Page 10 of Dead Wrong

Lynette raised her glass to me in a toast.

“To the fucked-up things we do for family.”

She knocked back her drink, reaching for the bottle again.

“You’re in a cheery mood,” I said, grabbing the little black book offered by the bartender. They didn’t even blink an eye at Lynette pouring her own drinks. I stuffed a fistful of bills into the book, snapping it shut with a finality that I hoped Lynette would pick up on. I wasn’t in the mood to tolerate any more of her teasing. I needed to get home and scrub the squalor of this bar from my skin. “I’ll leave to your bottle, then.”

I turned to leave, but she snagged me by the sleeve. “Wait, don’t go.”

Pulling myself from her clutches, I knocked shoulders with the person beside me, but they didn’t seem to care or even notice, for that matter. These mortals were all so oblivious, so wrapped up in their impotent little lives. They clung to whatever absurdity would secure them the smallest fraction of contentment. Which, at this point, meant wearing those ridiculous cardboard hats and blowing on noisemakers that caterwauled like dying animals.

“I need a bath,” I told my sister. “Before the stench of this place seeps into my pores. It reeks of piss and sadness.”

Lynette’s lip curled with a sneer. “Gods, when did you become such a stuck-up prick?”

Her words bit into my skin like thorns, sticking and digging their way inside. How could she sit there, casting judgment on me when I was only doing what Mother required of me? I was the same as her, albeit without a lot of the pomp and circumstance of a position of power. She was the Successor, after all. Being stuck up came with the territory.

“That’s smart, coming from the Successor of the Greene family name. In just a few years, you’ll be the one stepping on people’s throats and pimping me out for your own agenda. So why don’t you come down from your high horse already and admit that you’re no better than I am?”

Lynette held my gaze even as she poured herself another drink, stoicism in motion. But then, she softened, her emerald eyes growing round and the lines of her face smoothing with an exhale.

“I’ve missed you,” she said, soft enough that I almost missed it amongst the noise of the bar. She abandoned the glass on the counter, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around my waist. Lynette buried her face into my chest, her mouth moving to form words that I couldn’t possibly hear above the din.

Any flames of frustration contained within me sputtered out, smothered by the rare sincerity of my sister’s gesture. I sighed, resting my hands on the small of her back.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, my chin settling on the crown of her head as she clung to me. “It’s been a long night, and I’m not myself.”

Releasing her hold on me, Lynette wiped at her face, turning her back to me while she cleared her throat. “I haven’t felt like myself in a long time.” Her hand lingered on the edge of her glass. “Too much time with Mother, I think. Her poison is slow, but it’s powerful.”

“Afraid you’ll turn into her?” I asked in a teasing tone. But when Lynette turned back to me, I knew that I’d struck a nerve. “Sorry again. You’re nothing like her, Lenny. And you never will be. That much evil stuffed into a pair of sensible pumps is a once-in-a-millennia event.”

She cracked a smile. “Thank you, Tobi. I needed to hear that tonight.”

There was more behind her words. Something that she kept for herself. Years ago, back when our lives were simpler, she would never have withheld something from me. But those days were a thing of the past. And, although I was itching to slake my curiosity, I knew that it would be better for both of us if I dropped the topic.

“It’s been good seeing you,” Lynette said, raising her glass to me. “Enjoy your bath.”

And even though I’d been waiting to make my escape since the moment I set foot in this mortal bar, I found myself saying, “Ugh, fine. You’ve got me until midnight.” I snatched the drink from her hand, downing the pungent liquid with a gulp. “Let’s go dance those troubles away.”

Lynette brightened, the creases at the corners of her eyes smoothing as she took my hand, pulling me toward the dance floor and the flashing lights. And there, spinning on that sweat-stained floor, my sister cackling with glee as pockets of colored light washed over us, I found myself happier than I’d been in a very long time.

* * *

I’d never experienced such pain.

The dull ache sunk deeper into my muscles with every step, each movement. A cold sweat slicked my forehead, even as I reclined on the posh leather bench of the town car Lorelei had summoned to take us to the destination I wasn’t allowed to know. The car had been spelled to drive itself, which only added to my suspicions of this so-called mortal. Spelled vehicles did not come cheap and required regular magical maintenance to keep them from driving you off a cliff. She’d have to have connections in the Magi community to even procure one to begin with.

We rolled over a bump in the road, and another wave of nauseating pain washed through my system. It was enough that I had to concentrate on stifling the groans that built in my throat.

It was only pain, I reminded myself. Temporary. All I needed to do was focus on something else. Distractions would prove themselves my savior.

But looking out onto the passing streets only intensified the nausea, so instead, I allowed my gaze to drift over to Bastien. He was facing the tinted window, gazing through at the banal scenery, which streaked by in a blur of greys that refracted across the shine of his dark eyes. The line of his jaw was taut as if he were clenching his teeth. Flashes of memories surfaced in my mind, cycling through like a carousel, all blurred faces, figures, and places in constant motion. With a bit of effort, I was able to sift through for signs of Bastien. I had seen him from so many different angles, it turned out. Watched him from across the room and from beneath his strong frame. From a balcony high above as he traversed the busy sidewalks below and through the window of a car as he drove away.

There was something different about the way he looked now. Something alien in the movement of his body. I couldn’t place a finger on the exact anomaly. Perhaps I had just grown unaccustomed to the melancholy that seemed to cling to Bastien.

Where had it come from?

The car bounced again, and a hiss escaped through my teeth.

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