“My ‘bullshit beliefs’?” Thomas snapped. He took a step closer to Roger. “I have had my time to investigate you. You are no fucking saint. The Gladwell Massacre. The slaughter of my grandfather and his people in Indiana. Your reputation as a seducer, drawing in the naïve to become pawns in your master’s coven.”
“I had no choice in any of that,” Roger replied.
“Oh? None? You could have walked into the fucking sun. You could have run?—”
“I tried!” Roger screamed. “I ran from him. I skirted his law. I ignored his wishes until I pushed him to his limit and he reminded me of what I was.His. Not some treasured sireling, but his fucking toy. Athing. And I thought I could stand. Zack and Takashi gave me the courage. Without them, I would have caved when I returned to the city. I know that now.”
“Boo hoo,” Thomas spat out. “You would’ve partied and had your fill of sex and blood. How pitiful for you.”
“My choices were stripped from the moment he sank his fangs into me. You have no idea what it took tosurvive.”
“I know I’d rather die than suffer under some fucking brute for hundreds of years,” Thomas declared.
“You knownothingabout what you would do in my position.” The floorboards shook out from Roger. His inner tides were roaring in his ears, stronger than Thomas’s heartbeat by a thousandfold. The pain and anger were too much. He had been holding it so tight to his chest.
Roger straightened to his full height, gladly glaring down at Thomas. A coldness overcame his voice. “Seamus never calls his sirelings his children, but he’s done so with Zack. He must have read Zack’s journal and believed he needed a father.”
The words had the vicious, sharp edge he’d sought, and Thomas stepped back as if he’d been physically struck. His eyes went wide, and he paled.
And except for his eyes, he looked just as Zack had after the party where he killed Quinn. Zack had been in deep pain, and Roger had dared to be vulnerable with him because he was certain Zack was sweet and kind and wonderful. Seeing Thomas brought that back to mind, and it was a dagger to Roger’s heart.
Too caught up in their wounds, neither said a word. They stared at each other, horror and agony digging new trenches into their souls.
There was a shuffle of sound, the lightest scrape of shoes against wood floor, and a caught breath. Roger shook himself once and slid his attention to the doorway.
Vincent was watching them. He had one hand on the fraying doorframe and one in a tight fist against his chest. His eyes were wide as saucers, and his mouth hung open. Time slowed. The world whirled on, and yet the three of them were frozen for a fraction of a moment that was its own eternity.
Then tears rolled from Vincent’s eyes. An intense burst of the want for revenge struck Roger like lightning to a mast. Vincent spun on his heel and ran.
Thomas was still in shock. Roger wasn’t about to apologize for his words, and he knew of nothing to say to him. And Vincent’s desire for revenge was odd. It had a different touch than the one he’d been nursing the last few weeks.
Roger took off after him, following him into the lit classroom. “Vincent!”
Vincent was heading for the side door.
With a burst of speed, Roger cut him off. He stood in his way, dodging to keep in front of him when he made to move past him. The room had already fallen into stunned silence before their entry. Everyone’s focus was on the two of them.
“Get out of my way!” Vincent shouted.
“I’m not letting you run out into the night like this,” Roger replied.
“Like you fucking care! I’m not your precious Zack!”
“You matter to me.” Roger held his arms wide when Vincent tried to duck past him again. Thankfully, his vampire speed gave him an advantage over Vincent’s wily dexterity. The air began to smell of ozone. “Once you calm down?—”
“Fuck calm!” Vincent slammed his palm against his own chest. “I was good! I obeyed. I did awful … I … He … Promised me! He promised over and over that if I was good, he’d turn me!” He choked out a sob and took two steps back. Something cracked in the near distance, but Roger didn’t take his eyes off Vincent. “I never stopped him. Never raised my voice. I asked him. I askedoncefor him to do what he said. And he beat me and left me for dead in a fucking bathroom. But he turned Zack?Zack? Zack never had to … Never … IletSeamus do things to me … Never fought him. Never disobeyed … I was good!”
The ache in Vincent’s unsaid words echoed the abyss that Roger tried to cover in pretty words and sly smiles. But the thin layer of veneer was cracked, and the rot beneath the boards was there, longing to be purged with fire. Roger swallowed a thick cry of his own pain. The seas within him surged, and he felt his mind dragged along with the power.
Others in the room were moving, and their motion distracted Vincent and drew Roger’s attention. Lacey began to usher her students toward the front room. The vampires, including Janiyah, quickly ran with liquid speed. Amber hesitated, sending fraught glances between Vincent and Thomas, who was emerging from the back.
Bastian, the tattooed mage, locked gazes with Noah, the warlock. Noah nodded once, a slight jerk of his head, and both pulled out wands.
Dmitri was gaping. Utter surprise was not an expression Dmitri had often.
The lights flickered throughout the room. Vincent was breathing rapidly. His heart was racing. As Noah and Bastian started to raise their wands, he screamed at the top of his voice, “I’m not the problem!”
The mirrors cracked, spiderweb fractures crawling across their surfaces. Roger could feel the tides of his mind swelling and roiling within him. He had no clue what the mage and warlock were planning. Worse, he had no idea what to do with the surge of power in him. As soon as he’d noticed his power in Candide’s penthouse, it had died away. This time, it wasn’t doing that.
