She hated the loss of Beckham being able to hear and see what was happening to her, but at least they had each other. She tried to broadcast clearly to him that everything was okay. Or as okay as it could be. She could still sense that he was in the van, but for how long?
“Any other tricks up your pretty little sleeves?” Bronwyn asked. She made a predatory circle around Reyna. “I like the way the music sings in battle. It suddenly all makes sense. All the other noise is gone and I can finally hear.”
“This makes sense to you?”
Bronwyn tilted her head to the side. “Battle is what I’m built for. Can you hear it?”
Reyna tried to listen to what Bronwyn was talking about, but there was nothing different. Just the din noise in the background of fighting. Fighting that she needed to stop.
Bronwyn’s hands were in fists in front of her and they started to shake. Her head swiveled side to side as if she listened to a song only she could hear.
“You need help,” Reyna said. “We can…we can get you help.”
Bronwyn hummed louder.
“Beckham would help you.”
Her eyes snapped open. Something like lucidity came back in her black eyes. Her black bob swished around her chin ata haphazard angle. Her spine straightened to her considerable height. For a second—a small second—she almost looked human.
“Nooooo!” Bronwyn screamed. She put her hands on her head and shook back and forth. “No. Not then. Death and death and death. And say hi to mom. Cut and slice and burn. Murder. Turn it around. Show me how. Do it again. And again.”
She mumbled again and again until she crouched in on herself, all sanity forgotten. Reyna swallowed, torn between leaving Bronwyn behind and escaping now that she had the chance. There was no way to reach her, and it was hard to see her like this.
Reyna took a breath and then darted for the door. She almost had her hand on the handle when Bronwyn realized what was happening. Suddenly Bronwyn was upon her, dragging her back.
“Bad pet. Not how we act.”
Reyna cried out as pain lanced up her arm from Bronwyn’s grip. Blood seeped out of her veins as Bronwyn’s nails dug deep into her skin. Shit. Her blood. It was going to cause a frenzy if other vampires smelled it. It was so sickly sweet that it attracted them like moths to a flame.
Bronwyn stared down at the wound as if she didn’t know how it had gotten there. Then she threw Reyna’s arms away from her.
“Rotten! Trash! Sick!” Bronwyn gagged as the smell of Reyna’s blood assaulted her. “Make it stop!”
Reyna clamped down on the wound. She couldn’t exactly ask Beckham to heal this. They couldn’t show their hand to Harrington. But fuck, it was going to drive Bronwyn mad. Fuck it. She’d have to wait. She’d have to endure a little longer.
Bronwyn had stopped shrieking and was staring at Reyna from a crouch on the ground. “You hear them too.”
“Yes,” Reyna lied.
“I was built for an army. Battle is my lullaby. Murder is myfairy tale,” Bronwyn muttered.
“You don’t have to be.”
“I haven’t had an army in a long time. No battles. No murder. Just voices. So many voices.”
“I’m sorry.” Reyna’s heart broke for the girl that Beckham had shattered into so many pieces she could only find herself surrounded by violence and death.
“Why are they so loud around you? They should be quiet. I can hear the battle cries below. The sweet scent of destruction on the wind.”
“I remind you of him,” Reyna said.
“No,” Bronwyn said. She straightened again and stared at her. “No.”
“You can smell Beckham on me. You can hear his voice in me. You can feel your brother when you are near me. The voices are louder because of him. He did this to you.”
“Stop,” Bronwyn commanded.
“He did and he’s so sorry. He wants to help. He still loves you.”
