Now she’s standing in the door of the library, looking at me like I’m a wayward pet who has disappointed her for the last time.
The library is one of my least favorite rooms in the house. Not a novel in sight; my father disapproved of fiction. No poetry either. It was contraband for me, smuggled in from the public library, inhaled during my lunch breaks at school, downloaded on my phone and kept in a folder I titled “social studies test notes” so my father would overlook it during his periodic checks of my phone’s contents. Only when I finally made it into college did I have free rein to indulge my passion for poetry and lyricism.
Philippa paces slowly toward one of the bookcases, traces a finger along one shelf, and inspects her fingertip for dust. Apparently she finds none, which is good news for the maid.
“When you came back from college, I supported you,” Philippa says. “I let you pursue your music. I didn’t immediately summon Jean-Luc and try to bring out your wolf like Dad did.”
She pauses, glances at me. She’s positioning our father as a common enemy, trying to put herself on my side.
I scoff loudly. “Don’t act like you’re better than him. You were at his elbow the whole time, all those years he was tormenting me. You fuckingworshippedhim.”
“I wasloyalto him. To this family. A concept that seems too difficult for you to grasp. Do you understand where we came from? What our parents and grandparents built? Do you realize how many people crave the level of power and influence that comes with the de Chagny name, not to mention the financial assets?”
“I’m aware that we’re a bunch of billionaire assholes,” I reply. “Wait…supernaturalbillionaire assholes. Does that make it better or worse?”
Philippa gives me a vicious sneer. A single lock of her hair flops over her eyebrow, brushing her cheek. “You act as if you’re not one of us. Like you’re better than everyone else in the Collective. Betterthan me.” She shakes her head, venting a sharp chuckle. “Where do you get the audacity, the hubris? It’s new, and it doesn’t look good on you. Wait…I know where you got it. Fromher.”
She means Christine, and she’s not wrong.
“You didn’t mention a lover’s name in your email.” Philippa captures the stray lock of hair and smooths it into place. “But it wasn’t hard to figure out who she is. The entire cast and crew of your musical know you’re sleeping with Christine Daaé. Or youwere. That won’t be happening again.”
“You can’t keep me away from her.” I try to rise from the chair, but her command tositstill grinds against my bones, holding me in place.
“I realize that,” she says more calmly. “You’d figure out a way to get to her. Temporarily removing her influence won’t work. There has to be a permanent uncoupling.”
I twist in the chair, fear flaring through my veins like molten metal. “What does that mean?”
She continues her walk along the bookshelves. “It’s beyond frustrating, the way you gobbled up the money I gave you. The way you act like you deserve the funding for your precious musical—like it’s yourright. It’s not. It’s a fuckingprivilege. A privilege afforded to loyal members of this family. Now that you can shift—”
“Yes, I can shift now. So what?” I exclaim. “Why can’t I keep living my life as I choose? Keep the money. I don’t want it.”
“But you need it,” she counters, eyes narrowing.
I want to tell her that no, I don’t need it, because Erik has promised to support my musical career. But I hold back the retort. I can’t tell her anything about him. She and the others would consider him a threat. The Collective would hunt him down, and none of his voice tricks would save him from all those teeth and claws.
I keep silent, and she takes that as an admission of need.
“Privileges are earned.”
Her tone, her inflection, and her expression have never reminded me so much of our father. Acid inches up my throat. I can feel flashbacks quivering at the back of my brain, ready to leap forward and crush my consciousness or send me into a sweating panic.
Philippa’s voice continues, hard as bulletproof glass. “You really expect me to hold on to this empire myself, don’t you? And I could, I suppose. But it may surprise you to learn, little brother, that I’m not a robot. I get tired. Do you hear me? I get fucking tired of managing everything, dialoguing with everyone, settling disputes and maintaining alliances so we can stay at the top. You don’t know how easily it could all fall apart. You don’t want to know. You just want to keep drinking from the family tit until you’re glutted without lifting a finger to—”
“I don’t want the money,” I cut in. “I want to be free. No more Collective, no more supernatural shifter Mafia or whatever the hell we are. I just want out. You could get out, too. You could leave.”
She freezes midstep and turns her shocked gaze on me.
Even on the day when I first showed her my wolf form, I never saw her look like this. Utterly stupefied.
“Leave?” Her voice is breathless with anger…and maybe a touch of panic. “You have no idea what you’re saying. You know only a fraction of the influence the Collective wields in this city—the power we have. And I rule the Collective.Ido. Why in the hell would I ever give that up? What else would I do?”
I shrug. “Go live in Colorado with Conri?”
Her laugh is nearly hysterical. “He’dleaveme, you idiot. We are engaged because of the Collective, because an alliance makes sense and we fit perfectly as mates. That’s our duty, yours and mine—tomate within the shifter lines and keep our blood strong. But you don’t care. You ran off with someone completely inappropriate for you. Not just some unknown dancer, but a fuckingvampire.”
Ice trickles down my spine. Until now, I was sure she thought Christine was human. Not much of a threat.
But if she knows Christine is a vampire…
