Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Probably publicly.
“What the hell do you mean?” Governor Richards demands. “How is this a hate crime?”
We all stand back, and I know I’m not the only one holding my breath. Even Devon, who doesn’t need to breathe, probably wouldn’t if he could. I’ve taken courses on how to remain calm in situations like this. I’ve studied ways to lie on the fly and talk my way out of trouble. But I don’t even think I could talk my way out of this one.
“We haven’t gotten all the details yet,” Xavier starts. And I realize he’s still holding everyone in front of him spellbound. Do they know? Can you tell when you’re being spellbound? What does it even feel like? As grateful as I am that I can’t be held under a vampire’s command, I’m also really fucking curious. And maybe a little jealous. How nice would it be for someone to tell you exactly what you want to hear and have you completely believe it?
“But it seems the Church somehow slipped you a mind-altering substance,” Xavier continues.
“The same thing happened to my wife, so I can guarantee you this is not a matter we will take lightly.”
He gives Governor Richards a pointed look.
“We can discuss the rest in private.” The message is obvious. This is coalition business.
“I suggest you come with me and allow my personal physician to run some tests,” Xavier goes on. “That way, we’ll know exactly what was given to you, and the matter can be kept as private as possible.”
The officers all nod in agreement as though that makes perfect logical sense. In some ways, it does. In others, not so much. But it’s a good diversion. I’ll give Xavier that.
The Church of the New Dawn has already publicly attacked us in ways far more brazen than anything they’ve done before, so blaming them isn’t exactly unbelievable.
“Now,” Xavier continues, “I suggest you alert the rest of the department about the security threat.” The officers straighten their weapons, and two of them get into a squad car and drive away.
Governor Richards blinks several times, shaking his head as though he’s trying to clear it. Then he storms toward Xavier. Whatever surge of bravery got him moving seems to disappear the second he’s standing face-to-face with my husband. Xavier towers over him. And could eviscerate him in about two seconds flat.
“We both know this had nothing to do with the Church,” Richards says. He swallows. “If you’re up to something—if you’re using your vampire powers against me…” He shakes his head, clearly working hard to keep his shoulders squared and the fear off his face. “You can forget about the humans siding with you. You can forget about whatever agreement we had. It will be over.” He does his best to stare Xavier down, but it looks like a puppy trying to intimidate a Rottweiler.
Then he turns and leaves, his fingers curled into nervous fists as he signals for one of the officers to drive him home. I let out a breath as the car pulls away, slightly hunched forward with my hands on my thighs. My palms are sweaty, and I wipe them against the silky fabric of my dress. Unlike last night, it’s humid tonight and the mosquitoes are terrible. And I’m only now realizing how much I’m sweating.
Leo steps closer and puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“That seems about as believable as the time Gia blamed something on Pluto a month after he died.”
“Oh, wow.” I’d almost forgotten about Pluto. He was a stray dog we took in while we were hunting demons in California. The dog got into everything. Any food left within reach was immediately his. He was already old and sick when we found him, and to this day I’m surprised Vivian and Marco let us keep him, especially after spending several thousand dollars at the vet treating the laundry list of health problems he came with.
It’s memories like that that make everything harder to understand. Vivian and Marco weren’t monsters every second of every day. I knew them. They had moments of compassion. Moments when they genuinely seemed to care. Moments when they seemed to enjoy being parents.
Even to me.
We had Pluto for a couple months before we eventually had to put him down. I think that was the first time I ever saw Vivian cry. And then, a month later and two states away, Gia ate an entire package of Oreos, left crumbs all over the couch, and blamed it on Pluto, apparently forgetting the dog was dead. She was only six or seven at the time. The lie was so ridiculous—and kind of sad—that she didn’t even get in trouble for it.
“Hopefully this one goes over better,” I say, closing my eyes in a long blink. My stomach is tied in knots, and I’m regretting eating anything tonight. I just want to go home. Normally, killing a demon comes with some sense of victory.