Page 79 of Hupotasso
“Helpful would have been if you’d bitten her at the altar,” he snaps.
“You’re the one who kept telling me I was becoming my fucking father,” I snarl. “I vowed I’d never bite her against her will.”
“And yet,” he says quietly, “you did.”
“Just find her,” I mutter before hanging up.
For a long time after the call I sit with my head in my hands.
He’s right. If I hadn’t lost my temper and bit her she’d be here now, safe in the castle with my heir cossetted inside her body. And I’d be treating her like a queen to try and win back her affection, despite knowing I have no right, no right at all, to any such thing.
And in the meantime there’s another woman, one who’s never professed to care for me, one who’s waiting for me to kill her husband and marry her, as I’d promised.
And all of these problems stem from one thing — my family’s intergenerational vendetta with Spider’s family.
Rising, I walk to the fireplace and catch my reflection in the mirror above. I’ve never noticed it before, or perhaps I just haven’t wanted to.
I’m the spitting image of my father.
59
The panicky sensation of suffocation passes quickly as Yin slips the silicon mask over my face and pulls it down tight.
As she straightens my wig I look into the mirror with surprise and delight. Looking back at us are two middle-aged, middle-American, blondes.
“Fucking hell,” I murmur, “this is crazy.”
“Right?” She laughs gently. “It’s the same type of mask the president’s doubles wear. Absolutely impossible to tell you’re not a Stepford Wife unless you touch the ‘skin’ or look too closely at the neckline. Which is why we’ll be wearing polo necks for a while.”
My eyes water as I slip in the brown contacts, but I’m all out of tears.
The three days we’ve spent here talking have helped change my sorrow, fear, and shock into what they should be: Anger, outrage, and a desire for revenge. Yin is worth her weight in gold as a therapist, coach and friend. Her common-sense approach to taking misfortunes as lessons, and failure as just another opportunity to succeed, is exactly what I need right now. And exactly what my baby needs if he or she is to survive on the run from vampires. Because I have abso-fucking-lutely no plan to ever,everput myself under their power again, and any vampire baby I raise will know love, giving and receiving, is natural and beautiful.
Just how I plan to feed that baby after the first three years I don’t even want to think about. For right now we just have to survive, elude capture, and figure out how to kill Viper. I have six months, give or take, to work that last part out. Yin is counselling patience, but that’s never been one of my virtues.
I listen carefully as she outlines the next stage of our plan.
“My cabin in the mountains is our ultimate location, but to get there we’re going to need to pass through several towns and cities, get fuel and food, and stay under the radar. It’s a thirty-four-hour drive. We’ll take turns driving and keep going until we reach our destination. I have fake IDs for us both, and these disguises, and we’ll swap vehicles every two days.”
“Are the disguises really necessary?” I murmur, readjusting my polo neck and already hating it.
“There are speed cameras and road cameras everywhere, most houses have ring cameras outside their front doors, and everyshop and fuel station has a camera. All of these can be hacked and linked. The royals have unlimited resources at their fingertips. If we’re not disguised they’ll find us with very little effort.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t panic. Like I said, we’re going to be under the radar. Even the IDs are only in the event we get pulled over by the police for any reason. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been alerted to keep an eye out for a woman of your description.”
She’s thought of everything.
When I finally step back and take a look at us both I can’t help matching her grin.
“Road trip!” I smirk.
“Hopefully nothing like Thelma and Louise,” she grimaces.
“With my luck it’s more likely to be something like Mad Max,” I shake my head, “but tell me, what’s it like being Caucasian?”
“Impossible. The curtains don’t match the drapes.”
