The Mortal Heart(7)

How long can I avoid it? How much time did he have until the Transition, when his powers and his thirst would be at their strongest?

Months? Weeks?

As he navigated through the damp stone that encased every inch of this particular Tunnel like a tomb, Macon let his mind drift back to Jane. He smiled at the thought of her navy peacoat, which was clearly meant for a man, and the way she seemed indifferent to her own beauty. Intelligence was a different matter.

She actually cares about ideas and opinions. About what people think and why they think it—unlike everyone else in my life.

Macon was still smiling when he opened the door to his study, until he noticed an unexpected—and uninvited—visitor.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” His brother Hunting lounged in Macon’s favorite armchair, with his black boots propped up on Macon’s claw-foot desk. Hunting picked up one of the books from the stack on the desk. “The Incubus and Succubus: Tracing the Roots of Bloodlust?” He tossed the rare book on the floor. “I can’t believe you read this crap. No wonder you’re depressed all the time.”

Macon crossed the room and shoved Hunting’s boots off his desk. “I don’t remember inviting you over or asking for your book recommendations—assuming you’ve learned to read by now.”

Hunting pointed a finger at his brother and winked, his pupil-less black eyes reflecting Macon’s image back at him. “Nice one. You can insult me later. I need a favor.”

Macon wasn’t interested in doing the sorts of favors that appealed to Hunting. “What is it this time? Grand larceny? Armed robbery? Am I getting warm?”

“Nothing quite that fun. Sorry to disappoint you.” Hunting rose and walked over to the mirror above Macon’s sink and admired his long canines. He had already Transitioned, becoming the newest addition to the Ravenwood family of Blood Incubuses. “I need a wingman. Found myself a pretty little Kappa Kappa Gamma debutante. Young and stupid, just the way I like ’em.”

Rage pulsed through Macon’s veins. “How many Mortal women have you bled dry since you Transitioned, Hunting? You tore your own girlfriend apart, for God’s sake.” It was an image burned in Macon’s memory—the sight of what was left of his brother’s Mortal girlfriend, a girl Hunting had loved as much as he was capable of loving anyone. Now Hunting was the equivalent of a supernatural serial killer, stalking Mortal girls with no mercy.

Hunting yawned. “Does that mean you aren’t coming?”

“Get out.” Macon pointed at the door. “I’m ashamed to share your blood.”

“But you do, whether you like it or not.” Hunting’s eyes narrowed. “And Silas is tired of waiting for you to come around.” They rarely referred to Silas as their father, maybe because he never acted like one.

Hunting glanced at the door and laughed. “Only a pathetic excuse for an Incubus would think I’d use the door.”

“I don’t care how you go, as long as you leave.”

“It’s funny,” Hunting said, looking his brother in the eye. “After all of Silas’ lectures about how I shouldn’t date a Mortal girl, you fall for one.”

Macon froze.

How does he know about Jane already?

Before Macon had a chance to ask him, Hunting dematerialized—disappearing into thin air, as if he’d never been there at all.

Macon dropped into his empty armchair, where his brother had been sitting only a moment ago. His head ached—along with his heart.

I’ll give it one week. Just to see what could’ve been—who I could’ve been. A glimpse of the life I’ll never know.

That’s not too much to ask, is it?

Macon already knew the answer, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it.





IV. Confessions


“Wake up. It’s almost noon. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you all week.” Marian walked into Lila’s room before she was fully awake. Marian was brushing her teeth, still wearing her silk kimono.

“Maybe I met someone,” Lila said, her head still under the pillow. “And my whole life has changed in the last six days”—her words were muffled—“and you were too busy working and going to class to notice.”

“Maybe you met someone?” Marian almost choked on her toothbrush. “You?”

Lila sat up on her futon. “He’s just helping me with a project. A prayer book or spell book or something. It’s not clear yet.”