She’s not like Claire.
But still, the past is an angry beast and its claws are lodged deep, threaded between my ribs. It threatens to pierce my heart, hollow me out and stack my bones like firewood.
I look back at Maris, satisfied to see she has her gun out and she looks like she knows what she’s doing with it. She had to have, if she managed to hold off three vampires. Even shitty vampires are tough for a human to handle when there’s more than one.
We both walk towards the living room together. Maris’ free hand presses to my back as we go. We follow the footsteps until we’re in the doorway and take in the scene. The hearth is lit with a fire. A barefoot woman stands with her back to us. She holds her hands out to the fire and water drips off her and puddles around her feet. She lifts her head when we enter the room and turns to look at us in profile.
I see the flash of teeth when she smiles at Maris. “Hello granddaughter.”
Fifty-One
MARIS
“You’re not my fucking grandmother,” I spit at the woman. She looks half drowned, waterlogged and dripping all over the fucking carpet. I glared at the wet spot on the carpet and then at the woman. I’m aching from the pounding my body took from Julian. Even if he hadn’t fucked me, I’d still be sore from fighting with the vampires. All in all, I’m not in the mood for a home invasion.
I lift the gun and cock the hammer. “Who the fuck are you? And why are you ruining my Flemish wool carpet?”
The woman sighs and turns to face me. “This really isn’t any way to greet me, and in my own home. Where are your manners, Maris?”
I stare at the woman for a second before I realize who I’m looking at. It’s not my grandmother, but I do know her.
“Isla,” I whisper. I look above her to the portrait hanging above the mantle. I’m not seeing things. It’s her. Identical face, lips, hair, eyes. It’s like Isla’s been frozen in time. Still the same perfect beauty that founded this town. The only thing that gives her away are her eyes.
They’re cold, but not the way they are in the painting. Those are commanding, like the painter was making a point to show that Isla was not just the lady of the house but of Vesper Point. Now her eyes look soulless.
They age her. I’d never mistake her for the teenage girl she was when the painting was done. There’s nothing innocent or doe-eyed about Isla. She feels ancient.
“Like I said, your grandmother with the addition of four greats,” Isla snaps and holds up four fingers for emphasis, “but who’s counting at this point.” Isla looks at Julian. “Why is he here? You do know vampires hunt our kind, yes? They’re like addicts at the first whiff they get of our blood.”
I put my gun down. “I think the question is, why are you here? You’re supposed to be dead. You’re-you died over a hundred years ago. What is this? Are you a vampire?”
Isla makes a face of disgust. “I would never become a vampire. Their kind are filthy demons, not fit for company. So I repeat my question. Why is he here? You’ve been feeding him, haven’t you?” Isla whispers.
“Stupid fucking girl.”
“He’s mine,” I tell her and then I stop myself when I almost explain to her what that means because what the fuck am I doing. “I am not explaining my relationships to my dead great-great-great-great grandmother. How are you alive? What are you doing here?” My voice doesn’t shake when I speak. I’m glad. I might be confronted with a centuries old dead relative but I’m not about to turn tail. Not after everything I’ve been through.
“Yours?” Isla laughs and throws her head back. Her wet hair sends droplets onto the floor and walls. I hear a sizzle and pop when a few drops get into the fireplace. “A vampire can neverbelongto anyone. They’re demons. The only thing he wants from you is the high of your blood. You think he loves you? He’ll drain you dry the second he’s feeling peckish.”
“I trust him.”
“You’re an idiot, that’s why.”
“If I’m an idiot what does that make you?” It’s a stupid thing to say. I know it. I might as well say I’m rubber and she’s glue or something else idiotic but I can’t think. She’s throwing too much at me. My blood and Julian’s hunger. She’s not wrong.
You thought he was going to drain you on the docks.
He was just angry, I argue with myself but I can’t shake it. My neck twinges. The spot he fed from is healed now but I felt it. I was slipping away.
Isla gives me a razor sharp look. “I’m a fucking Siren, girl and so are you, as diluted as it fucking is in your blood. It’s no wonder he’s attracted to you. It’s your blood that brings him in. The Siren’s Call, too. No man can resist it. Demon or not. He’d burn the world down for a taste of you, wouldn’t he?”
I jerk back like I’ve been slapped in the face. “What?” I look at Julian. I’m hit with déjà vu and the room tilts sideways. I’m not here with Isla and Julian. It’s not Isla that I’m looking at. It’s Rosanna.
“Without me, you never would have gotten the chance to bag yourself a little mermaid to fuck. I think that’s worth something, don’t you?”
Julian’s maker knew. She’d said it. She’d called me a mermaid. I hadn’t even thought back on it. Not with the chaos that had descended. I turn to face Julian. He’s standing like he’s ready to pounce on Isla if she makes one wrong move in my direction.
But he knew all along. He knew what I was.
