Page 81 of Feathers From the Sky

One. Nine. Nine. Three.

There’s a quiet whirring of the door unlocking, and when I grab the handle, Roman puts his hand over mine. Tight and painful, he has no intentions of letting me go in there without an explanation.

“How?” he demands.

“Trust me,” I say.

I push the handle down, my hand burning once more thanks to the roughened metal. Roman either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. When the door swings open, the heavy thud of it slams against the interior wall, and she screams. She looks different from the last time I saw her, the blunt edges of her dirty blonde hair forming a shortened bob.

“Susan?” She whimpers when she hears my voice, but turns around to face me. Tears are running down her face, black trails of mascara marking her sun-aged skin. “How could you?” I trail off when I see the blood oozing from her stomach. Her hands do little to staunch the wound, and Roman can’t stop me as I launch forward. Slamming into her, I hear a sickening crack as her head slams into the wall behind her. My strength is unsettling as I lift her high enough to drink the blood dribbling down her stomach from a protruding wooden table leg. I can’t help it, gulping the hot liquid down as fast as I can. It should taste sour, should reek of betrayal and hatred. I should want to spit it out, but instead I drink, swallowing down that which has come from her poisonous heart.

Roman must have hesitated, because he takes too long to get to me. He wrenches me away from her, and she slides down the wall. Her eyes are glazed over a bit, that blue-grey which I know so fucking well, and I think perhaps I’ve killed her.

“Oh my god,” I gasp. “Is she dead?”

“She’s not dead yet. What the fuck is going on?” he demands. His hand squeezes my shoulder. “Gwyn?”

Closing my eyes, I wipe my mouth and count to ten. I’m fucking furious, and this woman is still bleeding in the same room as me. I don’t know how long I can handle it. Susan has known me since I was a child. She held me at my parent’s graveside as their caskets were lowered into the ground. This woman came to graduations and birthday parties. She was a job reference and friend. She even recommended an old classmate as my goddamn gynecologist. To know what she has done, to know what she has planned for me, makes me sick.

I will never experience a greater betrayal.

She tilts her head back, but she doesn’t look at me. Her skin has gone impossibly pale, and eyes belonging to my best friend water as she stares past me.

“Leave Hale out of this. He’s just a human.” Her eyes flick to me briefly, brows tight, before she looks at Roman once more. “He didn’t know. Please,” she begs him. Hale’s grin forces its way to the forefront of my mind, but I push it away. Susan’s arms hang limp at her sides, and she blinks slowly enough I realize I probably gave her a concussion. The steady flow of blood trickles from her wound, and my fangs are painful in my mouth. I groan, unable to stop it, and my lip curls. “Oh my god,” she whispers, mouth open in shock as she finally understands what I’ve become.

A monster. But it takes one to know one, I suppose.

“You’re—you’re Hale’s mom?” Roman stutters. “How the fuck did Margot miss that?”

“Gwyn, honey, I’m sorry. Hale doesn’t know about any of this. He calls me every night crying, worried about you,” she pleads. “This is all me. He was only doing what I asked.”

There have been few times in my life where my anger has felt impregnable. Deep and consuming and red hot, I’ve wondered if I’d ever come out of it. The deaths of people I love and my father hiding the truth make up some of those moments. But being betrayed by someone I call family is different. It’s depthless grief and anger. But there is no hopelessness, no inability to do something. There is only an abundance of willingness to wring her fucking neck.

Is that the vampire or the hunter in me?

Or is it the human?

“Bullshit,” Roman spits. “What do you mean he was doing what you asked him?What did you ask him to do, sorceress?”

She grimaces, ignoring Roman’s command. I hadn’t realized she was clutching a satellite phone until it falls out of her hand. “Please don’t hurt him,” she whispers.

I can’t help it when a hollow laugh falls from my lips. “You think he’ll be alright when he finds out what you’ve done? Did you plan to use him to impregnate me? Does he know you’re a murderer?”

Roman’s hand hasn’t left my shoulder, and this time when he squeezes, it isn’t hard. It’s reassurance. It’s comfort. “Where’s my brother’s body, Susan?” She frowns as if she’s confused, but when he continues, her face relaxes in comprehension. “My brother, Remy. Is his body still in Virginia? Tell me, and I’ll leave your kid for Gwyn to deal with.”

Her breathing has become labored, and I don’t feel any regret as I do nothing to help her. I briefly wonder if my humanity has left me already, days after becoming a vampire. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing. “There was…” she starts, and I don’t think Roman means to squeeze me again, but he does when she finishes speaking. “…nothing left…of him.”

Roman swears under his breath. My heart sinks, knowing what kind of blow this is to him. But as Susan’s eyes flutter open, she searches for me once more. “Forgive him.” Her lungs are full of liquid; I can hear it rattling in her chest. “Hale.”

“He didn’t think it was weird or-or wrong to spy on me? Did he sign up for the same classes as me just to, just to—What the fuck, Susan?” I flex my hands to ease the ache from balling them into tight fists, ignoring the urge to wrap them around her throat. I take a step toward her, the alluring scent of her blood about to overpower me once more. She doesn’t answer, merely closing her eyes. “I saw the chair and the stirrups. I know, Susan. I know about everything you’ve done,” I whisper, and I feel a tear roll down my face. Susan heaves what might have been a sob if she wasn’t struggling to breathe so much. When I hear her sluggish heartbeat, I notice everything has gone quiet. Margot and Nico must be done.

Roman abruptly lets go of my shoulder, and I whip around to face him. His jaw is tight, and he won’t look at me. When I put my hand on his arm, he shrugs it off. I don’t know if he’s angry with me or not, but I don’t have time to ask him. Susan coughs, and when her blood flies out of her mouth, I stagger toward her. Roman doesn’t move a muscle. I don’t know if he’s given up or if he doesn’t care, but when I land on my knees in front of her and use my hands on either side of her head to snap her neck, neither my conscience nor Roman stop me. As I cup her blood in my hands before bringing it to my mouth, I’m only slightly horrified.

And not by the gore, not by her death. But by my impassivity.

***

It’scomplete bullshit that vampires still have to eat. We’ve stopped at a late-night pizza by the slice place in the city so Nico will shut the fuck up. Since I don’t have an appetite, Roman circles the block while we wait for the others to get their food. He doesn’t seem to be hungry. He doesn’t seem very talkative either. I’m staring at a red light and picking at my nails when I break the silence once more.

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