Cold Hard Secret (Secret McQueen) (19 page)

“You’re saying…” I let my words drift.

“Finish your thought.” The way he spoke dug into my flesh like a physical thing. It was as though the words clamped down on my throat with teeth of their own and refused to let go. In that moment I realized every order, every job, everything Sig had asked me to do before now had been nothing more than a polite suggestion. I had thought he’d issued commands, but there was a difference between saying something commandingly and saying it with real intent.

I knew. I knew now he’d been holding back.

“Finish your thought,” he repeated, and the teeth of his words sank deeper.

“You’re saying I have to obey your commands. You’re saying I would be totally unable to say no if you commanded me to do something.” As soon as I’d finished my thought, the phantom pain vanished. I hadn’t even resisted. I was terrified to imagine how his power would compel me if I tried to fight.

I wouldn’t be able to.

My whole body went cold, and I struggled to feel my fingers as I wrapped them around Holden’s hand. I squeezed so hard it had to hurt him, but he didn’t pull away.

“This entire time you could have made me do anything.”

“Yes.”

“And you knew I’d be powerless.”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Stand up.” Again, I could feel the command in his words, and I was on my feet before I had time to think about it. “Kneel before me.” I didn’t like this. Not one bit. But in spite of my internal misgivings, my legs yielded, bringing me to the carpet in front of him.

“You understand now that if I wanted something from you, I could have had it, don’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

“And you also understand, had there come a time I thought all our lives would be better suited by your death, I could have easily managed that as well. Pick up your gun.”

My hand burned, and no part of me fought as I picked up the weapon.

“Go ahead, put it against your temple, dear.”

The cool metal pressed against my skin.

“That’s
enough
, Sig.” Holden had inched forward in his seat, and I could tell he was struggling not to interfere. It wasn’t any kind of vampire magic keeping him from stepping in, but he must have known it would be stupid to go against the Tribunal leader.

“Do you understand I’ve had your life in the palm of my hand this entire time, but I
let you have it
? I gave you total control, when I could have said
pull the trigger
at any time.”

I let out a whimper, a tear escaping my eye and running down my cheek. But this time there was no demand. It was just empty words.

“You wanted to know,” he reminded me. “What am I to you? I am your Master. And I gave you free will.” He took the gun from my hand, and the second it was gone I began to shake violently. “So don’t you dare ever accuse me of being selfish when I keep things from you.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

I waited until Sig left before losing my shit.

The shakes, the tears, those had been tame. That response had been something he could see. Within minutes after he left, I was sitting in my shower, still fully clothed, letting the red-hot liquid pour over me while I rocked back and forth.

I’d told Holden I needed a shower so he would give me privacy.

What I needed was a frontal lobotomy. Anything to make this helpless feeling go away.

Why had I asked? Why had I insisted on knowing?

My life had never been my own. It was one long series of different men choosing whether I lived or died. And now that I knew, what did it make me? If a chess pawn discovered it was cannon fodder, could it stop being a pawn? No.

I was a toy, being played from all angles, but now that I knew, could I just up and quit the game?

The water shut off, and I looked up to see Holden standing over me. I hadn’t even heard him come in.

When he spoke, he sounded weary. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it helping?”

I pulled my knees up to my chest, and the waterlogged denim was already starting to get cold.
Did anything help?
“No.”

“Then get your sexy ass out of the tub and out of those clothes.” He wasn’t hitting on me. I knew what his foreplay tone sounded like, and this wasn’t it. “Come on.” He held out his hand and pulled me into a standing position. I struggled to find traction on the slippery tub floor, but he held both his hands on my waist until I was steady, then helped me climb out.

“Woman, you’re a fucking mess, you know that?”

I smacked him, but I didn’t put my back into it. “Yeah, I have a pretty good idea of my messiness.”

“I know you’re having trouble processing what happened in California.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He ignored me and kept going. “I was there too, you know. I was… It happened to me too. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said again, pushing myself away from him. There was a wet imprint of my body on the front of his shirt. “I
can’t
talk about it.”

“You’re not dealing with it either, though.”

“And you are? What’s your trick, huh? How do you chase the nightmares away? He didn’t put his
fucking hands inside you
.” I left the bathroom, shucking off layers of wet clothes as I went. Normally being naked made me feel more exposed, more vulnerable, but with only Holden around it didn’t impact me one way or the other. He’d seen me naked, it was his seeing me weak I didn’t like.

In the bedroom I found a semi-clean towel on the floor and dried my hair. The curls were already starting to frizz, but I wasn’t in much of a mood to find my leave-in conditioner right then. Holden followed me into the room and settled himself in the armchair by the door.

“You need help.”

Great, now both my boyfriends were telling me to get therapy. “I
know
. But you know what? Right now I can’t exactly sit in a shrink’s office and talk my mommy issues out with them, okay? I have to kill my mother.
Then
I’ll talk about it until the cows come home.”

“Will killing Mercy help? Did killing Peyton help?”

I fingered the tooth necklace. The leather strap was damp from the shower, and some of the blood had come off, but enough remained to keep it looking grim. I resisted the weird urge to put it in my mouth.

“It helped a little,” I said.

“Did killing The Doctor help?”

I closed my eyes, squeezing the tooth tightly in my hand. In my mind’s eye I pictured the moment of death for both Peyton and The Doctor. The final splash of blood still felt warm and fresh from both of them. My lips curled in a smile.

“Jesus, Secret, you look crazy right now.”

“I
am
crazy. Isn’t that what you’re saying? Isn’t that why I need help?” I jerked a bulky sweater over my head without bothering to put a bra on first.

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re…damaged.”

“Broken, you mean.”

“No, I didn’t use that word.”

I pulled up my pants and sat on the bed to put my socks on. I wanted to be offended and angry by his assessment, but it was honest. I was damaged. I had hoped it wasn’t apparent to everyone around me, though. Once I was dressed, I tied my hair back in a ponytail and finally looked at him.

“I get it, Holden. I’m screwed up. Maybe beyond repair.”

“You’re twisting my words, and that’s not fair. I was with you. If anything, I have every right to be just as screwed up as you are.”

“But you’re not.”

“I’m not letting it control my life.”

“I need to do this. You might not think killing Mercy will help me, but it will. It’s the last thing I need and then,
then
, I can sit down and figure out how to heal. Or to let things scab over at least. And maybe process the fact Sig could have pulled my puppet strings any time in the last eight years but hasn’t.”

“He wanted you to be free,” Holden suggested.

“My freedom is a fucking illusion. I think we both know that now.”

“No.”

“Whatever. Do you want to come help me kill Mercy?”

He smiled, and even though it was out of place in the conversation we were having, it made me feel better. “Secret, did you just ask me to meet your parents?”

I snorted and couldn’t help but smile back. He’d made the acquaintance of both my mother and father already, with memorable results since the former had been trying to kill me at the time and the latter was crazy. “You think my parents are nuts? Wait until you meet my grandmother.”

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I scrambled to collect it.

“Hello?”

“Secret. Secret. Such a peculiar name,” Sutherland mumbled. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt the need to inform me he didn’t approve of what
Grandmere
had called me.

“Dad.” My gaze turned to Holden, who’d obviously been listening in to determine who was calling. The vampire settled back into my chair. “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to bother you.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s always fine.”

“I’m a bit hungry.”

Oh crud. Though I’d been over to see him the previous evening, his altercation with Nolan had taken center stage. I’d assumed he was well stocked with blood rather than actually checking his supply.

“Okay. I’ll go see Calliope. Can you sit tight for an hour?”

“Sit? I can sit. Do I have to?”

I rubbed my temple. “I don’t mean literally, Dad. You can move around, but
don’t
leave the apartment, understand?”

“No, of course. Can’t be trusted.”

I wanted to tell him that wasn’t the reason, but the truth was I didn’t know what he’d do out in the general populous. He’d been okay in Los Angeles with the West Coast vamps, but even there he’d had a reputation for being unhinged. Since he’d spent more time with The Doctor than either Holden or me, I wasn’t sure where he was sitting on the sanity spectrum these days. But it was safe to say he might not mix well with normal humans.

Leaving him in an apartment rather than with the council was a test, and so far he was doing all right. If I left him too long without blood, however, things could head south
fast
.

“I’m on my way.”

“Good. Thanks. Can you bring me a Snickers?”

“A… Sorry, you want a chocolate bar?”

“Snickers satisfies.”

He’d been watching TV again.

“Yeah, sure. I can bring you a Snickers.” There was no point in telling him the candy wouldn’t be of any nutritional use to him. I mean, honestly, was it of nutritional use to anyone? If my crazy father wanted a Snickers, I could buy him a damned candy bar.

He hung up without saying goodbye, but I waited until I heard the dead-line beeps. There’d been a few occasions where he’d sat without talking for quite a while and I’d accidentally hung up on him. He didn’t like that very much. Once I knew for sure he was gone, I slipped the phone into the back pocket of my jeans.

At some point during the conversation Holden had picked up my sopping-wet pants and clothes-pinned them to a hanger. They were now hanging from my closet door with a towel underneath.

Where had this man come from? Seriously.

“If I left it long enough, you’d start doing my laundry, wouldn’t you?”

Totally unembarrassed, he brushed his hair back and smiled. “I’d even dry-clean the dry-clean onlys. Unlike you. Heathen.”

“How was I supposed to know Burberry sweaters were made of such shoddy cashmere?”

“God help me.”

“Want to come see the Oracle with me? I suspect if I leave you here, you’ll reorganize my closet again.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Since my brief brush with humanity, approaching the door to the Starbucks on West 52nd and 8th set me into a tizzy of anxiety. Before becoming human I’d never had any difficulty passing through into Calliope’s otherworldly realm. But when the time had come, my true moment of need, I’d fallen through it without so much as a quiver of magic. Brigit had died because I’d been unable to get her the help she required.

I’d honestly never really forgiven Cal.

But necessity, they say, is the mother of invention, and for me, hunger meant I couldn’t shut the Oracle out of my life. Besides, as a true immortal, there were very few things Calliope would feel guilty about, and letting Brigit die wasn’t one of them. People died, and Cal lived on.

It was a good thing I was with Holden and not Desmond right then, because the half-fairy/half-god would pitch a fit if I tried to bring a werewolf through the gate again. I’d already done it twice, and she was none too impressed both times. Third strike would be an out for sure, and I couldn’t afford to get banned from my one reliable source of food.

The passage gave no resistance when Holden and I stepped through. One moment we were opening the door to the coffee shop, the next we were standing on an ornate Persian rug, being warmed by the light of a fire.