Page 4 of Barely Breathing (Merely Mortal #3)

Chapter

Four

Devine Country Estate, Twelve Years Ago…

Floating in the estate’s pond, watching clouds drift across the late afternoon sky, is about as close to free as I’ve ever felt—free from the constant reminders of my mortality, anyway. Like everything else on the estate, the water feels charged with old magic. Something always lurks beneath the surface of our world.

When I left him, Conrad had his face deep in an old tome in the family library. I don’t know what answers he thinks he’ll find there, but I doubt they’ll change anything. We’re mortal. There is very little we can do about that. At least, that’s what they keep telling us.

I guess vampire bites or werewolf attacks might do the trick. Or we could be brought back from the dead as a necromancer’s plaything. Do zombies count as immortal? I mean, they’re dead before they’re undead. Then they rot and eventually will become dead again.

It’s a gross thought, but it’s where my mind wanders.

My clothes lie in a heap on the bank, hidden beneath low-hanging branches. I didn’t have time to change into a swimsuit before sneaking out of the house and into the woods to hide. The water is cool against my bare skin, contrasting with the peeks of hot sun streaming through the branches. I feel weightless. It’s just me, the water, and the rustle of leaves in the trees.

I’m perfectly safe. The pond on my parents’ land is deep. It’s protected by magic, so no one comes out here during the day without permission.

Night is a different story. That is when the monsters come out to play, and my parents force me to hide away in the protected wing of the estate.

The truth is I’m out here because I’m bored and restless. The alternative would have been staying in the house where my mother would find me and make me run off calories on the treadmill. My mother is a cold bitch who only thinks about image. I guess, in a way, it’s my own fault. I wasn’t careful when I stole that pan of brownies out of the kitchen.

Oh, but they were delicious .

My father is traveling. He’s always traveling. Belize, Belarus, Beirut, or some other B-name place... I can’t remember. I was only half listening when they mentioned it at dinner.

Anthony is away at his special paranormal private school. The golden boy is so lucky. He gets let out of the jail cells that are our family homes. I would give anything to live in a dorm away from Lady Astrid and her endless rules of etiquette.

A loud crash in the underbrush makes me flail and sink into the water to hide my nudity. I hear Anthony’s laugh and an answering howl.

Shit. What is he doing at home, and who is with him?

I look at the distance between me and the willow. Crap, crap, crap. I start swimming frantically toward it. I don’t make more than a few strokes before a brown wolf runs to the pond’s edge and bursts under the willow’s branches. My clothes scatter, some landing in the mud along the water’s edge.

Fucking Peter. He’s bigger than a normal wolf, but not by much—he hasn’t grown into his full supernatural size yet.

I tread water, helplessly watching as he loops around the tree. Peter skids to a stop at the water’s edge, tongue lolling out in a panting grin.

“Cheater!” Anthony emerges from the trees, his shirt half-unbuttoned and hair wild from the chase. Magic sparks from his fingers like tiny fireworks. “Using four legs is grounds for—” He freezes, finally noticing me. “Oh, hey, sis.”

I sink lower in the water, grateful for the pond’s murkiness. “What are you doing home?”

“Someone set fire to the dorms and…” Anthony eyes me and then my clothes. He starts laughing. “Are you naked?”

“Can you get him out of here so I can get dressed?” I motion toward Peter, who’s staring at me.

My legs kick frantically. I hide my chest with my arms the best I can while staying above water.

I hear a loud crack as Peter’s wolf form shifts. His bones sound like they’re breaking as his body morphs into his human form. I flinch at the sickening noise and have to avert my eyes. The sound reminds me of branches snapping in a storm. When the sound stops, I find my brother’s gangly friend completely naked on the shoreline.

“Hey there, Tam! Want some company?” Peter laughs, still high from the chase. He stares at me like he can see through the water. In turn, he’s oblivious to Anthony’s focus on him.

My brother’s little crush is obvious, at least to me. He hides it well, and I don’t call him on it. In this family, we all need space to have our secrets .

“What are you doing out here?” Peter continues. “Lady Astrid said you were studying.”

Anthony finally snaps out of his daze. “Peter, for fuck’s sake, you’re naked, and that’s my sister.”

“We used to swim naked out here all the time when we were kids.” Peter stretches, utterly unselfconscious. I notice Anthony’s shoulders tense. “Remember that time your dad caught us and lectured us about proper behavior for like three hours?”

“That was because we were here naked with the fairy king’s virginal daughters,” Anthony answers.

Peter doesn’t lose any of his humor. “I hate to break it to King Sylvaran, but his daughters were not ?—”

“Hey, do you mind turning around so I can get out of here?” I yell, tired of trying to tread water and hide my chest at the same time.

I remember hearing our father lecturing them about that. I also remember the way Anthony watched Peter that whole summer. But Peter never notices, too caught up in his own supernatural world. It always amazes me how prudish supernaturals can be about image. They cheat, have orgies, kill people, kill each other… And they still care what their pretty portraits look like to the rest of the world as if a glossy smile can hide all the depravity and darkness .

I see that darkness, though. The rest of the world might not, but I do.

I have a theory that it has something to do with the supernaturals’ need to stay hidden from the humans to protect themselves from another inquisition. It’s become like some game to them, seeing how much they can hide until every conversation sounds like a game of chess.

Magic crackles more intensely around Anthony’s hands—a sure sign he’s trying to control his emotions. It pulls me from my thoughts. I should say something to divert attention from my brother’s secret.

“I need my clothes,” I say, trying to sound commanding despite my compromised position.

“I’ll get them.” Anthony starts toward the shoreline, but Peter is faster.

Peter bounds over to my scattered clothes, still naked. He holds up my muddy bra like a trophy. “Nice panda bears.”

“Peter!” Anthony and I scold in unison.

A cold wind sweeps across the pond, making me shiver. The temperature drop is sudden and unnatural. I know that chill.

Uncle Mortimer appears at the edge of the pond. He’s wearing one of his impeccable old suits. Transporting is one of the creepier magic tricks. My uncle just shows up places out of thin air. That’s not what is making the summer air turn to winter. It’s the disapproval radiating off him like frost. Mortimer waves his arm toward the boys.

Peter yelps and drops my bra, diving under the tree branches. Anthony’s magic sputters out like a doused flame.

“I expected better from you, Anthony. You’re lucky I was able to calm the headmaster down, or you’d find yourself suspended. How do you expect to lead this family with a human education because that is the only place that will have you if you are kicked out of this school?” Mortimer’s voice carries the weight of generational expectations. “Then, to find you here frolicking with a werewolf like common rabble?”

“Uncle, we were just—” Anthony starts, but Mortimer holds up a hand.

“And you.” His cold eyes fixate on me in the water. “Get dressed. At least pretend like your parents raised you with morals. The Freemonts will be here for dinner, and I won’t have you looking like a drowned rat when Chester arrives. Your mother has laid out appropriate attire.”

I resist rolling my eyes. Of course she has. After sixteen years, I’m already well-versed in being the family’s mortal disappointment. I’ve been getting the impression that the only thing I’m good for is to be an advantageous marriage .

“Chester Freemont?” Peter makes a gagging sound from behind the tree. “That pompous?—”

“Mr. Freemont is a family guest,” Mortimer cuts him off. “Though I wouldn’t expect a werewolf to understand the delicacies of high society.” His gaze sweeps over my brother. “Anthony, you have responsibilities. Enough childish games. It’s time for your dog to go home.”

I see Anthony change under the weight of those words, like a dark cloud sinks over his features and pushes at his shoulders. Conrad might be older, but he’s adopted, which doesn’t count. Anthony is the Devine heir, the magical son, the one who carries all their hopes.

“The cook made brownies.” I try to take the attention from my brother. “I came for a run to work off the calories and decided to take a swim before heading back.”

Mortimer sighs like I’m trying his patience, but he can’t be bothered to respond.

I hear Peter’s bones crack as he transforms into a wolf, but I can’t see him. The sound of his paws thunder along the forest path in a primal beat, taking him away.

The familiar sting of Mortimer’s words makes me want to sink beneath the surface and never come up. Instead, I lift my chin. What else can I do but keep treading water in this abyss ?

“Get dressed,” Mortimer says. “The Freemonts arrive in three hours.”

Great. An evening of Chester Freemont’s wandering hands under the table while everyone pretends not to notice.

“What an asshole,” Anthony grumbles. He gathers my clothes for me as I come out of the water.

I pull on the half-wet, half-muddy shirt and shorts but don’t bother with undergarments. Anthony says nothing as he keeps his eyes turned away from me. When I join him on the path, we walk back toward the house in silence. Seconds later, Peter joins us in his wolf form.

We’re just three kids trying to find our way in a world that’s already decided our fates. And, like many others in my life, duty and expectations have ruined a beautiful day.