Even though I wanted to run, run, run away from that voice, from her, from this living, waking nightmare, I made myself creep forward, hunker down, and peer around a tree. Through the dense, boiling smoke, I could just make out two figures standing in what had been our backyard garden before part of the house had toppled over and landed on it, burying all the trees and flowers in jagged, broken stones.
One of them was a man—Hugh—although he seemed more like a shadow than a tangible person. Hair, eyes, goatee, suit. Everything about him was blacker than the night itself. He paced back and forth, staring at first one burning, crumbled section of the mansion, then the next.
Someone was standing beyond him, backlit by the flames. All I could make out was her slender shape, but I knew who she was—the Fire elemental who’d just destroyed my entire world.
Hugh stopped pacing, stormed over to the elemental, and stabbed his finger at her. “You enjoyed this.”
The Fire elemental let out another deep, throaty laugh. “Of course I did. I’ve wanted Eira dead for years, and the Circle finally let me take care of that meddlesome bitch once and for all.”
“She was one of us!” he hissed back. “You always were jealous of her.”
“Aw, what’s the matter, Hugh? Upset that your precious Eira is dead? You didn’t really think that she’d come crawling back to you, did you?” She clucked her tongue, mocking him. “We all knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not after Tristan’s . . . accident.”
I frowned, wondering if I was hearing them right over the continuous popping, cracking, and sizzling of the flames. Tristan? Why were they talking about my dad? He’d died in a car accident several years ago. What did that have to do with any of this?
Hugh turned away from the Fire elemental and stared at the burning house again.
“Oh, you did. You really did think that Eira would fall in line and come back to you.” She let out another loud, pealing laugh. “You sad, stupid little fool.”
“Shut up,” he growled. “Just shut your fucking mouth.”
“Or you’ll do what?” She sneered. “What will you do, Hugh? Everyone knows that you can’t even tie your shoes without his permission—”
Her words were abruptly cut off, and it took me a second to realize why. From one heartbeat to the next, Hugh had crossed the distance between them, wrapped his hand around the elemental’s throat, and hoisted her up off the ground as easily as I could pick up one of Bria’s dolls. I’d never seen someone move that fast. He bared his teeth at her, a telltale gleam of white flashing in his mouth. Not just teeth—fangs.
The vampire tightened his grip and gave the elemental a vicious shake. She let out a little squeak of fear, like a mouse caught in a cat’s sharp claws. Dark satisfaction filled me. In that moment, I wanted the vampire to bite her, to snap her neck, to hurt her the same way that she’d hurt me.
Do it, I thought. Make her suffer. Kill her just like she killed my family.
But instead, he gave her another hard shake, slammed her back down onto her feet, and shoved her away. The Fire elemental staggered back, clutching her throat.
“You said that you killed one of the girls,” Hugh snapped. “Which one?”
She coughed and coughed, trying to get her breath back.
“Which one?” he growled again.
“The . . . oldest . . . Annabella . . .” she wheezed.
“What happened to the other two girls?”
She kept wheezing, and he stepped forward, as though he was going to throttle her again. She staggered back and snapped up her hand. Flames erupted on her fingertips, momentarily stopping him. But as fast as the vampire was, he could easily snap her neck before she even had a chance to blast him with her magic.
“I don’t know. They were still in the mansion when it all came tumbling down. I assume that they’re both buried in the rubble.”
Hugh looked back at the burning mansion. “But you don’t know for sure. You didn’t kill them yourself. You didn’t actually see them die.”
The Fire elemental cleared her throat and straightened up, trying to regain her composure. “I didn’t have time. But you’re right. We should check and make sure that they didn’t escape. We wouldn’t want any loose ends coming back to strangle us later, would we?”
She stepped behind a pile of rubble, out of my line of sight, but I heard her voice ring out loud and clear. “Barry! Chuck! Carlos! Get over here! Start searching the woods for survivors!”
“Sure thing, boss!” a male voice called back.
A few seconds later, three giants jogged into view. They stopped long enough to nod their heads respectfully at Hugh, the vampire, and then headed toward the tree line—toward me.
Heart pounding, I lurched to my feet, whipped around, and stumbled deeper into the woods. I had to hide. I had to run, or I’d be as dead as the rest of my family . . .
I woke up grinding my teeth, my fingers clenching the blanket, my spider rune scars itching and burning as though Mab Monroe had just freshly branded them into my palms, just like she had on that horrible night so long ago.
For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was, but then last night came rushing back to me. Finding the dead girl at Northern Aggression. The trip to the coroner’s office. All the ugly revelations about my spider rune and the Dollmaker. Driving Jade home and destroying her world with the news that the serial killer had her sister.
I forced myself to let go of the blanket and take deep, slow, calming breaths as I dug my fingers into first one scar, then the other, trying to massage the memories out of the marks, as well as my mind. But it didn’t work.
It never did.
I might have gotten some sleep, but it hadn’t been restful. Not at all. And the memory that it had brought along with it . . . So many awful things had happened that night, and I’d been in so much pain that it was hard to keep track of them all. Oh, I dimly remembered staggering away from our burning mansion, trekking through the woods in the dark, and eventually making my way down into the city. But I hadn’t remembered Hugh Tucker being there, talking to Mab, not until tonight. And he’d actually been upset that she’d murdered my mother. Distraught enough to consider killing Mab with his bare hands.
One of them was a man—Hugh—although he seemed more like a shadow than a tangible person. Hair, eyes, goatee, suit. Everything about him was blacker than the night itself. He paced back and forth, staring at first one burning, crumbled section of the mansion, then the next.
Someone was standing beyond him, backlit by the flames. All I could make out was her slender shape, but I knew who she was—the Fire elemental who’d just destroyed my entire world.
Hugh stopped pacing, stormed over to the elemental, and stabbed his finger at her. “You enjoyed this.”
The Fire elemental let out another deep, throaty laugh. “Of course I did. I’ve wanted Eira dead for years, and the Circle finally let me take care of that meddlesome bitch once and for all.”
“She was one of us!” he hissed back. “You always were jealous of her.”
“Aw, what’s the matter, Hugh? Upset that your precious Eira is dead? You didn’t really think that she’d come crawling back to you, did you?” She clucked her tongue, mocking him. “We all knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not after Tristan’s . . . accident.”
I frowned, wondering if I was hearing them right over the continuous popping, cracking, and sizzling of the flames. Tristan? Why were they talking about my dad? He’d died in a car accident several years ago. What did that have to do with any of this?
Hugh turned away from the Fire elemental and stared at the burning house again.
“Oh, you did. You really did think that Eira would fall in line and come back to you.” She let out another loud, pealing laugh. “You sad, stupid little fool.”
“Shut up,” he growled. “Just shut your fucking mouth.”
“Or you’ll do what?” She sneered. “What will you do, Hugh? Everyone knows that you can’t even tie your shoes without his permission—”
Her words were abruptly cut off, and it took me a second to realize why. From one heartbeat to the next, Hugh had crossed the distance between them, wrapped his hand around the elemental’s throat, and hoisted her up off the ground as easily as I could pick up one of Bria’s dolls. I’d never seen someone move that fast. He bared his teeth at her, a telltale gleam of white flashing in his mouth. Not just teeth—fangs.
The vampire tightened his grip and gave the elemental a vicious shake. She let out a little squeak of fear, like a mouse caught in a cat’s sharp claws. Dark satisfaction filled me. In that moment, I wanted the vampire to bite her, to snap her neck, to hurt her the same way that she’d hurt me.
Do it, I thought. Make her suffer. Kill her just like she killed my family.
But instead, he gave her another hard shake, slammed her back down onto her feet, and shoved her away. The Fire elemental staggered back, clutching her throat.
“You said that you killed one of the girls,” Hugh snapped. “Which one?”
She coughed and coughed, trying to get her breath back.
“Which one?” he growled again.
“The . . . oldest . . . Annabella . . .” she wheezed.
“What happened to the other two girls?”
She kept wheezing, and he stepped forward, as though he was going to throttle her again. She staggered back and snapped up her hand. Flames erupted on her fingertips, momentarily stopping him. But as fast as the vampire was, he could easily snap her neck before she even had a chance to blast him with her magic.
“I don’t know. They were still in the mansion when it all came tumbling down. I assume that they’re both buried in the rubble.”
Hugh looked back at the burning mansion. “But you don’t know for sure. You didn’t kill them yourself. You didn’t actually see them die.”
The Fire elemental cleared her throat and straightened up, trying to regain her composure. “I didn’t have time. But you’re right. We should check and make sure that they didn’t escape. We wouldn’t want any loose ends coming back to strangle us later, would we?”
She stepped behind a pile of rubble, out of my line of sight, but I heard her voice ring out loud and clear. “Barry! Chuck! Carlos! Get over here! Start searching the woods for survivors!”
“Sure thing, boss!” a male voice called back.
A few seconds later, three giants jogged into view. They stopped long enough to nod their heads respectfully at Hugh, the vampire, and then headed toward the tree line—toward me.
Heart pounding, I lurched to my feet, whipped around, and stumbled deeper into the woods. I had to hide. I had to run, or I’d be as dead as the rest of my family . . .
I woke up grinding my teeth, my fingers clenching the blanket, my spider rune scars itching and burning as though Mab Monroe had just freshly branded them into my palms, just like she had on that horrible night so long ago.
For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was, but then last night came rushing back to me. Finding the dead girl at Northern Aggression. The trip to the coroner’s office. All the ugly revelations about my spider rune and the Dollmaker. Driving Jade home and destroying her world with the news that the serial killer had her sister.
I forced myself to let go of the blanket and take deep, slow, calming breaths as I dug my fingers into first one scar, then the other, trying to massage the memories out of the marks, as well as my mind. But it didn’t work.
It never did.
I might have gotten some sleep, but it hadn’t been restful. Not at all. And the memory that it had brought along with it . . . So many awful things had happened that night, and I’d been in so much pain that it was hard to keep track of them all. Oh, I dimly remembered staggering away from our burning mansion, trekking through the woods in the dark, and eventually making my way down into the city. But I hadn’t remembered Hugh Tucker being there, talking to Mab, not until tonight. And he’d actually been upset that she’d murdered my mother. Distraught enough to consider killing Mab with his bare hands.
