Mercy
I picked a long gown for the day ahead, covering my legs, the neck high and concealing me well. I was done with the skimpy outfits and the endless flirting. And I already felt more myself. The self that was buried inside me, whispering to me in the quiet, the dark. When I was alone I felt okay. Alone meant I didn't have to pretend, I didn't have to act.
Not that that had been easy since I'd been returned to my family. Brendan had told me to lie, to tell them Kite and I had survived the attack on the yacht and been picked up by a fishing boat. I'd expected my parents to question me a little harder when we'd located them at my cousin's estate in Norway, but they'd swallowed the lie as easy as anything.
Mum stepped into my hotel room in a fitted black jumpsuit that accentuated her curves. She always looked like a true Hunter, an angel of death. That wasn't what mums were supposed to looked like, was it? They were supposed to be soft and comforting, their eyes shouldn't have held so much hate and anger. Why was she so angry? She had everything she could ever want for and more.
She clicked her fingers at Kite who was standing quietly in the corner and pointed to the bathroom. It was pointless, considering she would be able to hear everything we said anyway. But Kite bowed to my mum's show of power, heading into the bathroom without a word.
My mother's eyes flicked up and down my outfit, her mouth shifting into a scowl. “What's going on, Mercy?”
“What do you mean?” I returned my eyes to the vanity unit before me, gazing at my reflection, applying a soft coral lipstick.
“We need to keep acting as normal. I don't want the spectators to be put off attending another one of our games.” She floated through the room, gazing around at the clean space. I was notoriously messy, trying on a hundred outfits before I settled on one. Not anymore. It was easy now I wasn't trying to impress anyone.
“I am acting normal,” I said simply. Only, normal for me was something I hadn't ever had the luxury of being. So it must have looked odd to her.
She rested a hand on my bare shoulder, her sharp nails running gently over my collar bone. “Wear one of the dresses I chose for you. They're in the wardrobe.”
“I know where they are,” I bit out. I'd ordered a new selection from reception the second I'd seen them. The array of skimpy little numbers that would serve unwanted looks from the men, brushes of fingers across my waist. No thank you. Not anymore.
Mother's nails dug in as she bent down, locking eyes with me in the mirror. “Then why aren't you wearing one of them?”
I couldn't hold her gaze for long, looking down at my makeup bag as I extracted a mascara from it. “Because I don't want to.”
“And why not? The men won't look at you if you aren't dressed appropriately.”
I stood, knocking her hand from my shoulder, my pulse thumping in my ears. “Maybe I don't want them to look anymore.” I turned, forcing myself to glare up at her.
She was so tall. Over six foot in her heels. I'd always been short, but at that moment I felt minuscule. She sighed dramatically, walking away from me. “Why are you being so difficult?” She walked purposefully to the wardrobe, taking out a little silver dress and laying it on the bed. “Change into this. I'll meet you downstairs in five minutes.”
She headed toward the door and I forced the word out of my mouth that was stuck in my throat, “No.”
She paused, her fingers lingering on the door handle. “No?” she breathed, not turning to face me.
I glared directly at her, straightening my shoulders. “No,” I confirmed. Maybe she wouldn't take this that badly. Maybe if I stood up to her, she'd listen. She was my mother after all.
Mum spun on her heel, storming toward me and grabbing hold of my wrist, half dragging me toward the silver dress. “You're being petulant. Do you really want to cause an argument with me after everything I've been through?”
“Everything you've been through?” I asked bitterly.
“Yes, I lost my baby boy and now you're acting up to get my attention. Well I can't offer it to you right now, Mercy, I have too much on my mind.”
I snatched my wrist from her grip, glaring up at her. “I lost him, too.”
“Of course you did, my girl.” She reached for my cheek, softening. “So let's all pull together and do what's best for our family.”
Hot, pent-up rage flooded through my veins. “And whoring myself out is what's best for our family?” I blurted.
My mother paused, her features darkening, the emotion in her eyes vanishing like a snuffed candle. She struck me, her palm clapping hard across my face. “Enough of this,” she hissed. “You'll bring shame on our family. Sometimes I wish-” She shut her eyes a moment and I took a second to rub my stinging cheek, hurt cutting through me.
“You wish what?” I whispered, shrinking back into my former self.
She opened her eyes, taking in a sharp breath to contain her anger. “That it wasn't Ignus who we'd lost.”
I withdrew from her, appalled that she could say such a thing and heartbroken that she would. Tears choked me, welling until they spilled over. “I've done everything you've ever asked of me!”
“Oh darling...” She reached for me but I flinched away. “All I mean is that Ignus worked hard for our family. And family is the most important thing of all. You've done well in the past, but you never took an interest in pursuing greatness, of carrying on the family legacy. What will happen to our heritage when your father and I are gone?” She shook her head, mournful. “If only you tried a little harder-”
“Harder?” I snapped, insulted. “What more can I do, Mother? Would you have me strip naked and dance in the whorehouse for the men with the other girls? Or would you rather I spilled blood like Daddy does? Like Ignus did? Torture Immortals until they fall into line?”
She grimaced at me, suspicion flaring in her gaze. “Where is this coming from? You're not yourself.”
I took a step back, bile rising in my throat. “Maybe I'm just done with being a part of this dysfunctional family.”
A warning flared in my mother's eyes. “You ungrateful little brat.” She lunged forward as if to hit me again, but I was faster, lurching aside and throwing my own hand up.
The slap I delivered her cut the air to ribbons. I was frozen, surprised at what I'd done, perhaps as much as my mother was from the look on her face.
I took a wary step back, pointing a trembling finger at her. “What we do as a family is wrong. We don't have to hold the V Games anymore. We can start afresh.” If I could only make her see my point of view, maybe I could save her and my father from the fight that was coming. Varick and the others might have promised not to hurt them, but I didn't have high hopes of them keeping that vow.
Mother deliberated my words, glowering at me. “I always knew Varick got into your head. When he was ours, you pitied him, spared him punishments that he'd earned.” She batted my pointed finger aside, striding into my personal space and tilting her chin up. “Helsings do not take pity on Vampires.”
“I don't pity him,” I breathed, my courage nearly failing me as I added, “I love him.”
She snatched a fistful of my hair, yanking backwards so I was held in place, forcing me to look up at her.
She practically spat venom as she snarled, “You will never speak those words again. You insult me – our entire family! Do you hear me?!”
I yelped as she pulled back sharply, my neck aching from how hard she did so.
“Well?” she demanded.
“Yes, yes!” I squealed to make her let go.
She released me and I stumbled back, clutching my hair where it had been nearly tugged from the roots.
Mother moved to the door again, halting just before she left. “I won't tell your father of this, be thankful of that.”
She left, and I sank to the floor, clutching my chest where my heart was beating frantically. I ducked my head into my knees, letting a few more tears flow before I found enough resolve to stop.
What was I going to do now? Fall into line again? Put on that silver dress?
I looked at it on the bed, standing and decidedly snatching it in my fist. Heading to the balcony, I opened the door and let the howling wind take it from my hand. It sailed out over the street below before following the breeze toward the lake and gently cascading into it.
I was done with following rules. Blindly letting people die under my watch. I loved my parents with all my heart, but I couldn't let them continue this madness any longer. I wouldn't.
The only problem was, standing up to my mother was one thing. But my father, I feared. Standing up to him was the most frightening thing I'd ever have to do. But I would try.
I have to try.
Kite stepped out of the bathroom, moving toward me with a strange look on her face. “They aren't going to change who they are, Mercy.”
I battled back tears, turning away from her. “What do you know? You don't know anything about family. People can change for the ones they love.”
Kite was silent for so long, I glanced around to be sure she hadn't left the room again. Her expression was dark. “I get why you want them to live, but do you really think they're worth saving?”
My heart crumbled at her words. I refused to answer that question aloud. But inside, a tiny voice answered it for me. A voice I crushed and stamped on, trying to force it away.
No. And I'm not either.