Page 49 of Cherish

“My decision has already been made. The rest is minor details.”

“Prettyimportantdetails,” Jaxon corrects.

Hudson doesn’t say anything, just looks at him steadily until Jaxon exhales in a series of curses. “We’re not done talking about this.”

It’s Hudson’s turn to shrug. “We’ll see.”

“Yeah,” his brother tells him. “We will.”

My stomach is in knots now, all these impossible problems with no solutions running through my brain at top speed, over and over and over again.

We can’t put another Cyrus on the vampire throne. If we do, we’ll eventually end up right back where we were just a few short months ago.

Jaxon can’t take the throne, because if he does, he’ll lose any chance he and Flint have of working through their problems and coming out on the other side of them.

Izzy can’t take the throne, at least not yet. She hasn’t been out of Descent for long enough, not to mention her…unpredictable tendencies.

And Hudson can’t keep the throne, at least not as long as I hold on to mine.

It’s a complete and total clusterfuck—one I have no idea how to fix, especially not when most of my brain is focused on trying to figure out how to save Mekhi from the shadow poison and everyone else from these damn hunters who are gaining power and followers by the day.

Before I can say anything else, Jaxon’s cell phone dings. He glances down at it, then says, “Flint wants to talk to me about something, so I’m going to meet him where the portal dropped us. We’ll catch up with you at Mekhi’s room in fifteen minutes.”

Even as I nod, part of me wants to beg him to stay. Because as long as he’s here, Hudson and I won’t be able to avoid the discussion that neither of us wants to have.

28

It’s Sledge(Hammer) Time

After Jaxon leaves, we walk slowly and silently for a couple of minutes. I don’t know what Hudson is thinking about, but I’m definitely trying to get my thoughts in order. Definitely trying to figure out what I need to say to him—about the throne, about the changes here at Court that he hasn’t talked to me about at all, about us.

But before I can, we make another turn and end up in a corridor that looks hauntingly familiar. Which doesn’t make sense, considering there are huge swaths of the Vampire Court I haven’t explored yet and likely never will, since I absolutely despise the place, even with Hudson’s improvements.

Still, the farther we walk down the hallway, the more convinced I am that I’ve been to this specific spot before. There’s something about the odd configuration of the windows on the left side of the hallway that feels familiar. As do the giant wooden double doors I see at the end of a hallway directly to the right of us.

Despite the doors’ familiarity, I almost keep walking right on by them. But there’s something about the sudden deliberate blankness on Hudson’s face and the shuttered look in his eyes that has me approaching them and reaching for the door handles.

He moves like he’s going to stop me, which is strange in and of itself, but in the end he just shrugs and lets me go.

The second I open the doors, I know exactly where we are. I’ve only been in here once, but I recognize it right away. Or should I say recognize the remnants of what it once was. Cyrus’s perfectly curated, perfectly decorated office.

No one can accuse it of being perfectly anything now—except, maybe, perfectly, extraordinarily destroyed. While the outer doors remain intact, inside the room, it looks like a bomb has gone off. And unlike the other rooms we passed that are currently under renovation, no one has made any attempt to clear up the mess of the old room to make way for the new. It’s all just sitting there—overturned couches, broken paintings and sculptures, ripped-up books, torn curtains—lying under the detritus of destroyed walls and ceiling and light fixtures. The circular table that once dominated the middle has been demolished, pieces of the inlaid map—which Cyrus once used to plan attacks on paranormal factions—scattered across the floor.

I spot a sledgehammer leaning against the insides of what used to be a wall, and I realize that someone whacked away at things in here until it looked like this. Then they walked away and left it for who knows how long. Judging by the amount of plaster dust settled on everything, this wasn’t done today. Or anytime recently, for that matter.

I’m one hundred percent sure of that. I’m also one hundred percent sure that Hudson is the one who did this. And the one who left it here, like this, to rot.

He’s been to visit the Vampire Court to handle business several times since we imprisoned Cyrus, and I never thought anything of it. Now I can’t help thinking that maybe I should have. The thought of Hudson, all on his own, just whaling away at this room with a sledgehammer, makes me want to cry.

Because there’s more than rage in this shrine of rubble. More than disdain or hate or a need for vengeance. There’s also devastation. And I have no idea what to do about that—not when Hudson hasn’t spoken to me about any of this.

Not the changes to the Court.

Not the pressure to take on more responsibilities and perhaps even the throne.

And definitely not this wanton destruction. When a man who wields as much power as Hudson chooses to use a sledgehammer instead of a simple thought, you know it’s personal. More, you know there’s a lot still left to uncover.

And right now, with our friends in the middle of this quest to save Mekhi, I just wish I had a clue where to start.

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