Page 25

ROMAN

The wards on the dingy property near Garfield Park are fading in and out.

The building is there, then it’s not, then it’s there, then it’s not.

I wait to go up the steps and walk up the path because I don’t trust that I won’t get torn in half by them or stuck inside.

I’m sitting at the CTA bus bench half a block away, watching, when Margot pulls up.

She doesn’t hesitate as she pulls into the driveway, and I can still see her car even when the building disappears and is replaced with an empty lot.

It’s unsettling.

Margot gets out and looks around, spotting me quickly.

She waves me over, and I unfold my body from the bench.

I’m sore as fuck because of the bullet still lodged beneath bone, and I know I’m going to have to handle it sooner rather than later.

But the idea of having Margot dig it out is not my favorite, so I soldier on.

I’m more pissed off that Gwyn put a hole in Remy’s jacket than I am about the wound.

“I’m surprised you haven’t gone in by yourself,” Margot says when I approach. She’s wearing a pair of Nico’s pants and a giant hoodie that almost goes down to her knees. Hair up with no makeup on, she was probably already in bed when I called.

“The wards,” I say, gesturing as the building fades away once more.

I keep the real reason to myself. Sure, the ward failing and magic being fucked up isn’t ideal, but I’m scared to go in by myself because I’m not sure what I’ll find.

I’d expected to have to work my ass off to get him back.

I’d expected to have to kill an original vampire, strangle Gwyn, and barely survive getting to this point.

And before that, I’d thought he was dead.

This is a shock to my fucking system. Every moment spent looking for him, researching who might have hurt him, and then allowing myself to be torn to shreds by a woman I thought I loved—has led to this moment.

And I’m scared that the Remy I find won’t be dissimilar to the man who’d been on the brink of death the last time I’d dragged him to the compound.

When Margot passed Gwyn’s warning along to me, a flashback had slammed against the back of my eyelids with force, and I didn’t want to handle it alone.

Despite having a vampire body, quick to heal, demon blood doesn’t behave like other substances.

Remy had reacted like a human coming off of opioids.

His pain had been pure enough to make him sick, and I’d cleaned up so much vomit.

I dealt with his addiction and depression by myself the last time, and it hadn’t done anyone any favors, but this time, I appreciate the value of friendship.

Or a paid assistant. Whatever.

“It’s nearly faded; just come on,” Margot says, reaching out a hand past where I stand on the border of the ward.

One step up, then two, and it feels like ice is being dumped on my head as I step through. Soon, the ward will be gone along with Hale’s magic.

I hope he kills Gwyn for it. I’m sure he won’t, but I count on him hating her.

It doesn’t matter that she didn’t make the choice to change him, but she’s the reason Hale is here in Chicago. She’s the reason my uncle wanted to attack and she’s the reason he’s dead.

Gwyn deserves every bit of fury tossed in her direction.

“Which unit is it?” Margot asks, and I check my phone. She’s opening the door for me, holding it with a look on her face like I’m inconveniencing her.

“D,” I say, and she’s marching up the stairs before I put my phone back into my pocket.

“He’s probably asleep,” I say, considering it’s late and what else is there to do but sleep when you’re being held captive? Gwyn barely did anything but sleep when I kept her locked away in the compound.

“Ah, you’re right. Maybe we should wait until morning,” Margot says as she reaches the landing and turns to go up another flight of stairs.

“You think?”

“No, you dumbass. You’ve been waiting for this moment forever. Since before he disappeared. Why put it off because he’s asleep? He can sleep at the greystone. Hell, he could go back to the compound and sleep there since your father is dead.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, not bothering to respond with a biting remark. I wish there wasn’t an aching pit in my stomach, uncertainty mixing with fear.

“It’s this one,” Margot says, stopping in front of the door marked with a crooked letter ‘D.’ There’s a doormat on the ground that makes me do a double-take.

It’s one of those brown fiber ones, featuring a cat wearing a cowboy hat printed on it.

A speech bubble drifts over its head with the word ‘meowdy’ inside.

My eyes narrow on the offending pun rug, and I step directly onto the cat’s face. There’s no resistance when I turn the doorknob, giving Margot a curious look because it isn’t locked.

“There was probably another ward here,” she whispers.

I open the door to find an empty apartment. The moonlight streams in, illuminating the bare floor in a long, narrow living room. There’s no furniture to be seen. Turning, I make my way into a kitchen without a stove.

Did they remove it because of his mental state?

Pulling open a drawer, I don’t find any utensils, and I’m curious how the fuck they’ve been keeping him fed. Margot opens the refrigerator and immediately closes it.

“It’s full of Gwyn’s blood,” she says, and the waft of air from the refrigerator shutting confirms what she’s said. My brother is sworn to her—which is the only reason she’s letting me take him now.

I poke a finger into the trash can, pushing the swinging lid inward, and all I see are those microwavable plastic soup containers that you can drink straight from. Has he been living on soup and blood only?

For over a year, my brother had been kept away from me, with nothing but the bitch’s blood and fucking Campbell’s chicken noodle soup.

Past the kitchen is a hallway, and I realize there are no doors on any of the rooms. The bathroom is missing its mirrors as I walk past it, and I begrudgingly appreciate the precautions that have been taken with my brother.

It doesn’t matter though, because maybe, if she hadn’t fucking kept him locked away, he wouldn’t be suicidal to begin with.

The moonlight leaks out from his room onto the hallway floor.

I don’t know how he manages to sleep with it so bright, but there are no blinds or curtains, probably another precaution Gwyn has taken to keep him from hurting himself.

I’d done the same thing to an extent when he was living in the compound.

Slowly, he had been detoxing from living off of demon blood, and he’d still been haunted by his girlfriend’s death.

But he’d been able to get through it then.

I can help him through it again.

There’s a small desk with rounded corners just inside his bedroom. The chair is one of those special rocking ones they keep at psychiatric hospitals that don’t tip no matter how you stand on it.

Truthfully, I don’t know why they bothered to go to this extent.

Without silver or demon blood, any suicide attempts locked inside this apartment would do nothing but cause him pain.

And as far as I know, suicide is usually about ending the pain, not making it worse.

Still though, when I notice strange blankets on top of his sleeping form, I realize they’re probably the anti-tear kind.

He can’t make a noose out of a blanket that is too thick to roll up.

It tells me more about Gwyn than I’d like to think about.

Though Margot had done plenty of snooping, everything they’d released into the world had been carefully curated to distract and feed me a narrative about who she was.

They’d left out any psychiatric hospital stays, but when Remy rolls over, and I see a smock made of the same material as the blanket, I think she must have found herself in one at some point in her life.

Her expertise is noticeable.

I fucking hate her for making me think about her in this goddamn moment.

Margot’s footsteps move back toward the living room, likely wanting to give me privacy for this moment with my brother.

But I don’t know what to even say to him or how to act.

It’s been so long, and I’m so tired, and everything has gone to hell.

I wanted him back and missed him so badly, but now that I have him, I don’t know what to fucking do with myself.

Every emotion threatens to spill over, and as I sit down on the bed beside him, my fists clench in my lap against my will.

Slowly, I open my hand. I uncurl each finger, inhaling and exhaling with each new digit. Getting him back was my original goal, and I can’t allow myself to dwell on how we got here.

I place my hand on his leg, allowing the weight of it to rouse him.

During the height of his detox, he had been easily startled.

Now though, he wakes up like he did as a kid, slow and confused.

It’s strange to see him with a beard since he’s always been clean shaven.

Unlike vampires born to human parents, the Ascension doesn’t ‘lock in’ our appearance.

We’ll still age until we settle on the body Ansi’s blessing wants for us.

I think I’m done with it myself, but seeing how Remy’s face has thinned out since I’d seen him last, I suspect he’s a few years behind me.

He looks the same but so different.

His beard is unkempt, and it’s strange to witness.

Based on all her other precautions, I see why Gwyn didn’t leave him a blade.

His hair is long, though not as long as mine, and when he sits up, it curls against his shoulders.

My brother looks like me—but his features are more refined and delicate, like my mother’s.

When he finishes yawning, and his eyes finally focus, it takes him a moment to understand what’s happening.

“Ro?” he says, voice breaking. He rubs his eyes as if he thinks it might be a dream, but I nod, and he launches himself at me.