Chapter 12

Twelve

I’m pressed against the back of the passenger seat as Bran shifts the Bimmer into third gear and propels us through the night.

He’s silent, his attention on the road, but his body is tight, the tendons and muscles in his forearms flexing beneath his pale skin as he works the transmission and the speedy engine to his advantage.

The urgency is nearly palpable even if he won’t speak of it.

Damien was talking in his sleep, and if he was talking in his sleep, does that mean he is closer to consciousness?

I tried talking Bran into running home, that it would be faster and I’d meet him there, but he wasn’t having it.

“You’ve been out of my sight once today,” he’d said. “And look at the trouble you got yourself into. Once is enough.”

I would have rolled my eyes at him and stood my ground, damn the consequences, if not for the news about Damien.

It doesn’t take Bran long to turn down the winding driveway of Duval House. The windows are lit up and all of the landscaping lights are on, washing the green manicured grounds in golden pools of light.

As Bran pulls the car beneath the porte cochère, I can’t help but wonder if my sister might also be clawing her way back to consciousness. I don’t want to hope, because I don’t want to be disappointed, but it’s really fucking hard not to cling to any glimmer of possible good news.

Please come back to me, Kelly.

Bran slams the car to a stop and yanks up on the emergency brake. He’s out of the car a second later and tossing my key ring into the air. He doesn’t check to see if anyone is there to catch them, because of course there is.

The girl at the double doors fumbles the keys but catches them before they hit the ground. She quickly darts in behind the wheel. Bran is already through the wide double doors as I scurry around the car’s front bumper. “Catch up, Mouse,” he calls, already halfway to the main staircase.

I run after him.

Somehow his fast walk is twice as fast as my run, but I catch up, practically breathless, as he takes the stairs two at a time and then turns down a hallway, then another, until we come up to a closed door far into the depths of the second floor. I’ve never been to this side of Duval House so I can only guess this is Damien’s bedroom. The door is large and ornate, clearly hand carved, with laurel leaves and baroque filigree.

It’s regal but not garish, just like the Duvals.

Without knocking, Bran pushes through and steps into the dim. I slow my pace and edge in just behind him, unsure if I should be here.

There’s only one lamp on in the large space and the light skims a huge, heavy wooden bed pushed against the far wall. There is a sweet but masculine smell hanging in the air, like musk and lavender.

“Damien,” Bran says. But when he gets to the bed, he stops, his eyes going wide.

Something slams into me from behind and shoves me to the floor.

I let out a yelp as a knee is pressed into the center of my back, driving me into the rug. A cold hand grabs my chin while the other comes to the back of my head, bracing me.

“Damien!” Bran yells.

Damien is awake.

And he’s on my back, just one wrist-flick away from snapping my neck.

My heart thuds in my ears.

“If she dies, they have no reason to come,” Damien says, his voice wet and raspy.

The heady scent of lavender overwhelms me.

“If she dies, so will you,” Bran answers.

I huff out as the pressure increases between my shoulder blades, squeezing my lungs.

“You would kill your own brother over a girl?” Damien sniffs. “I thought we were immune to chivalry, brother.”

“Immune to chivalry, perhaps,” Bran answers, “but not MacMahon sisters. Remember? Remember the lengths you went to, to protect Kelly? Kelly is the reason you can’t think straight now. Because you wanted to protect her.”

Damien’s grip on me shifts.

Bran comes closer. “What do you think Kelly will say when she finds out you killed her little sister?”

Would I survive my neck being snapped? I race through all of the facts I know about the fae, their anatomy, and their immortality. They can live practically forever, heal easily, but survive a snapped neck? Probably not.

Can Bran reach Damien in time?

How far away is he?

“I can smell her fear,” Damien says.

“Do you blame her?”

“Please, Da?—”

He shifts his grip, putting the palm of his hand over my mouth.

“How do you trust a girl who can command you with her voice?”

When Bran speaks, he’s just a few feet away from us now, getting closer by the second. “You always taught me that trust was fickle and fickle things hold no value. It was always loyalty we wanted.”

Some of the weight of Damien’s knee lifts. “You must think yourself clever, using my own lessons against me.”

“Let her go, Damien.”

“Where is Kelly?” he asks.

“In the room across the hall,” Bran answers. “I haven’t checked on her yet today, but we can go over there together if you’d like.”

“Very well. Perhaps you’ve won after?—”

Damien gasps out, his chest rattling, and then he grunts and tilts to the side, slipping off of me.

Even though I’m lying on the floor, my head swims. I’m lightheaded, my vision tunneling.

Bran is suddenly between us.

“Something is wrong,” I say. Pins and needles run up my arms and legs. I try to sit up now that I’m free, but my vision sways.

“Do you feel it too?” Damien asks. He’s on all fours beside me, looking directly at me, his eyes burning bright blue in the murky light.

“Feel what?”

He takes in another deep breath. “They’re trying to get through. The fae. They’re trying to get through the gate.”

Bran gets Damien’s arm slung around his shoulders and then pulls him to his feet. “Can you stand, Mouse?” Bran asks.

I give him a nod, even though I’m still dizzy. His brother should take priority right now. I’m going to pretend I’m okay as long as I need to.

I slowly climb to my feet and take in a deep breath to steady myself.

Damien lists in Bran’s grip.

“Hey,” Bran says and slaps Damien on the face. “Look at me.”

Damien’s eyes refocus and he looks over at his brother. “We should kill her,” he says again.

“Shut up,” Bran says as he carts Damien back to the bed and helps him onto the thick mattress. “Jessie is off-limits, even to you. You touch her again, I stake you. First in the ass. Then in the heart. End of story.”

Damien lays his head against the pile of pillows, his eyes heavy. “Do you remember the bread Ma used to make?”

Bran goes still, his brow sinking low over his hooded eyes. “Yes.”

“Do you remember the smell of the yeast baking on a winter afternoon?” Damien’s head lolls on the pillows, his eyes closed now. “Do you remember the way it would taste when she cut off a fresh slice for us?”

“Of course.” Bran’s voice is thick with the memory.

“Why did we outlive them? Do you ever wonder?”

Bran pulls the blanket up around Damien. “Because we are cursed.”

Damien swallows loudly. “Perhaps dying wouldn’t be so bad after all.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

I slink back into the shadows, my heart squeezing, suddenly uncomfortable with witnessing the intimacy between the Duval brothers. I’m not sure if Bran wants me to see them at their most vulnerable, when they are more brothers than immortal vampires. Brothers with mothers and sisters and memories of fresh baked bread on cold afternoons.

“I can’t help you fight them,” Damien says as he slumps into the bed. “Not like this.”

“I’ll fix you. I just need you to rest and not kill my little mouse.”

Damien’s mouth lifts in an attempted laugh. “That’s a horrible pet name for her.” He’s quiet for another beat, his chest rattling with his breaths. “The mouse has become the monster.”

A shiver races down my arms, lifting goosebumps.

Bran looks over at me and even though I’m shrouded in darkness, I know with his vampire eyes he can see me the same as if I were standing in the light.

His eyes burn bright gold.

“We’re all monsters,” Bran says, his gaze still on me.

Within seconds, Damien is unconscious again and Bran ushers me into the hallway. As soon as we’re alone, he puts his hands on either side of my face and examines me with a furrowed brow and bright golden eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Did he hurt you?” He checks my skin for bruises.

“He was gentle like a cat.”

Bran scowls at me. “This is no time for jokes.”

The door across from Damien’s catches my eye. “Is she really in there?”

“Yes.” Bran pulls away, satisfied with the state of my face, neck, and body.

“Can I…” I huff out a breath, trying to keep the emotion at bay. I will be practical about this. Kelly is unconscious because of witch magic. This is fixable. We’ll find the solution and we’ll fix her.

“Go see her,” Bran says. “I’ll come with you.”

I give him a nod and reach out for the handle. The door clicks open and I peer inside.

There is a small figure in the giant bed across the room. There are more lights on in here—small lamps glowing on several end tables.

My steps are slow as I approach the bed.

I’m not sure what I expected to find—Kelly looking like a corpse? Like a sleeping Snow White?

Her eyes are shut and her breathing even. Her skin is pale, yes, but there’s still a healthy glow to her cheeks. When the witch spell hit Kelly and Damien at the Pledge Hall, blackness spread beneath their skin. But it’s gone now. Like it never was.

“What are we going to do?” I muse.

“Did you feel it?” he asks.

I cut my attention to him.

“Was Damien right? Were you both feeling the fae trying to get through?”

Pressure builds at the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know. I felt…something.”

Arion thinks my blood can open the gate. And the spell used against Damien and Kelly is linked to magic on the fae side. It would make sense that we would feel any attempt to break the seal on the gate.

Bran leans a shoulder against the thick wooden post at the bed’s footboard. “We need allies, Mouse. Fae ones.”

“Arion,” I say and he nods. “Does that worry you?”

“Nothing worries me. There is only strategy and outcome.”

“You’re lying.”

His mouth is pursed, the glow gone from his eyes, but I can tell he is worried. Maybe even a little afraid.

I turn back to my sister, the odd stillness to her body. I reach out for her hand and the second our skin touches, I’m crying.

Not giant heaving sobs. But slow, painful tears.

I can’t ignore the hope that I can save her.

I think it might be the only thing I have left.

I’m not afraid.

I’m hungry to prove myself.

“I’m going to Arion tonight,” I say and wipe the tears away with the pad of my thumb. “And you’re coming with me and we’re going to make a bold statement.”

The corner of Bran’s mouth lifts. “You’re sexy when you’re determined.”

“I’m serious, Bran.”

“So am I, Mouse.”

I check on Kelly one last time before surging to the door. “Who do I call to help make me a fae princess in just a few hours?”

“A princess will always be lacking. In her position, she is inherently vulnerable and weak.” Bran takes my hand in his and pulls me down the hall. “Fuck a fae princess. We’re making you a queen and I have just the thing for it.”