Page 78 of Barely Breathing

They don’t say more. They don’t have to. I think of Diana, so young and innocent, being used as a conduit for this ancient magic. Of Paul, marked by death, forced to anchor it. Of all the carefully laid plans leading to this moment. And I know that it’s my fault. If I had just walked away from them the first time we met, not accepted their help, not dragged them into the supernatural world to savemyself. If I had done the right thing, none of this would be happening.

Guilt eats at me, consuming my insides as it burrows in deep.

Draakmar’s fury shows no hint at lessening. It makes it hard to hear past the anger. The dragon’s knowledge stays just out of reach like I’m trying to remember the details of a dream. Whatever the creature is trying to tell me about Diana, I pray I figure it out before it’s too late.

Chapter

Twenty-One

Astrid leaves as the threat of tomorrow’s blood moon hangs over us. It’s still hours away, but I feel it pressing in. The library feels more ominous than before as I walk past the collection of secrets. I can’t help but worry each book holds a different key to destroying everything I care about. All these rituals, prophecies, and curses. I think of the wizards who must have divined them in the first place. Why bother? What is the point in giving someone the recipe for destruction?

Costin strides to the fireplace, tension radiating off him. I move toward the table to stare at the leather book until the texture blurs. There is no reason to open it, but I hate that it exists.

“Do you think your sister can be reasoned with?”I ask. “If we talk to her and explain how bad all of this…”

Talk to her? I hear how useless my suggestion sounds. What’s my next great idea? Vampire family therapy session? Hug it out? Apologize?

When I look up, he’s staring into the flames.

“I should have protected her.” He’s so quiet I almost miss the words. I’m drawn to the raw pain in his voice and move closer to better hear. “She wasn’t always like this. She was so young, so full of life. Before Marcus...”

I reach for him and hesitate. My hand hovers over his back, not making contact. I want to comfort him, but I’m afraid he’ll pull back inside himself and stop talking.

“Tell me,” I urge.

“We were nobility by birth.” He doesn’t turn from the fire, but his hand lifts, like he wants to reach for something he sees in the flames. “Our father wagered away everything we had. Lands, money, jewels, alliances. When he died, the vultures descended. All he left me was a crumbling castle and a tarnished title.”

“That must have been tough,” I say.

“I was barely a man myself when they sent me home from the battlefront. Then Marcus came to collect a debt. He saw my sister. You wouldn’t know it now, but she was sweet, a little shy, and so prettydespite the fact food had been scarce. As her guardian...” He stretches his hand deeper into the fireplace, too deep. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Costin, don’t!” The smell of burning flesh propels me into action. I move around him and tug at his arm. He allows me to remove his charred fingers from the flames. It has to hurt, but he doesn’t let it show.

His eternal youth fades into a hollow gaze, revealing the burden of his immortality. “We struck a deal. Marcus paid a handsome bridewealth for Elizabeth’s hand. Anyone else would have wanted a dowry, something I couldn’t afford. He had money and could take care of her. By any standard it was a powerful alliance with wealth, position, and protection for Elizabeth. Though if I’m honest, I was happy to send my responsibility away and to have my money problems solved. I was able to pay off my father’s debts and restore my family name.”

I hold his wrist and watch as his charred fingers slowly heal. “Costin, you have to forgive yourself. It was a different time. You’re a different person. I know that is not the man you are today. Look how you’ve protected me my entire life. You’ve changed. You’re a good person. I see that.”

“Time does not change facts.” His laugh holds no humor. “I didn’t listen when she wrote to me. I toldmyself she was being dramatic and that she needed time to adjust. Even when her letters spoke of blood and screams in the night, of servants disappearing, of Marcus’ inhuman appetite...” His voice breaks. “I failed her.”

I keep holding his wrist. Suddenly his burned fingers turn, wrapping around my forearm to hold me, tightening desperately like I’m keeping him in the present. They dig into my flesh.

“It never occurred to me that I never saw Marcus outside during the day. Maybe I didn’t want to notice it. I didn’t know what he was. Not until Elizabeth came home and slaughtered everyone in the castle. Everyone but me.”

I watch his hand on my arm.

“No, me she tortured so I could experience what I’d sentenced her to. She made me feel every moment of what she’d endured. Then she brought me back, made me like her. She thought being my sire would change our dynamic and give her control.” His free hand cups my cheek, stroking my face with his thumb. “I’ve spent centuries trying to protect her from herself, trying to atone. But I couldn’t stop her from becoming everything she hated.”

I lean into his touch. “You were young, trying to do what was expected?—”

“Don’t make excuses for me. I am long pastdenying my truth. I was wrong.” His crimson gaze holds mine, and I see past the master vampire to the man beneath. “The things we do to protect those we love are sometimes worse than what we’re protecting them from.”

The double meaning isn’t lost on me. I think of his attempts to protect me—erasing memories, making choices for me, trying to keep me safe.

“When I saw you as a child, you reminded me of her. Sweet, a little shy but also wild and rebellious.” He closes his eyes. “And then that night at the shipping yard, I saw you as a woman, the same age my sister was when she was turned. I wanted nothing more than to protect you from this supernatural world, to take the pain of it away.”

I remember thinking of him as the vampire always lurking in our shadows when we were growing up. I never knew why. He said it was because he promised my grandfather, but I see now it was more than that. His loneliness, and the guilt over Elizabeth, drove him to protect me.

“I’m not your sister,” I whisper.

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