Fading Amber (10 page)

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Authors: Jaime Reed

BOOK: Fading Amber
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She shrugged. “If you say so.”
“Olivia, that is enough. You are being rude,” Angie admonished.
“No, that's okay. This is tense for everyone. The last thing anyone needs is to be fake around each other.” I stood a foot away from Olivia and said, “I'm not a bad person, and I hope you'll realize that throughout your stay. I'm not expecting us to be best friends, but your mother wants me here, so please respect that and respect me. Otherwise, this holiday is gonna be very uncomfortable for both of us.”
Olivia glared in rebellion, her eyes flashing with jade sparks. Not wanting to be upstaged, I allowed Lilith to make herself known and the world around me took on a green tint. The girl jumped back, startled, then pulled her brother behind her. “Not when he's around,” she warned.
Immediately, I closed my eyes and turned my head. “Sorry.”
“It's all right, Samara. He needs more time with you.” Angie stepped to her children. “Olivia, take Szymon upstairs. I will be there shortly.”
The girl nodded, then ushered her brother out of the room, holding him close in a motherly, almost possessive fashion. Mishka skipped behind them, her spiral curls bouncing around her head. Szymon bent his head toward the floor, never lifting his gaze, not even as Caleb passed him in the hall and ruffled his hair.
“What was that about?” Caleb asked.
Maybe it was because I hadn't talked to him for a few days, but damn, he looked good. Leaning by the entryway with his hands tucked in his pockets, he seemed to agree. The cuffs of his black shirt were rolled up to his elbows and the top three buttons were undone. His freshly washed hair was combed back, revealing a deceptively boyish face.
“I let Szymon see my eyes glow,” I explained and turned my back to him.
His footsteps drew closer. “You have to be careful about that. Only the girls are like us. He's pure and immune to our draw, but we don't want to scare him more than we have to.”
“Uh, yeah, my bad.” I could feel him staring at me, seeking eye contact, but I wouldn't give in. My heart pounded double-time and all my body weight traveled toward my feet.
No doubt sensing the tension in the air, Angie said, “Please, get comfortable and enjoy the refreshments while I check on the rest of the food. Room service should be here soon.”
While the waitstaff placed the food in the dining room, I was left to mingle and dodge the hungry glances that Caleb shot my way. We kept to opposite sides of the living room in a slow dance around furniture and strategically placed easels in the living room. Whenever I worked up the nerve to look up, there he was, stripping another piece of my clothing with his X-rated vision. My skin prickled, laid bare to the hot static in the air while Lilith rattled in her cage to break free. Trying in vain to ignore them both, I steered my attention to the artwork on display.
Angie was a critically acclaimed painter, and her provocative, ultrafeminist pieces captivated the art world. She was also illusive, only doing a show every five years in select cities, and she presented a sneak peek of her collection as a conversation piece.
I walked by portraits of people in cages, or shoved through a meat grinder and other kitchen appliances. Some pictures were simple and elegant, while some looked like an epileptic fit with paint.
“It's so complex. Look at the angry brush strokes, and the composition; the symbolism of the red across the man's torso,” an accented voice spoke next to me.
I tilted my head sideways and tried to interpret the chaos on canvas. “That's a man?”
“I hope so,” he replied.
I stared up at the second oldest of the Ross clan and self-appointed big brother and watch dog. Naturally, Haden arrived unfashionably late, looking as uncomfortable as I felt. He cleaned up nicely in a gray suit and jacket, his black hair slicked back, touching his neck.
“Don't look too happy about being here,” I said.
His indigo eyes made a quick sweep around the room. “I'm not here to be festive. I just wanna know the latest about my brother and leave. Brodie's been in New York for weeks and he hasn't called in days.”
I rubbed his arm. “I'm sure it's nothing. I wouldn't worry. Angie will protect him.”
Haden's thick brows pinched together, as if he was trying to convince himself to agree. Though big, rugged, and abrasive, he was the peacemaker of the four brothers, the glue that held it all together, but even he had his breaking point. “Yeah well, I want all this over and done with. Michael and I have lives and jobs to get back to.”
“What is your exact job title, Haden? I know Michael's some software nerd, but . . . what do you do?” I asked with almost frustrated curiosity.
“A little of this and a little of that,” was his only reply. He tipped his head toward Caleb, who stood by the wall, talking to one of the female servers. “So why are you angry at Caleb now?”
The change in topic made my taste buds go numb. “Why don't you go ask Caleb yourself?”
“Already have. He didn't say much.”
I blinked. “What did he say?”
“You sound concerned.”
“Not really.”
“Right.” A boyish smile stood in contrast to Haden's hard, scar-ridden features. “Denial is not a good look for you.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek, and a warm sensation spread over my entire face. “Go talk to Caleb,” he whispered and left my side.
I did another lap around the room, holding a napkin loaded with finger food and wondering what lay in store for us this evening. Angie had news for us, I just knew it, and the wait was killing me. The head of the Cambion family had all but put out an APB on Caleb, and Angie was the only ally we had. I just hoped she had a good plan.
“You look nice tonight,” Caleb said behind me, his breath fanning the back of my neck. I half expected him to kiss me there as was his usual endearment, but he didn't, which was more devastating than if he had.
“Thanks. So do you,” I replied. “It's amazing what a bar of soap and a comb can do.”
“Life's full of many wonders. So, are you still mad at me?”
“Heavens no! Why would I be mad?” I said immediately, almost yelling the words. “You are what you are. Who am I to change you?”
“Just so we're straight here, you're angry with me because I prefer to feed on random strangers instead of you, or are you mad because you think my diet is out of control?”
I had to think about that for a minute. “Can't I be both?”
“No, because both reasons are stupid,” he countered. “I'm careful of the energy I take and not one woman has died on my tab. You know I'm crazy about you—I don't even have to say it; you can feel it and know I'm more than just talk. Every second with you takes a painful amount of restraint, but even that will break at some point. What we share will consume us; it's not a matter of if, but
when
. So if it's okay with you, I want to keep my sanity a little while longer.”
And he walked away, leaving me on edge with a snappy comeback that came thirty seconds too late. I hated when that happened. Every nerve ending on my body was fried, not from his words, but the heat behind them. Why did he have this effect on me? Or maybe what I was feeling was my effect on
him
. This empathy business was just plain freaky, the constant back-and-forth of emotions, to the point that I was lusting after myself through him.
Not knowing what else to do, I crammed my face with more crab puff thingies, praying for the night to end quickly.
Dinner was a strained event, and the first ten minutes were brief lapses in conversation and several sideways glances in my direction. The Petrovskys idealized the typical family who sat down for dinner every night and discussed the day. They were a very affectionate family, always smiling and touching, as if in need of constant assurance of the others' presence. Tragedy will do that to people, but I had a feeling that they were always like that.
Another round of food passed about before things began to pick up. The kids seemed a bit more talkative, and Olivia finally stopped glaring at me, put down her steak knife, and focused on her meal. While the kids ate, I could see their hands and the gold band identical to mine hanging on each child's wrist, even the boy's. Though this served as an heirloom and security caution, I couldn't shake the impression of being collared.
“So, Samara, have you been reading the journal entries?” Angie asked.
“Yes.”
“And what did you learn?”
The room grew silent as all eyes fell on me. I couldn't believe that I was getting a pop quiz at dinner. “In short, Lilith is a succubus, but was once human, and one of many ancient tribe women who breathed in some bad smoke. The smoke being from the charred remains to this giant angelic being that the villagers decided to tear in half and burn. You know, typical family tree stuff. The moral of the story: when around malevolent spirits, keep your mouth closed.”
With a snort, Szymon covered his nose to keep his drink from escaping. Being far less amused, Olivia slapped her brother on the back of the head. When he recovered, he continued to eat, his body shaking with suppressed laughter.
“I am happy that you find our lineage amusing,” Olivia snapped. “At least we know where we came from.”
“Obviously you don't if you have three different versions of it.” She must have assumed that I hadn't heard her, so it shocked her when I answered in her native tongue.
“English, ladies,” Haden intervened as he looked at the two of us. “Not everyone here can speak Polish.”
“Thank you, Haden,” Angie said, her stern tone bringing the room back to order. “They are just legends, Samara. No one takes them seriously, although the origin story is celebrated in some cultures. Actors even put on performances retelling the event.”
“With or without the citywide massacre?” I asked.
“With.” She smiled. “My main concern is the family line. Have you gotten to the three sisters of Antioch?”
“Uh, sorta. They're the ones telling it, right?”
“The first half, yes. When you reach the part where they hide in the Carpathian Mountains, let me know. So, what are your plans for the holidays?”
“Well, um, I was hoping you all would come over Christmas day and exchange gifts and have dinner.”
“We're Jewish,” Olivia said with a flat note.
“I know, but I was just throwing some ideas out there.”
Resting her chin in her palm, Angie leaned closer to me. “It sounds marvelous, dear. I've brought plenty of gifts for you and your mother.”
Looking around the table, I noticed there was a key person missing. I'd expected him to show up at some point, but the chair at the head of the table remained empty. “Where's Mr. Petrovsky?”
Angie dropped her fork and stared down at her plate. “I'm afraid he is ill and staying with his family for the holiday. It appears that the years are catching up with him.”
Confused by her statement and her ominous tone, I asked, “What does that mean? Aren't you two the same age?”
The room was silent again and the mood shifted to one normally felt at a wake.
“We'll discuss that later. That is part of the reason why I'm here and why I need you to study the journal entries. You need to know what is expected of you as an extended member of our family.”
The loud clank of silverware got everyone's attention. Olivia pulled out her chair and stood. “Mama, please excuse me.” She quit the room before her mother could respond.
“Forgive her, Samara. You must understand, Olivia and Nadine were very close,” Angie implored.
I understood perfectly. I was a stranger, one who threatened the nobility of her bloodline. To make matters worse, she was forced to break bread with the sons of the man who murdered her big sister. If those weren't grounds for resentment and angst, nothing was.
I took a swig of water before saying, “Look, I don't want to reopen any old wounds for you guys. And I know you have a ton of questions, but this is all new for me, too.”
“Don't let this discourage you. No one blames you and we have come to terms with what has happened,” Angie assured.
I looked to the entryway where Olivia passed. “Not everyone,” I said as stomping feet resounded upstairs with the slam of a bedroom door as the grand finale.
8
A
fter dinner, the Petrovsky offspring were banished to the solitude of their beds while the rest of us gathered in the private office for coffee and tea.
Forest green print covered the walls and the dark wood furniture made the room a masculine study. The place screamed of luxury: the tall fireplace and plush leather chairs and heavy oak desk in the corner. My grandpa had a lair like this, but more books and decapitated wildlife occupied the walls.
Angie nestled into a fancy armchair by the fireplace and got right down to business. “Tell me, Samara, how many head Cambion families are there?”
Wow, it was quiz time again. Taking timid sips of my drink, I did a mental head count. “Um, thirteen altogether, including three in North America.”
“So you know who the Santiago Family is?” she prodded.
I searched the room for aid, but the brothers became suddenly interested with different points around the study. Caleb sat on a chaise across from me with his arms crossed. Yep, I was on my own.
“Yes, they govern parts of Canada, the entire East Coast all the way to Puerto Rico,” I answered.
“Very good. And you're aware that you were born under their jurisdiction and you must obey the laws within their region?” When I nodded, she rose from her chair and said, “As your elder, I'm obligated to explain Cambion law and specify how we differ from our predecessors.”
“I kinda know the difference between succubi and Cambions,” I said.
“Yes, but you need to understand the history. The thirteen families are very old, but that is not what makes them powerful. It is their discipline and their persistence to destroy all demons. It has been a quest, a competitive one, for over a thousand years. We want our bloodline free of further corruption so that no more demons populate the Earth. To do that, certain rules must be put into place that no family can overturn.” She paced around the room with a smooth, graceful glide, balancing a tiny cup on a saucer.
“If a Cambion suffers the loss of his mate, or is even rumored to overindulge in feeding, he is to be reported and observed by his appointed leader. If he is suspected of converting to his demon counterpart, he is to be executed. Simple as that.” Angie's gaze stopped on every male in the room as she spoke. The brothers bowed their heads, like misbehaved boys sitting in the principal's office.
“As a law, those who know that such a Cambion is on the brink of transformation and failed to report it must be punished as well. The method varies with every region, but it usually leads to death. Not only was your father a convert, but he murdered the heir of one of those head families. This is a capital offense.”
I wasn't sure why I raised my hand like class was in session—it was just reflex. “This may sound harsh, but it was your daughter Nathan Ross killed, not theirs. If anyone, you should be the one to convict the brothers.”
She offered me a look a mother would wear when her kid said something cute. “It is a matter of principle and reputation. The offense occurred on Santiago territory, and having a rogue Cambion right under their nose makes them appear incompetent to the other families, not only in this country, but those around the world. Their title could be challenged if they show weakness.”
“Why do the other families have to know? Can't you just cover it up by saying it was a freak accident?” I asked.
“Sam, you have no idea how notorious the Petrovskys are in the Cambion circuit. They're the historians, holding one of the oldest records of our existence,” Haden explained. “Word of Nadine's death went global. All eyes are on America, and they're hoping to see blood spilt.”
“Well, Nathan Ross is dead. There's your blood,” I replied.
“That would be enough if Caleb were not under investigation. The Santiagos feel his feeding habits will become a similar problem in the future. Since Caleb is American, born under their territory, he is of special interest,” Angie said. “As the oldest, Broderick has gone to New York and offered to intercede on your behalf.”
“You mean take my place at the guillotine,” Caleb said.
“We can only hope it doesn't come to that. But the deaths reported in this state have put quite a stain on their reputation,” Angie said grimly.
“Are you serious? They could kill Caleb just to save face? They can't do that!” I cried. “This is illegal! These guys are going to jail for murder.”
“Secular law doesn't apply to Cambion dealings, Sam. The family has their hands in every position of office. If they want someone to disappear, they disappear. It wouldn't be the first time,” Haden intoned.
“This isn't fair!” I slammed my cup on the table. “I will blow the lid on this whole thing before they kill an innocent man. I will go to every news station and expose them.”
“And tell them what?” Michael jumped in. “That incubi and succubi exist? Most people don't even know what a Cambion is, Sam.”
“There's gotta be a way to stop this.”
“There is no need to be upset just yet. This is only an inquiry,” Angie chimed in. “Their primary concern is Caleb, but killing a Cambion's mate is forbidden under any circumstance. Your bonding will overthrow the ruling based on a technicality.” After taking a dainty sip of her tea, Angie's gaze settled on me. “Now that that is established, I think it's time to discuss the extent of your relationship.”
I suddenly grew fascinated with the shadows on the floor. “Angie, I think that's a little too personal.”
“That may be so, but your decision could determine how this investigation will end.”
Once again, it all boiled down to the big to-do. Our bonding was inevitable, but I was hoping for something romantic and a lot more private. This may not be a big deal for anyone else, but I was the only inexperienced person in the room, and to put it mildly, I was terrified. But if it meant that no one else had to die, I was willing to take one for the team.
Caleb, unfortunately, had other ideas. “No,” he growled. “We've already been over this. If we bond and something happens to me, Sam will die too.”
“How about we cross that bridge when we get there,” Haden disputed. “Why don't you think about someone else for a change?”
“I am!” Caleb bellowed. “I will not be pressured into something that might not even work. Our personal lives shouldn't be up for public debate. It's bad enough that I have to cater to a demon spirit, now I have to be told who I should—” He pursed his lips and breathed through his nose, quelling his temper. “First my free will, then my privacy. Is there anything that belongs to me? I'll control my own life.” Caleb rose from the chaise and headed to the door.
“Caleb, if you don't wish for that life to end tonight, I suggest you sit down. Now,” Angie called after him, her eyes glowing with blazing emerald light at Caleb's back.
He stopped abruptly. In that same instant, a sharp pain hit my chest, a strike of panic that left me breathless.
Haden and Michael got to their feet slowly, taking care not to make any sudden movements. The two studied Angie keenly, their bodies tensed, ready to jump into the line of fire if necessary.
Caleb spun around and met Angie in defiance, but quickly turned away with evident pain. His gaze met the floor, blinking rapidly, struggling for sight.
Not daring to look her in the face again, he said in a shaky voice, “If you kill me, you'll just be doing Tobias a favor. Am I the only one who remembers him? He's also connected to Sam. I'm sure the Santiago family would love to hear that a demon could be an heir to the Petrovsky dynasty.” Keeping his head low, he left the room, letting the door slam behind him.
Angie closed her eyes and massaged the bridge of her nose, conjuring composure. Michael and Haden glared at me as if this was all my fault.
“We should go after him.” I began to rise, but Angie lifted her hand to stop me.
“No. I need to speak with you alone, Samara. Michael, Haden, please keep an eye on your brother. Make sure he doesn't leave his room for the rest of the night.”
The brothers backed out of the room, only turning away when they reached the door.
The study went quiet again with only the cracking of firewood to break the monotony. I too had trouble looking at her at the moment, so I played with my hands, picking at the hangnail on the right thumb. “Caleb has a point, you know. The powers that be won't be too happy about Tobias.”
“Yes, which is why they will not be told, not until you and Caleb are mated.”
“You think that's why Nadine didn't tell you about Tobias? She was afraid how you would react? I mean, she was mated to an incubus, her sworn enemy. He might've tricked her or she did it willingly—I don't know—but Tobias and Lilith are connected now.”
“What a tangled mess, little one. I'm so sorry you were left with this burden. Had I known . . .” She covered her face with her hand, pushed back the tears that tried to escape. “When was the last time you saw him?”
I told her everything that had occurred in the past week, from my blackout, Tobias's disappearance, to the intruder in my house. The last straw came when I showed her my bracelet and the severed chain covered in duct tape. I'd been using different tools to hold the link together—paper clips, hair barrettes, rubber bands—but they would rust or slip off in the shower.
Angie wasn't the swearing type. It was bad etiquette. But she seemed to be making up for lost time in the span of two minutes. Once her tirade was over, she moved to the fireplace and retrieved a small, flat box and a lighter from behind a vase on the mantel. With a flick of her wrist, a cigarette settled between her fingers.
“You promised me you'd quit,” I mumbled.
“Did I?” She lit the end and took a drag.
After thinking about it, I realized she was right. “No. You didn't promise me. You promised Nadine.”
“Yes, well it's only a recent lapse. Suffice it to say, it's been a very stressful month.” Her free hand stroked my hair. “Gets a bit confusing up there, doesn't it? It's hard to tell where Nadine ends and you begin.”
“Sometimes.”
“And your feelings for Tobias are conflicted, yes?”
“Not just Tobias, Caleb, too,” I answered.
She nodded and took another deep pull of smoke. The cherry at the end of the cigarette glowed bright and ran in close competition with the fire in her eyes. “Caleb is hurting. Don't take it personally. Despite everything that may be happening, he loves you.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Don't you feel it? It's all over this room as thick as fog. It's all over the furniture, seasoning the food at dinner. I understand that he doesn't like to be pressured, but what is your reason for not sealing the bond? You two can finally be together, and this would solve all of your problems.”
“And create new ones,” I disputed. “I don't think I'm ready for that step. I'm pretty messed up in the head. My parents had me when they were still in high school and I don't want one careless act to ruin my life. I get where Caleb's coming from, the need for control, and these . . .
things
in our bodies are fighting us at every turn.”
She was quiet for several excruciating moments, and even in heavy concentration, she looked stunning. She circled the room again before she put out her cigarette and sat next to me. “Do you know the real reason why my husband is ill? Because I'm slowly killing him.”
I hadn't expected that at all, and the light, conversational tone made it more disturbing. “What?”
“He's not like us, but we are linked and my spirit requires that I feed from him regularly. He brings me so much joy, Samara, I could simply burst. But he's getting older and doesn't replenish his energy as quickly as he used to. His immune system suffers because of it and he will worsen as the years go on. And when he dies . . .”
“Your spirit will go through withdrawal and you may go insane,” I finished. “But didn't you say that those who lose a mate have to be reported? Does that mean you might be killed?”
Her silence answered that question for me. “Do you see how fortunate you are? You and Caleb are both Cambions, equals who can bond completely. There is a mutual exchange where you strengthen one another.”
“If we don't kill each other first,” I mumbled.
There went that motherly smile again. “You are in love. You are going to fight and pester each other. It's a certainty. But the connection you share, even now, will help you survive where others would have died. My husband and I are not as fortunate and I must prepare for his passing, which is why I need to make sure my family is in order. There must be someone to lead the Petrovsky name and guide my daughters.”
“What about Olivia?”
“She will be appointed if you refuse the title. But if you refuse, you and Caleb won't have my name as protection and you will be back where you started.”

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