Home for the Holidays: A Night Huntress Novella (11 page)

Twenty-Four

B
ONES FELL ASLEEP
during the car ride back to the cabin. He slept all through the night while I stripped both houses of everything that smelled like his brother, down to throwing away the rug that had hidden the symbols for the ritual that split Hazael into several different parts. The others were glad to help in this endeavor, and before dawn broke, the only evidence that Wraith had ever been here was the sheet-draped portrait of the Duke of Rutland and a box containing the Russell ancestral records. Wraith’s remains were buried on the lower section of the hill, marked with a wooden cross that had a warding spell etched onto it. It was the best way I knew to ensure he rested in peace.

Ian and I also answered everyone’s questions as to how their possessions had been possible, and why he, I, and Denise had remained unscathed. We left out only one detail, but I was waiting for Bones to wake up before going into that. I showed off my new warding tattoo, since it was on my hip and I didn’t need to see Ian take his pants off again. Though the chances of any other possessed-human-turned-vampire wreaking havoc in our line were incalculably slim, I saw matching warding tattoos in everyone’s near future. Better safe than sorry.

Then, shortly after dawn, I fell into bed next to my husband. Bones didn’t move, but tendrils of power curled around me, showing some part of him was aware of my presence even if the rest of him was out cold. I didn’t expect him to wake up until that evening at least, so I was startled when, only a few hours later, I awoke to the sound of Bones’s raised voice.

“. . . explain
how
you could have kept such a thing from me!”

Uh-oh. I hurried downstairs to find Annette seated on the couch with Bones pacing in front of her. She was in a nightgown and he still wore the same salt-stiffened clothes he’d fallen asleep in, so Bones must have woken up and then immediately dragged her out of bed. Considering the topic, I couldn’t blame him for his impatience.

“You knew I had a brother.” His finger stabbed the air near her as he spoke. “You knew because you turned him into a vampire, else the demon in Wraith couldn’t have split off into you first. So I ask again why you never revealed this to me in the two hundred and twenty years that we’ve known each other!”

Now I wasn’t the only one awakened by Bones’s strident voice. Ian came into the living room, and I heard low mutterings behind Spade and Denise’s door. Kira and Mencheres were in the other cabin, but if Bones kept this up, he’d wake them, too.

Annette took in a deep breath, a spasm of pain crossing her features. “Because while I was still human, I swore an oath that I would never tell you about your father’s family.”

His gaze was harder than flint. “Who did you swear this oath to? Who was this person you valued more than everything I’ve ever done for you?”

She met his stare. “She was Lucille, your mother’s half-cousin . . . and the madam of the bordello you grew up in.”

My eyes widened. According to what Bones had told me years ago, Lucille was also the person responsible for him turning into a gigolo when he was seventeen.

“His second cousin was a she-pimp for both Bones
and
his mother?” I asked Annette in disbelief.

“You make it sound so crude,” Annette muttered. “You have no idea what it was like to be impoverished in the seventeen hundreds. There was no welfare, no food stamps, and no opportunities. When Penelope’s father took the Duke of Rutland’s money and then turned her out into the street, Lucille was the only one who took her in. Could she help it that the only means she had to assist Penelope was by offering the same employment she herself endured? The same was true when Crispin was older.”

“Mind your tone with my wife,” Bones said sharply, but I’d felt the emotions cresting in him. Poignant sparks of remembrance told me Annette’s bleak assessment had been correct. What sounded like coldness when filtered through my modern, privileged viewpoint had perhaps been kindness back then.

“I found out all this after you were arrested for stealing,” Annette continued on, her voice husky now. “Lucille was far from flawless, but she did love you. She knew of my affection for you, too, so she came to me, told me the story of your parentage, and begged me to contact the Duke of Rutland regarding your predicament. He’d never disputed that he was the father of Penelope’s babe, so Lucille thought he might intercede on your behalf. If he didn’t, you’d surely hang.”

Annette closed her eyes, running a hand through her golden-red hair. “I arranged for a private audience with the duke, though I confess I wondered if Lucille was mad. That changed the moment he walked into the room. You saw the portrait, Crispin, so you know how closely you resemble him. I relayed your circumstances and begged him to intercede with the judge, but he refused. He said he had only one son, his new, legitimate heir, and then he turned me out.”

I now understood why Annette hadn’t ever wanted to tell Bones this part of his history. My dad had also been a prick, and while I didn’t begrudge anyone a happy relationship with their father, sometimes I felt a wistful sense of loss hearing others speak of a bond I’d never have.

Annette glanced away. “You already know I sought the judge out myself and persuaded him to deport you to the colonies instead of sentencing you to the rope. When I went back to Lucille and informed her of everything, she made me swear that should you ever return, I would never reveal your father’s identity or actions to you. And so I swore on your life not to do so.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Nothing else would have held me to that promise for so long, Crispin.”

Now I couldn’t feel anything from Bones. He’d locked his emotions behind an impregnable wall. “What of Wraith?”

She sighed. “I kept tabs on him during the nearly twenty years that you were away. He seemed a decent lad. Then, a few years after you turned me, I heard that he’d become involved in a secret noblemen’s sect that sought power through the occult. I returned to London without you and confirmed it was true. Your father was dead by then, as was the duke’s younger brother and Wraith’s mother, so he had no family left except you. I thought . . . I thought by informing Wraith about vampires, perhaps he’d turn from the occult in favor of undead powers. So I showed him what I was and told him of you. He seemed terribly excited and was determined to meet you as a new vampire. Only now do I realize I may have been speaking to the demon instead of him.”

“And you changed him over.” Bones’s voice was flat.

“Yes.” Spoken as she met his gaze again. “After he was past the blood craze, I was going to introduce him as your birthday present and pretend to have accidentally discovered your familial connection by hearing his true name. But when I arrived at his house that day, I found a note saying he couldn’t bear what he’d become and he was ending his own life. I searched the grounds and found a burned corpse with a silver knife in its chest. I believed it to be him, and felt it was my punishment for intending to break the vow I’d made to Lucille not to involve you with your father’s family.”

Annette let out a short laugh. “Two hundred years later, I received a call from a man claiming to be Wraith and saying he was ready to meet his brother as his birthday present. I didn’t believe it, but I hadn’t told anyone about him. So I waited at the hotel instead of leaving with Ian and the others, and, well, you know what happened then.”

Yeah. Hazael showed up wearing Wraith’s body like a Trojan horse and bled Annette enough to force the demon’s first possession split into her. If not for Ian’s horniness, we would never have known that she’d been attacked, and I would have had a lot less reason to be suspicious of Wraith at first.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Crispin,” Annette said, swiping away the moisture from her earlier tear. Her voice became brisk. “I await your punishment.”

I personally thought Annette had been punished enough by holding those secrets for over two hundred years. Any sins she was guilty of were committed out of love and her own sense of honor, which might not be the same as mine, but it was just as sincere. Still, I wasn’t her sire, so the decision wasn’t mine.

Bones’s mouth twisted. “What shall I do? Beat you? Cut you off from my line? With your knowledge of my past and my family, you are the only link that I have left to them.”

“Actually,” Ian said, speaking for the first time since he’d come in the room, “that’s not quite true.”

Epilogue

Christmas Eve

E
VEN WITH THE
additional leafs added to my dining-room table, we still had to squeeze together to make room for everyone. Only one out of the eleven people here ate food for sustenance, but the table was piled high with all the traditional fixings, and everyone corporeal pretended to be hungry for it.

Bones carved the turkey while the rest of us heaped our plates with side dishes. I would have been happy to cook, but oddly enough—and I refused to acknowledge that it might have to do with my culinary skills—everyone insisted on bringing something. Bones roasted the turkey, Kira made the dressing, Denise baked the pies, Mencheres made a Middle Eastern dish that I didn’t recognize, Spade provided the mashed potatoes, Annette candied the yams, my mother baked the green bean casserole, and Ian brought the wine.

I felt one person’s absence acutely today. My uncle and I still weren’t on speaking terms, but I was glad that my mother was here, spooning dressing onto her plate before passing the container to Denise. Fabian and Elisabeth were here as well, floating above the two chairs we’d left open for them. After all, they were as important to me as everyone else at the table. They just didn’t take up as much physical space.

I tapped my wineglass with a fork, the dinging noise getting everyone’s attention. “I’d like to propose a toast,” I said, rising and lifting my glass. “To family, whether by blood or by affection. We’d all be lesser people without them.”

Multiple glasses clinked together, but before I could sit down, Ian spoke.

“Another toast, this one to the Honorable Viscount Maynard. Though you were a sod who didn’t help your sister Penelope when she was thrown out by her da, at least you were a randy bloke who shagged your serving girl or I wouldn’t have been born.”

“Here, here,” Bones said, grinning as he clicked glasses with Ian.

Now I knew why Ian had looked so shocked when Bones revealed that his mother was really Penelope Maynard, the viscount’s daughter. Ian was the bastard son of the younger Viscount Maynard, so he’d well recognized that surname. After she was thrown out by her family, Penelope must have called herself by her former lover’s last name so Bones would grow up as Crispin Phillip Arthur Russell, the Third—the name that marked him as the firstborn son of the Duke of Rutland to the few people who knew him by that instead of his title. Penelope might not have told Bones about his real father, but she’d left him a clue that had taken two hundred years to unravel.

Life was more than rough sometimes, but not every curveball it threw was a bad one. Case in point: Bones was spending the holidays with family, after all. Even though that family turned out to be a depraved, narcissistic vampire who annoyed the hell out of me on a regular basis, oh well. You could only pick your friends, not your family, and through my marriage to Bones, Ian was now my family, too. That was karma coming to get me, I was sure, but I’d handle it. With Bones at my side, I could handle anything.

I touched my glass to Ian’s with a rueful grin. “Merry Christmas, cousin.”

He winked. “You’ll never be quit of me now, Reaper.”

That was probably true. And since it turned out that we were related, I’d felt obligated to get Ian a Christmas present. A chunk of coal sat in a brightly wrapped box under the tree, his name written in big bold letters on the front of it.

Ian might be family, but he still had been a
very
naughty boy this year.

The wait for Cat and Bones is finally over . . .

The next Night Huntress novel is here!

Keep reading for a sneak peek from

U
P
F
ROM THE
G
RAVE

by Jeaniene Frost

Available soon from Avon Books

Prologue

C
RUNCH.

The sound was a relief. So was the sudden limpness in the form underneath her. It was over.

She jumped off the body before it started leaking as they all did. Then she stood at attention, careful not to look directly at the old man who watched her from behind a thick layer of glass. He didn’t like it when she stared into his eyes.

The man pursed his lips as he considered the results of her latest test. Not a muscle moved, but inwardly, she smiled at the melody that kept repeating in his mind. Her other instructors rarely sang in their thoughts, yet he did. Every time. If it wouldn’t have made him mad, she would’ve told him she enjoyed it, but her instructor didn’t like people prying into his mind. She’d overheard that shortly after getting the ability, so she never told him about it.

“Seven seconds,” he said at last, glancing down at the body. “These subjects no longer represent a challenge to you.”

He sounded pleased, but still she didn’t smile. Displays of emotion led to too many questions and she wanted to get back to her manuals.

“It’s time to move onto the next phase,” he continued.

The words seemed to be directed at her, yet he was really speaking to the man behind the mirrored glass fifty meters above him. Since she wasn’t supposed to know he was there, however, she nodded.

“I’m ready.”

“Are you?”

The way he drew out the words warned her that this next test wouldn’t be easy, which was why she couldn’t stop her surprised blink when the chute above her opened and a new subject tumbled into the arena. It looked no more imposing than the others she’d neutralized, but when it leapt up and faced her, she understood. Her new opponent had no heartbeat.

“What is it?” she asked, her own heart starting to speed up.

Her opponent had a question, too.

“What the fuck is
this
?”

“Neutralize him,” her gray-haired instructor commanded.

She hid her disappointment. Perhaps if she finished quickly, she’d be rewarded with an answer. At the very least, neutralizing this . . . thing would give her more information about it.

She charged toward it without another moment’s hesitation, sweeping its legs out from under it before slamming her elbow down on its throat.

Crunch
.

Its bones shattered with the usual sound, but instead of going limp, the thing threw her off and leapt upward while giving the old man a disbelieving look.

“What
have you done?”

As it spoke, its neck snapped back into place, losing its misshapen angle in less time than she took to blink again. She stared in confusion. What sort of creature could heal itself like that?

“You want to live?” her instructor answered the thing coolly. “You’ll have to kill her.”

Those same words had been spoken to many opponents before this one, yet for the first time, her hands felt damp. With its incredible healing ability, was it possible that the thing
couldn’t
be neutralized?

She glanced up at the old man, meeting his gaze for a second before she looked away. Even in that brief moment, she had her answer.

The thing could be killed. She just had to figure out how.