Revelation Read online

  “I told you already, the clan—”

  Genevieve sets her cup down too hard, splashing tea over the surface of the table. “We’re well aware of the situation. I want to know that the danger to this clan is enough to keep you going if you find Daniel’s been executed, or worse. After everything that’s happened to you recently, does the fate of Maelstrom matter enough?”

  I open my mouth to answer—of course it does, this is the only home I’ve known since my death, the closest thing I have to a family. But I hesitate as last night’s fear and resentment rise in me, fresh as they were in the moment my clan-mates attacked me.

  “Are you asking whether I’m bitter, Genevieve?” The ice in my voice surprises me. “Whether I’m strong enough to remain loyal to my clan in the face of possible capture and torture? Whether I’ll give up if Daniel is gone and my only purpose is to maintain the status quo here—the system that executed my best friend without a trial, that locked you away because you played by your own rules, that has kept me ignorant and powerless even as it used my gifts for its own benefit? The one that would see me executed as a traitor even after I fucking saved it from itself?” I slam the heels of my hands against the counter. “Damn you, Genevieve. I don’t need to think about this shit right now.”

  “You do, though. These thoughts aren’t new. You’ve been lying to yourself, Aviva. Feigning certainty in your own motivations, pretending you’re fine with being used and thrown away, then expected to…” She closes her eyes.

  Genevieve has never pretended to be Miranda’s biggest fan, but this surprises me.

  “What are you saying?” I ask as Imogen enters and stomps the snow off her boots. “That I shouldn’t go? Because if I stay here, they’ll find me. And then it’s not just my ass on the line. It’s yours. And Imogen’s. And anyone else who’s helped me. I have to do something.”

  Imogen pops her head into the kitchen. The hem of her diner uniform skirt is soaked where it stuck out from under her coat. “What was that?”

  “Aviva’s leaving.” Hannabelle speaks softly but with deep strength. “She’s going to try to save our small portion of the supernatural world. Alone.”

  “Oh, that. She told me.” Imogen digs in her pocket. “Here. I reactivated my mom’s old phone for you, like you asked. Calling and texting only.” She looks down at the flip phone as if it’s a relic from the ancient past. “Holds a charge pretty well, though.”

  “Thanks.” I reach for the phone, but she doesn’t hand it over. Instead, she walks back out into the hallway. I follow, and she glances into the kitchen to make sure no one is eavesdropping. I know they are, but at least Genevieve and Hannabelle have the decency to act as if they’re not.

  “You’re coming back, right?” she asks.

  “Imogen. I didn’t know you cared.”

  She wrinkles her nose and hands the phone over. “Caring’s not going to earn me points with most of you supernatural beings, is it? Vampires or dragons.” Her mouth twists into a little smile that doesn’t come close to reaching her eyes, which have developed dark circles beneath them since my arrival a few nights ago. “Let’s say I asked out of self-interest. You said bad shit’s coming. You’re really going to stop it?”

  “I’m going to do my best.” I reach for my coat and slip my arms in. “You might want to make plans to get out of here, though, just in case. A vampire war isn’t likely to spill into the human world—even an invading clan has to be careful to obey secrecy laws. But you’re different.”

  She sighs. “Don’t I know it.”

  And seemingly unique in this world. Imogen came so close to having a mentor in her aunt Odette, who could have taught her more about controlling the magic that Imogen directs through what she calls reverse curses. But Odette escaped my kind by entering another world entirely, and Imogen remained behind to help me.

  I lay a hand on her arm. “I mean it. Viktor would have been bad news for you if he’d taken over. You helped prevent that, but now Tempest is coming, and I doubt they’ll be as cautious about their approach to crushing other energies as Viktor would have been.”

  “There’s nothing I can do here to help?”

  I smile, though a lump has formed in my throat. “Just stay safe. We might need your help later. You never know.”

  Rory, Imogen’s black and white cat, prowls out from the living room and winds between her legs, sparing me only a quick glare. Imogen scoops him into her arms and scratches behind his ears. “Right. I haven’t got much magic if it comes to that, though. It’s too bad we don’t still have Taggryn. I bet he’d love to get his teeth into some bad-guy vampires.”

  I narrow my eyes and glower at her in my best impression of the dragon-man’s arrogant stare. “A dragon should feed on better than dead flesh, no matter how lively it may be.”

  Then I pause. He didn’t exactly feed on my dead flesh, but… well, there were times when Taggryn bent his strange rules of dragon propriety.

  “Think he’s okay?” she asks.

  “I hope so. And for what it’s worth, I hope Odette is, too.”

  Imogen takes a deep breath, sets the cat down, and embraces me awkwardly. “Good luck fighting the monsters.”

  “Thanks.” I hug her back, mindful of the frailty of her living body. The scent of the blood pumping through her makes my mouth water, and I pull away. It’s time to say my goodbyes to the vampires in the kitchen and get on the road. No sense stalling.

  Fight fire with fire. Fight monsters with monsters.

  I don’t have much of a chance, but I’ve got to try.

  3

  My hands have stiffened into claws after more than eight hours behind the wheel on icy roads, but it’s not my body I’m worried about. It’s the car’s. There’s only one real road into this strange little town, and it requires going closer to the werewolf sanctuary than I’m comfortable with when I’m trying to go unnoticed. So I forced the car over other rutted dirt roads that brought me as close to my destination as possible, but had no choice but to abandon it in the shelter of a cluster of pine trees so I could finish the journey on foot.

  I sincerely hope Daniel will have a chance to be angry about it when he comes home.

  I hitch my black backpack higher on my shoulders as the town comes into view, then press on.

  Bloody Bight doesn’t look like it’s changed much since I left. Unsurprising, given the fact that it’s only been a few months. It just feels like decades. The only difference I can see is that a few houses have Christmas lights up that they’ve left on all night, shimmering green and red under the layer of ice that now coats everything.

  It feels different, though. The last time I visited this place, I sensed the presence of energies I didn’t recognize. Asking me to describe them individually would have been like asking a nearsighted person to count the leaves on a tree at fifty paces. But now that I’ve embraced my fire and allowed it to sharpen my void gifts, I feel them more clearly. Magic humming like electricity, though it’s not strong enough to bring on the anxiety and terror I’ve felt when it moved through me at the rift. A deeper hum I recognize from an encounter with the monstrous bird who guards Maelstrom’s underground archives. Another that sets my ears ringing when I focus on it and somehow feels pink.

  I tune them out. Fascinating though they may be, I can’t risk letting them overwhelm me.

  I texted Violet several hours ago, offering a few details about what I needed and the danger her kind could be in if Tempest invades, and said I’d be at Susannah’s house before sunrise. It seemed like the safest place to meet. I couldn’t go to the werewolf sanctuary when vampires might be watching, or to the house that the clan owns here in Bloody Bight. Susannah is a human, but a special one. Most would dismiss her as flaky or maybe as someone so open-minded that her brain fell out somewhere along the way. But she sees things others don’t, and she doesn’t ask too many questions.

  I haven’t heard back from Violet. For all I know, she’s not even on the island. Her pac
k was planning to move to Labrador now that they’re no longer being controlled by vampires, and they’ve certainly had time to get out. I check my phone again.

  Nothing.

  There’s a light on in Susannah’s house in spite of the extreme earliness of my visit. Guess there’s no point freezing my ass off out here if she’s up.

  She answers my knock and offers me a smile that deepens the lines around her eyes. “Come in, love. You look frozen half to death.”

  “Even more than that,” I mutter as I step over the threshold.

  Susannah tilts her head to one side as she watches me remove my boots and coat, and her curly hair falls over one shoulder. She’s still wearing her pyjamas—flowing purple batik-printed pants and a thin white tank top—but doesn’t seem at all self-conscious about it. She doesn’t have the perceptive gifts of a vampire but seems to be feeling me out all the same. Not judging, though. She’s never asked me to tell her what I am. The assurance that I was around to protect the people of her town was always enough.

  “Are you usually up this long before sunrise?” I ask.

  “Oh, I’ve been awake for an hour. I like to start my day while things are still quiet before everyone else gets up.”

  I glance around her tiny home. Aside from the houseplants tucked into every window and available corner, Susannah lives alone.

  She waves one hand over her shoulder as she turns to head for the kitchen. “Not in here. Out there. The town. Hardly a bustling city, I know, but distracting all the same. This is the only time of day I’m guaranteed to never be interrupted.” She smiles again and wrinkles her nose in an oddly childish gesture that seems right at home on her middle-aged face. “Almost guaranteed, that is. Tea?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  The living room smells like sage and patchouli, the kitchen like cinnamon and cloves when she pours hot water into two mugs. Not the worst place to sit and figure things out if my plans fall through, assuming she doesn’t mind my company. She gestures toward the table, and I take a seat.

  I accept a steaming mug, holding it tight to warm my frozen fingers. Susannah sits across from me and closes her eyes, breathing slow and deep. I wonder whether she’s guessed that my own breaths are a conscious choice meant to disguise what I am and make my presence less disconcerting.

  “Do you still feel the energies?” she asks.

  “Now more than ever, and here more than anywhere else on the island. That’s why you came to this town, right?”

  “Hmm.” She opens her eyes slowly, as if she’s waking from a dream. “I’ve travelled a lot. There are other places in the world like this, but they’re rare, and I believe only becoming harder to find. This whole island is special. It just happens that this village is built on the heart of its energies.”

  I’m about to ask what the places in between these special areas are like when the rumble of an engine approaches the house. Seconds later, a car door slams and a hard knock sounds at Susannah’s front door.

  My stomach flips in spite of the fact that vampires wouldn’t bother knocking.

  “That will be for me.” I set my mug down, the delicious-smelling tea within untasted. “Sorry for interrupting your quiet morning.”

  Susannah’s eyes fall closed again. “It happens.”

  Nothing ruffles her. Finding a corpse with its throat torn out didn’t seem to faze her the night we first met, and she’s accepted the presence of at least two supernatural species in the area without batting an eyelash. I’d give almost anything for even a small portion of that ability to float above worldly—or otherworldly—concerns as she does.

  I take one more intentional breath as I pass through the living room, absorbing the calm, peaceful atmosphere. Maybe it’s just the energies around here, but the air feels heavy, as if there’s a thunderstorm on the other side of the door.

  I don’t even get it all the way open before the storm breaks.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Violet stands on the porch, bundled into a heavy winter coat with a red toque pulled low over her eyes. Human form this morning, but with her fists clenched at her sides and her lips twisted with anger, she might actually be less intimidating as a wolf.

  Susannah enters the room behind me and slips her coat and boots on over her pyjamas.

  “You don’t have to leave,” I tell her.

  “I like a walk by the river in the morning.” She nods a greeting to Violet, who looks down at her feet and relaxes her posture with what seems like conscious effort.

  “Careful out there,” Violet mutters without looking up. “It’s slippery.”

  Susannah wraps a ridiculously large knitted scarf around her neck. “Kettle’s still warm,” she calls over her shoulder as she leaves us.

  Violet steps in and closes the door behind her, harder than seems necessary. “You leave us with no idea where you’re going and no way of finding out what’s happened to you, and suddenly you’re texting me in the middle of the night asking for favours?”

  “I didn’t think—”

  “What? That you’d need us again?”

  “No.” I take a step back. The void is rising defensively in me. It’s used to my fire, but no longer to feeling it in a werewolf. It’s clearer to me now than it used to be, sharp and hot. For a second, I feel a hint of the revulsion and anger that nearly drove Hector to murder me. “I didn’t think it mattered. I thought you’d be happy to have me out of your hair. You didn’t need to be involved in my messes.”

  Violet shakes her head. “You can’t walk away from a friendship and expect someone to stop caring. Or is it just that easy for a vampire?”

  I can’t help thinking of Daniel and the way we left things—how I pushed him away, how not one night has passed without me thinking of him and regretting my decision even when I still thought it was for the best.

  I swallow hard, but it doesn’t ease the lump in my throat. “It’s not easy. But sometimes it’s necessary.” I pause. “You considered me a friend? I assumed I was a burden.”

  Her expression doesn’t soften. “You were both. Everyone’s a burden sometimes. The pack doesn’t give a shit about keeping score. What matters is that we’re together, that we help each other when we’re strong and accept help when we’re not.”

  I lower my gaze—I’m not fluent in werewolf, but I know this gesture counts as something like an apology. “Does that mean you’ll help me again?”

  Violet doesn’t answer. When I look up, her expression is a mixture of amusement and sheer frustration. She lets out a hard breath and steps forward to pull me into a hug. “Of course I will. God, you piss me off. But it’s good to see you.”

  I return the embrace, squeezing tight for a few seconds too long before releasing her. It’s not a gesture we shared when I lived with them. Now that I think of it, I can’t remember the last time I held someone in my arms just for comfort and companionship. Fire rises in me, warming what passes for my spirit, making me ache for this in a way other vampires never seem to suffer once we’ve let go of our humanity.

  “Where’s your stuff?” Violet asks. “We’d better get going. I already had a crossing to North Sydney booked for this morning. We won’t make it to Port aux Basques by departure time, but they’ve been having serious weather delays. We might still make it.”

  I pick up my backpack. “Why Nova Scotia? I thought your pack was moving to Labrador.”

  “It’s complicated. Come on, I’ll explain in the van.”

  A few minutes later, I’m back in my winter gear, Susannah’s cozy little home closed up tight. Violet slides open the side door of a navy-blue minivan. The back seats have been removed, and the floor is covered with large cardboard boxes.

  “The one behind the seats is empty,” she says. “I’d offer to let you ride in the front for a while, but the only road out of here takes us through the sanctuary, and vampires showed up again a few nights ago. You might as well make yourself comfortable now. We’re not stopping until we hit the ferry.
”

  I’m not going to argue. She’s doing me a favour. And if she looks amused as I toss my bags into the van and climb inside the coffin-like box, I guess she deserves that. She’s put a few blankets in it for me, at least. They smell a little like dog.

  There’s not enough room to stretch out, but I’ll be able to curl up on my side when I want to sleep. For now, I lie on my back with my knees pointing at the ceiling.

  Not the worst accommodations I’ve had to deal with. No silver handcuffs, no one threatening or beating me. Even when the van hits the rutted, barely there road through the forest that leads back to the sanctuary, I don’t have any desire to complain.

  “Fuck,” Violet mutters, and reaches back to close the flaps on my box. The van slows, then stops, and the air grows colder as she lowers her window.

  “Hey,” she yells. “The hell is wrong with you?”

  “What’s your business?” asks a cool, feminine voice. I don’t recognize it, but the power she carries with her is pure void, and that’s all I need to know.

  “What’s your business?” Violet shoots back, the irritation in her voice clear. “You’ve got no business here anymore.” Silence follows, and she sighs. “I’m leaving. That should please you, right? Moving as far away as possible. Check my boxes if you want. You might find some old magazines that are as musty and stale as your dead asses.”

  I want to scream at her to stop antagonizing them, but this is what vampires expect from a werewolf. Meek politeness would raise their suspicions, and inviting them in is probably the best way to keep them out.

  The vampire laughs. “Get along, little doggy. We’ll see you again soon—I don’t imagine it will be long before your pack reveals itself and we get to come out there to clean house.”

  Violet rolls up her window, and a moment later, another vehicle starts, moving aside to let her pass. “Goddamn corpses.”

  I can’t disagree. We really are assholes.

  “We’re clear,” Violet says over her shoulder as the road turns smooth beneath us and she picks up speed some time later. “You can climb over and sit up here if you want.”