“Tell me what’s going on,” I repeat again. “He’s my best friend. If he’s in danger—“
“He’s probably fine,” Bron tells me, and I can’t be sure if his words are a lie. “I just worry.”
Suddenly, he releases me and steps away. “Go home, Esmeray. Be safe.”
When he turns and starts walking out of the alley, I follow. “What the hell kind of cryptic meeting was this?”
He doesn’t answer, just keeps going, his back straight, a I don’t give a shit swagger as he walks. When he finally stops, I realize he’s standing beside my car in the parking lot.
“Don’t tell anyone I was here,” he says. “And don’t worry about anything, I’m sure he’s fine.”
“Damn it, Bron!” I glare at him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, then turns and walks away.
I almost chase him, but if Bron is anything like the boy I remember, he’s stubborn as hell. If he’s decided not to tell me anything, then nothing I say is going to change his mind.
Getting into my sports car, I turn on the engine and gun it home. When I get there I’m calling my brother, and I’m not stopping until he answers and tells me he’s safe.
Our family has far too many enemies not to watch out for each other.
2 Esmeray
By the time I reach our lands on the outskirts of the city, a storm has blown in. Thunder rumbles above me and lightning splits the sky. Normally, weather that I love. Weather that I like to dance in with the ghosts in the graveyard, or howl in with the monsters in the woods.
But for the first time in my life, the weather feels…ominous. Like a warning of something terrible to come.
When the gates in front of our manor part, and I start down the long, dark driveway, something feels off. Never before have I minded being left alone while my parents traipse about the world, and my brother attends the prestigious Royal Fae Academy. But tonight, I don’t just feel alone. I feel…lonely.
I hit the button for the garage and steer my car into its usual spot. Then, killing the engine, I do what I was too afraid to do at the club. I call my brother. The line rings and rings, even though this late at night he should be wide awake. By the third unanswered phone call, I realize that I’m shaking.
Closing the garage door on the lightning and the rain, I walk past the twelve cars parked perfectly parallel to each other and enter our house. I slip past the hallway filled with guest rooms and offices. I ignore the kitchen, the living room, and make a beeline up the stairs to my room at the far end of the top floor hall. I’m bound and determined to call my brother all night if that’s what it takes to get him to answer.
But when I open my bedroom door, I freeze in surprise. The massive bay windows have been thrown open wide, and the wind smashes the shutters against the walls. Rain drenches the sitting area, and the thunder seems to swell into my darkened room.
With careful steps, I cross the room and close the windows, sealing out the angry storm. I turn to find my lamp to switch the light on and see a shadow move beside the bed. Using my powers, I reach out for the mind of whoever was stupid enough to break into my house, ready and willing to kill the fool. But when I touch the mind, it’s not only familiar, but filled with pain and fear.
Racing around the bed, I collapse onto my knees. My brother lies on the floor, his hands painted red as he grips his bloody stomach. His skin is pale. His pupils are wide and filled with pain.
Never in my life have I seen my brother like this. He’s always seemed so strong, so untouchable, and for a minute I can’t seem to move or speak. I just stare and stare at him, as if all of this is an illusion I can’t escape from. And then reality comes crashing down.
He needs me. He’s in shock.
“Rayne,” I whisper, then silently promise him that this time I’ll be strong so he doesn’t have to be.
His mouth opens into a grimace that’s almost a smile. “I—I wasn’t…I didn’t know if you would make it in time.”
In time? A strange tightness squeezes my chest and throat. We’re fae; we have nothing but time. I don’t know how Rayne got hurt, but he’ll live to see another day. Even if it kills me to see him like this.
I’m surprised when tears blur my vision. “I’m here now and everything is going to be okay. I’ll call a witch. She’ll help patch you up, and you’ll be—“
“No,” he whispers, and the word slides around us like it’s torn away.
I ignore him and grab my phone, sending a quick text to a witch not far from our house. In seconds, she responds that she’s on her way. A Bloodmore hurt enough to need healing would send any witch running.
“Lady Uma is on her way. You’re going to be okay,” I tell him, then reach out and stroke his face, hoping my touch will bring him back to reality, will remind him of who he is and that this too shall pass.
“I’m dying.” His words drop like stones between us.
I know I’m smiling as tears spill down my cheeks. “I know you’re hurting, but you’re not dying.”
“Esmeray, listen. They wanted me dead. They—planned this.”
Someone did this to him? My stomach twists. “It doesn’t matter what they wanted.”
He winces and withers on the floor, and I drop my hand, wishing more than anything that I could take his pain away.
Then, at last, he collapses back, panting. “When I’m gone, you’ll have to become the senior Bloodmore. You’ll have to take my place and lead the family.”
Every muscle in my body stiffens. “That’s never
