“Not at first.” Lloyd gives him a tight smile. “I had to work on you awhile, longer than I expected, because ofher.” He nods to Daisy. “Her voice doesn’t work on me, and I can’t seem to influence her—due to the similarities in our powers, I assume. Her resistance delayed me, and things in Charleston did not go smoothly because of it.”
“Because I shot you,” Dorian puts in. “Did that fucking house resurrect you?”
“No, that was my good friend Hindley. The entire Lockwood clan have been my friends and allies for a long time. Well, except for you, Heathcliff. Couldn’t trust you, as an outsider. And the old lady had to be kept out of the loop—she knew too much about me due to our past encounters.”
He’s talking about Meemaw. He must be the Gancanagh she knew back in New Orleans.
My brain is racing to catch up, trying to adjust, trying not to bedumb as ballsabout this, but I’ve had a shitty day, and I’m hellatired. I’m furious with this Lloyd guy, but I can’t seem to solidify my whirling thoughts into any kind of purpose or plan.
Cathy’s fingers tighten around mine, and she whispers, “He’s the one who killed me.”
Hot, choking anger fills my chest.
Lloyd slit Cathy’s throat. That plain fact is the motivation I need to meet Hindley’s gaze, to speak out. “You knew who he was all along? You knew when we resurrected him?”
“Sure did.” Hindley leers. “We go way back. Bunch of the cousins and uncles and such know him, too. Like he said, we had to keep it quiet around Meemaw. She wouldn’t have wanted us working with him. Too dangerous, she’d say. But he said our abilities would be stronger once the god was raised. Strong as they used to be in the old days. And he promised not to use his powers on us.”
“You believed him?” I scoff.
“I ain’t done none of this under anybody’s sway,” Hindley says. “It’s all me. My choice.”
“Of course it is,” Lloyd echoes.
“Damn straight.” Hindley spits again. “Anyway, when we rezzed him, I knew he was gonna be in and out of consciousness for a while. But it was hella funny pestering you about wakin’ him up, watchin’ you nosing around, trying to take care of him. He had to sleep a lot, sure, but he was up and about more than you ever knew. Sometimes it was a damn hassle keeping you occupied until he could get back to bed for his rest. But hey, it worked. The god was raised and by the same fuckers who wanted to keep him down. That’s what you call irony, ain’t it? Barrier’s down now, so I just walked right into Wicklow. The Coosaw Lockwoods’ll be along soon, too. We’re gonna have us a Samhain bonfire, burn this old place to the ground.”
Edgar Linton makes a panicked sound. He’s still lying in the pewwhere Baz put him after his “blood donation.”
Lloyd speaks up before Hindley can continue. “The fate of this church doesn’t concern me. All that concerns me ishim. Send the god over to me, Daisy. Quietly now, there’s a good girl.”
From my angle, I can’t see much of Daisy’s face. But I hear the savage hiss she makes, and I see her body tense, claws twitching as if she’s about to pounce.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Lloyd advises. He speaks sidelong to Hindley. “Point that shotgun at the tattooed girl. She’s fully human. Would die in a second. Dorian, you make a move to shield her and Hindley will shoot. At least some of that buckshot will find its mark in her pretty little body.”
Dorian freezes in the act of moving toward Baz. Cody shifts restlessly, like he’s thinking about intervening, but Nick holds him back.
I feel fucking useless. I’m too far away. Can’t stop Hindley or Ian.
“Give him what he wants, Daisy,” Gatsby says. “You’ve done all you can, sweetheart.”
Daisy’s head whips toward him, and another growl ripples from her throat.
“Gatsby,” Nick says quietly. “Her bracelet. Orange. She gave you too much blood.”
I don’t know what bracelet he’s talking about, but Nick’s words seem to alarm Gatsby.
“Daisy can’t listen to you right now, Lloyd,” he says. “I need to go to her, to persuade her to hand over the god. You claim you don’t want violence—let me reason with her and prevent more bloodshed. I won’t make a false move, I swear.”
Lloyd surveys Daisy, then nods.
Quickly, Gatsby crosses over to Daisy, drawing her into his arms.She jerks against his hold, hissing again.
“Drink from me,” he says quickly. “Drink from me, sweetheart. Just for a minute, and then we’ll get you some human blood.”
“Jay,” Cody protests. “You don’t have any to spare.”
“When she gets like this, she has to be fed,” Gatsby snaps. “Or…you know what happens.”
“Interesting.” Lloyd taps his chin, watching Daisy with renewed interest. “Not like other girls, is she? A bit more feral than your usual vampire once her blood supply gets low enough? Better hold her tight, Gatsby—she looks positively rabid.”
