Page 80 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

Brynleigh was grounding herself in the one thing she knew—pain. Pulling forth memories of the past, the vampire did something she rarely allowed herself to do.

She remembered the night her family died.

“I saw Mrs. Caldwell at the store yesterday.” Isolde Larkspur, Brynleigh’s mother, scrubbed at a pot in the sink while Brynleigh dried the dishes by hand.

“Oh?” Brynleigh’s fingers tightened around the pale blue dinner plate.

Her mother didn’t notice. “Yes. She mentioned Jonah will be returning home next month. He’ll be staying with his parents until the new year.” She smiled at her daughter, a twinkle in her blue eyes. “He’s going to be here for the Winter Solstice.”

Isolde was not subtle.

Brynleigh stared out the window. The cloudless sky was tinged with orange as the evening slowly gave way to night. “That’s nice, Mama.”

Please drop this, she silently added. Brynleigh knew where this was going. She and Jonah had known each other since they were children. He was a few years older than her, but she hadn’t seen him since her return from university last year.

“And he’s single.” Isolde bumped her hip against Brynleigh’s. “Maybe you should see if he’s interested in being your date to the family holiday party?”

There was no way Brynleigh could miss the note of hopefulness in her mother’s voice. She groaned. “We’re just friends, Mama.”

“But you could be more!”

That was unlikely. When Brynleigh was six and Jonah was nine, she’d witnessed the unfortunate event of Jonah eating a worm. There wasn’t enough time to make her forget that. “I don’t think so.”

The neighbors probably heard Isolde’s responding sigh. In the beginning, Brynleigh had found Isolde’s not-so-subtle approaches to matchmaking amusing, but now they were becoming dreary. She wasn’t even sure she wanted a relationship. She’d enjoyed her time at the University of Balance, experimenting with men and women as one did, but for now, she was happy to focus on her life.

She’d returned home to work in her parents’ general store, unsure of what she wanted to do with her life. Chavin was a small town filled with hardworking humans. It wasn’t a big city, but it was home, and Brynleigh liked it here. If her parents could make a life here, she could, too.

Isolde handed the pot to Brynleigh, and her gaze swept over her daughter as she leaned on the counter. “I want you to be happy, Brynny. That’s all.”

“I know.” And she did. She’d never doubted her parents’ love.

“We love you,” her mother added. “It’s important that we see you settled.”

Isolde meant well. Her actions, though overbearing, were filled with love. Brynleigh knew her parents meant well. They had a good family life, and she couldn’t complain about her childhood.

Setting the pot on the drying rack, Brynleigh sat at the round kitchen table and picked up the navy skein of yarn she was working on. Wrapping it around the knitting needle, she purled three stitches. “I am happy.”

Her mother sat across from her and picked up her own project. “But you could be happier.”

Brynleigh chuckled and shook her head. “Let it go, Mama, please.”

Soon, the steady clicking of knitting needles filled the kitchen as the two women silently worked. This was the fourth time she and Isolde had this conversation this summer. Brynleigh was starting to understand why many of her friends hadn’t moved back home after school.

“What the hell?” Isolde swore.

Brynleigh dropped a stitch, her mother’s harsh language so out of place from her usual calm demeanor. She jerked up her head and turned around. The moment Brynleigh looked out the window, a slew of curses slipped from her own tongue.

The sky was an ominous dark gray edged with green. Lightning bolts shot above the endless plains of the Western Region. The wind swirled, and shouts came from outside.

Isolde didn’t scold Brynleigh for using foul language. Instead, she ran as quickly as she could out of the kitchen. “Gavin! Sarai!” Her voice was frantic. “Come quickly!”

Abandoning her knitting, Brynleigh raced after her mother.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs of the modest two-story home as Gavin raced towards them. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Look!” Isolde raised a shaking finger to the bay window in the living room.

Seconds later, Gavin was barking into his phone, calling the police.

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