The Damned (The Beautiful #2)(41)

Lines of irritation gather across Kassamir’s brow. “What you’ve allowed Nicodemus to do to Mademoiselle Rousseau’s mind is criminal. It is the cruelest form of punishment to allow Sébastien to bear witness to it.” He is angrier than I’ve ever seen him. My face grows hot as he speaks. The revulsion in my chest continues to spread. To fill the emptiness around my heart like water poured over ice.

“Maybe you have forgotten,” Kassamir continues, “but I have worked alongside Nicodemus for decades. I was here when he first brought Bastien to us. I remember what a sad, lonely child he was. How much he wished to love and be loved. In him, I saw myself. A boy taken from all he knows. From everything he loves. He has lost everyone dear to him. Must he lose this young woman as well? I will not be—”

“Mademoiselle Rousseau asked me to take away memories that might cause her pain, my friend,” a voice chimes in from the back of the chamber.

Kassamir stands taller. Refuses to avert his gaze, even when confronted by my uncle’s unflinching countenance. “She was given an impossible choice,” he says. “A decision made with a proverbial revolver pointed at her head. You took advantage of her pain, Nicodemus. It was wrong of you.”

I watch as my uncle crosses the room, our guests parting around him like Moses through the Red Sea. The words remain lodged in my throat, though I know I should defend my brothers and sisters—my uncle—against Kassamir’s accusations.

But I cannot. I cannot think beyond the echo of Celine’s question.

Why does it hurt me to see you kissing her?

She shouldn’t be asking that. To her, it shouldn’t matter who or what I do with my life. Nicodemus is the most powerful vampire I know. If he glamoured away Celine’s memories, it should be impossible for her to care about anything to do with me.

How has this mortal girl defied the will of such dark magic?

Though I am lost in my thoughts, I am aware of how my brothers and sisters eye me, even from a distance, like a powder keg about to explode. Every once in a while, Arjun or Hortense glance my way. Odette hovers near me like an elegantly attired wasp, Jae a step behind her. Madeleine watches in silence, the pity in her gaze only fueling the pain inside me.

I know what they are doing. They are waiting for me to react. Waiting for me to rage. To attack, hurling venom at anyone in my vicinity.

A few weeks ago, I did just that. But I refuse to let rage be my master.

I will not succumb to the demon inside me.

It is not anger I feel. It is cold, unforgiving anguish. The kind of anguish I experienced as a boy, when I realized my mother would not be there to greet me the next morning or sing me to sleep that night. When I understood my father chose immortal power, risking madness, over a single human lifetime with his son. When I knew my sister was never coming back, her body burned to ashes in a fire I inadvertently started.

It is that feeling of being utterly alone. Of being nothing to no one, except a nuisance.

I know I matter to those around me. But it isn’t the same. It will never be the same. Everyone here serves my uncle from a place of responsibility. Of loyalty to their maker. Perhaps they have learned to love me in their own way, but the choice has never been theirs to make.

Celine loved me because she wanted to love me. Because she saw something more than Nicodemus Saint Germain’s heir apparent. Something beyond the money, the power, or the mystery.

She saw me.

The revulsion in me dissolves into grief. It was that same courage of conviction that gave Celine the strength to walk away. To choose a life apart from this world of dark magic and dangerous creatures.

No. I do not feel rage. My despair is too great for rage.

I wish that I could walk away from this life. But it is too late for me.

“I’ve always respected you, Kassamir,” Nicodemus says, his voice going soft. An unspoken warning. “You have been a great friend to me for many years. You were the one who made all this”—he raises one of his hands, indicating the entirety of the building—“possible. Without your guidance in the complexities of the modern man, my businesses here would not have flourished as they did.” He paces forward another step. “I know you suffered as a boy, as a result of this country’s greatest sin. How I wish I could bring your parents back or return your lost childhood to you. But the affairs of the Fallen are not your concern. Take care not to interfere.” His golden eyes glint with fury.

“I don’t give a damn about the affairs of the Fallen or the Brotherhood, Nicodemus. I never have.” Kassamir does not waver. “But I do care about Bastien. And as long as there is breath left in my mortal body, I will fight for him to retain his humanity. No matter how much you may wish to deny it, he needs that young woman. He must learn what it means to live.”

“Sébastien is immortal.” Nicodemus draws himself up to his full height. “Life is a given to a creature with such a gift.”

A long sigh escapes Kassamir’s lips. “Life is not a given to any of us. Neither is love. A hundred thousand years will not teach you that truth. You must accept it for yourself.” He turns to me. “What you are has no bearing on who you become, Sébastien. Man or demon, that is entirely up to you. It is never too late to chase the better version of yourself.” Without waiting for a reply, Kassamir makes his way down the stairs.

Though my uncle remains still, I can sense his fury. His teeth are clenched, not unlike mine. The whorls of his dark hair gleam as he glances my way, the handle of his walking stick gripped in his fist.