15. Caspian

CHAPTER 15

Caspian

T he bastard makes us wait in his ‘home.' There, he crowds us into a narrow room piled high with gaudy, worthless trinkets. He pours two delicate cups of gross-smelling liquid. I assume it to be perfume until he raises one of the cups to his mouth. Drinks.

Meeting my disgusted stare, he shrugs. "Vamryre can partake in some mortal niceties," he says dryly. "Tea. Try some. It might calm your nerves."

"No," I hiss. Then I pace, balling my hands into fists, thinking of her alone out there. My fae.

How badly is she injured this time?

Is some monster feasting on her delicate remains…

"Please sit," Altaris says. "You're going to work up my darlings. We aren't the only ones here, you know. I'm sure you remember how important it is to have peace and quiet while one regains one's mind. And while you seem immune to bloodlust for now, not all of us are so lucky. Some of my darlings are irritable as they adjust to their new diet, so do be considerate."

I stop. Cross to a chair. Sit.

The bastard annoys me, but he has a point. I do remember what it was like in my shattered mind. Unless I had her voice to cling to, the darkness was endless. My Niamh. She spoke to me, then. She guided me back. She shielded me in her twisted little mind.

Why can't I hear her now?

I try to seek out those delicate thoughts. I find nothing. In my chest, something vile and disgusting stirs to life. It is an old friend, I think. From before Cassius. After Cassius.

Fear.

Imagining her gone forever fills me with fear. Cassius, I could live without. Survive without. Thrive without…

But Niamh…

"I need to find her," I say, my voice grated and rough. "I need her back."

"And we shall," Altaris says after another sip of his tea. "It won't be long now. Just an hour or so. In the meantime, I should remind you that your court appearance is in two days."

He eyes a clock on the wall. Dark with two spindly legs drifting around a stylized full moon. It's gaudy and garish like everything else in this place. Tarnished by time, valuable only to one who owns it.

"I will accompany you, but I hope you have enough sense not to get yourself into more trouble. I have enough tension with Jack to contend with already, thank you."

He sets his cup down onto the matching saucer. They are chipped, yet gleam, barely used.

This vamryre has so many useless, pointless things, but I can tell he values them all. A sense of care is evident in the neglect. How the dust protects them with a shallow coating. As long as they remain untouched, left behind, he is the only one who can enjoy them. Cassius craved gold and glitter, but this vamryre prizes dusty, valueless things.

"You are staring," he sniffs, setting his cup aside. Staring at him, I am. Those cold, green eyes observe me with an intensity a mortal could never possess. Most vamryre don't view the world as he does: through contracts and payments, but also some small shred of kindness—twisted though it may be. After all, he chose to help me despite his master's wishes. I still can't fully understand why..

"What are you?" I ask him.

He chuckles. Nods. "I am what you are. A creature of the night, sustained by blood, damned by the mortal world?—"

"Liar," I say. "You are something else."

Something that lurks beyond most mortal's grasp of time—mine even. I only caught a glimpse of the broad expanse of Cassius's real mind—the one he kept us away from. He is older than dirt, as some mortals might quip. So old the meaning of life was lost upon him, and he collected his pretty trinkets to distract from that fact. To hide from the emptiness that threatened to consume him day in and day out.

Until…

Until he met me.

No. Don't want to remember. I shake my head to clear it.

"Tell me," I demand of the vamryre before me. I remember the way he was in the face of the fae Lord Master. Unafraid. Mocking, even. "You do not fear them. You have no master to call you back. How?"

Altaris laughs. It's a sad, broken sound as if he didn't mean to make such a noise at all. It comes from deep in his throat, past the bravado and lies and pretty clothing. Deep down, he is far different from Cassius.

Where my old master shunned his humanity, Altaris clings to it. Just a small, teeny tiny sliver he's kept tucked in that expansive mind for centuries upon centuries. He hoards it. Values it.

That humanity is what makes him so dangerous.

"There is something else you want to ask me," he says, his voice soft and haunting. Broken.

The vulnerability itches and scratches at my soul. Don't like it. Don't. Only Niamh can reveal this side of herself to me. I want to coddle that weak flame—her humanity. Maybe one day I will snuff it out. Maybe never. It is mine to tame and keep safe.

Altaris's pity is a different creature entirely. I don't like it. It reminds me…

It reminds me of something I'd long since forgotten.

"I know you," I say. "From before."

Before I came to the mortal realm this time?

Or even before then?

Before this twisted remnant of my soul was all that remained of who I once was?

Before Cassius, even…

I look at the vamryre, expecting answers, but he just nods. Merely once.

"I did," he says. "I know you, still. You are Caspian, once as a toy of Cassius. Any more, and I think you may not like the answer. Ask me about the fae instead. Your fae. How I know her true nature."

I grunt.

He smooths his fingers over his lap, his expression pensive. "I've seen it before," he admits. "The damage done when those fae breed with the wrong kind. The children they make. Wretched creatures who belong to no one."

He's broached this topic on purpose. He wants me to think of something. The biological reason for sex and mating, beyond pleasing one's master and bringing new victims into his fold. Children. Procreation.

I've done so with Niamh more than once already. Therefore, I take his words as a threat.

"Are you saying that if she carries my seed, you'll kill her?"

"Oh darling, gross!" He fishes a square of white fabric from his suit jacket and presses it to his nose. "What vile imagery. Luckily for you, that one cannot reproduce. None of the fae can until they reach their Night status. Thirty or so, I believe is their ripened age. The time when they usually want to run from that realm. Your dear one is technically, still in her Day era."

"So then why mention it," I snap.

"For a damn good reason." He raises an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. "Hybrids are a dangerous sort, my darling. Their blood is wild and untested. They are prone to foul rages, and they attract each other like moths to light. You should know full well the heritage of one, before mingling with it."

He turns his head, looking away from me. Hiding something.

I frown. "What aren't you saying?"

"Her mother is fae," he replies, lowering his strip of fabric to reveal that his mouth is set in a hard line. "We must quickly find out who her father is, between you and me. I have some suspicions, none of them comforting. Has she told you? A hint of her bloodline, perhaps?"

"Don't know," I say. Even in her own mind, she doesn't like to think of it. It scares her, in fact. "She believes she is fae."

"But she isn't," Altaris remarks. "That much I know. We must find out the truth. It is vital, Caspian. Do that, and I will cancel all of your remaining debt to me. You have my word."

"Why?" I look him up and down. A creature such as him would never willingly walk away from ownership, not if it is tied to his precious paper scrolls. "Why do you even care?"

His gaze flits back to me as he purses his lips into a flat line. "Because your safety is at stake. I care about that."

Liar. He is afraid.

"You care about who I was ," I say.

He nods.

Then tell me, I mean to say. I open my mouth to choke the words out?—

"Altaris!" A panting woman races into the room and leans against the doorway. For show, of course. She is a vamryre and has no need for breathing or baited ones at that. Still, she is distressed.

So distressed, in fact, that Altaris rises instantly and approaches her.

"Poppy, darling," he warns, his tone stern. "Indoor voices. Tell me calmly and quietly what happened?—"

"Daisy's gone again! And it's all my fault!" The redhead, Poppy, buries her face in her hands and cries--as if we, superior beings, could ever feel guilt or shame.

Then I remember. I felt it once. In that motel, after I tore my own siblings apart. I held their bloodied, broken bits in my hands. I sobbed and wept.

And, before my mind shattered in two, she comforted me, my Niamh. With a soft voice and gentle words, she tried her best to bring me back.

Altaris is not of the same mind. He sniffs in irritation and brings a hand to his nose as if to ward off the stench of female crying. "What happened, my dear?" he tries again. "Poppy, speak clearly, my darling. Darling—WHERE IS DAISY?"

An uproar goes up from beyond these splintering walls. Cries and moans and other whimpers of the like. There are many vamryre here with sore, broken minds. They wince at the slightest noise. Cringe in pain at the tiniest whisper.

To them, Altaris's bellow is a sledgehammer on fractured, shallow glass.

"Damn it," he hisses. "I must see to… Caspian." He snaps his fingers at me, as though calling a dog to heel. "Help Poppy track down Daisy. Then we shall all find Ginni and give her a good, bloody talking to. That's the fifth time in nearly a week that she slipped out under her watch! At this rate, the damn boneys will own us all, house and home." He raised his voice without realizing it.

More cries ring out than before. Some screams. Wails.

"Oh blast!" Altaris races off, leaving me alone with the strange one.

Poppy. Despite the color of her hair, she could have been one of Cassius's. She's pretty enough to have been.

Despite her thin veneer of beauty, however, her intellect is unmistakable. She hides it well with her too-loud voice and simpering sniffles. But, ah, she is wise. Wise enough to have been plucked from mortality by only Nataniel himself.

She notices me staring and makes a show of wiping at her eyes. There are no tears. "Poor Daisy. It's my fault she got out," she laments. "I thought she wanted to go on one of my morning walks. To do some calisthenics. I turned my back for one second and she ran off."

She blinks as if expecting me to say something. Give a damn.

I say nothing. Instead, I barrel past her and try to find the way out. The sooner I track down this foolish wayward vamryre, the sooner I can find my fae. The need for her is growing, turning into an itch I can't scratch. A constant ache. She's an addiction with no cure.

Not that I would ever want one.

Without her, Cassius lurks and looms desperate to regain entry to this soul he had slip from his grasp.

"Where?" I snap at the redhead. We're on the street, but she just stands on the sidewalk, peering from one direction to the next.

"I'm not sure. She usually sticks close to the… Your face is burning."

I blink. Fuck. I forgot to pull the hood of this jacket low. When I do, the prickling burn eases somewhat, but not as quickly as I'd like. I need to be careful out here. Without the collective mind, I don't heal as fast. Can't risk too much damage.

To find my fae, I need all my working limbs.

"Um, let us go this way!" After rearranging her own hood, Poppy takes off down the block, her steps light, practically skipping. Despite her very real concern for the other vamryre, she enjoys this. The chase. The tracking of another creature.

Oh yes, she was one of Nataniel's. I've never met his sliver of our hoard. Just heard their thoughts sometimes, reflected through Cassius. They were an alien sort. Cold. Callous. They treated those in the other realm as prey—even the others in the collective hoard. Their minds were icy and reptilian. Cassius prized beauty but Nataniel quashed all humanity from his collected toys.

Compared to me, they were truly monstrous.

Yet, she pretends well. She puts on the faux mortal act and seems to truly care about this lost one. This Daisy.

I don't. I don't give a damn about anyone or anything, except for myself. Except for my fae. And once… Maybe…

Cassiopeia. My poor one, trapped in Cassius's hovel. A true brother would have freed her sooner. She would have done the same for me.

And I will.

Once I retrieve my fae, I will return to the other realm. I will drive a knife through Cassius's fucking heart. I will find Cassiopeia no matter what it takes.

I will.

I will.

If I say it enough times, I might start to believe it.

"This way!" Poppy turns down a narrow street that opens onto a familiar road.

I brought her here once, Niamh. She begged to go to the park. She ooh'd in awe at the various scenic mortal things but didn't attract the wrong attention.

Such as a crowd of terrified children watching her lick blood from her fingers.

Oh dear. How naughty. It's the kind of behavior Cassius would encourage. To make a spectacle. A scene. To inspire fear in their little hearts and relish in their screams.

Except for one minor detail. Children were not allowed to be our target. They were too messy. Their deaths drew too much attention. Too much scrutiny.

Which was why Cassiopeia loved to skirt that little rule as much as she could. She loved to lead a wayward child away here and there, to make Cassius rage and scream. Oh, what fun we used to have, in those days.

She never went too far, however. Fed from one. Maybe a little scratch here and there. Just enough to provoke a reaction.

It was our game, her and I. To provoke a response. To press as many of our master's buttons as we could. To push and push until the bastard had no choice but to accept that we would never be fully his.

Never bow.

But here there is no master to play for, and I see the act of toying with children for the morbid diversion it truly is. How cliche. How droll. To make the little ones cry for their mommies and daddies in broad fucking daylight. She must have come here when the school bus would arrive and drop them off to frolic in the morning sun.

This one must be freshly freed. One of Cassius's. Some long lost sister from years ago whose name he erased from our memory.

With a sigh I stalk toward her, leaving Poppy behind. What a foolish distraction. What a silly, stupid fool.

She isn't even feeding. Just playing. She turns to face me, her eyes blank, her expression dazed and empty.

But…

No. That isn't right. Her face isn't right—like how I remember. A mocking smile, eyes like scarlet. Like mine. Long white hair that kissed the curve of her lower back.

We spoke the same, in our own unique cadence. It was the only way to set ourselves apart. The only way to separate from him.

Me and my Cassiopeia. My dear heart. My other half. My sister in name if not by blood.

I missed her so fucking much. So much he had to smother it out of me. He nearly smothered my soul to do it.

But I remember.

I see her and I remember how badly I failed her.

The Boney prison, she told me. I'll cause a ruckus, and they'll send me there. You'll come for me. You'll free yourself from him and come for me. Caspian! You must come for me!

But I never did.

I failed her.

I failed her.

I failed her.

And she bares her teeth at me angrily. Life slowly begins to creep into those haunted, dull eyes as the children around her scream and scatter. She sees me, my dear one, and she curls her lips back from her teeth.

"I waited for you!" she wails at me. "I waited and waited! Where were you?"

I was here.

And nowhere.

She and our devious, twisted rebellion plans had slipped my mind.

The day he took her from me, part of my soul was lost. Getting it back isn't a painless melding of two shorn halves. It hurts. It fucking burns. As I run to her with no regard for anyone, I am rendered boneless and stumbling.

Pulling her into my arms, I hold her so tight. "I'm sorry," I say. I'm sobbing the words into her neck, gripping her body to the point of cracking bones. "I'm so sorry."

"Where were you?" she demands, her voice broken and hoarse. "Caspian… I needed you. Where were you?"

I owe her more than just an answer.

Such a betrayal requires atonement. Retribution.

She sacrificed her soul for me.

I owe her far more than mine in return.