Dawning of Light (29 page)

Finn!

It wasn’t him. The body was far too small, the hair far too long and blonde. Cecilia recognized the dress on the prone figure. It was the one Carley had been wearing while she’d been working in the kitchens at the beach house, earlier today.

Everyone paraded by without pause, including Carley’s mate, Miguel. Most didn’t even glance at the body.

Based on the comments he’d made earlier, Cecilia determined that Miguel had killed his own mate. Anger surged through Cecilia’s system, causing her magic to flare.

“Ow. Shit.” Miguel jerked her off his shoulder and dropped her. She crumpled to the ground, not expecting such treatment and therefore not prepared to stand on her own two feet.

When she looked up, she saw that he was shaking the arm that had been wrapped around her thighs. When he peeled away his coat sleeve, there was a line of angry red welts on his arm. He pulled his gaze away from the welts and caught her eye. Before she could react, he backhanded her, causing Cecilia’s head to snap to the side and bloody spittle to fly from her mouth.

“Come,” the cloaked one commanded once again.

“You bring her,” Miguel snapped to another lightbearer before he turned and hurried after the retreating leader. The younger lightbearer hesitated before wrapping his gloved hand around her arm and hauling her to her feet. Cecilia stumbled along with the small group as they skirted the base of the cliff, until they were swallowed amongst the swath of trees in which Cecilia’s parents’ and Finn’s cottages were situated.

“Shifter!” someone shouted, and before Cecilia could scream, the hooded lightbearer harshly commanded, “Cover her mouth.” The younger lightbearer who had been guiding her along wrapped his arm around her neck and slapped his gloved hand over her mouth.

Their entourage was comprised of fifteen lightbearers plus Cecilia and the leader. The cloaked one separated Cecilia and three others, and then commanded the rest to, “Subdue the shifter, by any means necessary.”

Finn!
Even Finn would be no match against a dozen armed lightbearers. She struggled against her captor, but he refused to relinquish his hold. Just as he refused to let her go, Cecilia refused to give up her struggles. She had to get to Finn. She couldn’t let him die. She had no idea what she could possibly do to help, but she was determined.

She was so caught up in her attempts to break free that she didn’t even realize they’d reached their destination until the front door swung open, and she was dragged inside.

Into her parents’ cottage.

* * * *

“Why are we here?” she blurted after she was hauled into the middle of the living room, and her captor finally pulled his hand away from her mouth.

The cloaked man, the one the others called Chosen One, turned a full circle before facing her. “This is where my chamber is located.”

“Your chamber? I don’t understand.” Cecilia looked around. The room looked exactly as it always did: slightly worn but reasonably comfortable. Although the faintly depressing sense of gloom that had permeated the cottage since her brother’s death some ten years ago was still there. Cecilia had learned to block it out, but today, with one arm shackled in iron and her magic weakened by the poison slowly seeping into her system, she could feel it as though it was a living, breathing entity. Her stomach roiled and she wondered if she would vomit.

“This is my parents’ home,” she protested. “What have you done with them? Why were you abusing my mother out there? What did she ever do to you?” As callous as Lacey Druthers had been as a mother, she could not imagine the woman had done something to this man. Hell, they held the same ridiculous beliefs. Didn’t he realize that?

“Lacey has grown soft, weak. Just like Samuel. They both refused to do my bidding when it came to you.”

The implication was clear, especially given that she’d watched the man kill Samuel just a short time ago. “You killed my mother?” she cried out. “Just because she wouldn’t—what did you expect her to do?”

“Bring you to heel. Bring you into the fold. You have always been a belligerent child, rebelling against our true nature. As your mother, it was her responsibility to break you. And she failed.”

“To
break
me? I think your definition of mothering is a bit skewed. And just so you know, she tried her damnedest. I promise you. I am lucky I had the king and queen to counter all the nonsense she spewed about exclusivity and everyone else being the enemy. Utter garbage. Stupid. And anyone who believes that crap is stupid too.”

The cloaked man did not like her insolence. Neither did the three followers who were standing at attention, clearly waiting for him to dictate their next move. They shifted and moved restlessly, murmuring under their breaths, while the Chosen One struggled with his control. Cecilia suspected he was tempted to separate her head from her shoulders, just as he had Samuel’s. Suddenly, provoking him did not seem like the wisest course of action.

“My chamber,” he said after he visibly pulled himself together. “You haven’t seen it since your fifteenth summer, but I’m sure you will remember it. Vividly, I suspect.” His tone was malicious. His pale lips lifted into a small, evil smile, as he waited for Cecilia to comprehend.

It did not take her long. “Fifteen summers?” she repeated. She turned her head sharply, looked at the closed door leading to the basement. When she turned back around, the mouth, the only part of the cloaked man she could see, was still smiling. He was deriving pleasure from her sudden spike of fear.

There were two things of which Cecilia was deathly afraid. Losing Finn. Being locked in the basement. Again.

“No!” Pulling on a reserve of strength fueled by fear, Cecilia managed to pull herself free of her captor’s grip and bolted for the front door. She would not go into that basement. She could not. Not ever again.

“No!”

Someone caught her around the waist, and she fought against him, using the iron manacle on her wrist to her advantage. As soon as they’d stepped into the house, the lightbearers in their little party had shed some of their outdoor gear, so she slapped the iron against any bit of exposed flesh she could reach.

Lightbearers screamed and cursed each time the iron reached its mark. She fought her way to the door, her arm flailing every which way. They kept trying to grab for her, but each time someone touched her, she hit him with the iron and he quickly pulled away.

“Enough,” the Chosen One yelled. The fact that he’d yelled instead of whispered shocked everyone into freezing. Even Cecilia, who, with one hand wrapped around the door knob, turned around, her widened, fearful gaze seeking out the owner of that voice.

That voice.

For the first seventeen years of her life she’d endured that voice as it yelled at her, cursed at her, degraded her, condemned her. When she sneaked out of the coterie that fifteenth summer and later had confessed that she’d fallen for a human boy, the evil insults had only increased in volume and intensity, until she had all but moved into the beach house just to get a reprieve.

She never thought she’d hear that voice again. She thought the owner was dead. Everyone said he was dead. How was it possible that her brother was back from the grave?

“Cedric?”

“Cedric is dead.”

But he wasn’t. She could see it now. She could hear it in his voice, and see it in the shape of his lips, so similar to her own. She hadn’t realized it until he stopped disguising his voice.

“You’re alive.”

Her realization was causing confusion amongst their small audience. They were giving each other questioning looks, trying to decipher what was happening. One was young enough that he might not even know who Cedric was. After his supposed death, her parents had refused to ever speak of him again. The older two were scratching their heads, trying to place him in their store of memories.

“Do Mother and Father know you’re alive?” she asked her brother.

The mouth pinched with annoyance.

“Of course they do,” Cecilia answered her own question, as it all began to piece together in her mind. “Your chamber. You live here.” She glanced at the closed basement door. “In the basement? But how?”

He did not respond, but then again, Cecilia did not give him much time to. “Why were you not stopping it when Mother was being attacked earlier? Did you really kill her? Why? She believes the same way that you do. They both do.”

“You were always far too inquisitive, even as a young child,” Cedric replied with a scowl. It
was
Cedric; she
knew
it.

“She was becoming weak,” he added. “Developing sympathy for you, despite your flagrant disrespect for your own kind.”

“I have absolute respect for my own kind,” Cecilia protested. “Those who are rational and intelligent, anyway. But you’re right; I have no respect for people like you and our parents, who foolishly believe we should cut ourselves off from the rest of the world, that everyone around us is evil. It’s just not true.”

“You are
wrong
,” Cedric responded, working to disguise his voice again. She guessed that the whispered tone helped him to feel in control. Cedric had always been a control freak. Long after he was gone—so she thought—she had worked to convince herself that was the reason he was so mean to her when they were children. Allowing someone else to control her was simply not in her nature, and Cedric had never stopped trying to force her to comply with
his
way of thinking.

“You were always wrong,” Cedric added. “I told her you would never come around, and she refused to believe me. When I informed her that you needed to die, she became a blubbering fool.”

“Of course she did,” Cecilia retorted. “She’s my mother. Just like she should have reacted when you died. Except you didn’t, which explains why they never actually mourned you. What happened? Why did you fake your own death?”

Cedric reached up, shoved the hood off his head. Angry blue eyes flashed at her. Pale, pale blond hair, disheveled after having been tucked under the hood, stood up every which way. His skin was pale and veiny, like an old man who was too sick and weak to greet the sun each day. Regardless, it was still Cedric. Her brother.

“If you had given up your insistence upon consorting with the enemy, you would be privy to that information.” His voice was angry, bitter. He was having difficulty keeping it to a whisper.

Cecilia snorted. “I
consorted
with
humans
. They’re harmless. And the shifters I consort with happen to be our allies. Do you want to know how many times Finn saved my life?”

“One too many,” Cedric snapped. “You have always been an insolent, pigheaded child. Too full of stupid dreams and fanciful thoughts. Careless and carefree. Refusing to see that the only way we can survive is if we eliminate all ties with all other beings. Our magic is too precious to share with humans or shifters.” He sneered as he said the word
shifters
.

“You are a fool,” Cecilia replied, for the first time in her life defending herself against her brother’s insults. It felt good. Really good. Despite the searing pain in her left wrist and the severe lack of magic in her system, she squared her shoulders, stood tall, and looked him in the eye. She wasn’t afraid of him, not anymore. Ironic, given her current situation.

“You are the one who is wrong, Cedric. Our magic is renewable. Each and every day that the sun rises, our magic restores itself. And we only share it if we want to. No one can steal our magic from us. We have to be willing to give it. And if we do, we’re stronger for it,” she said, and she realized her words were true. She’d shared her magic with Finn, and because of it, she was able to channel his strength, his confidence. She would never have been able to stand up to her brother without having Finn by her side, even if it was no more than the thought of him.

“We can coexist with other beings. Safely—and happily. If we choose to.”

Cedric’s mouth twisted into a scowl. His bright blue eyes narrowed. Magic sparked off his pale skin. That was the one marked difference between them. Now that he’d thrown off his hood, she could see how very pale he was. Cecilia’s skin was lightly tanned, even in the dead of winter. Lightbearers needed the sun to survive, so their skin was perpetually sun-kissed.

But not Cedric’s. His skin was so pale and translucent that she could see the veins pulsing through his neck, across his cheeks and forehead. It was as if he hadn’t been exposed to the sun in years.

“How
are
you still alive?” she blurted. “You look as though you’ve been hidden away from the sun since…since your supposed death.”

Cecilia could sense the unease amongst Cedric’s followers. She guessed that they had not known who he was. Likely, they had never questioned his motives or how he managed to survive without the sun. Cedric would not have allowed it. His followers would have to follow blindly, without question. Otherwise, they would see the same end as Samuel had. And her mother.

“Tell us,” she said, wondering if she could turn everyone away from him, and thus save herself. “We all want to know.” She waved her left arm. The lightbearers closest to her shied away from the iron manacle on her wrist.

The door burst open, pulling everyone’s attention away from Cecilia. Her father stepped through, his gaze sweeping over her.

“Father!” She felt a surge of relief that he was still alive, at least until he turned away from her and focused on Cedric. She watched his surprised reaction at seeing his son without the hood. She wondered how long it had been since he last saw Cedric as himself. And then she wondered how her own father could allow him to get away with all he’d done for the last few months. Ever since Tanner and Finn and the other shifters joined their coterie, the incidents of small, petty, yet dangerous crimes had steadily increased. Now that Cecilia understood what was happening, she realized that they had been hate crimes, designed to punish those who were sympathetic to the shifters.

“Father? You knew about this? You knew he was doing this, was leading a faction of lightbearers who have been trying to frighten everyone into believing his mantra?”