Page 4 of Oath of Blood and Joy

An Unseelie? The word tasted wrong in my mouth, bitter and impossible. I shook my head, the movement sending stabs of pain through my temples. She was wrong. She had to be wrong. My parents were human—ordinary people with ordinary lives. I remembered my mother’s garden, my father’s laugh, the normal childhood I’d had. This wasn’t true.

The shadows in the room continued to respond to my emotions, quivering at the edges of my vision, growing deeper and more substantial. The darkness between the bookshelves stretched toward me, eager and alert. A cold sensation pooled in my stomach, a horrible certainty growing inside me that Marsha might be right. If she was telling the truth, then everything I thought I knew about myself was a lie.

I had to know. Louis DuPont, my father, had been a good man, a cop, before he was possessed. I needed to know the truth.

My hands clenched and unclenched in my lap. I watched in horror as tiny tendrils of shadow curled around my fingers like affectionate pets. I tried to pull away, but they followed, connected to me by invisible threads I couldn’t break.

“No,” I whispered, the word barely audible. But even as I denied it, part of me—some buried, previously dormant part—stirred in recognition, hungry for the darkness that now answered my call.

Chapter Three

Joy

Shadows danced around Maximo’s study. My breath came in ragged gasps as the pain slowly fell away. I trembled uncontrollably as the shadows faded and I slumped into the chair exhausted, still not believing what happened.

Marsha lifted a lock of my hair and rubbed it between her fingers. “You are powerful.”

Beads of sweat trickled down my temples. “What just happened?”

“Your power has awakened.”

I jerked my head, freeing my hair from her wretched fingers. My heart still pounding against my ribs, I stared at my palms as if I had never seen them before. I was human. She must have done something to me. I wasn’t a vampire or a witch. “That’s not possible.”

It wasn’t exactly the truth. The shadows had responded to me as if they were extensions of my own being.

Swallowing hard, I glanced nervously around the now-ordinary study, refusing to look at Marsha. The leatherboundbooks on the shelves seemed to watch me accusingly, as if they’d witnessed something forbidden.

The door opened with a soft click and Maximo entered, his confident stride faltering slightly as his gaze focused on Marsha. “So you did it?”

Her lips twisted into a satisfied smile. “Just as you paid me, Barone. She’s an Unseelie.”

My heart twisted with dread. I was nothing but merchandise, just like the girls he planned to sell at Simon’s auction.

I gripped the edge of the chair and gritted my teeth. “She’s lying. She cast a spell on me. I keep telling you, Maximo, I don’t have any powers. My father was a detective and my mom a housewife.”

Maximo clicked his tongue, the sound sharp as a blade in the tense silence.

His blue eyes met mine without mercy. “I’m afraid, dear, you are wrong. Louis DuPont was your stepfather—not your father.”

The blood drained from my face, leaving me lightheaded and nauseous. This was his cruelest trick yet. My world splintered around me. How could he say such a thing? My lips parted, but no sound emerged, the shock stealing my voice.

It was as if all my positivity jumped out the window. Anger surged through me at his lies.

“You’re both lying. I’m human. Marsha used a spell?—”

Maximo cupped my face with bruising force, his fingers pressing into the hollow beneath my jawbone, cutting off my voice. “No, she’s not. You’re half human. And half Unseelie apparently.” His eyes almost glittered with greed.

He released me abruptly. My jaw throbbed where his fingers had dug in. I stared up at him and dragged my fingers through my hair. “You’re wrong. I can’t be an Unseelie.”

He shrugged dismissively, his eyes flickering with a hint of impatience. “Obviously you’re not a vampire. You don’t craveblood.” He gestured toward Marsha, his voice softening with something like respect. “You don’t come from a line of witches. You can’t perform magic.”

A shadow of frustration crossed his face as he picked a leatherbound book off his desk, hesitating for just a moment before handing it to me. His fingertips lingered on the cover, betraying his reluctance to part with it. “That leaves you either being a shifter or a Fae or an Unseelie. I suggest you read.”

I looked at the leatherbound book—Essence and Origin: The Hidden Lineages. Strange gold symbols etched into the leather seemed to pulse under my touch, sending a chill up my arm. My heart raced as I traced them with my finger, feeling a strange connection I couldn’t explain. I glanced up at him, confusion and suspicion warring inside me.

“I’ve combed this library for weeks, looking for something—anything—to fill my time.” My voice trembled slightly with accusation. “Where did you get this? I don’t remember any books being left out on your desk.”

His gaze dropped for a heartbeat, guilt flashing across his features before his expression became carefully neutral again. “You think I’ll find the answer in this book?” I asked, unable to keep the mixture of hope and fear from my voice.

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