Page 17 of Midnight Queen

“That’s enough for today, don’t you guys think? The sun is now rising, and I must retire for a little bit.” The robotic grin returns to his face. “Your girl is truly exhausting, Silas.” He lifts his hand to the camera, showing off the blood that still stains it. “But at least she’s tasty. My buyers are going to enjoy her.”

And with that parting comment, the feed goes black, and my vision goes red with anger.

My body moves before I know what I’m doing. One second I’m standing in front of the television, the next I’m at the front door.

“Silas!” Lorcan yells my name, but he sounds a thousand miles away. “Stop!”

Rationality has abandoned me, and I’m being driven by something uncontrollable. His warning goes ignored as I wrap my hand around the door handle. I’ve barely had a chance to turn it when hands come down on my shoulders and I’m yanked away from the door.

My body is thrown backward with such force, I collide with the long table that sits behind the couch. The wood splinters from my weight and I fall to the ground, surrounded by all the broken decor that had been residing on the surface.

“Are you bloody insane?” Lor questions me, completely appalled I’d think about opening the door. “Do you want to be burned to a crisp?”

Back on my feet, my fangs descend as I’m taken over by the deadly combination of rage and desperation. I face him with a low snarl. “Get out of my way, Lorcan.”

He stands in front of the door, his feet planted. “Not happening, Silas. Your head isn’t on straight right now and you’re not thinking clearly. If you were, you’d know that going outside in thesunwasn’t the wisest idea you’ve ever had.”

“This is your last warning, Lorcan. I have to go.” I’m not in the same room as her right now, but I can smell the blood Gideon has spilled. I’ve committed the scent to memory and I’m choking on it now.

“You won’t make it five steps off the fucking patio.” Like two predators standing off, we each refuse to break eye contact. “And then what? Who’s going to save her?”

Not hearing the answer I’m looking for; I charge at him. Having anticipated my next move, he mirrors me and rushes toward me. Our bodies collide with one another in what should be a bone-shattering impact.

Lorcan attempts to push me back and away from the door while my arms wrap around his torso. Lifting him off the ground like he weighs nothing, I throw his body into the wall across the room. The picture frames that had been carefully positioned on the wall crash to the ground when his body slams into it.

Falling to the hardwood covered in drywall debris, Lorcan’s sable eyes glow with anger when he turns his attention back to me. “You can’t save Quincey if you’re dead!” he attempts to remind me. “And if you think I’m going to go out of my way to find her, you’re very fucking wrong.”

I can hear what he’s saying, and it all sounds reasonable to the sensible side of my brain, but the monster that is rarely released from its confines is in the driver’s seat. To him, Lorcan is standing between him and saving his woman.

“Outside of you, she has no one. Hell, even your human friend—Duke, was it?—he’s even down for the count.” He swiftly clambers to his feet. “Are you really going to let Gideon win this? That’s what you’ll do if you walk out that door right now.”

“You don’t understand,” I roar so loud the UV-protected windows rattle. “This is all my fault. She’s being tortured because of actions taken a century before she was born. I was supposed to protect her from all of it, and now she’sbleeding!” My hand points in the direction of the blank television screen. “I have to find her.”

Lor nods his head. “You’re right, this is all your fault, but if you walk out that door, you’re giving up the opportunity of ever making it right. How are you going to beg for her forgiveness and make all of this up to her if you’re nothing but a pile of ash? Use your fucking head, Silas. You’re too bloody smart to behave like this.”

Blinded by the helpless feeling, I return to the door.

This time, Lorcan’s body slams into mine like a freight train. Together we fly across the room, crashing into an antique standing lamp before we collide with the bookcase.

Glass embeds itself in my skin, but I don’t feel the pain that should accompany it. Rolling from my side to my stomach, I attempt to climb to my knees but a hand wrapping around the collar of my shirt pulls me back down into the clutter.

“Honestly, Silas.” Lorcan huffs. “This behavior is starting to become embarrassing.”

My hand reaches for something in all the shambles to use as a weapon against Lorcan. My fingers brush against a hard object. Pulling it toward me, my vision, blinded by rage, momentarily clears long enough for the title of the book I’d grabbed to come into focus. Instantly, my body freezes, and I stop fighting off the Irish vampire.

The book I hold is a first edition copy that has never meant anything to me. Just simply another thing I’ve collected over the years to fill my various bookshelves. I’ve never paid it any attention until Quincey found a copy of the same book in the library at the estate. I don’t know why she picked this specific one, but it’s one of the many books she’d occupied herself with while she watched over Ira.

It’s the very book she was reading before Ira revealed to us he’d orchestrated the whole plan to bring Quincey into my home—into my life. Even on his deathbed, he was concerned for me and knew what I needed, even when I was too stubborn to see it. He knew that Quincey was the missing piece in my life. Ira knew his days of being my compass were numbered but was at peace knowing that Quincey would be there to take his place.

Or she was supposed to be.

The chaotic monster that had been controlling me just seconds ago vanishes. My mind goes quiet for the first time since I was shown the footage.

Defeated and exhausted by the excruciating weight of the guilt sitting on my chest, I slowly twist my body into an upright position. I feel Lor’s wary eyes on me as I rest my arms on my knees and drop my head.

I break the heavy silence after a few moments. “Before her, I’d forgotten how to dream,” I utter quietly. “And now my dreams are filled with nothing but her face—her laugh.” Her laugh is like a song, the lyrics written especially for me.

Lor doesn’t say anything, just allows me to speak.

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