“Lenaro believed we had made an alchemical breakthrough—no, amedical miracle.He wasn’t wrong, but the next part is why we talk about him in the past tense, my dear. Because your father tried tostealyou. I later learned it was at the behest of his shadowy friends, for a debt he owed, but the motive is irrelevant to a mother. Lenaro wished to sell you to the highest bidder, or gift you to Olhav as an offering of peace—for more power and status, undoubtedly.”
A gasp rips out of me.Damn the True, it sounds just like Lukain! Like Baylen and Father Cullard and Dimmon Plank and . . . every man I’ve ever known except my mates.
“Rather than let that happen, I stole you first,” Jinneth continues. There’s firmness to her face now, a ferocity I’ve rarely seen. The anger blossoms in her eyes like a physical thing. “I hid you, leaving you with the Hosue of the Broken. Then I foundLenaro and slit his throat while he slept, but not before waking him up so he could see his killer’s eyes.”
Sounds like something I would do.
Jinneth lets out a long, ragged breath, looking weary now. With a palm to her temple, she rests her elbow on the table. “It was a rash, hasty decision. I feared retaliation from his scumlord friends and whoever they might have told about your magical recovery, so I fled Nuhav. I created a diversion to make them think I had escapedwith youto Olhav, out of their reach.
“In Olhav, as a young, sad woman who had made irreparable mistakes in her life, I became destitute. I met slaves, debated throwing my life away as broodstock, but eventually . . . I ran into a beautiful young woman. After Lenaro, my time with men was finished, clearly.”
She lifts her embarrassed eyes from the tabletop to shoot me a small smirk. “Keffa was everything I wished for. With a few other sad, destitute women, we managed to form the Chained Sisters together. We became a small family. My hope was always to return to the House of the Broken and bring you into the fold . . . but I never felt safe enough to do it. I was a coward, Sephania, and for that, I’m sorry.”
“Mother.” I lean forward. My voice lowers to a stern tone. “Nothing about the story you just told me shows cowardice. It shows resolve, determination, resilience—all qualitiesI’vebeen told I possess. I get them from you.”
Tears trickle down her cheeks when she smiles at me. She blinks them away with a quick sniffle. She’s like me, not one to show emotion easily. But the story she’s telling—a story she’s likely never told anyone except Iron Sister Keffa—has thoroughly broken down her tough exterior.
“I believe the gang from Nuhav must have spread rumors about you, which is how more people than just us know about your Loreblood. Back in those days, I was not as tight-lipped as Ishould have been. I apologize for making your life harder than it already was.”
Yes, somehow Alacine Mortis found out about my blood. Skartovius knew too, as did Lukain. The secret is not as well-kept as we’d like.A thought comes to me, abruptly, and I angle my head with my brow threading. “Can I ask you something, Mother? Something I’ve always wondered, that now I’m thinking might finally have an answer?”
“Of course, my dear.” She folds her hands patiently.
“Ever since my childhood, I’ve had a recurring dream. I’m staring out a window, seeing my reflection. On the other side of the window is a wintry afternoon, and a sunflower I can’t stop looking at. The sunflower starts to lose its petals. The snow beats harder, until the snowflakes are dripping red. And in my reflection, my face turns pale and my teeth grow long. I usually wake up before I turn into a vampire completely.”
Jinneth’s eyes go from confused to alert to knowing. She gives me a small smile. “You always did enjoy flowers as a whelp, my sweet. When you were bedridden for a week after the blood transfusion, I would often come in and check on you. Your head would be twisted, listless expression in your eyes, as you stared out that window at the flowers on the other side.”
The explanation hits me hard. Before I know it, my eyes are prickling with tears.Truehearts weep.“It reallyisa memory. Not some horrid daydream or vision of the future. That dream must be a vision of thepast, trying to break free in my psyche.”
She nods deeply. “I believe that’s true.”
We fall silent, the somberness thick and heavy in the air. The boiling food on the fire behind me sizzles, bubbling like a witch’s brew.
“How did you know my blood was special?” I ask. “That it changed me?”
“I saw you do things no little girl should be able to do. Inhuman things, like lifting yourself onto tables and chairs as an infant, when your arms were nowhere strong enough to take on your weight. One morning, you cut your finger. I sucked the blood up to make you laugh instead of cry, and when it touched my lips . . . I felt an alien sensation run through me. From that moment, I knew there was something special about you. I was a fool for running to tell Lenaro about it. Allhesaw was opportunity.”
“Fucking bastard.”
“Indeed, my dear. Indeed.” She sighs heavily. “Now then, you’d best tell me whatyouhave discovered about your blood, and I’ll try to explain how it might be caused. I am something of an expert in all this, after all.”
“Because you were an alchemist studying how to weaken and hurt vampires,” I add. I look at her strangely, asking, “You transfused my blood by yourself?”
She cringes. “Oh, no, I was far too frightened. I had a friend, something of a master alchemist in those days. Hell, I should have just marriedhim, he fancied me so much. But Endolf was a bit too old for me. At least I thought so.”
My eyes bulge. “Wait. Old Endolf?That’sthe friend who helped save me?”
Her nose wrinkles. “I mean, ‘old’ is a bit unfair, I think. Older thanme, perhaps, but I wouldn’t say he—”
I jump up from my seat. “Mother! I know him!”
Chapter 27
Sephania
I tell my mother a truncated version of my life up until now, leaving out most of the murders, all of the sex, and any scandals that might make me seem less pristine in her eyes. So essentially I tell Jinneth about thirty-percent of my life story. Enough to make me look like an upright citizen and stalwart of justice.As if I can fool her,I think wryly.She sees the kind of men I keep as company.
Our dialogue stretches through the day, past morning meal, into afternoon, until the sun is beginning to wane. It’s freeing being able to speak with my mother after so many years. It makes me feel warm inside.I’ve never had this before. Someone who cares like she does, who hangs off every word I speak. Well, I have three of them right now. Butthisis different.
