“You look like you want to kill someone in this one. Any idea who?”
I chuckled. “Any number of beings.”
He must have sensed my internal steel doors were locked tight now because he cleared his throat and turned more pages. I felt itchy, like I wanted to claw my way out of my skin. As he flipped, the images blurred into swirls of color. Pictures of me fighting a werewolf pack in Central Park. Me coming out of Slade’s bar. Adam and me holding hands. And just then, he turned one more page, and my heart skipped a beat. My hand slammed down on his to prevent him from turning the page.
“Wha—” he said.
Ignoring him, I grabbed the book and brought it closer to my face for inspection. This was the first image in the books that showed Maisie and me together. It had been taken at the Crossroads, the mage estate north of New York. Maisie and I were side by side, walking through the grounds together. We leaned into each other, like we were whispering secrets. Our red and black heads were so close you couldn’t tell where my hair ended and hers began.
Whoever took the picture had obviously used a zoom lens. There was no way they’d be able to get that level of detail without me sensing their presence. Maisie was laughing and had her hand on my arm. I smiled back at her, clearly enjoying myself. My chest tightened. I felt embarrassed to have an unguarded and private moment exposed.
Anger rose up suddenly. Tristan didn’t deserve this picture. He didn’t deserve the right to pry into our lives. He didn’t deserve to intrude into the few private moments my sister and I had shared.
Without thinking about what I was doing, I ripped the plastic sheet back and pried the picture from the sticky backing.
“Hey—” Tristan began.
I swung around. Whatever he saw in my face had him backing down. I glared him down as I stuffed the picture into my back pocket. “You had no right,” I said, my voice low and hard.
His face paled. “I know.”
I turned back to the album and flipped to the last page. The final image was of Adam, Giguhl, and me. We were walking through the French Quarter together. If I had to guess, it was taken our first night in New Orleans. The night Lavinia appeared to ambush me near Jackson Square. I’d been so angry. So fueled by rage. By the desire to get Maisie back so we could all return to normal life. Whatever that was.
Little did I know that just a few short months later, Lavinia and Maisie would be dead and I’d be in Italy with our father. The only constants in that entire fucked up story were Adam and Giguhl. Tristan didn’t deserve them either. I pulled that picture out, too.
“Sabina…,” he began haltingly. “I know this is painful for you.”
I laughed, a bitter sound. “Don’t act like you care.” I held up the book. “Besides a handful of crappy photos, you don’t know the first thing about who I am or how I feel.”
“You’re right.” He met my anger levelly. His frankness made me pause. “I knew a lot about your sister. Between Orpheus’s updates and the research of my team, I felt like I knew her—a least a little bit. But you?” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Were always a bit of a mystery.”
“I didn’t have to be,” I said, raising my chin.
“Didn’t you?” He raised a brow.
“Please, you only had one shot of me in Los Angeles and it was taken long before I could have killed your spy. Admit it, you never made much of an effort with me because you believed Maisie was the Chosen.”
Tristan sighed and crossed his arms. “I’m sorry. I admit now there’s a chance I might have been… wrong.”
“A chance?” I said, my voice incredulous. “Well, that makes me feel so much better.”
He shot me an impatient look. “If I were you, I’d spend my time between now and tomorrow night getting my ego in check. Your fight with Horus was a perfect example. If you allow cockiness and anger to guide you tomorrow, you’re destined to fail.”
I ignored the fact that I knew very well I’d been showing off. Some perverse part of me had wanted to prove to Tristan that I had skills. But that was neither here nor there as far as this conversation went. “So, what? You figured you’d stick a pin in my overinflated ego? Make me insecure and scared before I head off to the fight of my life?” I huffed out a breath. “Jesus, it’s like you want me to fail.”
“That couldn’t be further from the truth. The fact is, I—and everyone else—need you to succeed. You’re our best and only shot at finally killing Cain. But you won’t be able to stroll blithely into the underworld like you own it. A little humility and common sense will serve you better than that chip on your shoulder.”
“Oh, that’s rich! You want to know why I have a chip on my shoulder?” I stared him down. “You put it there. You and my mother.” His mouth fell open, but I steamrolled ahead. “While you were off chasing windmills and Maisie was being adored by the mages, I was hidden away in the Dominae compound because Lavinia was ashamed of her mongrel granddaughter. She forced me to give up my dream of going into service to the Great Mother because no mixed-blood could possibly be allowed such a revered position in the vampire race. Then I was forced to become a killer because in Lavinia’s eyes it was the perfect job for an abomination like me. I killed for her for thirty years and I was good at it.
“After I woke up and got away, I used those skills to defend myself against beings who wanted me dead because I was a freak. I used that pain and anger to spur my resolve to get stronger, faster, more powerful. And I did. My killing skills combined with my Chthonic magic make me the best fucking shot you’ve got to get the revenge you want. So forgive me if I’m a little angry when you tell me to be humble.” I threw up my hands. “Humility is for martyrs. And I don’t plan on dying for your cause any time soon.”
“That’s not—” he began.
I cut him off. “Fair? You’re right. It isn’t fucking fair. I don’t want this to be my life. I don’t want everything to be messy and hard, but it is. Whether or not I’m really the Chosen doesn’t mean shit to me right now. All I care about is the mission and making sure Cain dies. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
He opened his mouth, but I wasn’t done.
I lowered my voice. “But if you think I’ll ever forgive you for making me pay for your sins, you’re wrong. Dead wrong. You can blame Cain for bringing you and Phoebe together, but he didn’t force you to abandon me. He didn’t force you to wait until I finally was useful to you to introduce yourself. You can look at those pictures and think you know me or my sister, but you don’t know shit.” My throat felt tight and scratchy. Tears stung the backs of my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. “You should be ashamed of yourself that you never got to meet Maisie. She was amazing.”
Tristan swallowed hard. He was quiet for a moment. But his stricken expression didn’t earn him an ounce of sympathy from me. He couldn’t just stroll back into my life and tell me I needed to be less me. “Are you done?” he said finally.
I nodded, blowing out a long breath. I felt lighter now having gotten those painful words off my chest.
He crossed his arms. “You can go now.”
That threw me for a loop. I’d been expecting some sort of retort. Maybe an apology. An attempt to mend fences. The last thing I expected was nothing. Although, given Tristan’s track record, I should have known better. As far as I could tell, he was very talented at sidestepping confrontation and not taking responsibility for his actions.
“Fine.” I turned to go. My hands were shaking from the emotional hangover of my rant. I clenched them into fists so he wouldn’t see. When my foot hit the bottom step, he cleared his throat.
“Oh, and, Sabina?”
I paused and looked at him. Part of me was relieved. The other part prepared to feel vindicated. “Yes?”
“Be sure and close the door behind you.”
I watched him for a moment, like I was waiting for him to laugh or something. But he didn’t. He just looked at me expectantly. Finally, I executed a jerky nod. I ran up the steps and slammed the door behind me. And with it, I slammed my heart against any hopes I’d secretly held that Tristan Graecus and I would ever be a real father and daughter.
Chapter 30
I marched across the courtyard with the angry words Tristan and I had spoken nipping at my heels. Gravel crunched loudly under my boots in sympathy. I was halfway to the bungalow when Adam called out.
“Sabina!”
I kept walking.
“Red?”
I finally paused and turned. Nyx was with Adam. They’d obviously just returned from town. They each carried cardboard boxes filled with supplies.
“Uh-oh,” Adam said as they got close enough to get a good look at my face. “What happened?”
I crossed my arms and shook my head. No way was I getting into this in front of Nyx. As it was, she was eyeing me suspiciously, like she expected me to attack her at any second. “I’ll tell you later. How was the supply run?”
Adam shot me a speculative glance but said, “Good. I wish we’d been able to find some fresh mandrake root, but we got everything else. How are things here?”
“Rhea and I got the cakes made. I haven’t seen the demons.”
“Where’s Tristan?” Adam asked.
I waved a hand as if I couldn’t care less. “Last I saw him was in his office.”
Nyx nodded and said to Adam, “I’ll go update him on what we found.” She rushed off like she couldn’t wait to be out of my presence.
Once she disappeared into the villa, Adam turned to me. “What happened with Tristan?”
I raised a brow. “What makes you think—” He tilted his head and gave me a frank appraisal. I sighed. “Oh, fine. We had a fight.”
“You had a fight as in you told him off or you had a fight as in you killed him?”