Generation V (25 page)

I asked her to stay in the car, and she nodded, making a show of settling herself and closing her eyes for a nap in the sunshine.

I walked up the plain gray flagstone path to the door with all the speed of molasses in winter. With every step I wanted to turn around and go back to the car, give all of this up. Spend the rest of the afternoon on the sofa watching movies, and get up early for my scheduled work shift tomorrow. I knew that if I did that, no one would think any worse of me. A few people might actually think better of me. And I wouldn’t have to face the horror that had ended my childhood in a night of blood and terror.

It wasn’t any kind of courage that got me to her door. It wasn’t any greater sign of adulthood that made me ring her doorbell, or keep standing there when I heard the sound of her footsteps inside. If I could’ve avoided facing her alone for the rest of my very, very long life, I would have.

It was Amy who kept me there as the door began to open. Because I was the only hope she had, and wasn’t that completely unfair? She deserved a hero, and all she had was me. Poor little girl. But I’d let Maria down, and I wasn’t going to do the same with Amy.

Prudence stood in the doorway, her lip curling ever so slightly. “Fortitude,” she said coldly. “What an unwelcome surprise.” Her critical gaze swept downward, taking in my T-shirt, my pajama bottoms, and the orange blotches that were visible on my face and arms. “I see you have decided to give me another example of your so-called age-appropriate attire.”

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to be pleasant. “I’m so glad you’re home, Prudence,” I said. “Can I come in?”

Prudence was dressed down for a day at home, or at
least as dressed down as she ever got. I guess that when you grew up in the times of lace-up dresses, tri-corn hats, and stomachers, there’s really only a certain level of casual-wear that you’re going to be able to handle. For Prudence, a casual day at home meant beige linen slacks, low matching heels, and a short-sleeved white sweater. A string of pearls around her neck completed her Stepford wife look. Her clothes went with the house—or from the snowy white carpet, the white walls, and the very modern beige furniture, at least as much of the house that I could see. The first floor was just the garage and a small stairwell that led up to her living room. Through an open doorway I could see a formal dining room, and the closed door probably led to her kitchen. Another staircase led up again, I assumed to the bedrooms, but I hadn’t come for a tour and Prudence didn’t offer one. The only point of color anywhere was Prudence’s fire-engine-red hair.

Ever the gracious and welcoming hostess, Prudence got a towel out of the downstairs bathroom for me to sit on, rather than risking the possibility that I would get her sofa dirty if my clothing was allowed unimpeded contact. Since I was here to try and ask a favor, I bit my tongue and didn’t comment, just spreading the towel out as directed and sitting down on it gingerly. I waited in the living room while Prudence went into the kitchen and returned with a warm Diet Coke, which she handed me.

“Don’t spill this,” she said. Oh, the manners of a more civilized era. She settled herself down in a small upholstered chair across from me. Beige on beige. I set the Coke down, unopened, on the coffee table.

There was a small scuttling sound from the kitchen.
“Did you get a cat?” I asked politely. Maybe some ice-breaking conversation would soften her up.

“I acquired a pet recently,” Prudence said.

I waited. She didn’t say anything else. Oh-kay.

“So, how is business going?” I tried. Prudence works in finance, dipping her fingers in a lot of stocks and investment banking, and so far has been extremely successful at having other people go to jail for her. Madeline’s political contacts always manage to give her a heads-up when people in suits are about to start asking questions about certain unsavory and borderline illegal business practices, and so Prudence is able to take her retirement package and liquidate her stock right before FBI agents storm the building with warrants.

“Fine.”

Another pause. A few blinks. Some more scuffling sounds from the kitchen, then nothing but long and uncomfortable silence.

Finally Prudence leaned forward and said, “I don’t like you.”

I nodded. That hadn’t exactly been the family secret.

“You hate me,” she continued. Again, very true, and I nodded again. “Yet today you have arrived on my doorstep. I don’t want to exchange pleasantries. I don’t want to feign an interest in your opinions or life. I want you to tell me what you want so that I can say no and get you out of my house.”

No one can be blunt like my sister, but I nodded. “Okay,” I said. And then I told her.

I told her everything, starting from when we parted ways after Madeline’s hospitality ceremony for Luca. Maria’s body, the Grann girls’ abduction, killing Phillip,
finding Jessica’s body, realizing that Amy was still alive. I laid it all out, and she listened, not saying a word. She sat perfectly straight in her chair, her ankles precisely crossed, watching me intently. There wasn’t a single flicker of emotion in her dark blue eyes at any point, but for once I had her full attention.

I finished, and waited. Prudence leaned back slowly, and steepled her hands, tapping her index fingers together with a slow, thoughtful precision as she considered.

“You have suddenly become very interesting, little brother,” she finally said.

My heart leaped, and I struggled to contain my hope as I asked, “So will you help me?”

“I could.” The tapping of those two fingers was the only movement in her body, and it stayed slow and steady. “Mother cannot command my obedience as easily now, and she has not asked me to stay out of this. And I may well be stronger than Luca, for all that he wanders free of his blood parent and I do not. And it would be sweet indeed to kill him.” Her expression changed for the first time, her eyelids dropping slightly, and an almost sexual anticipation crossing her face when she considered killing Luca.

My heart was beating faster, and I had to clench my fists. The thought of being around Prudence when she killed was enough to make my stomach roil, but if that was how I could get her to help me, I would take it. I didn’t care what her motives were, just what her actions resulted in. “Will you help me?” I repeated. “Will you save Amy?”

Prudence’s eyes opened completely when I mentioned
Amy’s name, and then she gave a short, high laugh that grated on my nerves. “You really are foolish,” she said, that familiar sneer returning to her face. “Mother has not commanded me because she does not need to. Why should I care about a child I have never met? Why should I care whether her death is quick or messy? But you care very much. How interesting.”

I fought down my temper hard. “You don’t have to care,” I said, forcing out each word. “You wouldn’t do it for her. You’d do it for you.” She lifted one eyebrow curiously, and I rushed on. “To prove that you’re stronger than Luca.” I could only hope that ego would work as an appeal. Prudence had plenty of that. “He made a host, even though he’s younger than you. You haven’t done that, so people would think he’s stronger than you. If you beat him, and take his toy away, no one will think that anymore.”

Something flickered in Prudence’s blue eyes, something dangerous and feral, but it was gone in an instant, and her mouth widened in a cold, thin smile. “Is that what you think?” she asked. Then she called, “Desiree! Come here!”

The shuffling sound from the kitchen got louder, and I turned and looked as a thin woman in her early thirties crawled into the room. She had long dark hair and a face that probably used to be very pretty, and she was clean and presentable, her clothing a near match to Prudence’s. But there was nothing sane in the dark brown eyes that passed over me as if I were another piece of furniture. There were no marks of any kind on her, except where she’d bitten into her own lip so many times that it was just raw meat, but she flinched when Prudence
looked at her, and cringed backward, whimpering, like a beaten dog.

“Desiree, come here,” Prudence repeated sharply, and the woman crawled to her. There was something wrong in the way she moved. Muscles spasmed, making her shake constantly, and when she pulled herself forward on her arms her elbows wiggled bonelessly, empty sausages of flesh that moved against the joints.

There was no way to look away. There was something rotten in the way she smelled that had nothing to do with dirt, because she was immaculately scrubbed. Finally she was at Prudence’s feet, and pressed her face against Prudence’s knee. Prudence leaned down and patted the top of her head absently, as if rewarding a half-senile dog. Then my sister looked back up to me, and smiled at the revulsion that I had been incapable of hiding.

“Yes,” she said. “You see now. Why should I care what Luca does?”

“You’ve made a host?” My voice was barely above a whisper, and my throat still rasped against it.

“Not a very good one, I’m afraid,” Prudence said with another negligent pat to Desiree. We might as well have been talking about a poorly cooked casserole for all the emotion Prudence showed. “I’ve only had her a month, and she’s failing fast. I’m a long way from brooding yet. But Desiree is a sign of something better—that my days at Mother’s skirts are drawing to a close.”

I knew without asking that it was definitely something that Prudence had been doing behind Madeline’s back. But if she’d kept it secret from Madeline, and was now showing me…I stiffened. “You’re showing me this
because you plan to kill me?” I asked. I didn’t quite achieve that James Bond level of careless inquiry that I was aiming for. My voice was tight and tense, but I was at least able to say it. I didn’t look away from Prudence, whose smile widened at my question, showing me that her fangs had partially extended, razor-sharp needles in her mouth. She could kill me well before I could make it to the door, and I’d left my bodyguard behind. I kicked myself mentally at my stupidity—my family members were probably the very people I needed the most protection from.

Prudence let the tense moment drag on; then she laughed again, high and cruel. “No, stupid boy. Mother would know in an instant if I spilled your blood, and I won’t move yet. But Luca will be quite capable of killing you, and you’re going to be so thoughtful as to give him the chance.” Prudence’s eyes brightened, the pupil expanding to cover her bright blue irises with gleaming black until looking at her was like looking into the eyes of a great white shark.

“Don’t you think I’d tell Mother about your activities?” I asked, struggling to find some kind of hook, some element of blackmail. Anything to force Prudence to do what I needed her to. “I could call her on a cell phone. I could text her right now.” Well, I could’ve if my phone was still working, but Prudence didn’t need to know about that.

Prudence made a sharp, impatient gesture. “Stop these empty threats. You won’t even dare contact her because you won’t risk her stopping you from trying to get that little girl away from Luca. Because you’re the last hope that child has, even though it’s as false as fool’s gold.”

Prudence moved the hand that had still been patting Desiree’s head down to caress the back of her neck. Desiree’s whimpering became louder, but she never flinched or moved her eyes away from Prudence’s face. Another stroke, and then Prudence’s hand tightened, and there was a movement too fast for my eyes to follow, a cracking sound that filled the room, and Desiree slumped to the floor, her head flopping on a neck that could no longer support it. Her mad eyes emptied, and her mouth dropped open in a silent O of surprise. Prudence nudged the body with one expensive shoe and sniffed. I stayed where I was, frozen.

“Mother is old and powerful,” Prudence said, “and perhaps even wise. But she made a mistake when she made you the way she did, Fortitude. A mistake she continues even now.” Her vampire black eyes were blazing as she stared at me, and none of her hatred was hidden now in that virulent glow. “No vampire should care like you do. Mother refuses to see the implications of her actions, and Chivalry has always been too weak and loves you too much to ever move against you, but I see. I am glad indeed that Luca will correct Mother’s mistake.” Her voice dropped, and she hissed, “I envy him the opportunity.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded. “What was different about the way she made me?”

Prudence reached down and squeezed the dead girl’s neck, crushing the remaining bones beneath her deceptively delicate hand. “Run away, little brother,” she whispered. “Run away and die.”

There were no answers here, and no help at all. I left, walking fast, but forcing myself not to run even when I
had to turn my back on her as she sat there in that bland living room, grinding up Desiree’s body in her hands and staring at me with deathly malevolence. I was shivering when I got back to the car, despite the hot afternoon sun, and Suzume took one look at my face and didn’t have to ask me what Prudence had said.

Back to the apartment, where I changed clothes in the bathroom. An old pair of broken-in hiking boots, jeans, and a long-sleeved shirt. That was about as vampire-hunter-y as my wardrobe could supply. It would’ve been nice to top it off with a cool leather jacket, but the best I owned was a cheap windbreaker that had my alma mater stamped on the back. Besides, it was June and temperate. I’d put an undershirt on under my long-sleeved shirt and was already uncomfortably warm in the un-air-conditioned apartment, but I had to keep in mind that I might find myself having to clothe Suzume again, so I’d made it a point to have two layers on top.

I scrubbed my face in the sink, getting off a little bit of the orange stain, enough that at least at first glance I looked unremarkable again. I looked at myself in the mirror and took a few deep breaths. Prudence had been the monster in my nightmares since I was nine years old. It should’ve been at least marginally therapeutic to face her alone and on her own turf. I thought of Desiree, changed into something no longer human and then thrown aside because she hadn’t been what the monster had wanted. Just like Jessica Grann, who’d been stolen, broken, then killed because she wasn’t the kind of toy that Luca wanted. They were both monsters, Luca and Prudence. The only difference was in who held their leashes.