Page 34 of Feathers From the Sky

My breath catches, and I blink as I make sense of his words. “My father? My father wouldn’t—no, he couldn’t have—”

“Shut the fuck up, Gwyn!” he shouts at me, and I have no choice but to obey his words.

He’s quiet for too long, and I stare at the side of his face, willing him to speak. If I could talk to him like he does me, get him to tell me what I want him to, I’d be demanding an explanation for everything he said. Forcing him to tell me.

Finally he sighs, adjusting his hands on the steering wheel.

“Cynthia and Bill Parsons, along with a group of sorcerers, attacked my coven almost thirty years ago. They killed indiscriminately. Cynthia saw two small boys cowering in a room with their mother, a vampire. The three of them thought she was going to spare them when she turned around to leave.”

I’m holding my breath, unable to look away from him. My mother died when I was born, so for all it matters, he speaks of a stranger.

“But then your father shoved his way into the room. The boys watched as he swung a blade and beheaded her when she dared to stand between him and her children. Her name was Alice.”

I’m trying to imagine my father thirty years ago, his auburn hair not thinning, his face not lined. The father of my childhood who loved to take me on roller coasters and who taught me to ride a bike was the best dad I could ask for. It’s so incongruent with the picture Roman paints.

“I don’t believe you. Even if my dad is—wasa hunter…” I shake my head. “He wouldn’t kill someone if it wasn’t in self-defense.”

Roman’s hand shoots out faster than I can react, and his fingertips dig into my thigh as he squeezes. It’s restrained. A warning.

“He would have killed us too if it weren’t for your mother. I suppose killing children was a line she didn’t want him to cross.” He releases me, and I swallow as I rub my leg where he’d grabbed me. “It’s a shame they’re both already dead.”

I shudder. I don’t know what to say to him, if I should say anything at all. His statements about my father simply can’t be true. Arguing with him is a risk, but I take it anyway.

“You’re insane,” I assert. “Please, Roman. I’ll help you find the nearest hospital. They can help you. Vampiresaren’treal. My—my parents didn’t hurt your family. My dad was a truck driver. He delivered milk to grocery stores. He didn’t—he’s—”

Roman laughs so hard, I see a tear shining at his lashes. The sound is a dangerous promise, and I’m frozen. My instincts are telling me to grab the door handle and throw myself out of the moving vehicle. Road rash and potential broken bones would be safer. But I can’t move.

“You know, sweetheart. Youknowthis is real. Swear on that precious sister of yours that you think I’m lying or crazy, and I’ll let you out. Right here, right now.”

I inhale, holding my breath. He’d shown me his teeth, flaunted that coercive power, and I’d witnessed that preternatural swiftness with which he’d caught me and dressed me. There are things I can’t refute—he has proven what he is.

If I swear on Sasha’s life, he might go after her just to prove me wrong. At the core of me, I know he wouldn’t let me go for long. He didn’t say he’d stop the car before letting me out. He didn’t say he’d leave me alone after that. I’m not stupid enough to rely on the word of a man who stuffed me in his trunk.

Mytrunk.

“I’m sorry my father did that to you,” I say, low and cautious. I’m careful not to anger him, but I see his jaw tic. “But I have nothing to do with that. I’m innocent.” I’m talking to a wild animal, three hundred pounds of cruelty and fury in one body; I have to be careful. “Right? Just like you and your brother.”

“Don’t you ever speak of my brother unless it’s telling me what the fuck happened to him,” he snaps. As he yells at me, I get a glimpse of a sharp tooth. The same fang which had bitten into my skin earlier this morning glints wickedly in the glow of a passing streetlight.

“Roman, I didn’t even know you had a brother until two minutes ago. I don’t know anything about him.”

“Tell me,” he says, the gnawing sensation of his words with the command ringing through makes my head ache. “Tell me what you know about my brother.”

“He was with you when you watched your mom die. Something happened to him, and you don’t know what. You don’t want me to talk about him,” I supply, blinking hard.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters, and he’s silent for a long time.

I don’t know what to do, but right when I think he won’t speak again, he surprises me and clears his throat.

“That little necklace you’re wearing belonged to my brother. I’m going to find out why your dad had it. My brother disappeared six months ago, and I found out recently he was murdered.”

There is no emotion in his voice, but I can tell it’s a carefully curated mask.

“Roman,” I begin, voice gentle. I place my hand on his thigh. Convincing him of my softness and empathy is my best bet at surviving this. Make him feel sorry for me, make him pity me. “My dad died a year ago. Whatever happened to your brother has nothing to do with him.”

Roman’s body is tense as he lets me rest my hand on him. He doesn’t move, and I wonder if he even breathes.

“I don’t think that’s true, and you’re going to help me find my brother’s killer, Gwyn.” His lip curls, and though he doesn’t bare his teeth at me, I can see the sharpened points, and I shudder. “And then I’m going to cut out your heart.”

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