Chapter 11

Chapter

Eleven

Devine Country Estate, Sixteen Years Ago…

Conrad and I stand on the upper balcony looking down at the fancy town cars and carriages pulled by horses with glowing red eyes. I let my toes dangle over the edge as I lean on the railing. We've been exiled. Again. They say it's for our safety, but I can't help but feel jealous that Anthony is allowed to attend. Even if it's dangerous, it must be more exciting than listening to the muffled sounds of a party echoing across the house. If my life had a soundtrack, it would be stifled music from another room.

I'll be the first to admit that I have a slightly reckless and rebellious streak inside of me. The reality of my mortal life has been drummed into me like a terminal disease, and that knowledge has created a strange duality. I've been told repeatedly to be cautious, but I'm also keenly aware that life is short, and I want excitement. My tutor says that makes me rash.

"Remember the first night you came here?" I glance at my brother. That was the first time we snuck out here together to watch the supernaturals arrive. Since then, it has become our thing—two humans tucked away and forgotten. Laughter and shouts come from the floor below, and I see a trail of blue light bouncing across the lawn from the tree line.

"I remember you wanted to eat fairy cake," Conrad says.

I laugh. "I remember being so disappointed you weren't a puppy."

Conrad hands me a pouch. "Happy twelfth birthday."

"What is it?" I ask. My birthday has technically passed, but I take the gift anyway.

"Flying dust," he says.

"I'd still prefer a puppy," I tease.

Conrad points to the drive. "I think I saw a hellhound tied to the carriage down there. Why don't you try taking it for a walk? See if you still want a puppy afterward."

I follow his finger but don't see the hellhound.

More flashes of light zip across the lawn, and a group of boys emerge from the shadows. They're zapping each other in the backsides and laughing.

"There's enough dust for both of us."

His words turn my attention back to my gift. "I've never heard of flying dust."

"Anthony's friends sold it to me," he says. "We're going to try it tonight."

I press my fingers against the material to feel the dirt-like substance inside. I can't help the excitement I feel at the idea, and the fear. Magic easily works against us mortals but rarely for us.

Conrad and I have become obsessed with finding ways to harness power. Well, mostly it's Conrad, but he's my brother, and I support him. He's always reading about enchanted objects and old potions. I try to accept that I'm not extraordinary, even if I want to be. But Conrad's life has been difficult. He grew up in foster care and not in the best of situations. I've seen the old scars on his body. I heard one of the staff say they looked like cigarette burns. Conrad told me that goblins attacked him while he lived in a group home, but no one believed him, and he was labeled as a troublemaker. The truth is my brother has a mean streak he usually manages to hide. I only know it's there because we spend so much time together.

To me, it's simple. He's my brother and I love him. He doesn't have to be perfect, and I make allowances for those imperfections. Conrad never says it, but I know he wants more than anything to belong.

He stares at the boys as they play their magic games. His hands grip the rail so hard that the blood stops flowing through his fingers, turning them white. He breathes deeply. I can tell he's emotional, but I know he won't cry or yell. He doesn't like to show his anger.

"Hey." I touch his arm gently. "At least we have the best seats in the house."

The joke usually makes him smile, but it doesn't this time.

"They think they're so superior," he mutters.

Conrad may not be my brother like Anthony is my brother, but I'm closer to him because of the things we share. I love Anthony, of course, but Conrad understands what it's like to be unremarkable in the Devine family.

"You're a better present than any puppy," I tell him, trying to make him feel better.

"People shouldn't be presents," he answers. "Remember what Mr. Dorkens said about people being property?"

Mr. Dickens, aka Mr. Dorkens behind his back, is our current tutor. He's been focusing on European and American history—and incidentally is obsessed with making us read Charles Dickens novels, but that's beside the point. He tells us the old stories so we don't feel bad about our situation. He constantly reminds us that we're lucky and shouldn't complain. Our family is rich and well respected. They chose Conrad, and I was born lucky. It could always be worse.

I get his point. I don't think Conrad does.

"How does this work?" I lift the present and try to sound upbeat.

Conrad's attention goes to the pouch. Excitement replaces the anger in his eyes. "It's easy. We sprinkle it on our heads. Shout ego sum avis stultus. And then we jump."

He nods toward the ground.

Jump?

I look over the edge, and my legs begin to tremble. I don't want to jump. I shake my head. This is a horrible idea. "I don't know."

"It's magic," he insists, taking the fairy dust from me. "You said you wanted wings to fly like a fairy."

I can't remember saying that, but I say a lot of things.

He lifts the bag and pours dirt on my head. I wince and instantly cover my eyes with my hands. When I again look, he's emptying the rest of the bag on his head.

Conrad climbs onto the rail and sits to face the long driveway. He holds out his hand for me to do the same. I'm shaking. I can't help it.

"You have nothing to be scared of," he says. "It's magic."

He's right. I've seen plenty of flying creatures, especially out here at the country estate where mortals can't watch them. It's why supernaturals like coming here so much.

I manage to climb onto the rail and sit down. I take several deep breaths, and my heart pounds hard. I can hear it thumping in my ears.

"Lift your arms to the side. Shout the spell and jump." Conrad lifts his arms to the side and waits as I am slow to do the same. "Ego sum avis stultus!"

"Ego sum avis stultus," I repeat. I can't make myself leap.

"Jump!" Conrad pushes my back from behind. I scream and flail. I hear the boys from the yard laughing as I fall.

There is no flying, only the rock driveway coming at me fast. My body twists in the air as I try to avoid the inevitable.

"Tamara!" Conrad shouts in panic.

My body strikes the ground, and pain explodes throughout me. I can't catch my breath to scream, but I try anyway.

"Oh, shit, run!" I hear a boy shout.

A demon horse angrily paws the ground like it wants to trample me. Thankfully, it's tethered too far away.

Conrad doesn't land next to me. Looking up, I don't see him on the railing above.

"Hello there, little castoff." A shadow falls over me as a vampire leans to block the view of the railing. Costin's long black hair and mode of dress make it appear like he crawled from the pages of a dark vampire romance novel. I don't see how women think these pasty monsters are beautiful. They're glamorized in movies and books, but really, they're just well-connected serial killers.

I'm not too innocent to know his eyes swirl with bloodlust. His pale skin is ethereal, almost translucent in the dim light. His fangs seem to grow sharper the longer I stare at them. On a fair night, I couldn't outrun this creature. Broken and breathless, I don't stand a chance in hell. And that is precisely where this vampire wants to take me.

His movements are so fast that I only see a blur before he's kneeling beside me. Cold fingers caress the nape of my neck. His fingernails scrape my skin before he pulls them away. Blood stains his pale flesh, and he licks it off his fingers, just like my brothers and I eat stolen cake batter. He closes his eyes and makes a strange noise of pleasure.

"So fresh and innocent," he whispers.

I know I'm going to die tonight. My body quakes. Tears roll down my face. Pain radiates from my fall. All I can manage is to mouth a winded, "Please."

"Constantine, step away from her."

I've never been so relieved to hear my grandfather's voice. Costin's nostrils flare, and his eyes narrow. He doesn't like the command.

"She's protected," my grandfather George insists.

The vampire hisses through his teeth. His body thrashes violently before it becomes a blur and disappears as if he was never there.

My grandfather is instantly at my side. He is dressed in an immaculate, old-fashioned suit, complete with a custom-made vest. The attire looks as if it just came from the tailor despite its vintage style. I don't know why he came to search for me, but I'm deeply grateful that he chose to leave the party to come to my rescue.

His hands travel over my legs. "What hurts?"

I cradle my arm and flinch.

"Your arm looks broken." He feels along my neck before touching my scalp. "Your head is bleeding. How did this happen?"

My eyes move toward the railing. Conrad still isn't there. He's left me to fend for myself.

My grandfather turns to look upward and frowns.

"Why, little dove?" His concern is impossible to resist. It draws an answer out of me.

"They said we could fly." I choke back a sob, finally able to draw a deeper breath.

"Who?" He looks around the drive. The demon horse paws in agitation.

I shake my head. I don't want to say. Tattling on supernaturals doesn't tend to go well for mortals.

He sighs. "We need to get you to the hospital. I'm going to petrify you so you can't feel it."

The idea terrifies me, but I can't protest as his magic surges over me, bringing with it a wave of darkness.

When the sensation ends, I feel as if no time has passed, but I'm in a hospital bed with a white cast on my arm. My parents are at the end of the bed.

My mother looks annoyed as she stands with her arms crossed, staring at me.

My father appears distracted by his phone. He glances up and smiles. "Hey, there, Tam-tam."

"Conrad?" I manage.

"Locked in his room for fighting," my mother says. "That's where you should have been. This wouldn't have happened if you two hadn't been running wild outside."

"Leave her be," my father says, though he sounds more bored than authoritative.

"Fighting who?" I ask.

They ignore me.

My grandfather appears in the doorway. "Why don't you two head back to your guests? I'll wait for the doctors to discharge her. I'll make sure she makes it home."

My mother closes her eyes briefly and sighs. Knowing her, she's relieved someone is there to deal with the problem. "Thank you, George." She taps my father's arm. "Come on, Davis. We need to check Gregory's pockets before he leaves. Last time, he tried to smuggle out half our library."

She's exaggerating. The dwarf tried to steal two books—an ancient, priceless grimoire and an 1800s fairy tale featuring a colony of dwarfs. I can only assume the second was for his vanity. I'll never understand why they keep inviting him back to their parties. I suppose when you are friends with bloodsuckers and demons, a kleptomaniac dwarf is tame in comparison.

"Right," my father mutters, barely glancing up as he types on his phone. As he reaches the door, he pauses and looks at me. "Do what your grandfather says, Tam-tam."

I nod, but he's already leaving and doesn't notice.

"I figured I'd save you from their caretaking," Grandfather says with a smile. "I love my son, but those two don't have a nurturing bone in their body."

"Thank you." I know I'm supposed to love my parents—and I do—but sometimes they make me feel worse. "Is Conrad okay?"

"He tried beating up a couple of Anthony's friends. They hit him with magic." He sits on the edge of my bed. "I take it they're the ones who gave you the fake flying powder?"

I nod. There's no point in protecting them if he already knows. As the Devine patriarch, my grandfather has powerful magic. He could draw the truth out of me with a snap of his fingers if he wanted to.

"Does your arm hurt?"

I look at my cast and nod.

"Once we return to the house, I'll whip up a potion to help you heal. But in the meantime…" He pulls a slender jewelry box out of his pocket and hands it to me. "I had planned on giving you this for your next birthday."

"What is it?" I ask.

"Open it." He smiles and watches my face.

I open the box to find a fancy red jewel hanging on a chain. There is no way my mother would let me have something so beautiful. Family jewels are kept in a safe and only brought out on special occasions. I never have a special occasion.

I know not to smudge it with my fingers, so I study the jewel without touching it. "Thank you. It's pretty."

"It's an amulet. Some people call them talismans or good luck charms. It's to keep you safe." He reaches for the necklace and lifts it out of the box. "Once you put it on, it's yours. It won't work for anyone else. You can't share it. Ever."

I don't understand why he's being dramatic, but I nod.

"You're not like the rest of the family, Tamara," he says. "You have our blood, but the magic didn't take root for some reason. But our blood, our lives, who our family is, all of that puts you in danger. Wear this. Always. And know that every time you look at it, you are loved."

His words scare me. He holds the necklace insistently. I lean my head forward so he can place it over my head. The weight falls against my chest, and I pull my hair free.

I don't feel any indication that magic radiates from the jewelry. I've been told enchanted objects are rare. My arm doesn't magically heal, my head aches, and my neck is stiff. I know about lucky rabbits' feet, four-leaf clovers, and horseshoes nailed to doorways. This is no different. Objects only carry the faith people put into them. Nothing else.

My grandfather loves me and wants me to feel safe. He once joked about trapping me in a magically protected tower like a human fairytale princess. Being ordered to the protected wing of the estate all the time isn't much different.

"You still have to be careful," he insists. The warning confirms my guess. If this was truly enchanted, I wouldn't have to be careful. I want to tell him I'm too old for these children's stories and fairytales, but he seems pleased with himself, so I don't interrupt. "I need you to promise you'll stop dabbling in magic without talking to me first. Conrad is too impetuous. He doesn't think before he charges into these situations. You are humans, and you must accept the way of things."

"I know. I'm a delicate butterfly in a world of fiery dragons," I answer dutifully, repeating what he's told me since I was little.

"That's right. And there is nothing wrong with that." He makes a show of glancing toward the closed hospital room door.

He gives me a sneaky grin as he tosses his hands into the air. A swarm of butterflies magically appears, fluttering all around us. I know it's a simple glamour, but they look real, and I watch their delicate beauty in awe. One lands on my cast and instantly disappears, bursting like a bubble. The others pop as the tiny spell ends.

"The world needs butterflies, Tamara, as much as it needs dragons. Probably more. We all have our place." He kisses the tip of his finger and then presses against my forehead. "Conrad is not going to be able to find what he's looking for, and I don't want him hurting you to further his pointless quest."

I nod. It feels like a promise, but I'm unsure what I'm agreeing to. Still, it makes him happy, so I see no harm in giving him what he wants.

"Good girl." He pats my head.

I love his smile. It's always so kind. He's the only supernatural in my life that doesn't make me feel less than. He's the only one who doesn't give Anthony more attention because he's special.

I can see he wants to talk, and I want to be entertained. I touch the amulet. "Where did you get it?"

"This is a piece of a larger necklace crafted for an ancient Pagan goddess," he answers. "The legend goes she was so beautiful and rare that other goddesses hated her, and gods kept trying to force her to date them. So trolls made a necklace to protect her."

I know it's a lie. No one would let me have something so rare. Still, I let him think I believe it. "I'll be careful with it. I promise."

"Just be more careful with yourself." He touches both of my cheeks, and I feel the tickle of magic in his fingers. "You ready to get out of here, butterfly?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll light a fire under the doctor to hurry up the discharge papers." He turns as he reaches the door and winks. "Don't worry. Not literally."

I watch him leave as I touch the amulet, tracing my finger over the edge. My attention moves to the cast on my arm. The amulet doesn't take away the pain. Flying was a complete bust. And now I'm stuck with a broken wing.

"Ego sum avis stultus," I whisper, wishing I'd had the magic to make the spell work. Nothing happens, and I'm not surprised. I'm merely a helpless mortal, after all.