Devil's Gate (Elder Races #4.6)

Devil's Gate (Elder Races #4.6)
Thea Harrison



Chapter One

Sacrifice

Seremela Telemar leaned against the frame of the open balcony doors in her high-rise apartment and looked out at the ocean view. Tropical humidity licked her skin. As soon as she had gotten home, she had opened up the balcony doors, stripped off her work clothes and put on denim shorts and a tank top.

The weather in Miami was playing the blues. Like the singer Nina Simone’s voice, it had a dark, sultry vibe with a bitter edge and an unexpected snap. Massive knots of moody clouds obscured the sun as they roiled over turbulent water, and heavy rain lashed down in vertical sheets. All that was needed was a world-weary man in a Bogart suit, fingering ivory piano keys in an abandoned hotel as he waited for a hurricane.

One of her head snakes slipped over her shoulder and rose to look at her, its jeweled gaze curious. It tasted the storm-laden air with a slender tongue. She put a forefinger underneath its jaw and nudged it gently. It slid closer and rested its tiny cheek against hers. In another mood, she might have smiled, but not this morning.

Was she really going to do this again?

Yes. Yes, she was.

She sighed, turned on her cell phone and hit speed dial. She held it up to her ear. A strained feminine voice on the other end said, “Serrie?”

“Yes,” she said to her sister, Camilla. “I’ll go get her.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” Camilla said fervently.

“I do not believe the gods are whom you should be thanking,” said Seremela.

“Of course not!” Camilla said. “Thank you, Serrie! You know how much this means to me. Vetta won’t mind me at all anymore—she never listens to anything I say, and I know what would happen if I tried to fetch her home myself. It would blow up into everything being my fault again, and the fight would drag on for hours and hours—and Vetta would make it as public as she could just to humiliate me, she knows how much I hate public altercations—”

“Camilla,” Seremela said. Her tone was sharp enough that it cut through Camilla’s babble. The other woman fell silent. She said, “I need for you to listen to me right now.”

“Of course, whatever you need,” Camilla said quickly.

“This is the last time I’m going to be able to drop everything to help fix your problems and your mistakes.”

Camilla’s tone turned cautious. “What do you mean, the last time?”

“I can’t keep putting my life on hold every time something goes wrong for you, or every time you and Vetta have an argument that you can’t resolve. I just started a new, very demanding job. My employers are wonderful people, and they’re really good to me, but there’s only so much I can ask from them. Unlimited time off at a moment’s notice is not one of those things.”

Camilla’s voice turned cold. “She’s your niece. I thought you cared about what happened to her.”

Seremela bit back her anger. Now it was time for the guilt trip, but it was always time for the guilt trip whenever she didn’t do what Camilla wanted her to do, or say what Camilla wanted to hear. Children were rare for all of the Elder Races, and ever since Camilla had managed to carry Vetta to term, she had a skewed perspective on what the world owed her for achieving such a precious miracle.

“Of course I love both of you,” she said. “And I care about what happens to you. That’s why I’m agreeing to make this trip. But she’s your daughter, and I have to agree, Vetta’s out of control. You have to figure out how to work things out with her yourself. You need to get counseling, Camilla, not only for yourself but for Vetta too.”

“I have to go,” Camilla said.

Seremela rolled her eyes. “Sure you do,” she said. She spoke too late, and a dial tone sounded in her ear. Camilla had hung up on her.

She resisted the urge to throw her iPhone. Instead she checked her work email again. Still no response from either of her new employers, Carling or Rune.

To be fair, she had only emailed them a short while ago, when she had gone into the office to ready her desk for a leave of absence. Deep regrets, family emergency, need to take time off work, will be in touch soon, blah blah blah. She had written the same kind of letter so often through the years, she could compose one in her sleep.

How many times had she sacrificed herself on the altar of Camilla’s neediness? She blew out a breath. Too many times to count.

If she expected Camilla to learn to take responsibility for her own life, Seremela had to do the same. She had chosen to enable Camilla’s behavior over the years. Now it was time to focus her energy on building a new life for herself.

After all, that’s what her move to Miami was all about: taking on a new job and doing medical research she really wanted to do, building a new life and exploring new opportunities and horizons. It was not too late for her to break out of her sheltered, academic shell.

The small, poisonous voice of her Adversary whispered, the only confidence you ever found was in the classroom or the laboratory. When you’re not lecturing over an autopsied body, you turn into a klutzy fool. You haven’t dated in years—actually decades now—and you rarely make new friends. You’re never going to have children of your own, and you’ve grown set in your ways as well. You’re starting a new life with the old you. All your old problems and old weaknesses have come with you, so how can you expect to truly change anything?