Page 10

Chapter Eight

I stare at Costin, able to recall the texture of his skin against mine.

I feel the air entering my lungs.

I smell his blood.

I taste the memory of it.

His very presence calls to me, a bond so thick I don’t know that I could ever deny him.

He’s always been there.

A constant.

My constant.

At first, he was my protector, lurking in the shadows of my childhood, keeping me safe as a promise to my grandfather.

I always saw him as another monster, a nice-enough monster, but a monster.

I was wrong.

It took me twenty-eight years to see what he could be to me.

I fought it.

Part of me still fights it, because this is not the path I wanted.

I never wanted to be a supernatural, not like this.

I’ve seen what power does to people.

I wanted to be normal.

Human.

I wanted to want Paul.

But Paul is only an idea, a representation of all my disappointments and secret dreams.

Life has proven that path would never work.

Death.

Prophecies.

Fires.

Labyrinths.

A near apocalypse.

Claws and fangs.

The images of all of it swirl in my mind.

I was born to this destiny, to these horrible moments, this monstrous reality.

A mere mortal could never survive it.

I can’t look away from Costin’s eyes.

They draw me in.

He’s been so much of my timeline, and I’m barely a blip on his.

He’s controlling and frustrates the hell out of me.

Still, I feel our deep connection like a thread pulsing between us.

Suddenly, I realize he’s trying to influence me and give me his calm.

I try to focus on him, but I hear the chorus of heartbeats from those in the room.

They call to my monster like raining chaos to demand my attention.

Each beat is like a drop of water on the floor, one after another, too many to focus on.

The magic takes away all of my safeguards.

I hear the ugly crack of my bones.

Pain rolls through me, but I ignore it.

Both natures are present and demanding attention.

This is my full self, the one we’ve been trying to stop.

The chamber falls silent as I stand in the circle, my body humming with barely contained energy.

My gaze slips from Costin’s hold to move over the most powerful supernatural beings in the world.

They expect me to prove I’m not a monster, and I can tell most of them think I’ll fail the test.

I feel the dual natures inside me, vampire and werewolf, struggling for dominance.

The wolf wants to fight, to assert itself before these predators.

The vampire wants to calculate, to manipulate the situation to my advantage.

Great.

My choices are dog or bat?

One wants to pee on the floor to shock them as I mark my supremacy, and the other wants to skulk away into the shadows to plan.

Both want to feed.

“Look. She’s smiling,” Anthony says.

He’s not talking loudly, but I detect the hope in his voice.

“She’s in control.”

“That’s not a smile,” Mortimer whispers.

“She looks insane.”

I remain still, forcing both sides of my nature into an uneasy truce.

“Interesting,” Decimus says, coming down the stairs toward me.

“She maintains control even without the suppression.”

“For now.” Elizabeth’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

She lifts her hand, and I see the glint of metal.

“Fetch.”

She throws the coin in the air.

I twitch as I track it to where it lands.

It clinks on the marble floor, and my nerves jolt at the sound.

“But for how long?” Elizabeth asks.

Zephronis approaches the edge of the circle, his foot coming to stand on the coin to break my concentration.

I feel the magic surrounding me is connected to him.

He’s doing this.

“Tamara Devine,” his voice intones, though I don’t see his mouth move.

“Do you understand why you are here?”

“Because I’m unprecedented?” I whisper.

It’s the nicest way I can think to describe what I am.

“Because you need to decide if I’m a threat.”

“Yes.” He nods, his magical eyes seeming to see through me.

He’s in my head, listening to my thoughts.

My eyes dart to Costin, trying not to think of the last time we had sex.

Dark, bloody images instantly emerge.

Fuck.

Did Zephronis see that?

He nods his head.

Fuckety fuck fuck.

Okay, I need to think of something good.

A benign memory.

Diana’s giggle.

Her stuffed dog named Plop.

Donuts with fairy sprinkles.

Sunshine coming through the car window to land warm across my hand.

My heart aches.

I’ll never see sunshine again.

“What is happening?” Decimus asks.

“What do you see?”

“Tamara in the circle,” Zephronis answers wryly, not revealing my thoughts even though I still feel him in my head.

“The circle you stand in compels truth and reveals nature,” Decimus states as he appears behind Zephronis.

“We will ask questions. You will answer. Your responses and your control will determine much.”

I nod.

“Does she agree?” Decimus stares in my general direction but doesn’t see me.

“I understand,” I answer.

Decimus taps his staff.

“First, we must establish baseline facts. Are you a wolf or a vampire? Which faction has claim on you for you cannot belong to both.”

“She’s mine,” Costin states.

“Thane bit her first,” Sully says at the same time.

“She’s a Devine,” Astrid states.

Zephronis whips his hand up for silence.

I feel his irritation with the process growing.

“What do you remember of your transformation?” Decimus demands.

The question seems simple enough, but as I open my mouth to answer, memories flood back with visceral intensity.

I remember Thane’s fangs tearing into my shoulder, the ritual circle, the moonlight pouring through the glass dome, Elizabeth’s knife, Costin’s wrist at my mouth as darkness claimed me.

“I was bitten by Alpha Thane during his and Elizabeth’s ritual attempt to steal all the magic for themselves,” I say, the words pulled from me by the circle’s magic.

“Liar!” Elizabeth shouts.

“Silence!” Decimus yells.

Then to me he orders, “Continue.”

I try to keep my words in, but the circle compels honesty.

“I was dying. Costin turned me against my wishes to save my life.”

“Were you dying or turning?” Decimus asks.

“Against her wishes,” Sully rumbles.

“We wouldn’t even be here if the vampire hadn’t intervened. There would be no questions as to her true nature. She’s a wolf. Death is part of that process. She belongs with us.”

“The ritual made me too weak. I wouldn’t have survived the bite.” I believe it, even if I don’t know if it’s true.

“But you did survive,” Sully counters.

“My family is here as a courtesy,” Astrid states.

“The council needs to ask its questions of her, or we’re leaving.”

I look at my father.

He doesn’t speak.

His expression says he just wants this to be over.

“You were saying, Lord Constantine bit you,” Decimus prompts.

“Are you sure you weren’t just trying to pick your future as a vampire rather than a wolf?”

I can tell most of the people in this room would easily believe that.

The wolves are treated as the lesser of the human-originated supernatural beings.

“I didn’t want to become a vampire, either,” I state.

“I had made him promise me not to let me turn. He didn’t honor that.”

A murmur ripples through the chamber.

I see Costin’s jaw tighten and feel a pulse of complex emotions through our sire bond.

Regret, defiance…

pain?

I don’t like that he’s hurting.

I should never have said such a thing.

My hybrid stirs.

I start to move toward Costin.

“Yet here you stand,” Zephronis says, demanding my attention.

He’s staring at me, and I wonder at the intensity of his look.

It doesn’t match the calmness of his tone.

“Neither fully vampire nor fully werewolf. What do you feel when the moon calls to you?”

The question triggers something primal.

Even underground, I can feel the approaching full moon.

It’s a distant pull on my blood that grows stronger each night.

“Hunger,” I admit.

“Rage. The need to run, to hunt.” I swallow hard.

“To tear things apart.”

“And what of your vampire nature?” Decimus asks.

“Do you feel the thirst?”

“Always.” The word escapes before I can consider it.

Damn this stupid truth circle.

“But it’s different from the wolf’s hunger. Colder. More calculating.”

“And which is stronger?” asks Elizabeth, her voice deceptively gentle.

“The wolf or the vampire?”

I feel both sides surge at the question, as if responding to the challenge.

My fingernails lengthen slightly, my canines pressing against my lower lip.

I force them back with effort.

“They... take turns,” I manage, breathing heavily.

“It changes. Sometimes minute by minute.”

The white-haired vampire seated near Costin rises, her movements so fluid she seems to float.

“May I approach the circle, Elder Zephronis?”

The old magic nods, and she glides down to the center floor to join us, her violet eyes never leaving mine.

Up close, I can see the true age in her face, not in wrinkles or gray hair, but in the depth of her gaze, the subtle way her skin seems almost translucent.

“I am Elder Vasilisa,” she says, her accent thick.

At the sound of her voice, I feel a violent pull toward her.

“I have lived five centuries and seen many curiosities, but never a successful hybrid.” She circles me slowly, studying me intently.

“Your sire,” she gestures to Costin, “comes from my bloodline. I can sense his power in you. But there is something else too. Something... unexpected.”

She stops directly in front of me, her head tilting slightly.

“The wolf blood in you is not just any Alpha’s. It is old blood. Ancient.”

Sully steps forward, ignoring the warning glances from several council members.

“Thane’s lineage traced back to the first packs.”

“So he always claimed,” Vasilisa says, though her tone suggests doubt.

“Or perhaps there is more to this story than we know.” She turns to the council.

“I would request a private examination of the hybrid.”

“No,” Costin and Sully say simultaneously, then glare at each other for the agreement.

My father clears his throat and finally speaks.

“My daughter is not a specimen to be studied.”

“She is an anomaly that threatens our entire world,” Birch counters.

“If she cannot control both natures, if she exposes us to humans?—”

“That’s not going to happen,” I interrupt, feeling both sides of my nature bristling at the accusation.

“I understand what’s at stake.”

“Do you?” Vasilisa asks.

“You haven’t even experienced your first full moon since the transformation. What makes you think you can control yourself when it comes?”

Before I can answer, Sully strides forward, stopping just short of the circle.

“That is what I’ve been saying. The moon is coming. Eleven days. By then, she needs to be with the pack. We can help her.”

“She is not one of yours,” Costin says coldly.

“She is mine.”

“She carries our Alpha’s blood,” Sully counters.

“She belongs with us when the moon calls.”

“She belongs with those who can contain her if necessary,” Elder Decimus cuts in.

“Your pack is in disarray, Sully. No Alpha, no clear succession. How can you protect her or others from her?”

A low rumble builds in Sully’s chest, a sound I feel more than hear.

“I can handle her.”

Sully’s challenge snaps something inside me.

The wolf surges forward, responding to the dominance play.

“Can you?” I snap.

Before I can stop myself, I’m at the edge of the circle, teeth bared, a growl building in my throat.

“You think you can handle me?” The words come out distorted as my mouth begins to reshape.

“You have no idea what I am.”

The council chamber erupts in a flurry of movement—vampires rising to their feet, magics raising defensive shields, werewolves leaning forward with interest.

Rhea cackles, the sound oddly joined by Elizabeth’s chuckle.

I feel my body starting to shift, not fully wolf, not fully vampire, but something in between.

Claws extend from my fingers, tearing through the silk of my dress.

My chest presses against the metal bodice as it tries to expand.

My vision sharpens.

Colors become more vivid as my eyes change.

“Tamara.” Costin’s voice cuts through the chaos.

The sire bond resonates with it, not forcing obedience but offering support.

“Control it.”

I want to snarl at him, to challenge his authority too, but something in his steady gaze reaches past the monster to the part of me that’s still Tamara.

I take a deep, shuddering breath, focusing on pulling my warring natures back into balance.

Slowly, painfully, I force the transformation to recede.

My claws retract, my teeth return to normal.

The room comes back into focus as the red haze of rage dissipates.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Finally, Elder Zephronis puts his hand on my shoulder.

He looks sad.

“The hybrid shows potential for control but is clearly unstable.”

“She needs training,” Astrid says firmly.

“Time to adjust to her new nature. She should be with her family. We can deal with this.”

“Time we may not have,” Birch counters.

“The full moon approaches, and if what the werewolf says is true, her control will be tested severely.”

“Then let her prove herself,” Elizabeth suggests, her voice silky.

“Let her demonstrate whether she can be trusted with freedom or whether she requires more permanent containment.”

I don’t like the gleam in her eye, the way she makes permanent containment sound like something worse than a death sentence.

Before I can respond, Vasilisa raises a hand.

“I believe I can offer a solution.” Her violet eyes fix on me.

“A trial period. The hybrid will remain under observation until the full moon. If she can maintain control through the lunar cycle, she proves herself worthy of continued existence.”

“And if she can’t?” Anthony asks, his voice tight.

Vasilisa’s smile is cold.

“Then the council will take appropriate action.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, though I already suspect the answer.

Vasilisa’s gaze doesn’t waver.

“If you lose control, the council will act. Swiftly and permanently.”

“Who will observe her?” Astrid demands.

“Where will she be kept?”

“Neutral territory,” Zephronis decides.

“Neither vampire nor werewolf domain.”

“The Devine country estate,” my father suggests.

“It’s warded and secure.”

A snort of derision comes from the werewolves.

“Hardly neutral,” Sully growls.

“I have a better suggestion,” Birch says smoothly.

“The hybrid will be kept in council territory, with representatives from all factions present to observe.”

“Prison,” I mutter.

“You’re talking about putting me in prison.”

“Safety,” he corrects.

“For you, and for others.”

I look to Costin, seeing the carefully contained rage in his eyes.

He doesn’t like this any more than I do, but I can tell he’s calculating, trying to find the best way forward.

“I accept,” I say before anyone else can speak.

“But on one condition.”

The chamber falls silent again, every eye on me.

“I want information about Leviathan and why he’s coming after me,” I continue.

“And about what he’s doing with my brother Conrad’s spirit.”

A ripple of surprise moves through the council members.

“Conrad?” Decimus repeats, his eyes narrowing.

“Your adoptive brother who died?”

“Whose ghost has been haunting me,” I clarify.

“A ghost that Leviathan is supposedly keeping contained, except he isn’t. He’s using him for something. I want to know what.”

“How do you know this?” Vasilisa asks.

“Because Conrad told me.” I straighten my shoulders, forcing confidence I don’t entirely feel.

“Three nights ago, he appeared in my room. He said Leviathan had given him work release. And then he said he’s coming for me.”

The council members exchange glances, some skeptical, others concerned.

I notice Elizabeth’s face has gone carefully blank, giving nothing away.

“Necromancers are not council business,” Birch says dismissively.

“Their practices are their own, so long as they maintain discretion.”

“Do you not believe me because he’s an elder from the Sacred Delegation and I’m—?” I start to ask.

“A Devine,” Astrid inserts.

“She is a Devine, and it becomes council business when they target a Devine.”

Vasilisa chuckles.

“The Sacred Delegation is just a meaningless title we gave lesser creatures centuries ago to make them feel special.”

“Thane was part of the Sacred Delegation,” Sully interjects.

Vasilisa smirks as if it proves her point.

“If she’s being targeted at all,” Elizabeth interjects.

“We have only the word of a hybrid who, by her own admission, is unstable. Perhaps these visions are simply manifestations of her fractured mind.”

I feel a surge of anger at her dismissal, but before I can respond, Costin stands.

“I was there,” he says, his voice carrying easily through the chamber.

“I smelled the necromancy magic in the room. He was there.”

Decimus taps his staff, thinking.

Finally, he nods.

“Very well. The council will investigate these claims regarding Leviathan. In the meantime, the hybrid will be taken into council keeping for observation until the full moon. If she maintains control, we will reassess her status.”

Zephronis’ thoughtful gaze flicks to me.

“And if Leviathan comes for her while she’s in your custody?” Sully asks, his voice hard.

“Will you protect what belongs to the pack?”

“Tamara Devine belongs to no one,” Astrid says sharply.

“She is a Devine, first and foremost.”

“She carries my blood,” Costin says quietly, but with unmistakable authority.

“She is under my protection.”

I want to scream at all of them that I belong to myself, that I’m not a possession to be claimed.

But the circle keeps me rooted in place, revealing the uncomfortable truth.

I am bound to all of them in different ways.

By blood, by family, by supernatural politics I never asked to be part of.

“I have heard enough. I will decide where she is held. The hybrid will be protected,” Zephronis states.

Decimus and Vasilisa look as if they want to protest but no one dares contradict him.

“Now, step out of the circle, Tamara Devine.”

As I step across the boundary, I feel the suppression snap back into place, not as strong as the potion, but enough to dull the warring natures inside me.

Astrid is immediately at my side, her hand on my arm in a silent show of support.

“This is temporary,” she murmurs.

“We will find a way through this.”

I wish I shared her confidence.

As council guards appear to escort me away, I catch Sully’s eye.

His gaze makes me uneasy.

“Eleven days,” he mouths, so others don’t hear.

His meaning is clear.

When the full moon rises, I’m either pack or problem.

And Sully doesn’t seem like the type to leave problems unsolved for long.

The last thing I see before they lead me from the chamber is Costin and Elizabeth, locked in what appears to be a tense conversation.

His face is cold with fury and hers alights with satisfaction.

I wonder if she still thinks I’ll take her up on her offer to help.

That smile on her face says she already believes she’s won.

Whatever game is being played, I’m certain of one thing.

I’m not just a player.

I’m a prize.