Pure silver rips through the center of my chest and I see Adria’s life flash before my eyes. The pain is so intense that it alone I know might kill me.
I gasp for air. My body slumps over onto the floor. Blood spews from my mouth, pours from my chest into a pool beneath my body. I can’t open my eyes. I can’t.
I feel the life draining out of me, the silver burning through my veins, hot like lava. And just before everything goes black, I hear my father’s voice whispering in my ear: “You will survive this, my son. I know this because we are alike, you and I. I’ve known about your Blood Bond since the night you performed it, but I could never kill you. I could never kill you….”
I think I’m dead…It’s strangely peaceful here. Wherever I am. I can’t tell if my eyes are open or shut. I hear nothing. Taste nothing. Smell nothing. But I feel everything…My body has become a shell for emotions and they’re all swirling around inside of me.
All except for fear. I’m not afraid of the Unknown.
This is the Unknown….
I’m starting to see things. Wispy coils of light, different shades of white: ivory, bone, ecru. But…maybe I don’t have eyes. I can’t actually see the coils, not with eyes. I-I don’t understand….
I’m convinced that I’m dead. Nothing in life can be this calm. Nothing. The senses don’t exist here, but my mind hasn’t changed. I still have this unending need to know what’s happening to me, to be able to understand my fate.
If I am dead then why do I care? Why am I starting to feel anxious. Closed-in. Trapped.
Is this my Hell?
I can’t wake up from this. I’m starting to feel frightened. The peace and the calm and the light that I somehow see, they’re all becoming something darker.
I must be in Hell.
Heaven could never be like this, not any Heaven I’ve ever heard of.
Is that sweat?
I think I’m sweating. How can this be real?
Just let me die. Either bring me back, or let me die…
Blackness. All I see is blackness.
My eyes have finally opened. I think. I feel a soft hand on my forehead. Warmth. Wetness.
“Just sleep,” I hear Daisy’s voice somewhere above me.
I’m still connected to her and I know those emotions. She’s afraid I’m going to die. She’s convinced of it.
I’m going to sleep now. My mind is disciplined. I can do this; I can push this enigmatic nightmare into obedience and allow myself to sleep. Even if it’s my final sleep. I have to let go.
26
WATER DRIPS CONTINUOUSLY FROM the bathtub across the hall, hammering through my brain. Slowly I wake up fully, allowing my eyes to adjust, forcing my keen sense of hearing down to relieve the throbbing in my head. The pounding sound of water droplets fades from my ears.
For the past five days the only ones allowed in the house while I heal have been me and Daisy and occasionally, the Governess. I’ve not been awake for most of it. A wound like this, one that kills more often than not, doesn’t heal as well on its own. Not like other wounds I’ve sustained. For the first two days while awake, I couldn’t move my back, much less bathe myself or lift my hand to eat. Daisy has been at my bedside most of the time.
Slowly, the house has been coming alive again. Nathan and my other brothers and sisters are home. Zia and Sebastian just walked in. I can hear Zia’s voice coming up the stairs.
I wonder if she was drilled before coming here, if she and Sebastian know how to address me now that I’m Alpha.
This should be fun.
I rise up from the bed and slip on my robe and stand near the window, peering out at the sunlight washing over the tops the trees.
My bedroom door opens.
Strike one. She didn’t knock, as usual.
I don’t turn around yet. I’m waiting to see how many strikes she has in her.
“Hey, Isaac—well, you seem better,” Zia says from the doorway. “Physically anyway.”
Strike two. She didn’t address me as Lord.
I hear my bed squeak as she plops down on it. “Any word on Harry?” She doesn’t want to bring up anything about Adria for obvious reasons.
Strike three. Absolutely no respect.
I turn around fully, my back straight and proper, my hands folded in front. My face shows only one emotion, easily distinguished by Zia as she swallows and carefully gets up from my bed without the usual spring in her step.
She goes into a deep bow so that I can only see the top of her white-blond hair.
I flash Sebastian a grin before Zia raises her back again.
“Forgive me, Milord.”
I can definitely get used to this.
Finally, I let the smile slowly creep up on my face and when Zia realizes she’s been had, she runs over, squealing out a laugh and pushes me in the chest. “You jerk!”
I try to keep the smile on my face, because really, more than anything it was another unsuccessful attempt to take my mind off things.
Nothing is ever going to make this better.
“I need to get dressed, if you don’t mind,” I say with no emotion in my voice.
“Oh, Isaac,” Zia says sympathetically, “Maybe she—”
“Stop,” I interrupt softly, “Not right now, alright?”
A faint smile softens her eyes. “Alright,” she says. She smiles brighter, walking over to Sebastian still standing in the doorway. “We’ll be downstairs if you need anything—hell, you’re Alpha now, so I guess all you have to do is ring a bell and we’re all supposed to come running, right?” She looks around the room. “Didja’ get a bell?”
She puts up her hands, “Alright, alright, we’ll let you get dressed.”
Things are changing in our pack. Now that I’m Alpha here in the States, Nathan will be going back to Serbia to be right-hand to my father there. No doubt, Nataša will be unhappy about this since Seth will not have the opportunity to prove himself right-hand material anymore.
Our politics are…complicated.
I began my training—battle as well as politics—before I could speak. My father’s legacy is without a doubt brutal and revered. I know our ways better than I know just about anything, but the one law we were never permitted to know in full detail was the one concerning the Blood Bond. On the third night of my healing after becoming Alpha, the Governess came into my room and explained everything. A little late, yes, but nothing I can do about that now. According to our history, which stretches back more than three thousand years, there has only ever been four Blood Bonds recorded. Adria is not counted among them. Not yet. And Aramei…she has outlived them all.
If only Adria could’ve had the same luxury and was able to be Adria for longer than a few months.
I can’t stand this anymore. Not knowing where she is, if she’s even alive.
The one thing I do know is that already I fear that if Adria dies or I find out that she already has…I worry I will rule just like my father. I can already feel the dark, pitiless walls starting to surround my mind, closing in on me and my more tolerant nature.
Adria’s death will threaten to be the death of me, of the Isaac Mayfair I grew up to be despite my father’s iron fist.
But I know I’ll have to fight it…for her sake. It will be a struggle not to become like my father, but with my plans to change the laws of our kind, to be a beginning for a new age, I’ll have to let the death of the one I love make me stronger, not weaker.
It will be hard, but I have to fight it.
I head down the stairs to the faces of my siblings, a few friends and the Governess, who is always lingering in the shadows like an old crone. And despite Zia knowing that I’m not going to treat them as my father would, still everyone bows to me as if they are all seeing me for the first time.
I kind of hate it, really. To screw with Zia’s head, sure, it’s perfect, but in general it feels awkward.
“Come on, guys,” I say coming off the last step, “I’m not ready for the formalities yet.”
“Get used to it, little brother,” Nathan says falling into the comfort of the couch with Hannah beside him. “Eat it up while you can that I’m bowing to you at all—won’t last long.” He grins at me from across the room, tossing his arm around Hannah.
Funny how I became an Alpha before Nathan, but then everything has turned out quite differently than any of us expected.
The Governess, wearing her usual blue-black robe, which covers everything from the neck down except her hands and her bare feet, steps up to me. She’s nearly as old as my father, but not nearly as powerful regardless of being a six hundred year-old female werewolf.
She bows low at the waist. “Milord, if you permit, I shall leave for New York within the hour.” Her words are always balanced, never revealing emotion. The Governess’ are the epitome of discipline.
I nod half-way and speak to her unlike I will my friends. “You are dismissed, Governess. I need nothing further from your studies.”
It shocks me some, how natural that felt.
The Governess bows lowly, taking two steps backward before turning on her heels and leaving through the foyer.
Once the Governess is out of the room, everyone else feels they can be themselves again. Other than me, only Nathan can be without fear around her. She can’t touch us, but to them, she can and will show her powerful side if she’s ever disrespected. She is an Elder, after all.
It isn’t supposed to be this way, my Ascension as Alpha. I always imagined feeling proud and doing what all new Alphas do by immersing themselves in their honorable duties, setting forth new laws and upholding old laws. I’m supposed to be making my father proud by taking charge without guidance or prompt and making my pack my own, entitling new ranks and creating my own legion of werewolves that will help establish my leadership.
But I can’t do any of that yet.
Not until I know what’s happened to Adria.
I don’t even know why I came downstairs; maybe I just needed the company. I’m almost fully healed now. Being alone in my room for nearly two weeks has put a serious black cloud over my head.
“Beverlee and Carl Dawson,” Zia says to all of us, though avoiding my eyes, “they still haven’t seen or heard from Adria.”
I grit my teeth. I can’t bear to talk about her, but I don’t tell Zia to stop. I need to hear it, regardless.
“Do you think they’re telling the truth?” Daisy says from beside me. I feel her gentle hand touch the back of my arm in attempt to offer comfort.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Zia goes on. “They’re still really messed up about it and it’s hard to fake that kind of devastation.” She adds looking over, “Might as well let them in on it, or put them out of their misery.”
“Zia,” Nathan says from the couch, “this really isn’t the time.”
She has always been outspoken, but even I had to agree with my brother on this one.
Zia sighs heavily and holds out her hands to us, palms up. “When will it be, Nathan? Adria’s gone. Harry’s gone. You don’t find that a little f**king odd?” Her tone is becoming sharp.