Chapter 21

Silver

For a second, the name doesn’t click. We gawk, wide-eyed, at each other over Logan’s shoulder. Me, staring into the face of a potentially dangerous stranger—him, as if he’s seeing the ghost of Christmas past. I shoot a glance at Logan, who looks as though he’s about to throw up on my shoes, before allowing my gaze to rest fully on the broad-shouldered, handsome man in his apartment.

Victoria.

“I’m not Victoria,” I say in a wobbly voice.

Finally, the penny drops. He thinks I’m my mother.

The three of us continue to exchange horrified looks, and then the man with russet hair says in deep, angry tones, “What is this?”

He turns the full force of his glare on Logan, who turns to face him, hands in the air, as if facing a firing squad. “Whatever you do, leave Silver out of it.”

There is a whooshing sound, like wind through a tunnel, and Logan is flung back into the wall. The whole room seems to shudder, pink plaster crumbling onto the carpet. The man pins Logan by his neck to the wall, a forearm across his throat. “You were sent to glamour her, not date her. I trusted you, Logan. I warned you what would happen if you defied me.”

I launch myself onto the back of the man I’ve now realized is Logan’s boss, raining blows down onto his shoulders and spine. It’s like hitting concrete. “Stop it,” I screech. “Let him go.”

He releases Logan and spins around, eyes flashing like the sky in an electrical storm, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s about to attack me too. Instead, he gazes at me, pupils dilating. “Good God,” he says, running his hands through his reddish-brown hair, “you even have her voice.”

Taking the words as a sign he’s not likely to kill me right away, I drop to where Logan is collapsed in a heap. He clutches at his throat, and when he manages to speak, his voice is weak and wheezy. “Run, Silver.”

I shake my head, pushing messy, dark hair from his forehead and brushing bits of plaster from his shoulders. “Never.”

The sound of the front door slamming shut jolts my attention back to the man looming over us. I stand up, folding my arms across my chest to steady my trembling hands. “So I take it you’re the Godfather.” My tone is as hostile as a cupboard full of knives.

He looks startled, but then a corner of his mouth lifts into a smile. “Your mother was never afraid of me either.”

I flinch as if touched by a burning-hot poker. “Would you mind explaining just how you know my mother?”

From the floor, Logan groans, “Silver, be careful.”

“It doesn’t matter how I know her,” he says.

It’s the first time I’ve noticed a hint of a Scottish accent. I sweep a gaze over him. He is broad and muscular but with delicate features—china-blue eyes, a refined nose, his mouth is wide and expressive. If I didn’t know better, I would hazard a guess he laughed a lot. “Actually, it does matter.”

“Silver, you have to go.” Logan drags himself up, his voice stronger, grabbing my elbow in an iron grip.

“No,” I say forcefully. “The cat is out of the bag. I want to know the truth. If he’s going to murder us, I’m not going to my grave without the full story.”

“I’m not going to murder you, Silver,” Ronin says in smooth tones. “I’ve been trying to protect you.”

I screw my face up. “Why would you want to do that?”

He sighs, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets. “I loved your mother.”

My jaw goes slack. I dart a glance at Logan, who appears equally astonished, his brows raised. “No, you didn’t.”

The vampire gestures to the sofa. “You might like to take a seat.”

“You take a seat,” I snap.

Beside me, Logan mutters something in a low voice, but Ronin only smiles. “Let’s both take a seat.” He flicks a disgusted glance at Logan. “Lover boy can stand.”

I step warily toward the sofa and perch on the end. The thud of my heart is beginning to slow, although my palms are still slick with sweat. I wipe them discreetly on my jeans, clasping my hands in my lap. “Spill.”

Logan visibly pales at my abrupt tone, and I guess I should be more afraid too, but surely if he’d wanted to kill either of us, he would have done it by now. Besides, he doesn’t look like a psycho. He looks more like he’s just come from a photo shoot for GQ.

“I’m not sure if you know, but your mother was once involved with a vampire,” he begins.

“Stephen Clegg,” I cut in.

He nods. “He met her when she was very young and treated her extremely badly before moving on to his next victim.”

I swallow loudly. “Then she met my dad.”

“Yes. Soon after he left her, she met your father and had you. It was the happiest time of her life. She even named you Silver as a sort of good-luck gesture. After all, silver repels vampires in their transition period.”

“Dad always told me they chose it because it was unusual,” I say, frowning.

I twist my head to get a better look at him. He is leaning back in the seat, legs apart as if entirely comfortable in his surroundings. My eyes linger on the hands resting on his tailored trousers. Despite his muscular frame, they are not the hands of a thug. They are tapered and artistic-looking, with a sprinkling of russet hairs lit up by the watery sunlight from the window. It’s as though they belong to a different man. I stare, mesmerized by the notion they once touched my mother.

“Did he kill her? This Clegg?” I ask in a weak voice, my eyes returning to his face.

“No.”

I gape at him. I was so sure he was going to say yes. Logan sinks down onto a chair, his face a ghostly shade of white as he worries at his bottom lip.

“Who did?” I demand next.

He looks down at his hands. “I’m getting to that, Silver. It’s not as simple as you think.”

My heart begins to thud again. It’s not until I taste the coppery tang of blood in my mouth that I realize I’ve been biting the inside of my cheek. I meet Logan’s startled gaze.

Are you okay? he mouths.

I nod, forcing my eyes back to the man beside me. “So tell me.”

“When you were nine years old, Clegg got back in touch and said he wanted her back. Victoria was terrified. She was afraid for her family—particularly for you—so she ran away.”

“Where to?”

“London. She hoped he wouldn’t be able to trace her in a big city, but he did. He threatened her loved ones if she didn’t go with him. Most likely, he threw in a good bit of glamour too. She was under a glamour the night he brought her to my club in Soho.”

“Wait,” I say, throwing up my hands. “The police were searching for her, and she was in London all along?”

“It was only a couple of months at the most.” He pauses and then, as if reading my thoughts, says, “Clegg would no doubt have glamoured her not to contact home.”

I exhale slowly. “Carry on.”

A crease appears between his brows, and he throws Logan a puzzled look. “Is she always this bossy?”

Logan smiles at me and blinks, as if waking from a terrible dream. “Always.”

“He brought her to my club,” he continues. “I hadn’t met Stephen properly before, but I got the full measure of him that night. I could tell what the situation was.” He sighs, picking at an imaginary speck of lint on his sleeve. “I offered your mother a job, working the bar. I’ll admit, I was attracted to her, but it went further than that—I know a tortured soul when I see one. I felt compassion, something I hadn’t felt for anyone in many years. I wanted to help her.” He breaks off. Swirling in the arctic depths of his eyes is regret and sorrow. “I killed Stephen Clegg. She showed up for work one night, bruised and weak, and I lost my temper. He died the same night. I should never have done it.”

“Why?” I erupt. “He deserved it, surely?”

“Oh, he deserved it,” he says in an acid tone. “But I still shouldn’t have done it.”

Logan, who has been watching us in brooding misery ever since we sat down, says, “Please tell me this doesn’t have anything to do with the same vampire laws you mentioned earlier?”

“Of course it does,” he growls. “You think we can just pick and choose which rules apply? We’ve survived this long on earth by a strict code of honor. Even murderous bitches like Anastasia abide by it. Without laws, vampires would have destroyed each other long ago.”

Logan cocks an eyebrow. I know what he’s thinking. They should have destroyed each other long ago.

“What law are you going on about?” I ask. “And what does that have to do with you killing Stephen Clegg?”

The two vampires exchange surreptitious glances.

“I’m sure Logan has told you, especially seeing how fond he is of betraying his own kind, that we live in an almost coven-like structure. There are ancient laws in place to prevent random killings. When I killed Stephen Clegg, I opened a proverbial can of worms. Anastasia, as his ancient, was able to avenge his death.”

“What? Like an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth?” I ask in disbelief.

“Exactly. Except in this case, a death for a death.”

A chill rips through me. Surely he didn’t mean… “My mother,” I say.

There is a lengthy silence. “Anastasia didn’t find out right away who the perpetrator was. But it didn’t take her long. I tried to cover it up, of course. Particularly as I’d fallen head over heels in love by that point.”

I try not to blanch at the revelation. Even though I see the obvious attraction—he’s extremely good-looking—it’s still weird hearing my mother spoken about in that way by a person who isn’t Dad. “Did she feel the same?” I ask, pushing myself into the sofa, hoping it might swallow me whole, bracing myself for the inevitable answer.

“Yes,” he says softly. “Though it was fast and foolish on both our parts. But sometimes, timing and what’s right and what’s wrong goes right out the window.”

I look across at Logan, and our eyes lock. I momentarily lose myself within his glittering gaze.

“Yes,” I mutter, still staring at Logan. “I understand completely.”

“I tried to hide her, but Anastasia found out who she was. Word got back we were lovers. Anastasia decided to take your mother’s life to avenge Stephen Clegg.”

“And you just let her?” I ask in disgust. “You didn’t offer yourself instead?”

His eyes half close, a wave of pain crossing his face. When he speaks, his voice is like splintered glass. “Of course I did. I pleaded. I went down on my knees. But it made her even more determined. Jealousy is perhaps the biggest evil in the world. Anastasia is envious of all the good in others—love, beauty”—he throws a glance at Logan—“integrity. When she found out how much I adored Victoria, Victoria instantly became a target.”

“Why didn’t you kill her?” I demand, anger leaking into my voice.

He shakes his head. “I guess that’s one thing lover boy forgot to tell you. Ancients are next to impossible to destroy. I’ve never known one to die. We are not the same as those we create.”

“Why are you telling me this? Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell the authorities?” As the words leave my mouth, I’m struck like a knife in the ribs by a horrifying thought. What if he doesn’t intend to let us live to tell the tale?

As if he’s picked the words right out of my head, he says, “Silver, I would never harm you.” He shoots Logan a scathing look. “This is precisely what I was hoping to shield you from. Victoria would turn in her grave if she could see you dating a vampire. She didn’t get in contact with you after Clegg died for the simple reason that she didn’t want you involved in any of this.”

“So if you had your way, I’d be happily living my life repelled by Logan and all those like him?”

“Yes. I couldn’t believe it when your name was passed on to me by my contact at the Metropolitan Police. I knew it had to be Victoria’s daughter. I mean, how many Silver Harrises are there in the world?”

My eyes wander back to Logan, who is sunk back into the chair, head in hands, his fingers tightly woven in his messy brown hair. “Was she in pain?” I ask, unable to look at him directly. “When she died?”

I hold my breath as the quiet stretches on for an eternity. Logan looks up, his green eyes burning with sympathy.

“She died in my arms,” Ronin whispers at last. “Loved.”

I look away as a tear slides down my cheek. Logan jumps up, closing the short distance between us and pulling me from the sofa into his arms. I bury my head in the warmth of his chest, forgetting the other man for a moment, forgetting that he might want to kill us, and allowing myself the luxury of tears, the comfort of Logan’s strong arms around my back.

“What about her remains?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at him.

He is staring at Logan and me with an odd expression. His head tilted to one side, blue eyes sad, as if he’s not seeing us at all but remembering someone else. I wonder if he’s thinking of my mother. His voice is thick with grief when he speaks. “There is a beach house in Leigh-on-Sea where we spent a lot of time together. She’s buried in the little churchyard there.”

“How did you bury her without permission from her next of kin?” Logan asks.

“Money talks,” he replies grimly.

We lapse into an awkward silence for a minute or two. Then Logan says, “What will you do with us, Ronin?”

He rises from the sofa, and I feel Logan’s arms tighten protectively around me as he turns, standing like a barrier between Ronin and me.

Ronin notices, shaking his head. “What can I do, now I’ve seen all this?” He motions to us with a flick of his hand. “But know this, Logan. If it wasn’t for Silver, I’d be far less accommodating.”

“What about Anastasia, and Gerhard’s death?” he says. His hand, which has been rubbing circles into my back, stills.

“There is nothing I can do about our laws.” He stares meaningfully at the huge holdall by the door. “I’m assuming you were planning on running away together?”

We nod in unison.

“Good. Go as soon as you can. Anastasia will hear nothing from me about any of this. But I warn you, she will find out, Logan. She only has to find out there was an Irish vampire at the bar right before Gerhard died to know it was you.”

“How will she even know he was killed?” I pipe up.

“There is an invisible yet powerful string of connection between a vampire and the one who turned him,” Ronin says, his blue eyes drilling into mine. “She will feel the loss just the same as she knew when Stephen Clegg was killed. Of course, the sensible thing to do would be to part ways. That way Silver is out of danger. But seeing how you keep moon-eyeing each other, I have the feeling that won’t be happening anytime soon.”

I squeeze Logan’s hand tightly in mine. “No, it won’t,” I say quickly.

“Tried that,” Logan murmurs, gazing into my eyes and making my tummy flutter. “It didn’t work.”

Ronin lets out a long, weary sigh. “I’ll leave you to it.” He turns, toying with the gold cuff links on his sleeves and looking at me with a puzzled expression. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he says in his soft rumble of a Scottish accent. “I was startled by how much you look like her.”

The air turns awkward, heat rising up my neck. “That’s okay,” I mumble.

He nods. “If you’re a tenth of the woman she was, Logan here is a lucky man.”

Logan and I stare at each other like awkward teens whose love note just got read out loud in class. I poke my tongue out childishly, and he smiles, the color coming back into his cheeks.

Ronin crosses to the door.

“Wait,” I say. “Before you go—thank you for telling me the truth about what happened to her.”

He smiles, and it’s as though someone lit him up from the inside out. I glimpse how he must have looked to my mother—a dashing hero who rescued her from the clutches of a wicked man. It’s no wonder she fell for him.

“You’re welcome,” he says, his voice cracking with emotion.

He reaches for the door handle, but before opening it, he turns back, shoulders tightly set, and gazes at us. “Do your mother a favor, Silver,” he says, eyes glassy with emotion. “Stay alive.”

Logan and I exchange fretful glances, but when we look back, the door is softly clicking shut and Ronin is gone.