Bride

“In the past hundred years, Humans and Weres have alternated between ignoring each other and being on the brink of war because of border disputes. They both have advantages over Vampyres, physical and numerical, but they’ve never even considered leveraging them. Because the Vampyres have somehow managed . . . well, not somehow,” Serena explains, a trace of that bitterness in her tone. “Through the Collateral system, you cultivated a very beneficial political alliance with the Humans. And the Weres knew this, just like they knew that any overt attack on Vampyre territory would unleash Human military power on them. That’s how you kept yourselves safe through the decades, despite being the most vulnerable of the three species.”

“Very thorough.” Father nods, satisfied.

“I imagine there’s more. For instance, I’m certain that if we were to look closely at the border skirmishes between Weres and Humans in the past few decades, we’d find that they were facilitated by Vampyre action. Just like I’m certain that considerable bribes were involved. Governor Davenport is undoubtedly not above accepting them.”

Father doesn’t deny it. “I see the weeks you spent reading improved your reasoning skills, Miss Paris.”

Her chin lifts. “My reasoning skills have always been on point, fuckwaffle.”

Must be the first time Father has been called that. It’s the only explanation for the mildly outraged, mostly baffled hesitation that fills the room: no one knows how to respond to an overt insult, because unlike subtle jabs and assassination attempts, in Father’s world they are not a thing. Eventually, after several awkward seconds, Vania steps forward and raises her hand to hit Serena.

I angle myself between the two of them, which in turn has Serena wanting to protect me. But Father puts a stop to that by ordering, “Let them be. We want them both intact, for now.”

Vania glares at Serena. At a flick of Father’s wrist, two of the guards come to stand next to us. The implied threat is crystal clear.

“I could have killed your friend, Misery. So many times. You know why I didn’t?” he asks me.

“To spare my feelings?” I answer, skeptical.

“That was a nice bonus, I agree. Because no matter what you may think, I do not enjoy hurting you, or taking things away from you. I was not happy to send my child off, although I doubt you’ll ever believe that. But ultimately, no, that was not the reason. I can only assume that Miss Paris neglected to tell you why I was forced to take her, then.”

“She didn’t have to tell me shit. I already know what happened.” But when I glance at Serena, her eyes dart away. And that’s when my stomach tightens. “She was working on an article,” I add, even though she won’t return my look. “And found out something she shouldn’t have.”

“So you really have no idea.” That complacent, self-congratulatory smirk, I want to punch it off Father’s face. “Let me enlighten you: several years ago, my dear friend Governor Davenport told me something he thought I might be interested in.”

“Of course the governor is in on it,” I sneer.

“Oh, you give him too much credit.” Father waves his hand. “He is in on it . . . sometimes. Over the years, I’ve gotten well acquainted with his mind. Thralling him, planting hooks in his brain, has become easier and easier. Practically traceless. He’s been giving me much useful information, some of particular intrigue. For instance, when he told me about a young child who had been born of Were and Human parents.”

Ana. Of course. The governor must have found out, perhaps from Thomas, or maybe from . . . I turn to Mick again. “Did you tell the governor?”

“Oh, no,” Father interrupts. “You are mistaken, Misery. Mick wasn’t part of this until very recently, and it was I who sought him out. I will take credit where it’s due, even if you’ll accuse me of being a heartless monster. It was my idea to use his son once we realized that the boy we had taken during a raid had ties to a prominent Were. It was easy enough for me to thrall him. He even helped with guarding Miss Paris.”

“What a thing to brag about, Father.”

“Indeed. But it was quite a while ago that the governor told me about the half-Were, half-Human child. Over two decades, in fact.”

I stiffen. A wave of dread sweeps over me.

“There had been stories before. Rumors of reproductive compatibility. If there’s something Humans are good for, it’s breeding.” Father stands, lips curled in mild disgust, and leisurely steps around his desk. “But the stories came from other countries, and there was never any proof. Here, Weres are insular, and Humans are cowards. Like Miss Paris said, they simply don’t interact enough. But this child was very young. They were not being raised by their biological parents for several reasons. They didn’t know about their origins or their questionable genetic makeup, but they appeared to have taken after their father. They presented as Human, fully, which I must admit, made them less interesting to me—the implication of their existence was much less concerning. And yet, the occurrence was unique, and I decided to monitor the situation. It felt like the wise thing to do.” He leans against his desk, drumming his fingers along the wooden edge. Something close to terror is begi

My heart thumps loudly against the confines of my rib cage. I tear my eyes from Father’s and slowly turn to my right. I find Serena already looking at me. Her eyes are welling with tears.

“Did you know?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer. The tears, though, start falling.

“She did not.” It’s Father who responds, even though I’m rapidly losing interest in what he has to say. “I would know otherwise. Like I said, I monitored her for years. Even when your tenure as the Collateral ended, nothing that she did set off any alarms. In fact, she seemed to have no interest in Weres at all. Did you, Miss Paris?” He smiles at Serena, and the hatred in her glare could burn him as viciously as the sunlight. He ignores her and turns to me. “She was all about financial journalism, or something or other. I must say, our vigilance lapsed for a few years. The girl had grown into a promising, if very Human, young woman. Sometimes she’d disappear for a few days without warning, but that’s the youths. Carefree. Adventurous. I never suspected that it might have something to do with her genes. Until . . .”

“I despise you,” Serena hisses.

“I would expect no less. Human-Were hybrid that you are, you are well predisposed to, and I do not blame you. But the sloppy way you went about it when your Were half began emerging and you decided to research your parents, that certainly is your fault. You went around asking questions, stuck your nose into every nook and cra

“You know nothing,” Serena spits out.

“But I do, Miss Paris. I know your bloodwork was all over the place. I know your senses became almost unbearably acute, so acute that they exceeded your Human doctor’s ability to measure them. I know that you underwent genetic testing and the results came back as though the sample was contaminated—three times. I know that every full moon you felt like you needed to crawl out of your skin, and that one day you cut through the flesh of your forearm, just to see if your blood had turned green overnight. You were that far gone, suspecting that something inside you was very, very different.”