Uriah to make me a secret door that goes down to the basement.”
There was a temporary handle drilled into the sub-flooring, but when it was finished, the hatch would pop up with the push of a secret button. “After the flooring gets put down, you won’t even know this door is here.”
“Clever.” Maksim beat her to pulling the handle, and immediately the soft, warbling sound of Astrid’s meditation music greeted them.
Eager to see what had been done to the space, Kerrigan skipped down the stairs and was wowed by what greeted her.
The basement walls were painted white, all except for the accent wall directly behind the luxuriously large king-size bed. Soft, gentle light came from the hooded sconces on either side of the bed, making the fluffy white comforter and mounds of comfortable looking pillows all that more inviting.
With the backdrop of the black wall covered in a hazy waterfall of gray, silver, and white, it looked like the girls had somehow managed to paint smoke.
The concrete floor had been covered with recycled hardwood, stained black, and she knew from discussions with Uriah that there would be radiant heat coils beneath to warm the space.
There were feathery green ferns and climbing vines situated in clusters to bring vibrant color into the otherwise monochromatic space. Ivy’s doing, naturally.
There was a makeshift kitchenette set up on a dresser—where her snacks and cocoa waited—and a mini-fridge tucked beneath the staircase.
She peeked into the bathroom to find it completely finished, with white subway tiles and black fixtures.
“Your family did an exceptional job preparing the space for us.”
His approval made her hope he would want to stay here. “They sure did. I know it’s not a very big house, but I, um, I wasn’t planning on living with anyone ever again.”
Without answering, Maksim went to the kitchenette and put together a big mug of hot chocolate for her.
“Will you come sit outside with me?”
“Of course. Let’s go out back.” She led the way, thrilled to see the concrete fire pit had been finished and the free-floating wooden deck a few steps out into the grass had also been finished.
She had plans for movie nights during the summer, projected out there on a big white sheet hung between the trees.
Kerrigan sat on the steps and took the cocoa from Maksim, watching him prowl out around the yard with a steadily growing sense of concern.
She sipped her cocoa to keep from chattering at him, just because he seemed to be enjoying the quiet.
Kerrigan watched while he toed off his sneakers and peeled his socks off, wiggling his toes in the frost-covered grass with a quirk of a smile.
He flexed his hands and tipped his face up to the moon, searching the starry skies.
“Eventually, I will need to contact my people to let them know I haven’t died. We’ll have to go into Manhattan for a time, so I can settle my affairs and decide what to do next, but I would very much like to stay here and recover fully from my internment.”
Kerrigan agreed immediately, honestly not caring where they went, so long as they were together.
“Whatever you need.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Maksim was quite literally dead to the world.
It was four in the afternoon, a good five hours until sunset, and Kerrigan could have happily laid there for the rest of those five hours staring at him.
It was the strangest feeling in the world to wake up with him beside her in bed. The very best feeling, but still, strange.
The need to pee finally overwhelmed her need to stare at her sleeping vampire. He’d told her once that nothing short of a bomb going off would wake him once he succumbed to sleep, but she still eased out of bed one tiny scoot at a time, tucking the blankets back around him to keep the warmth close.
She didn’t remember falling asleep last night, but clearly Maksim brought her down to their little nest and tucked her in.
It was delightful to feel the warmth on her bare feet as she tip-toed to the bathroom. Kerrigan cleaned up and pulled on a fresh pair of leggings and her favorite wine-colored sweater.
She would have climbed back in bed to sit beside Maksim until he woke up, but her cell-phone vibrated with a few rapid-fire texts.
One was from someone in Etienne’s employ, reminding her that she hadn’t sent in her weekly progress report.
The next was from Rowena letting her know she’d brought Kerrigan’s Jeep up to the house along with some clothes for Maksim.
The last one was from Juliet.
I’m sorry I was a dick last night. I figure your dude is gonna be hungry later, so I brought food for you rich in iron. It’s in the kitchen in a cooler.
Kerrigan hurried upstairs in hopes of catching Juliet, tossing Maksim one last look before shutting the trapdoor behind her. She heard a door click and saw a flash of canary yellow.
“Hey, Jules! Wait up.”
Juliet’s shoulders hunched in response to her call. She clearly didn’t want to stop and talk, but Juliet wasn’t a coward. She turned on her clunky heeled boots, her hands shoved deep in her pockets, and Kerrigan saw none of her sister’s usual flamboyance.
Juliet looked exhausted, her eyes were red from crying, and for the first time Kerrigan could ever recall, Juliet’s clothes matched.
Well, as much as jeans and a baby blue T-shirt under a jean jacket matched. It was all blue, all in the same color family. It made Juliet’s bright yellow hair practically glow in the afternoon sunlight.
“I’ll apologize to your guy later; I really am sorry.”
Kerrigan didn’t give her the chance to run off again, reaching out to hug her best friend, her sister.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry I never told you about Maksim, and not because of whatever pain it’s causing you. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you for help after I thought I killed him. I was a shitty friend to think I could deal with it all on my own, that you and the others couldn’t possibly understand. Whatever happened, I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
Juliet hugged her back, fisting her hands in the back of Kerrigan’s sweater.
“I don’t want to make problems with you two.”
“Jules, I’m his Bride. It’s a forever kind of deal, so if we have problems, we have to work them out. Come talk to me.”
Juliet nodded, and they wound up sitting side by side on the back porch, steaming cups of apple cider in hand. It took a long time for Juliet to get to talking, sadness emanating off her like a perfume.
“I told you before I had a brother, right?”
“You did. He died when you were twelve?”
“Sure did,�
� Juliet confirmed, loudly sipping at her cider. “He was the favorite in the Van Horn household, something my mother never failed to point out. As a kid, I hated his guts because everything I did—no matter how awesome—always got the brush off when compared to Quentin’s magnificence.
“I remember the day we got news of his death vividly, and not because he was dead. I’d broken my mother’s favorite fairy made crystal glasses because I’d resonated too high trying to work this spell I found that was supposed to make me levitate.
“She was pissed, and as usual, it came off as brutal disdain and the reminder that I’d never be as powerful or as special as my brother. After I rudely told her where to shove those glasses, she sent me to my room to ‘control my outbursts.’ It was late when I heard the doorbell ring, and about five minutes later, the most ungodly screams came from downstairs.”
Kerrigan’s stomach churned, unable to stop the images of Maksim roaming through Juliet’s childhood home, slaughtering her family…
“I ran toward them, because of course that’s what normal kids do,” Juliet drawled sarcastically, shaking her hair back as she swiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks.
“Mother was practically ripping her hair out and rolling in the fireplace ashes. My father… he just stood there staring at her going insane and didn’t seem to comprehend what was going on. Or care that there were four vampires in the house watching my mom with this aloof indifference, like they saw women lose their minds every day or something.”
Kerrigan experienced an insane amount of guilt for having thought Maksim might have been responsible for committing brutal murder and an equal amount of relief to know he hadn’t.
“I kept asking my dad what was happening, and he turned to look at me, but he didn’t seem to see me. I was invisible, like normal. Your man was the only one who seemed to have an ounce of compassion for the kid in the room who had no idea what the hell was going on. He was wearing a gray suit and a really beautiful green tie. I remember he smelled really good.”
Juliet slid a sidelong glance her way, as though Kerrigan would be mad that Juliet said Maksim smelled good. How could she be mad? It was true.
“It’s the soap he used. It’s made with clove, cognac, and amber. Every time I smelled someone smoking clove cigarettes, I thought about him.”
“Yes! Cloves! Me too,” Juliet agreed with an expressive toss of her hand. “Anyway, he took my hand and led me into another room, got down on one knee, and told me my brother was gone. He told me it was an accident and he had the very best people investigating, but no one ever came back.
“Quentin worked for Maksim’s security company, Armistice. He has some sense of humor picking that name, because it’s a security company that provided seriously violent services upon occasion.
“My brother was supposed to be putting security spells on bank vaults and art museums and diamond exchanges to prevent other witches or magicians from breaking in and stealing shit. All mother talked about was how fantastic it was that Quentin was able to graduate so young and land himself such a prestigious job at age twenty-three.”
Juliet gave a sharp, humorless laugh and shook her head in disbelief.
“He was literally the magical equivalent of an office nerd, and he still managed to die. I was in that house with my perpetually drunk mother, who wouldn’t stop telling me how I’d never live up to how fabulously wonderful my brother was, and my father who couldn’t be bothered to get out of his office chair long enough to do anything but take a piss. Thank the Goddess for the cleaning staff and the cook, or we’d have all starved.”
Juliet went quiet for a time, staring sightlessly out at the woods behind Kerrigan’s house with a disdainful twist of her lips that couldn’t be considered a smile.
“At thirteen years old, my most fantastic achievement was to bust into the family vault to grab enough cash to pay my tuition and forge both their signatures on the paperwork that sent me to Hagarra. It took my parents two years to notice I was gone, and by the time they did, I was doing so well they figured it was fine to leave me where I was.
“They wouldn’t talk about Quentin, and even though I honestly didn’t know him, he was my brother, I wanted to know what happened to him. I called Armistice over a dozen times to ask where they were at with the investigation, but I only ever got as far as the HR department and was told by some cast iron bitch that no one by the name of Quentin Van Horn worked for the company.
“I couldn’t find a record of Quentin’s employment anywhere, but I knew the head of Armistice wouldn’t have personally come by to tell my parents about his death unless Quentin was someone important to them.
“I tried for years until I hit a dead-end and had nothing else to look for. Then you show up last night with your man, this mysterious guy you never told any of us about, and I was more mad at you for not telling us about him back when I could have gotten answers out of him, which then made me feel like a complete shitheel because you couldn’t have known about my secret obsession any more than I knew about yours.”
Kerrigan opened her mouth to reply to that, but in typical fashion, Juliet changed subjects so fast it was all Kerrigan could do to keep up.
“Ilex refused to see me last night because he wanted to be alone after his werewolf orgy, but I was still worried about his bitch ass, so I slept on Enna’s couch because I was too tired to walk all the way home again.
“I got up and started making breakfast for ALL the guys because they eat like damn rabbits otherwise—which just makes no sense that they’re able to keep looking so svelte and sexy all the time eating nothing but nuts and berries—and Ilex walked in looking fine until he saw me standing in Enna’s seriously tiny kitchen.”
Kerrigan winced as Juliet’s magic started to flare with her wildly churning emotions, the pressure of it feeling like being snapped with rubber bands wherever her skin was exposed.
Juliet could be as wild and volatile as a hurricane sometimes, but Kerrigan loved that there was no subtext or confusion when it came to Juliet’s feelings.
Sometimes she stewed on things, but she never failed to come back and lay it all out with a blunt, honest explanation of why she was feeling whatever she was feeling.
Juliet was loud, open, and honest about pretty much everything. She was loyal to the core, she told the truth no matter the cost to herself, and possessed the biggest, most open, loving heart Kerrigan had ever known.
“My big sweater made it seem like I was naked, but I had on socks and boy-shorts, so I understand why Ilex would assume I’d spent the night riding Enna like a pony,” Juliet told her, frustrated tears pouring down her already pale cheeks, so upset that the cider in her cup was boiling.
“If I’d seen him at Rowena’s stove in nothing but his boxers, I’d assume the two of them had gone a few rounds. But you know I would have asked, right?”
“I do know, yes. Can I take that—” Kerrigan was in the process of reaching for Juliet’s cup when her coven sister exploded into motion, jumping off the porch to pace and wave her hands around.
Which, of course, meant the boiling hot liquid went everywhere, and Juliet was in such a lather she didn’t notice.
Kerrigan had to fling a quick shield spell up around herself to keep from being splashed.
That was another great thing about being Juliet’s friend: she always made sure to keep them on their magical toes.
“Well, HE, didn’t ask! He just looked at me like I’d betrayed him or something and stomped out without saying a word, and of course, I went after him to tell him to stop acting like a complete dick, but he did that thing where he’s there one second, and then he’s half-a-mile away the next.
“Enna said it’s some Green Man fairy shit, but fuck him, because he was the one who came out of the shower in nothing but a towel right at that precise moment, like he’d been waiting to make it look like we’d been banging! And while we’re on the subject, how come you never told me you were banging a vampire?”
> Kerrigan choked on the sip of her cider, waving her hand uselessly in front of her face as she coughed to get the burn of cinnamon out of her nose.
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!” Juliet declared, throwing in a foot stomp that set off a shower of magenta sparks. “When we were dealing with Ivy’s prick father, you told us all how the Silver Wives had fucked with you and what they made you do, but you didn’t say anything about him being a vampire.”
Kerrigan thought back on that day when Abel came to the coven house with news the Silver Wives had been taken out and shook her head, staring into the depths of her half-empty cup.
“I didn’t hold back that detail on purpose. At the time, we had bigger problems. It was all I could do to tell everyone about my experience with the Wives and not fall apart, and it was easy to let myself fade into the background while we dealt with Uriah’s memory loss and Ilex’s weirdly formal request to stay here and get to know Ivy.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything while we were in school?” Juliet pressed.
Kerrigan gave a weak shrug, drawing in a deep, lung burning breath of cold winter air.
“Mostly because I was enjoying what felt like my rebellion against my parents’ insistence that I get ready to do the Pairing Ritual, and because living in the same room with six girls made it hard to keep anything private.
“And… after he died, all I had were my memories of him. I was terrified if I shared them, it meant I’d start moving on somehow. You know? They were all I had, and I couldn’t give them to anyone else.”
Juliet gave a hugely annoyed huff, throwing herself back down beside Kerrigan.
“I get it. I didn’t share about my brother for the same reason. Finding out what happened to him was all I had of someone I barely knew.”
They sat together quietly for a few minutes, each of them lost in thought, and then Juliet reminded Kerrigan she hadn’t answered her question.
“You don’t have to tell me details, although you know I love a good’n dirty list of details, but c’mon! What’s it like to get busy with a mostly dead guy? I’ve always been curious to know if a vampire has to have a certain amount of blood volume to get it up.”
