Page 91 of Feathers From the Sky

"Thank you," I whisper. "When you ripped my door off, it made me stop chickening out." Holding her wrists down with my knee in her stomach, I lean forward, nearly pressing my lips to her cheek. She's crying as she looks at Bjorn, dead beside her. "I cut my hand so Roman would have to turn me," I say. She closes her eyes and begins to cry, and she doesn't move as I sit up.

"I'm pregnant," she says, and I let go of her hands. Her dark auburn hair spills out on the surrounding floor, growing darker as it soaks in the growing circle of Bjorn's blood. I should kill her. I shouldn't hesitate. The child in her belly would one day seek to destroy me if they had the opportunity. I wish I could be as callous as I'd been in the days after my parent's death. Revenge fueled and teetering on the edge of that intrusive darkness, I'd been reckless and angry. I'd have killed every single vampire if I'd had the chance that day.

But Roman has shown me more. Margot has shown me more. Even Nico has convinced me of their humanity.

"Go," I say. "Don't come back." It's not a command since she never drank from me, but as I stand up, she scrambles to her feet. Then she runs. Tracking Bjorn's blood across the floor, I watch as she leaves the ballroom. I'll probably regret that. A few follow her, and I'm tempted to send someone sworn to me after them, but there's no point. I’ll deal with them later.

Plucking Bjorn's heart from the ground, I turn away, wondering if what Sasha and Hale told me about vampire hearts is true. After what Bjorn had planned for mine, I suspect there is some truth to it, long overlooked as an ancient barbaric tradition. I might be finally reaping the vengeance I am so badly owed, but I am not so far gone as to have the stomach for that. But I'll keep it close by, just in case. Leaving Bjorn’s body in the middle of the room, I walk to the dais and brace myself on the intricately carved table placed there. I drop the organ on a gilded plate. It could have been my heart sitting upon it, and the thought makes my mouth run dry. I swallow down bile.

"Round up anyone who has ever hurt a hunter, anyone who has harmed my family or chased us these last three decades," I demand, not even looking at them as I wipe my shaking hands on my pretty blue dress. Dirt and blood have ruined it, but I wear the stains with something close to pride. I just need to stop shaking. Breathing deep, I can't summon the sounds of nature, but I can imagine them. Closing my eyes, I imagine a bubbling spring, and I'm much calmer in a matter of minutes. I turn to face the mess I've made. Some of the vampires sworn to me, who have caused harm to my family, gather in the center of the room, marching toward their own death, while the others follow directions. As more vampires are added to the crowd in the middle of the ballroom, held bodily in place, they look terrified and angry. It's a mirror of what I’ve faced my entire life. I recognize one of them, and it makes my chest constrict. The marble floors in this ballroom will run red by the time I am finished, and I won’t mourn the decision. This was only a matter of time.

Roman had been a distraction, a silly little fantasy, which had almost cost me everything. Swallowing hard, I push him from my mind as I watch Margot shove a small woman into the growing group. I wince when she swipes at Margot's face, raking her nails over her flesh.

Guilt seeps into my gut, pushing the nerves away. She will understand now what happened. When I make her fetch Roman from the dungeons, Margot will tell him she didn't betray him on purpose. That when I'd whispered commands to her on the sidewalk outside Last Drop and ordered her to forget them, she couldn't have stopped me. What he won't know is the picture she took was real. That any of the feelings I'd shown for him that night weren't faked. He won't know I changed my mind nearly a hundred times since then. Since the moment he broke me with his tenderness. Since I accepted what I felt for him, I have been in agony. He won't know that when she'd sent the text, I'd thought I had more time. He won't know I fucked up and cut myself short because of the way I'd worded things. I doubt it will make a difference either way.

I search the room for Nico and find him sitting in a chair at one of the lavishly decorated tables. He's smoking a cigarette and watching me, a single dark eyebrow arching high. He doesn't try to stop me. Now that I've drunk his blood, both our commands are useless against one another. It was just one more thing I did to prove a lie to Roman. But because Nico doesn't move against me, it gives me hope perhaps he is nonplussed by this turn of events. Perhaps Roman...

I inhale deeply. Roman doesn't matter.

"Now kill them," I command, gaze stuck on Nico. "Line their heads up against the far wall so they can be burnt." I'm not taking any chances. Roman's friend doesn't move, doesn't even appear surprised. As the screams start and the metallic tinge of blood permeates the air, I close my eyes. The bloodcurdling scream wrenches through the air, bringing me back to childhood.

I imagine Nonna standing in the kitchen doorway, about to wipe her flour-dusted hands on her apron. I can hear the scream she'd unleashed when she came to investigate the front door opening and found PapPap bleeding out on the ground. I remember backing into a corner, brandishing my fork from lunch. The screams in the ballroom grow louder. They go on as long as Nonna's did, each one an echo of my past as they cut off abruptly. Like hers did. Collapsing from a heart attack was probably a better death than what the vampire would have done to her, but it wasn't fair. I never forgave my father for not warding their house, too. There are a lot of things I won't forgive him for.

At seven years old, I had been more prepared than the last time. When the vampire took a few steps toward me, ready to grab and hold me until my father came to fetch me, I had remembered what he taught me. I'd pulled the necklace from my throat and opened the locket. With the room pitch dark from the enchantment I'd unleashed, I'd moved on two little legs and blew the contents of my locket into what I thought was her face. The ground-up silver had slowed the vampire down and bought me just enough time for my father to step out of a portal and lop her head off with an axe. Spattered in the vampire’s blood, I remember screaming as Angela had rinsed my eyes of the silver dust. Sparkled vermillion had pooled at my feet before going down the drain.

These are just more screams to go along with the nightmares which have always plagued me.

When the sounds finally stop, I turn around. A few dozen bodies are piled in the center of the room, and more red stains the marble. I watch it ooze, dark and slow. I think of Brianna, the girl who stood between me and Sasha in our dance class, and how she'd died on the sidewalk in front of the studio. Red had stained the concrete, and we never went back because of it. Death has followed me my entire life, and my father had always been there to handle the fallout. It was then, at fourteen, that I decided I was done. Chasing after the mess the vampires left behind was no way to live. That was the first time I thought death would be easier, but it certainly wasn’t the last.

I’m not worth so many lives.

Any time Angela intercepted them, she'd been soft and enchanted their memories away. Any time my father found them, they'd ended up dead. Either way, they still kept coming. I lost count of how many times we moved, trying to stay one step ahead.

Emile and another older vampire break free from the few holding them back just as the doors at the back of the ballroom open, and a throng of vampires dart into the room. I nearly freeze as I see Emile emerge, his entire hand no longer attached to his body. He shakes his head, roaring in pain, but I'm aware the odds have shifted. "Keep everyone away from me," I command, feeling dozens upon dozens of cobweb thin tethers as they hear my demand. Only a few from this new group listen, and I realize I haven't estimated properly.

Bjorn's heart is in my hand within a second, the knowledge of what I need to do weighing heavily.

But Emile tackles me to the ground. I grimace as I tighten my grip around the slick, bloody organ and pull it toward my mouth. Emile's scrambling, trying to use his remaining hand to dig into my chest, but I'm able to knock him off balance.

"Pute!" Emile shouts, and his foot kicks into my hip as he topples off me. His eyes widen when he sees what I hold in my hands.

Sasha and Hale were right about our hearts.

Taking a deep breath, I bite into it and swallow as fast I can. Emile struggles to get up, his missing hand making it difficult. And then he runs. Tearing through the ballroom, he is a blur before he disappears through the same doors Kathleen used. He is the only one who will be immune to my commands, having never been forced to swear to Bjorn. I don't chew, sitting on the ground shoving the bloody heart into my mouth and swallowing. Rip and tear, I swallow bite after bite. It's disgusting, thick, and nearly impossible to eat.

"Stay quiet, and don't come near me," I command, sputtering with a mouthful of blood, starting to feel more and more of those featherweight tethers as I assume Bjorn's bloodsworns. "Don't leave this room either," I add, as a few vampires dart to the doors. Doing my best to keep it down, I continue eating. When I look down at the heart in my hand, I see I'm barely even halfway done, and it makes me choke. Everyone in the ballroom has stopped moving, stopped fighting, and they all just stare at me. Margot stumbles forward, blood covering her already healed face. Tears run clean tracks down her cheeks as she stares at me.

I sit down on the steps of the dais, nibbling on the disgusting flesh in my hands after commanding the burning of the bodies. And I wait. I don't know what to do. Roman had never played into this plan when I'd mapped it out with my sister. I'd never thought of sparing him from my manipulations and violence. I was supposed to lure the coven with my blood, that poison they didn't expect, and then find a way to be turned. I hadn't expected to fall for the person who I ingratiated myself with. I never expected him to see the worst parts of me and not shy away.

Until he did, I remind myself. He knew it was too much, and he'd made a choice. He'd mademychoice. It doesn't make it any easier, though.

Slipping the last bite in my mouth, mind made up, I stand. "Margot, bring me your phone," I demand. She does as she's told and the phone is ringing when a gasp ripples through the room. Every set of eyes stares past me, and the room is deathly silent. When Margot's composure breaks and her chin wobbles, I know exactly who she is looking at behind me, and I prepare for the worst. My decisions won't matter if he kills me now.

I close my eyes, seeing the streetlight’s glow of my worst memory, the down feather stuffing of my father’s coat drifting to the ground like freshly fallen snow.

"Gwyn?" he asks, impossibly soft. The caress of his concern rips through my heart, and I bleed out.

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