Mirage (25 page)

He furrowed his brow. “And that was it?”

“Pretty much.” I reached for the daybed’s lone pillow and placed it against the wall. Scooting backward, I settled myself against it before continuing. “She was mostly suggesting that you and I stick together.”

“Hmm, okay. What did your instincts tell you?” he asked.

“That she was being sincere.”

“That’s good, then, right?”

“Right. But … there was something else.” I’d put off telling him about my little chat with Mrs. Girard until now, taking time to sort through the snippets. There wasn’t much, but I’d written it all down, in case any of it meant anything to him. I reached into my hoodie’s pocket and pulled out the folded slip of paper. “I hope I got it all,” I said, flattening it out on my knee.

He sat down beside me on the bed. “Got what?”

I read off the hastily scribbled phrases. “‘Royal blood. Crown jewel. Edward’s son.’”

“That’s … odd,” he said.

“I know, right?” Nervously, I tapped the page with one finger. “But here’s the important part—these were all thoughts she had while she was thinking of
you
.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice laced with incredulity.

I nodded. “I’m sure. And they had to have been her thoughts, because they definitely weren’t mine. And there’s more.” I glanced down at the last line I’d written. “‘He can’t know, not till war erupts,’” I read aloud. “That’s all I’ve got.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Does she know that you were eavesdropping?”

“I don’t know, Aidan,” I said with a shrug. “When I accidentally breach a vampire’s mind, I’ve sort of made it a policy
not
to ask them if they noticed.”

“Okay, run it by me again. Slowly this time.”

So I did.

When I finished, his features were blank, unreadable. “Okay,” I said, “you better tell me what you’re thinking right now, or I’m going to have to breach
your
mind.”

“She can’t possibly be correct” was all he said.

“She was talking about you, right?” I pressed. “I assume your father’s name was Edward?”

He stood, looking pensive. “Charles. My father’s name was Charles.”

“Then who’s Edward?” I asked, confused.

He began to pace. “The prince of Wales. Later the king of England, Edward VII. There were rumors about him and my mother, but I never imagined …” He trailed off, shaking his head, then slumped into the chair beside the door.

“You don’t think …” I didn’t even want to say it.

There was a faraway, dazed expression on his face. “I guess that would explain why my sisters looked nothing like me.”

“Wait, you think it’s true? Just like that?”

“It’s certainly possible—the timing is right, and it would explain a lot. What I don’t understand is the significance, as far as Mrs. Girard is concerned.”

“I don’t know, but she sounded … I don’t know, really
proud
when she was thinking about it. She called you her ‘greatest creation’ before, and now you’re her ‘crown jewel.’ It’s like she’s got big plans for you, or something.” My palms started to sweat, just thinking about it.

“And all she asked of you was that we stick together over the holidays?”

“That was it.” I nodded. “And like I said, she seemed genuinely concerned. Maybe it’s really more for your safety than mine—I just don’t know.”

“She’s hinted that perhaps a war is brewing. I always assumed she meant a war between the lawful and the lawless—you know, us against the Propagators. Maybe there’s something bigger, something I’m not privy to. Still, I don’t see what my parentage has to do with it, even if I am Edward’s bastard son.”

I watched him closely, trying to gauge his mood. I didn’t want to prod him for details if this revelation was too upsetting. But I was curious—how could I
not
be?

“Do you think your father knew?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I suppose it didn’t matter one way or the other. You know how the laws of primogeniture work. He was married to my mother; therefore, I’m legally his son. Was his son,” he corrected.

“You still
are
his son, Aidan. I mean, I’m still my father’s daughter, aren’t I? Even though he’s gone,” I added.

“It’s just been”—he shook his head—“so very long. I can barely even remember him. It was so many lifetimes ago, and our relationship ended when I was only seventeen. And now, after all this time, to learn that perhaps he wasn’t my father after all. I just don’t know what to think.”

“He raised you. Loved you. In my book, that makes him your real father, no matter what.”

He nodded, his gaze meeting mine. Pain was etched in his features, reminding me of the humanity at his core. “Does this change the way you feel about me?”

I almost laughed. “Because you’re illegitimate? Are you kidding me?” Still … I could barely believe it was true. “You really think your mom might have had an affair with the king of England?”

“He was only the prince of Wales at the time. But yes, why not? He had a reputation for having mistresses. Of course, he never acknowledged any illegitimate children, but he must have had several. And my mother … well, as I said, she spent a lot of time in town without my father. And she was a particular favorite of his—Edward’s, I mean.”

For a moment, I digested that in silence. It was just so … incredible. But then, wasn’t everything in my life these days? “So does that mean you’re related to the current royal family?” I said at last. “The Windsors? Now that I think about it, you
do
kind of look like Wills.”

He reached a hand to his temple, a pained look on his face.

“Sorry,” I said. But there
was
a bit of a resemblance. They were both tall with blond hair and light eyes. And there was something else, too, something indefinable. Something almost regal, I realized with a start.

“Let’s say it
is
true,” he said. “That I
am
Edward’s bastard son. What I find most disturbing is that Mrs. Girard is somehow invested in it. Taking pride in it, if you’ve correctly interpreted her feelings. It almost sounds as if she has plans to use me—and the truth of my parentage—in some way.”

That was exactly the impression I’d gotten when I had been in her head.

A muscle in his jaw flexed perceptibly. “And if that’s true, then—”

“Then she doesn’t really want you to cure yourself,” I finished for him, catching on. “She needs you as a vampire. Some sort of royal-blooded vampire. Her crown jewel.”

He paused a beat before replying. “Exactly.”

“Ugh, I really don’t like where this is going.”

“I don’t either, but I’m not quite sure what I can do about it,” he said, “short of leaving Winterhaven—and I have far too many reasons to want to stay.”

Our eyes met, his full of several lifetimes’ worth of desperation. I scooted off the bed and hurried over to him, allowing him to pull me onto his lap.

“Are you going to be okay?” I murmured.

“As long as I have you, I will be,” he answered, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t let any of this distract me, not now. I’ve got to press on, work night and day if need be. I’ll do whatever it takes, no matter how difficult. As long as I have just a single day as a mortal with you, it will all have been worth it.”

There was a sharp burn behind my ribs—my heart, maybe? It might have broken just a little bit. Because a single day would never be enough. Not ever.

“I should take you back,” he said, resting his chin on the top of my head now.

“Probably,” I agreed reluctantly. “And you should get back to work.”

He sighed heavily. “Do you truly believe it will ever happen, Vi? Me, perfecting the cure? Becoming mortal again?”

“I really do,” I said. It was just like faith. I didn’t really understand this cure, couldn’t do anything to affect it one way or another. It was out of my hands entirely. Still, I
had
to believe. And I did, with all my heart.

23 ~ Dogfight

A
large mocha, no whip,” I told the woman behind the counter at the café, then shuffled to the end of the counter to wait. I glanced down at my watch, surprised to find that I had so much time to kill before dinner.

Coach Gibson had canceled practice—he had broken a tooth or something like that and had a dentist appointment in the city. When I’d first found myself with the unexpected free time, I’d reached out telepathically to Aidan, but he’d been in the lab working, completely immersed in something that apparently involved a Bunsen burner. I’d pretty much tuned out the rest. It was all gibberish to me, his science-speak.

Cece was off at play rehearsal—or maybe it was tennis practice? I wasn’t sure, but I knew she was busy. She was always busy. Tyler was at the infirmary getting tested for strep throat, even though Sophie had already diagnosed him. I had no idea where everyone else was. I figured I’d take a walk around campus and get a bit of exercise.

Five minutes later, I took my steaming-hot cup and headed outside. Despite the chill, it was a beautiful day, the sky a brilliant blue, not a cloud in sight. I took a sip of coffee and glanced up, shielding my eyes from the sun as a flock of Canada geese squawked by overhead. They were headed down toward the river. I decided to follow them.

I took the path that led toward the chapel, my pace brisk as I cupped my mocha in both hands for warmth. The crowd of students milling about thinned out as I left the quad and hurried past the movie theater, turning down another path that meandered along beneath a canopy of bare, spindly braches.

I was going to miss this place when I graduated, I realized with a pang of regret. If only I’d come as a freshman and had those two extra years to discover my gift, to make both friends and memories. I felt cheated, robbed of the true Winterhaven experience. How could a place come to mean so much to me in so short a time?

It was a shame that with all the gifts and talents represented at Winterhaven, no one possessed the power to stop time. I let out a sigh as I hurried my step, following the path as it curved around the chapel’s stone facade and continued down toward the woods.

A few minutes later, the path began to slope downward. My breath was coming faster now as I pressed on, heading toward the wrought-iron bench at the end of the path, where it met the split-rail fence that marked the edge of the woods. I wasn’t sure what purpose the fence served—it was pretty easy to climb between the rails, and I was sure that many students did, looking for a secluded spot. There were only so many places on campus that offered complete and total privacy, after all.

It seemed like an odd place for a bench, especially since it faced the campus rather than the woods. It was a long way to walk to sit and stare back in the direction from which you’d come. But the view was great this time of year—if you sat backwards, that is. You could see all the way down to the river, and if you craned your neck, you could just make out the Tappan Zee Bridge in the distance.

As I drew closer, I saw that the bench was occupied by a lone figure turned toward the woods, her arms thrown over the bench’s back. I stopped short, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Squinting, I tried to identify her. A wave of familiarity washed over me, and I turned to leave just as she called out to me.

“Hey, Violet,” Jenna said without even turning around.

“How did you …” I trailed off. She was a wolf; she probably smelled me.

She finally turned to face me. “You might as well come sit down. I won’t bite.”

So I did, still clutching my now-cold coffee in one hand. “Can you identify every single student by scent?” I asked her as I slid onto the bench beside her.

“Pretty much.” She wrinkled her nose. “You have a lingering vampire scent, like he’s rubbed off on you or something. It’s really nasty, to tell you the truth.”

“Sorry about that,” I said, though I wasn’t sure why I was apologizing. She was the one who’d insulted me, after all. “What are you doing out here?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was taking a clean set of clothes out to the shed over there.” She pointed off to the right, down by the edge of the woods, where I could just make out a gray-shingled building with a tin roof. “That’s where I change when I shift. Anyway, it’s nice out, so I decided to sit.”

She turned to face me, and once again I was struck by just how beautiful she was. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and yet she looked like she’d just stepped off the cover of a magazine. It wasn’t fair.

“What about you?” she asked, sounding slightly bored. “What brings you out to my neck of the woods?”

I tamped down my feelings of inadequacy. “Fencing practice was canceled, so I’m just getting some exercise.”

“And no vampires to play with? I guess you’ll have to settle for a wolf, instead.”

“Aidan’s working in the lab,” I said. “He does that, you know.”

She shook her head. “Such a waste of time.”

My gaze snapped toward hers. “Why do you say that?”

“How long has he been working on that cure of his? Like, a hundred years or something?” She reached up and twirled a lock of her hair around one finger. “If he hasn’t figured it out by now, he isn’t likely to ever get it right.”

“It hasn’t been that long” was all I said in reply. She was baiting me. I don’t know why—maybe just to get on my nerves.

She shrugged. “If you say so.”

I decided to change the subject. “So, I heard you checked the woods for the Stalker’s trail and didn’t find anything.”

She glanced down at her fingernails, examining them closely. They were perfectly manicured, painted a deep bloodred. “Nope, the trail was cold. There were plenty of human scents, but they were all familiar, and the only vampire I scented in the woods was Aidan.”

I sat up sharply, straightening my spine. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I meant just what I said—either the Stalker is a vampire who somehow managed to cover his scent or he’s human. Or, who knows”—she shrugged—“maybe this was just some sort of copycat attack gone wrong. How should I know? I’m a lycan, not a detective.”