MORTAL COILS (100 page)

“You
are lovelier than I remembered,” Louis said.

“Step
away from the Abomination,” Grandmother said to Eliot and Fiona, “before he
does more harm.”

Fiona
looked back and forth between them. Grandmother and Louis recognized each
other. Fiona had a sinking feeling, though, that this was much more than simple
recognition. “You two know each other?”

“Know?”
Louis’s lips quirked into a devilish grin. “Of course. The question is,
children, do you know who this woman is?”

“She’s
our grandmother,” Eliot said, his words fading into uncertainty.

Fiona
felt the wrongness of her brother’s statement as well. Had everything they’d
been told been part of some great deception?

“Who
are you?” Fiona whispered to her grandmother.

Grandmother
stood stoic and silent.

“Allow
me then to make the necessary introductions,” Louis said.

“You
dare not,” Grandmother breathed.

“Audrey
Post,” Louis continued, ignoring her threat. “She has been called the Pale
Rider; She Who Cuts the Threads of Life; the eldest Fate, Atropos . . . and the
woman I fell in love with almost sixteen years ago. Eliot, Fiona, allow me to
introduce you to your mother.”

The
word rang like a cathedral bell in Fiona’s ears.

Mother?

The
way Grandmother—no, her mother—glared at Louis: the anger and

betrayal
etched on her face . . . yes, Louis had just revealed her greatest secret.

Their
greatest secret.

Fiona
loved her. Admired her. But this hurt more than the trials, the cutting, the
poisoning from the chocolates, or anything she’d been through the last few
days. Her mother—so long had she dreamed that against all odds she might be
alive. How many nights had Fiona cried herself to sleep wanting her mother to
hold and comfort her? She had grieved all her life . . . but for no reason. Her
mother had always been by her side.

Lying.

Fiona
had to know more, but something had just broken inside her and she couldn’t
make her mouth form the words.

Her
brother, however, was stronger and voiced the one thought in their minds.

“Why?”
Eliot whispered.

“I
told you, children,” Audrey said, her tone icy cold, “step away, so I may
destroy this monster.”

“No,”
Fiona said softly, and then louder, “we’re not moving until you tell us why you
lied. Didn’t you love us?”

Audrey
took a step backward, looking as if she’d been slapped. “That is not a question
with a simple answer.”

“Please,
Audrey,” Louis said, and crossed his arms. “Don’t be shy. We are rapt to hear
your explanation of this delectable deception.”

Audrey
regained her composure and narrowed her eyes at Louis. “It is true. I am your
mother. What I’ve done, I had to. I would change nothing . . . save one mistake
when I spared one who deserved neither my love nor my mercy.”

“Mercy?!”
Louis laughed. “I would’ve hated to see your undiluted wrath, m’lady.”

“Come,
children,” Audrey said, her face flushing. “Now is not the proper time for this
discussion.”

Fiona
felt the world spin around her. Her mother. Right in front of her. She wanted
to run to her and scream that it had all been so unfair.

Fiona
steadied herself against Eliot. She may have not liked her brother half the
time; he constantly annoyed her and was forever getting into trouble, but at least
she knew who he was. He hadn’t lied to her his entire life.

Fiona
looked at him and Eliot glanced up at her. He nodded, communicating that he
felt the same way.

Fiona
faced her mother. The world was burning around them, but they weren’t leaving
this spot until they got some answers.

“There
never was a proper time to discuss this. So tell us. Now.”

Audrey’s
slender eyebrows arched. “That, young lady, almost sounded like a threat.”

“Almost?”
Fiona whispered. “Let me be clear then: it was a threat. One more order from
you, one more lie . . . and we go right now with our father. At least he’s
willing to talk.”

Louis
clapped his hands. “A fine ultimatum, my dear. Just a hint of irony to it, as
well. Brilliant!”

Audrey
stood motionless, considering a long moment, then said, “Very well, Fiona. The
truth you shall have. All of it.” Audrey’s gaze fell; she could no longer meet
Fiona’s unwavering stare. “I severed my maternal ties,” she whispered, “all
those feelings . . . I had to. The imposition of our household rules, the
discipline—no real mother could have inflicted those things upon her children.
There was nothing I could have denied either of you, I once loved you so much.”

Fiona
could not count the times she had wanted her mother’s love— instead she had
rules, chores, or a history lesson. Tears blurred her vision and a dozen images
of Audrey swam before her.

“Had
I not fabricated the charade,” Audrey continued, “had you learned who you were
and discovered your talents sooner, they would’ve found you. You would have not
been prepared for the families. Adopting the pretense of being your
grandmother, allowing you to think your parents both dead— it was the only way
to keep you isolated . . . and alive.”

It
made sense intellectually. Having an emotionally distant grandmother instead of
a mother—having to live like hermits—Fiona and Eliot had learned to depend upon
each other instead of a loving parent. Maybe that all added up to their having
a chance of surviving the Infernal and Immortal families.

Still,
in her heart, Fiona could not find forgiveness.

“You
must give her another chance,” Louis whispered. “We have all done terrible
things because we think them best.” He looked to Audrey. “Even now, I shall not
hate you, my dear.”

Audrey’s
face quivered with barely restrained emotions.

“Another
chance?” Fiona whispered. How could she forgive her mother when all that was
left inside her was cold grief and boiling rage?

Eliot
touched her arm. “It’s over now. All their tests and the trials. The

families”—he
glanced at Louis—“both of them, have revealed themselves. We can make a fresh
start.”

Fiona
remembered what Cee had told her that night in the hospital: that Audrey had
cut herself as well and made great sacrifices for them. Severing her love for
her children? What did that leave? Only maternal duty? Fiona couldn’t imagine
what that must have been like. Had it been an act of ultimate love? One of
wretched weakness? Or both?

“Okay,”
Fiona whispered to Audrey, then turned to Louis. “We’re done here. Eliot and I
won’t be fought over like prizes. We’ve survived the three trials, and whatever
the other side of the family had planned. We’ve earned the right to be
treated—if not like Immortals or Infernals—then at least like adults.”

Eliot
stood closer, united in this stance against their parents.

For
a moment neither Audrey nor Louis spoke.

“Magnificent,”
Louis breathed. “Truly masterful rebelliousness. I am proud to call you my son
and my daughter.”

Fiona
couldn’t quite tell if he was mocking them or not. But it didn’t matter what
Louis thought. This is how she and Eliot felt. This is how it had to be.

“Of
course,” Audrey finally replied. “It shall be as you say.”

“And
the rules,” Eliot said.“There’s going to be changes to the List.”

Audrey
pursed her lips, not liking this pronouncement one bit, but nonetheless she
nodded.

Fiona
felt it was finally over. One life had ended and a new one was about to begin.
She wasn’t sure if it would be better, but it would at least be one on their
own terms.

“Let’s
go,” she told Eliot.

“Go,
yes,” Louis said. “But go where? My offer remains. You have an entire other
family who would be delighted to meet you. Well . . .” He made a rude gesture
at the deflated corpse of Beelzebub. “He hardly counts anymore.”

“I
don’t think—” Fiona started.

“There
are different worlds,” Louis continued, “new lands you have never seen or
imagined . . . to explore . . . or to conquer and make yours.”

Fiona
looked at her brother and slowly shook her head. He nodded in agreement.

“We’re
not saying no,” Eliot told Louis. “But we’re just not ready for you.

It’s
going to take us a while to figure out who we are and where we fit in this
world before we deal with the other side of the family.”

“I
understand,” Louis said with a sigh. “Very wise. I will always be here for you,
though. Just call upon me and I shall come.”

He
took a step into the shadows of the sole remaining wall. He then bowed to
Audrey. “My lady, deepest regrets that things have not worked out differently.”

Audrey
gritted her teeth. “If I see you again, if I even hear that you have been near
Eliot or Fiona . . . I shall find you, Louis, and this time sever much more
than your power.”

Louis
laughed. “I look forward to that encounter. Have I expressed how much I still
admire and love you?”

He
bowed and bowed and continued to step back into the shadow that was only a
hand’s-span deep . . . fading from view until their father, Louis Piper,
Lucifer, the Prince of Darkness, was gone.

“Good-bye,
Dad,” Fiona whispered. She thought she might actually miss him.

After
a moment, the Posts walked back to Midway Avenue.

Eliot
ran to his violin, plucked it out of the gutter, and cradled it to his chest.

Audrey
frowned at the thing with its tangle of broken strings, but said nothing.

Del
Sombra was dying—every building demolished or on fire or both. At the edge of
town were flashing lights and plumes of steam, but the center of Del Sombra . .
. no one was even trying to save it.

A
Humvee rolled down the street, nudging cars out of its path. It stopped. Robert
got out and opened a door for Fiona.

“Now
we go,” Audrey said.

Fiona
took one last look at the place she had spent her entire life. Ringo’s, the
Pink Rabbit . . . and farther down the street, Oakwood Apartments blazed—all
three stories of it engulfed in flame and billowing smoke.

All
her books. All her things. Everything that had been in her old life— gone.

“Go
where?” Eliot asked.

“Away.”
Audrey set her hands consolingly upon Fiona’s shoulders. “This place has served
its purpose. We need it no more.”

Fiona
climbed into the Humvee.

She
wasn’t sure where they’d go or what fate had in store for them, but at least
Eliot would be with her, and now her mother, and somewhere out there even
Louis.

No
matter how strange, no matter how dangerous or awkward or dysfunctional, they
were . . . and always would be . . . her family.

SECTION
VIII

A
NEW GAME

76