I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this.
He cleans me up and quickly washes himself off, blood swirling down the chrome drain. And then, he wraps me in a towel and sits me down on a stool while he drags a brush through my hair.
I watch him in the mirror while he does it. Telling myself not to feel too much. To simply exist in this simple moment.
I have to drama detox.
Ian disappears into my closet and comes back with dry underthings and a simple cotton sleeping set of a tank top and shorts. He himself goes into the bedroom to dress, leaving me to it in the bathroom.
When I walk out, he’s standing, looking somewhat nervous and unsure in the bedroom. He wears a white t-shirt and gray, cotton shorts. But when he sees me, he smiles.
And so do I.
“I can’t wait to marry you, Ian,” I say quietly. We both stand there for several long moments, not moving, just simply observing one another.
“Forever a miracle,” he offers in return.
A smile pulls at my lips. I cross the room, taking his hand in mine. Together, we climb into the bed and Ian tucks himself against my back.
I sleep. And so does he.
WARM BREATH RUSHING ACROSS MY shoulder pulls me from sleep. I feel the tiny hairs there ripple. My skin tingles. Soft lips brush back and forth over my shoulder blade. The scent of sandalwood and pine brings a flood of wonderful memories.
My eyes slide open, and I raise a hand to rub my eyes, only there’s a weight there that I’m unused to.
Suddenly, I’m wide-awake, holding my hand out in front of me.
A stunning ring occupies my second to last finger.
A beautiful oval cut diamond is surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds, set in a gold frame shaped kind of like a flower with four tips and rounded corners around it. A simple golden band wraps around my finger, balancing the stunning centerpiece.
“Do you like it?” Ian whispers into my neck.
“Ian,” I say breathlessly as I keep staring at it. “It’s absolutely stunning!”
I turn, never fully taking my eyes off of it, and press a kiss to his waiting lips. It’s entirely unique and absolutely a perfect blend of classic and modern.
“The diamond is from Lula’s ring, the one Papa gave her,” Ian says as he takes my newly accessorized hand in his. “He died before I was born, but the way Lula talked about him, they loved each other a lot. Fiercely.”
“I’ve never heard you mention him.” My eyes are still glued to the stunning ring, my heart swelling with the light of a hundred suns.
“His name was Billy,” he says with a chuckle. “Lula told me he worked for over a year and a half to save up the money for the diamond.” He bites his lower lip, and grows more serious. “When I told Lula I’d asked you to marry me, she was surprisingly calm. She said she knew how hard things had been for us. That much work for a relationship deserved a hard-earned ring. She gave it to me and wanted you to have it.”
“That’s amazing, Ian,” I say. Because it is. Lula hates me. Hates vampires. And to give such a precious heirloom to someone like me, I’m shocked.
Ian nods and looks up into my eyes. “Lillian helped me with the design for the rest of the ring. I wanted something that captured a bit of history. And the long future before us. And…” he says, smiling. “There’s more to it, to come at just the right times.”
The smile on my face must be ridiculous, but I don’t care. I lean forward, pressing my lips gently to his. “It’s absolutely perfect,” I whisper against them.
Ian rolls up, propping himself up on his elbow, staring down at me. “I still can’t believe we’re here.”
“We’re getting married,” I whisper through my smile, shrugging my shoulders up to my ears. “Can you believe it? Among everything that’s going on, we have a wedding to plan.”
The smile on Ian’s face is incredible. I’ve seen it so few times, but it’s stunning. Wide enough to see almost all of his teeth. Small lines sprout from his eyes when he does. His entire face lights up.
“So when are we going to do this, future bride?” he asks, bopping me on the nose gently.
I laugh, sighing in happiness. “Soon, but not until all this chaos has passed. I don’t want anything marring the happiest day of my life, nothing looming over it. And,” I say, a longing tug pulling at my chest. “If there’s any chance that Henry is out there, I really, really want him to be there.”
“He should get to walk you down the aisle,” Ian says in agreement. “He didn’t get to be there for most of your life, but he shouldn’t miss that.”
I nod, biting the inside of my cheek. “I know it’s early, but, I think I want to keep my last name, Ian.”
He looks down at me, all the considerations rolling behind his eyes. But he nods. “You should,” he says. “You have a long heritage to uphold. Your name is also your claim to your birthright.”
I reach up, caressing his cheek. “Thank you for understanding.”
He lowers himself down, pressing a kiss to my lips.
“I’ve already got about a dozen dress ideas for you to look over.” Lillian’s voice floats up through from the library.
The both of us laugh, Ian rolling off of me. “I’m sure you do!” I call back to her. “We’re going to have to plan a nice, long honeymoon, far away from all of these listening ears in this House!”
General shouts of disgust and agreement echo from all sides.
Listening ears, with little privacy, but I wouldn’t have my family anywhere else.
“WHO’S DAPHNE?” IAN ASKS AS I walk out of the closet, fully dressed. He studies the postcards on the table by the door. There’s four now, two new ones from Virginia and Georgia.
“A friend I made from town,” I say as I slide my phone into my back pocket and reach for the door. I look back at Ian, waiting for him. There’s a thoughtful expression on his face, as if he’s trying to figure out who I’m talking about. He does know most everyone in town. “You probably don’t know her, she moved into town recently.”
He nods, though I can tell he’s still trying to puzzle it out.
Ian and I walk back downstairs to begin planning for the night. The days are getting longer and longer, leaving us less time to use in the dark. Even with sunshades, we can only be out for so long before even the filtered sunlight becomes too intense.
Lillian is looking at the computer we confiscated from the trailer with Lexington, talking about the different towns around Silent Bend.
“I think I figured out where another cell is,” he says, spinning the laptop around and pointing to a place on a map. It’s about two miles south of the Institute. “Could still be active—the email was old, from about three months ago—but it’s worth checking out.”
A knock sounds on the front door. Ian and I look at each other, but it’s Rath who moves across the marble floor to open it, as we head to see who has visited.
“This one of the turds you were talkin’ about?”
It’s a redneck-looking guy who stands on the front porch. He shoves forward a body, which flops into the house—dead. A stake sticks out of her chest, blood saturating her clothes, her dead eyes wide open and bloodshot.
I gape at the man I somewhat recognize from the meeting with the townspeople. Ian crouches and checks the back of her hand. “Yeah,” he says when he reveals the snake brand. “This was one of them.”
“Where’d you find her?” I ask in wonder as I look back at the man.
“Trying to pin my daughter down in the backyard about an hour ago, fangs dripping all over the place,” he says, the air hissing through his nose in anger. “The freak was so distracted in bloodlust, it didn’t even notice me come up behind it.”
“You did good, Eric,” Ian says, standing. Rath looks down disapprovingly at the body lying on the floor of the Conrath Estate. “Has anyone else had run-ins with any more Bitten?”
Eric shakes his head. “Not that I know of. Everyone who went to that meeting
of yours has been staying well in touch. But no one’s seen anything. Yet.”
“They shouldn’t let their guard down,” I say. “We’ve taken out dozens of them so far, all close to or in Silent Bend.”
“Two of them attacked Elle,” Ian says. “They’re getting more aggressive. Stay alert.”
The man nods and a certain look comes over his face. “I can’t say I’m okay with a few dozen bloodsucking, red-eyed vamps living in my hometown, but thank you for…trying to keep it a little safer. We appreciate your pro-activeness in this situation.”
“We’ll keep doing our best,” I promise. The man is so contradictory in his appearance and the way he speaks. I’m trying not to smile. “And thank you for your help.”
Eric nods. “I suspect Sheriff McCoy’ll be getting in touch soon.”
He nods his chin in a goodbye and sets off back to his truck. Ian and I watch as he drives away.
“It’s working,” I say quietly as I watch it retreat.
“I won’t lie,” Rath says. “I’m a little shocked.”
“Me, too,” Ian admits. “Maybe we should have done this years ago. Would have saved this town a lot of whispering and a lot of unneeded deaths due to not knowing what really happens in this town.”
“Let’s hope it continues to work in our benefit,” I say.
Ian grabs the dead woman, slings her up over his shoulder. He follows Rath to the back of the house, and I’m so grateful that I’m not the one who has to take care of all these bodies that are piling up.
“Samuel, Smith, Leigh,” I call out generally to the House. “You’re coming with Ian and I to this possible location.” I walk down the hall, stopping in the armory. I grab a crossbow, a full quiver, two knives that I strap to my legs, a gun in a holster around my waist, and four stakes. The three of them join me a minute later and begin stocking up on the death and destruction.
Ten minutes later, the five of us head for the garage. Ian drives his van, opening the garage and backing up, just as a police car rolls up the drive and parks off to the side of the garage.
We stop and Luke gets out of the cruiser. He wears jeans and a black t-shirt. It’s so weird seeing him out of uniform. I forget what a striking man he is.
No wonder Anna is so taken with him.
Ian rolls down the window as he comes over.
“Y’all are looking rather deadly tonight,” he says as he leans in the window, taking in the many, many weapons we each carry.
“We might have a lead on a new cell on the edge of town,” I explain. “We’re headed to check it out right now.”
“Got room for one more in there?” he asks, looking back at the three sitting on the floor of the van.
“I don’t think this is really a job for humans, sonny,” Smith says with that wicked smile of his.
“Good thing I’m a little more handy and informed than most.” He raises his shirt just a little, exposing a toned core, three stakes, and a handgun.
“Get in,” Ian nods his head for the back of the van. Luke doesn’t hesitate. He climbs inside and we head out.
It’s a fifteen-minute drive across town. On to a winding road that rises over small hills, around a hundred trees. Between swamps and fields.
When the small house with peeling white paint comes into view, Ian parks the van behind some trees, and we all climb out.
On silent feet, we dart toward the house, fanning out to circle it.
The lights are off, and my enhanced hearing doesn’t detect anyone inside. I can’t smell anyone, but the sharp bite of copper and salt leaks from inside.
Ian and Smith creep up to the windows, peering inside, checking each and every one of them. Finally, they wave the rest of us forward, and Ian opens the front door.
The smell of blood intensifies, and I follow in after him. Were I human, I probably would have lost my dinner right then.
Five bodies lie on the floor. Three of them have stakes through their chests or backs, one’s skull has been smashed clean in, the other’s head rests about ten feet from its body.
Blood is sprayed all across the walls. It coats the ceiling. Handprints on the windows, tracks on the worn wooden floor.
Smith curses, and Leigh lets out a little high-pitched scream.
“It’s fresh,” Ian says, wiping a finger through the blood on one wall. It comes off on his finger. “I’d guess they were killed within the last hour or so.”
“An hour?” I say, my brow furrowing as I take in the scene that is becoming familiar. “But this…this wasn’t any of us.”
“You get any reports of townspeople taking out a bunch of Bitten?” Samuel asks Luke.
I forgot he was here. I turn to see the dark haze in his eyes, the look of disgust. His eyes dart from body to body. He takes two steps back from the head that lies at his feet. “No.”
“Ian,” I breathe as I study the patterns. The sprays. The mass amounts of blood lost. “Does this all look a little…familiar?”
He looks around him again, searching the walls, the bodies. The mass level of violence. “It looks like your apartment in Colorado.”
I nod as my blood chills. “Henry.”
“Wait a second,” Samuel says. “Your dad, who’s supposed to be dead, is helping us in this war?”
My stomach is in a tight knot. A riptide of emotion is raging through me. “I think so.”
“Liv, I think he saw all this coming, way before we did,” Ian says. “I mean, what we found back in Colorado was months old.”
“Wait a second,” Samuel says, his eyes growing wide with some kind of realization. “Your mom had been buried in Colorado before she was dropped off here, at your house, right?”
I nod, my veins turning to ice all the more.
“And you really think your dad did this and whatever you found back in Colorado?” he asks.
I nod, looking over at Ian. “The patterns are all the same,” he says.
“Do you think they were Bitten that were killed?”
I shrug, shaking my head. “There weren’t any bodies left at the scene, but they very well could have been.”
Samuel pales, his expression growing grim. “What is it?” I breathe.
“I don’t think it was Jasmine who dug up your mom, Liv,” he says. “I think it was whoever is at the head of this war.”
I lose focus. The breath stills in my chest, and I actually take a step back.
The patterns are the same. The evidence of war is the same.
Jasmine insisted that she didn’t do it.
She didn’t seem to understand why I would attack, using her dead husband as emotional warfare.
She didn’t do this.
That was the final tipping point in losing myself. I had tried to be a good person. I’d tried to reason and to do things the right way when it came to fighting Jasmine. But that sent me over the edge.
And Jasmine didn’t even do it.
And I’ve been being manipulated, molded, for far longer than I realized.
“I think we should go,” I say quietly. “Burn the house. Burn it all.”
“HE’S CLOSE BY,” I SAY as we walk back into the House. “He’s got to be in Silent Bend, now.” My brain is reeling. I’m trying to form coherent thoughts. “I… I need Henry found. We have to find him!”
“Nial, you watch the House,” Ian commands as everyone begins gathering down in the ballroom. “Everyone else, go take a good long look at Henry’s picture in the library.”
“I need you to search Silent Bend and the surrounding area,” I say as Francesca, Rowan, Holland, Mary, and Smith all file into the library. “We are not letting him slip through our fingers this time!”
“Liv, can we talk to you upstairs for a few minutes?” Ian asks, standing next to Nial.
“Make it quick,” I growl as I watch everyone head out the door. They’re armed to protect themselves, but this is a search and recover mission.
The door closes as we reach the upstairs floor and walk in
to my father’s office. I pace the space like a rabid animal. The pictures of my father from the lab hang from the walls around me now, his tense eyes staring at me, as if daring me to figure this out.
“Liv, I need to see where your head is at,” Ian says.
“What do you mean?” I ask, throwing a glare in his direction. “We’re this close! I can’t let him get away right now.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he says, grabbing my arm and forcing me to stop. “But what if there’s a reason why he’s been hiding all this time?”
“Alivia,” Nial says in that calm manor of his. “What if Henry Conrath is not the man you imagine him to be?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my eyes angrily darting between the two of them.
“It’s just weird, you know,” Ian says. “You’ve been here for ten months now. Why would he fake his own death? Why would he abandon you like this? What is he hiding from?”
There’s a great clattering sound, followed by breaking glass, coming from the ballroom. For a moment, we meet each other’s eyes, running through the possibilities, and there’s only one.
The Bitten are making their move.
I sling my crossbow out in front of me, Nial grabs a stake from the desk, and Ian raises a gun before him. Together, we descend the stairs, turning the corner to face the ballroom.
A single man lies on the floor, his head down, his entire body quaking. A trail of blood stretches from the broken doorway to him, where it pools around him. His fingers stretch out before him, attempting to crawl toward us.
“Don’t move!” Ian bellows, taking five quick steps toward the man. “Show me the backs of your hands!”
Shakily, he raises his outstretched hand, blood covering his skin. He draws his other up, every movement looking pained and on the verge of his last breath. He uses it to lift his chest.
And slowly, he draws his head up.
Staring back at us with gray eyes. Serious brows.
“Alivia,” he breathes out.
“Henry!”
I RUSH FORWARD, PAST IAN and Nial, dropping to Henry’s side, rolling him over. He lets out a great cry of pain, hissing in agony, holding his hand to his chest.