Page 45 of Battle for the Shadow Prince (A Bargain with the Shadow Prince #2)

45

Home Again

ELOISE

“ I did it. She’s dead. She’ll never hurt anyone again.”

Maeve squeals on the other end of our call. “You won! You beat the vampire queen! Goddess, I thought you could do it, El. I did. But hearing your voice… Praise the goddess.”

There’s a pause while she processes it all.

“But… if you killed her, who is ruling Night Haven?”

“I released all her power back to the individual coven masters.”

“I bet the vampires at Bad Witches’ Club are shitting their pants right now. Huge changes coming their way. I’m sure my phone will be blowing up with the news as soon as it reaches the witch community.”

“It’s so good to hear your voice. Listen, I’ll tell you everything when I see you, but right now I need to go home.”

“Not Harcourt, El. You can’t. It’s not safe.”

“The vampires are gone. I’ll be fine.”

She hesitates, and I picture her chewing her lip on the other end of our connection. “It’s not just the vampires. The FBI is up the Denardis’ asses over this Gold Weaver thing, but they haven’t had enough evidence to nail them. You know too much, El. There’s still a price on your head.”

I sigh. “I’m going home. Damien’s with me, and I’m…” I hesitate. I don’t want to tell her that I’m a vampire. Not over the phone. “I’m stronger now. I proved as much by my victory over Valeska.”

“Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll see you there.”

“Wait, Maeve—” I try to tell her that she shouldn’t risk herself for me, but she’s already hung up.

We arrive at Harcourt after midnight to find Maeve waiting for us. A sob breaks from her throat as she embraces me. “Goddess, El. I love you, girlie. I’m so happy you’re home.”

“I love you too,” I say through a laugh, careful not to squeeze her too hard. “And I couldn’t agree more.”

Her nose twitches as her senses tell her something’s not right with me. With her hands still gripping my shoulders, she takes me in, that witchy part of her bubbling to the surface and surrounding us with an aura of magic. How had I gone so long not knowing what she was?

Behind her square-framed glasses, her eyes narrow. I can almost hear her working it out in her head. “Oh, Eloise…”

“It wasn’t my choice,” I say softly. “But it is the way I was able to win.”

She refuses to let me go and pulls me into an even harder squeeze. She’s still wearing her coat. It’s early spring, and the weather is cold and rainy, but I can’t feel it. This new body of mine is extremely resilient to changes in temperature. The royal-blue trench coat I’m wearing and Damien’s dark gray wool one are just for show, just to help us look more human.

All at once, I remember that she is still human. I catch the scent of her blood, hear her heart beat faster, smell her adrenaline spike.

“Can I take your coat?” I ask, trying to act human as best I can. I’m the same as before. Relax . “Are you hungry? We could order something. I could make tea.” I point toward the kitchen.

Emotions flit through her expression so quickly I can’t interpret them all, but a few of them come through clear as day. She knows I’m a vampire. She knows I no longer eat like she does. She still loves me, but things are different. Different in ways she’s not sure how exactly to deal with. I see all these things in her eyes and can relate to each one because I feel them too.

“I’ll hold on to my coat if it’s all the same. It’s freezing in here.” She hugs herself. “And I’m fine, thanks. It’s late for me. I’ve already eaten.”

Of course she has. “I’ll turn on the heat for you.” I move for the hall and the thermostat, careful to slow my steps, move as a human would, to put Maeve at ease. Technically the heat has been on, but it’s turned down to fifty-five, just enough to keep the pipes from freezing. I bump it up by ten degrees. Then glance back at her and nudge it to seventy-two. The heat kicks on with a click, and I feel warm air blow into the room.

When I release the dial, I wipe my fingers on my coat. Everything is covered in a thin film of dust, including the top of the thermostat. Even the wood floors are badly in need of a sweep. It’s been months since I was in this house. Truth be told, I was not a stellar housekeeper even before I left, but the ghosts of my ancestors always took care of things when I lived here. Unfortunately, I took them with me when I left for Night Haven. Which means…

I wander into the kitchen and see that the spider plant hanging over the sink, the one that has grown there for as long as I’ve been alive, is dead. I reach up and take a crispy leaf between my fingers. Pieces crumble and float to the floor.

“I should have had someone water that. I forgot it was in here,” Maeve says. “After the threats, I?—”

“You did your best,” I say, holding up a hand. “It’s just a plant. Thank you for paying the bills and managing all the crap with Tony’s estate and everything.”

She slides her hands into her pockets. “About that, if you stay here tonight, you should expect to have visitors tomorrow. Nothing has changed since I visited you in your dream. Agent Fuller still wants to talk to you. They found the Maserati and Jared’s body. He’s going to want to know where you’ve been. He’ll have questions.”

Damien gives a low growl. Of the two of us, he’s the only one who could so much as answer the door. The light would kill me.

“We’ll figure something out,” I tell her.

She hugs herself and shivers. I’m not sure if it’s from the drafty house or the situation. It can’t be easy learning your best friend is a vampire, especially considering vampires and witches haven’t often been allies.

“The heat in here always did take a minute. Let me light a fire for you.”

I march into the parlor and reach for the tin of matches on the mantel.

“Really, you don’t have to do that,” she says, striding in behind me. She goes straight for the lamp next to the sofa and clicks it on. I don’t need it anymore.

Damien appears beside me, his hand fitting into the small of my back. I might be stronger than ever, but I melt into that touch, melt into his side. This house isn’t just dusty; it feels dead. Soulless. Cold. The scent of my grandmother’s perfume is long gone. No sounds or smells of cooking come from the kitchen. The pictures of my ancestors on the walls feel distant and disconnected from me.

I try to push the feeling aside as I squat down to stack a few logs and attempt to light them. It doesn’t work, and I end up grabbing the tin of matches and doing it the nonmagical way. As the fire catches, I can’t shake the feeling.

“Something feels wrong.” I say to Damien.

“You’re adjusting to the transition. It’s going to take time.” We stand together, and he crosses the room to reposition a pillow on the green velvet sofa. “I remember the day you summoned me to this room… naked.” He offers a wolfish smile and cocks an eyebrow. It’s an obvious ploy to lighten the mood, take my mind off what’s bothering me.

Maeve laughs. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Why? It was your idea, witch.” Damien’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and I wonder if he’ll ever forgive Maeve for the part she played in his captivity, or if she’s still alive for my sake. Because he’d never hurt someone I loved.

I think back to that night. To that spell.

Maeve’s footsteps on the wood floor echo in the room when she stops in front of the fire. My gaze drifts to the corner where the grandfather clock stands. Silence.

“Eloise, are you okay?” Maeve asks.

“The clock has stopped.”

Maeve shrugs. “It probably just needs to be wound. Don’t these things usually have a crank or something?” She walks over to it and sticks her nail in the lock that holds the cabinet shut. “Your ancestors probably did it before, just like watering the plant.”

I move closer to it and raise a hand to the clock face. Maeve is probably right, but it feels so much bigger than just a clock in need of maintenance. A heaviness forms deep inside me, like I’ve lost something precious that I didn’t even know I had.

Phantom appears next to the clock, eyes flashing green. Their mouth moves, but I can’t make out my grandmother’s voice. I can’t hear them at all. But then, I haven’t heard the fox speak on behalf of my ancestors since my transformation. I thought it was simply because I couldn’t yet feel the buzz inside this new, strange body, but now I wonder. I search for the connection between us and?—

Pop! A clink comes from the front window, and a piece of the mantel bursts into shards.

Maeve draws a breath into her lungs like she’s about to scream.

Some deep instinct has me throwing myself in front of her. Pop, pop, pop. Glass rains across the sofa, the rug.

Damien forms behind me, shielding me. “We’ve got visitors, little dragon.”

A bullet passes through his side and wedges in mine with a dull pinch. I look around Damien to see men in my front yard. Six men in dark suits who all look too much like Tony to not be Denardis. They walk toward us, guns raised.

“ How many cousins does the bastard have?” I ask no one in particular.

The clink of metal hitting the floor draws my attention to the bloody bullet my body has just expelled. Maeve stares at it, her face ashen. She’s a powerful witch, but she isn’t bulletproof.

“The attic. Let’s go!” I move Maeve, shielding her as I lift and carry her to the base of the stairs.

The second I set her down, she sprints toward the second floor.

I whirl to find Damien staring through the broken window. Bullet holes riddle his white shirt and jeans as well as the sides of his long, dark wool coat. His eyes, diamond blue and hard as ice, meet mine.

“We need to talk, Eloise,” one of the men says in that patronizing way Tony and Jared spoke to me. “Come out and no one needs to get hurt.”

“You don’t want to do this,” I call back. “The FBI is watching the house. They can see everything you’re doing.”

The man snorts. “We’ve taken care of the cameras. Next we’re gonna take care of you if you don’t cooperate.”

I see red. I’ve had enough of the Denardis. This is supposed to be my homecoming, my safe space, my rest. I refuse to entertain these fuckers for one more second.

“You don’t need to be afraid anymore, little bird.” Damien holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

I flip my bright red curls over my shoulder and give a low, deep chuckle. “Oh, we shall.”

Together, hand in hand, we step up onto the couch and out the broken picture window. Our boots land in the front lawn. We get one more step in before bullets shower from their guns. Damien moves in front of me, taking shots to the chest, the stomach, the legs. One slides past him and lodges in my biceps. It hurts but not too bad. I take one to the cheekbone, which stings.

When the bullets finally stop, Damien flashes me a flirty smile and reaches out to wipe the blood from my already-healing wound. “He’ll pay for that.”

We both turn our attention to the men who are only now realizing there’s something not human about the two of us. I glare at the Denardi who stands at the center, the one who appears to be their leader, and raise an eyebrow. “This is going to hurt.”

Damien breaks apart into a dozen streams of shadow that drive like dark needles through the men. Their voices ring out as their slow human minds try to understand what’s happening to them. My vampire senses catch it all—the spout of blood that erupts from a lung, a throat, a wrist. The guns go flying, some with hands still attached.

It seems like an incredibly long time before the men’s screams rend the night, their senses finally catching up to ours. My mind moves so much faster now. My senses are so much keener. They turn and try to flee. In their long gray coats, they scatter like pigeons across my lawn. Pigeons hit with scattershot, bleeding to death as they run.

Damien catches up to two of them in the time it takes me to decide what to do next. His shadows toy with them, slowly draining their life as they beg for their lives. I spot another one running down the drive. He’s almost reached the road. That won’t do. No one can leave this place. I want to send the Denardis a message. Anyone they send to kill me is never coming back.

I catch up with the man easily and kick the side of his knee. The bone breaks with a resounding crack. His shriek as he crumples to the pavement is chilling.

“Why did you come here to kill me?” I ask the man as he crab walks backward, trying to get away from me. I know why, but I want to hear him admit it.

“Fuck off, cunt!”

I grab him by the front of the shirt. He punches me with everything he’s got, his fist slamming into my jaw. I barely feel it, as if I’ve been batted by a kitten’s paw. “Why. Are. You. Here?”

He stops breathing, his pupils dilating with fear. “Hail Mary, full of grace…” His mumbled prayer drifts over me and into the night.

“Hmph. Something tells me Jesus, Mary, and Joseph aren’t too thrilled that you came here to murder an innocent young woman whose abusive ex-husband tried to frame her for his crimes.”

His eyes narrow to slits. “You’re a loose end. You know too much.” He whimpers. “All you had to do was follow directions and the family would’ve let you live.”

“Directions?” My brows lift, and I laugh as he flails in my grip. “Is that all I had to do? Maybe what I needed was a demonstration. Do you know how to follow directions?”

He says nothing.

I reach into his pocket and extract his wallet, checking the ID. “Following your directions isn’t going to work for me, Nick. But how about you follow mine?”

He sneers and tries to break my hold again.

“I’ll give you an easy one.” I draw his face closer. “All you have to do is lie here and die.” I slam the back of his head against the driveway hard enough to crack his skull, then with the stomp of my heel, I break his other leg. He passes out, but I can still hear his heart beating as his blood pools beneath his skull.

I stride back toward Damien, leaving Nick there to bleed out. A part of me recognizes that I’m not this person. Eloise Harcourt doesn’t hurt people, not intentionally. I’m not a killer. But right now my humanity feels like a distant memory. Just like this house, this property. It all feels like something from a different life. A different time.

But no matter how different it might be now, the Denardis can’t have any of it.