“Tell me, Orlando, what kind of petty, egotistical god would make such a rule? To expect to be worshipped above all others, to the point that you make it your very first two commandments. Before murder and theft? And the third, not to take his name in vain. Can you imagine a more insecure deity? So desperate for worship and so tenuous his reign that he must carve his playground rules in stone, only to destroy them in a tantrum of rage. Doesn’t it all seem a bit…” Your mother paused and heaved a long, dramatic breath. “Trifling.”
“I guess so.” I’d never thought about it that way before. As far as gods went, you were my one and only. I worshipped you, Henri. You gave me purpose. I’d do anything to have you back.
As if reading my mind, Lena said, “I have a hunch there’s a god you’ve put before all others, isn’t there, precious?” She blew out a plume of smoke. It unfurled from her lips like a ghostly ribbon.
“Henri,” I whispered. Just saying your name made my heart ache.
“Tell me about your angel.” She laid a hand on my shoulder. My skin melted at her touch. My body and mind bent to her will. “Tell meeverything,” she purred.
I couldn’t resist her. Once my mouth opened, the words poured out. I told her how we’d met when I was little, and then later when I called for you again, how you’d protected me from Derek and his thugs. I told her about our experiments with Bobby and Blake. How we’d found a solution in Xavier only to be given a gloomy prophesy. I called it bullshit, and Lena wholeheartedly agreed. Finally, someone took my side. I told her about my most recent disaster with Sergei and how you’d interfered, which was how I knew you still cared. And that was when I got to the point.
“I just thought if Henri didn’t have to rely on a host. If he had a body of his own, one that he could trust…”
I glanced up at your mother. She’d been listening so intently all this time, allowing me to ramble and refilling my glass. The champagne made me lightheaded. I hadn’t eaten much that day because I was too nervous about my performance. Lena signaled the driver to keep driving, even though we must have been in that car for an hour already. Her face looked troubled.
“Is that...” I doubted myself. “Is that a terrible idea?”
“Not at all, dear, but I don’t think you understand how it’s achieved.” She glanced at Lucian. He frowned a little but seemed sympathetic to our situation. Lena continued, “In order for Henri to permanently possess a body, he’d have to…” Her eyes and mouth turned downward, and I got it.
“He’d have to kill the person?” I asked shakily.
Lena sighed sorrowfully. “Unfortunately, yes. There’s really no other way around it. Bodies have souls that must be dispatched in order to make a full transmutation.”
It would never work then. Because neither of us would commit murder.
“What if the person was already dying?” I asked, grasping at straws.
Here Lucian answered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees like he was giving me a lesson. “A body must be healthy in order to make the transition. It’s a delicate thing, you see, to conquer a vessel. Only a body in its prime of living could survive it.”
We’d have to kill a healthy host, which would turn us both into monsters. Murderers. Our situation seemed so hopeless.
“Unless…” Lena’s voice lifted, and her face lit up.
“Unless what?” I asked, hanging on her every word.
“Unless we could findhisbody.” Her eyes widened and Lucian perked up. They both seemed excited by the idea.
“His body? You mean his bloodborn one?”
Lucian’s head tilted and he studied me. “You know about that?”
“Yes, Henri told me how he… lost it.” I didn’t want Lena to think I was judging her. I needed her on my side.
She placed a soothing hand on my arm. “That happened a long time ago. It was a very unfortunate misunderstanding between us, and I regret it so very much.”
“Do you?” I asked in a moment of distrust.
“Of course I do. Henri is my firstborn son, and I’ll admit, I meddled when I shouldn’t have. But this centuries-long obligation to the dead…” She shot Lucian a look of disapproval, and he only shook his head. “It seems unfair, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” I agreed. Some of the stories you told me about your work—it was just one tragedy after another. Death didn’t suit you at all.
“Does Henri know you called for us?” Lucian asked.
“No, he told me not to.”
“But like us, you only want what’s best for him,” your mother cooed sympathetically.
“I’d do anything for him,” I said quietly. I’d already decided. You didn’t deserve to live such a lonely, isolated existence. I wanted us to be together, and I knew you wanted it too. You’d served out your punishment for centuries. Having your body returned to you was your right.
