Page 73 of Will It Hurt?

Jinn

“I’ve always thought you were one of my more agreeable spawns,” Indira said, settling back in her armchair. “You’ve never given me trouble. Well, not until Belle entered the picture.”

I strained against the magick that held me down, barely listening to her words.

She sat forward and forced my gaze to hers.

“I am not a cruel mother, Jinn, despite what you may think of me. Do you understand the consequences of what you’re doing? Bringing a vampyre back from the other side will make their thirst worse. Belle will be uncontrollable.”

I shook my head, trying to keep her words from sinking in.

“Is that what you want? To turn your daughter into a mindless predator that will devour everything in sight?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What’s not to believe?”

“How about the fact that you’ve hated Belle from the start? The fact that you knew she was coming up to Edinburgh to get neutralized and you didn’t see fit to warn me?”

Pain spurred anger.

“You wanted her gone,” I continued. “You hated to see me happy. ”

“Come now, Jinn.” Indira’s voice was oh so reasonable. I wanted to rip that smile off her lips. “You know I only have your well-being in mind.”

“Do you?”

My shadows pushed against Indira’s magick, and I thought I felt a slight give. This was the price to pay for immortality—the bond that bound creator and monster. The tie that tethered mother and daughter.

Although her lips didn’t move, Indira’s voice was loud as a bell in my head.

“Of course. You’re just being difficult, chellam. ”

That word . I had once mistaken it for affection and sweetness, but now I knew its hideous nature. Indira only used it when she wanted something from me, something hard to offer up: my obedience.

Her voice was silk-thin, deceptively gentle, wrapping around me like a velvet collar. Chellam, she had often murmured over the decades, fingers brushing my cheek, cold as death. Why must you make things so difficult?

My jaw snapped shut, hating her, hating myself, hating the invisible chains that wrapped round my willpower and my limbs.

“Remember what we discussed,” she said, the resonating sound of her voice making my head spin. “I require obedience from my children.”

Her voice was soft, too soft. Almost… dangerous.

Damn it all! No matter how much I wanted to leave, to carve myself out of her grip, the bond between us made disobedience feel like drowning in wet cement.

It hurt to resist her, like a poison spreading through my body in thin cobwebs.

She called herself my mother, my creator. But mothers were supposed to love—they were supposed to care. What she gave me wasn’t love, it was control dressed up in pretty words.

“Do you think I enjoy this?” she asked, her voice cold like fingers curling over my shoulder. “Do you think I want to treat you like a misbehaving child?”

Yes. Indira never missed an opportunity to put me in my place. She had done it for well over a century. She wouldn’t stop now.

A short laugh echoed in my head, and I knew without a doubt that she’d read my mind.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” she tutted.

And I felt it—like a hand inside my ribcage, curling around my very being, crushing it in her grip. The fight inside me flickered, weakening, bending under the weight of her will.

I hated it. I hated how easy it was to surrender to my mother. After all, I had ample practice.

“That’s better,” she murmured. “Now, let go of this ridiculous notion of bringing Belle back to the nest. She was a pathetic excuse of a vampyre and we are stronger without her.”

My lips trembled as I fought her rigid grip.

“No.”

It was almost midnight. Any minute now, Aisla would be harvesting the energy of the Cold Moon and performing The Retractare .

But when Indira’s eyeballs rolled back to reveal an alarming shade of white webbed with red, dread crept down my spine. The candles guttered in their sconces, the flames bending toward her as if pulled by an invisible force.

I had witnessed her slip into this state before—a kind of self-induced trance.

But this time…

This time, I was her prisoner. I couldn’t stop her.

And I knew, without a doubt, that she was on the other side, walking amongst the dead. If she got to Belle first, there was no telling what she would do. Above all, Indira prided herself on her unpredictability.

I threw my weight against the magickal cords that bound me, forcing my shadows to taper into sharp spears.

As Indira’s physical body slumped in the arm chair, I worked on the bonds, huffing as I tried to break free.