“It’s worth any price in the world if Bastien lives,” Celine pleaded.
A hard light shone in Nicodemus’ eyes. “Sébastien has already proven he is too weak for this life. He did not heed my warnings when he fell in love with a mortal girl, and now his life is forfeit. If he were one of us, it would be the same. Our enemies would exploit these weaknesses. And there would always be something left for him to lose.”
“Then protect him. Make him stronger. Just save him,” she cried.
Nicodemus stared down at the cursed girl. The cause of his nephew’s undoing. He knew Celine loved Sébastien. Could see the truth of it in her haunted gaze. And it left him cold. Bleak. Unfeeling. “I stayed away so my enemies would not be drawn to Sébastien. So they would not be tempted. I surrounded him with my immortal children so that they would always protect him. I sacrificed everything I loved to keep him safe.” Nicodemus inhaled, a knot of pain taking shape around the emptiness in his heart. “My family has always been my weakness. And now my enemies have destroyed me with it.” He shook his head. “Love is an affliction to our kind. I will not remake Bastien only to watch him fall prey to it again. I’m sorry.”
“What do you want me to do?” Celine whispered. “What can I say that will make you save him?”
“Nothing. Whatever we are in our human lives becomes magnified by immortality. What Bastien loves now will be an even greater weakness.” Nicodemus studied Celine, watching his words shatter her last hope. “Forget all this, child. Live your life apart from this wretched world.” An approximation of sympathy laced his features. Nicodemus turned toward his immortal children, ready to take leave. To sit with his grief, pondering all he had lost tonight. To flee this cursed city forever.
“What if I promised to forget Bastien?” Celine said from behind him.
Nicodemus did not move.
She stumbled to her feet in a rustle of black taffeta, the wound at her neck filling the air with an intoxicating scent. “You told me you could help me forget. That Bastien would respect my choice. If I forgot him—if I was no longer a weakness—would you save him?”
Nicodemus took a step toward the doors of the cathedral.
“You said there were many paths to happiness,” she continued. “If I can choose a different one, will you not do the same?”
He stopped. Turned to look at Marceline Rousseau over his shoulder. Her hands were still bound, her body covered in blood, a great deal of it her own. Still the girl refused to capitulate. A part of Nicodemus admired her stubbornness. Her unwillingness to fold in the face of such odds.
His gaze fell on his nephew’s battered body. On the last signs of life lingering within. Sighing in defeat, Nicodemus looked away.
“Bastien is the last of your kin. Are you ready to walk this earth alone?” Celine yelled. “Because I would rather lose him forever than watch him die.”
Nicodemus met the eyes of his immortal children. Saw the weight of his loss reflected in their faces.
No. It is not meant to be.
He straightened and began walking away.
“Nicodemus!” Celine screamed, the anguish in her voice soaring to the rafters above. “Nicodemus Saint Germain!”
Again Nicodemus stopped, the echo of his family’s name circling beneath the frescoed ceilings of the cathedral, the sound of her pain stirring the shreds of his heart. Bringing it back to life.
“Do we have a deal?”
LOVE IS NOT LOVE
The first of my people hailed from Carthage.
From a time when blood reigned supreme. When monsters and mercenaries ruled the known world. This was the beginning of the Brotherhood.
Not much has changed since then.
I stand along the pier, gazing toward the waters of the Mississippi, at peace for the first time in a decade.
When I first heard the news that Sébastien Saint Germain had been struck a fatal blow in the skirmish at the cathedral, strange pangs coiled through my chest. I know now it was the last vestiges of my weak human heart finally dying so that I might embrace the better, stronger version of myself.
There is no chance Nicodemus will have turned Bastien.
Not when he refused me ten years ago.
Amusing how tethered to his morals the great Nicodemus Saint Germain can be. Especially considering all the death and destruction he has wrought over the centuries. Bastien was the last living scion of the Saint Germain line. Now the one thing this four-hundred-year-old leech fought to protect above all is gone. His purpose has been taken from him, as mine was taken from me.
I have dismantled his legacy.
And it is sweet. The kind of sweetness that overshadows the bitterness, consuming it whole.
For I once loved Bastien more than I loved myself. I even gave my human life for his.
My beautiful little brother.
But my loyalties lie elsewhere now. With the creatures who offered me the gift Uncle Nico refused to grant me ten years ago. With the true immortal beasts of the Otherworld. The same ones the vampires have always cast aside, to be used as watchdogs and fed the scraps from their dinner table. Treated as nothing more than fodder in a centuries-long war with the Sylvan Vale.
But no matter, that is a tale for another time.
Once I walked among the Fallen. Saw them as family.
But I am no longer a Saint Germain. I do not need to mourn the death of my brother. He was complicit in my uncle’s misdeeds. His impetuousness brought about my mother’s death those many years ago. Bastien is the reason no one sought to save me, a mere girl, destined to become nothing.
My thoughts linger on Celine Rousseau. A formidable quarry, I will admit. She was close to uncovering the truth of what I have become.
But close counts only in cannon fire and horseshoes.
It was something my father used to say.
I move from my spot along the pier, slinking toward the shadows beneath it, comfortable in my skin for the first time in ages. The stars twinkle with abandon, oblivious to how they exist by the grace of the moon. But I am aware. She is our mother in all ways.
Luca will be waiting for me, as he always did, even when we were children. Beneath the silver light of our mother moon, we will run free together. Our families may have been mortal enemies in life, but it doesn’t matter now. For I am among his kind. One of them. A member of the Brotherhood, evermore.
And Luca will always love me, as he has for over a decade.
I love him, too. In my own way. Just as I loved Marin.
Beneath the dock, the change begins. The magic burns through my bloodstream, sending shudders down my spine. My fingers curl into claws, my fangs lengthen, my long hair twists and reshapes.