Page 60 of Barely Breathing

“We’re taking care of it,” she says.

“What does that mean?”

She looks at me like I should know the answer already. I half expect her not to say.

“We won’t hurt them,” she assures me, “if that’s what you’re asking. It means that their medical bills will be taken care of, and we’ll see to it they have thebest doctors. Memories might have to be erased. The police reports will be handled depending on the outcome of this whole situation. If we don’t stop their plans, all of this preparation might be for nothing. But they matter to you, so they matter to this family.”

That last sentence might be the nicest thing she’s ever said to me.

I can’t feel pleasure in it, though.

“The wolves won’t…” It’s a stupid question, and I stop myself before I finish it. Of course, the werewolves will hurt Diana. That’s the whole reason they took her.

“I should tell you that I sent Lorelai with him. She wanted to help, and I thought it best to get her out of the city.” Astrid’s voice carries that familiar dismissiveness toward humans. It’s how she’s always handled complications by removing them from the equation. “There is nothing she can do here but get in the way. This battle is not for mere mortals. We can’t be distracted by… well.”

I don’t tell her that Anthony already told me.

“I understand,” I answer, recognizing the pattern. Astrid is managing every detail, just like she managed the truth about my birth for twenty-eight years. Some things never change. However, I noticed she at least told me about sending Lorelai away thistime. Maybe that’s progress. At least Lorelai will be safe.

“Go put on your shoes,” Astrid orders. “I’ll have the chef make you a breakfast sandwich to go.”

“Go where?” I frown.

“Constantine’s,” she says, her eyes dipping to my amulet. “He can’t come to us, so we’re going to him. We are Devines. And Devine ladies do not wait for men to grace us with their presence. If we left the world to men, we would have lost it long ago.”

The change in her toward me is starting to make sense. I wield Draakmar’s power through the amulet. I may be mortal, but I now have access to powerful magic. This makes me closer to an equal in her eyes.

It’s not quite what a daughter wants from a mother, but then I don’t live in a world of perfect families and happy endings. I live in the real world. This world. The supernatural world.

Chapter

Sixteen

It feels strange standing next to Astrid as the elevator descends into Costin’s underground sanctuary. Everything about my mother is stately. She’s changed into black slacks and a dark red blouse. A black scarf covers her head so only her sunglasses show. There is no trace of my blood on her as if the nosebleed never happened. She takes her scarf down and unwraps it from her face to let it drape over her shoulders.

I see my warped reflection next to her in the elevator doors. I wish I could say the same for myself. I wear jeans, sneakers, and a long-sleeved T-shirt under a cardigan. It’s too late to do anything about it, but I’m not elegant. Not like her.

The metal box carries us deep beneath the city. Astrid stands perfectly still, her chinlifted as if she’s posed for her entrance. “I spoke to your father earlier. He won’t be returning from Europe to help with this situation.” Her tone carries no surprise or disappointment. “He sends his regards.”

Of course, he does. I wonder if he’s with another woman, creating another family drama. It wouldn’t surprise me if he returned with a new sibling or twelve in tow. The thought of his benign neglect doesn’t hurt like it used to. Maybe because I now know the truth. Davis Devine might be the smiling face of our family’s power, but Astrid has always been its spine.

I want to ask her why she stays married to my father, but I won’t. Those fleeting glimpses of affection between them hardly seem more than an old habit. Once, when I tried to broach the subject, she told me,“Life is not meant to be easy. It is meant to be lived.”

The doors open to reveal Costin’s gothic home. The air feels weighted with anticipation. It’s tomb-quiet, with soft lighting casting long shadows across the cold mausoleum-esque stone. A servant appears as if he’s been waiting in the shadows for just such a moment, bowing deeply—to Astrid, not to me, despite my being Costin’s... whatever I am. There is something familiar about him. I’d seen him being fed upon through a cracked door. His clothes are perfectly pressed, and I notice all the usual feedingmarks are covered. The vampires knew we were coming.

“Lady Astrid.” The man’s voice carries genuine reverence. “Lord Constantine awaits in the library.”

“I know the way.” Astrid doesn’t break stride as she leads us through corridors I didn’t know existed. Of course, she knows his home’s layout. She probably knew him before I was born, back when the supernatural world was even more of a boys’ club than it is now. Though, to be fair, I’ve spent most of my time in his bedroom.

We pass under arched doorways and between towering bookcases that disappear into the darkness above. The timeworn volumes look like they would hold many secrets, bound in materials I don’t want to identify. Firelight flickers from ornate sconces, making the shadows dance across the stone. Everything in Costin’s home is carefully curated to remind visitors of his age and power, from the medieval weapons mounted on walls to centuries-old tapestries.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t more than a little intimidated by all of it.

We pass by several servants who all stop to hold still as Astrid passes. She keeps her head up high. I think of all the meetings where men like Francis Freemont and my father dominate conversations while their wives sit silent and decorative.Yet here’s Astrid, commanding respect without raising her voice, solving problems while her husband chases his latest distraction. The supernatural world might pretend to honor tradition, but the real power waits quietly and knows when to strike.

“Remember, you are a Devine,” Astrid says as if reminding me to be strong.

Doors are pulled open at our approach, releasing a rush of cool air to greet us as we enter. The library stretches two stories high, its walls lined with books. A massive fireplace dominates one wall, its carved mantle depicting a hellish battle. I see a pile of bodies carved in great detail as if they have been dropped from the mantel above.

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