“You wouldn’t be making excuses just because you’re nervous, would you?”
I looked away from her knowing gaze. “Of course not. What’s there to be nervous about?”
Maisie took my hand and forced me to look at her. “I really think you should take advantage of alone time with Adam while you have it.”
The earnestness of her words surprised me. “Why? Is there something I should know?”
It was her turn to look away. “Of course not. I just think life’s too short to let fear hold us back from grabbing what we want when it’s in front of us.”
“Maisie, we’re immortal. Life being short isn’t an issue.”
“I hate to break this to you, sister, but I’d say immortality is the last thing you can take for granted given your lifestyle.”
I frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“How many attempts have there been on your life in the last two weeks?”
I grimaced. “Okay, you got me there, but it’s not like it’s anything new. In my former line of work, someone took a shot at me almost daily.”
“Look, all I’m saying is, if you’re interested in Adam you should go for it. Given the current climate in our world, you never know when the winds are going to change and you’ll miss your chance.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.” I rose from my seat, feeling restless. As I did so, a painting over the fireplace caught my eye. “Who’s that?”
Maisie’s eyes widened. “That’s our father. Tristan Graecus.”
As I did a double take, Maisie rose to join me. I scanned the portrait with an eagle eye, looking for a resemblance. Now I knew where the black part of my hair color came from. And maybe there was a resemblance around the eyes. A familiar stubborn tilt to his chin. “I’ve never seen a picture of him before.”
Maisie looked up at the image with a smile. “Not hard to image why our mother fell for him, is it?”
It was true. Our father was a handsome guy—for a mage. “Tell me about him.”
Maisie pulled her gaze from the image to look at me. “He’s considered a hero to all mages. A martyr of sorts. Did you know he was next in line to take over the Pythian Guard?”
I shook my head.
“According to Orpheus, he was one of the most talented Chthonic mages he’d ever met.”
My stomach dipped. “Our father was a Chthonic?”
Maisie nodded solemnly. “I was surprised to find out it passed on to you. Chthonic mages are pretty rare.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about this revelation. I never knew my father. Had never given his existence much thought past the trouble his decisions had caused my own life. My grandmother had talked about Tristan Graecus in venomous tones on the rare occasions she spoke of him at all. My mother was mentioned even less—her very name banished from my vocabulary because of the shame she caused my grandmother. Over the years, I’d overheard elder vamps whisper how I’d inherited my prideful ways from my mother. And now I knew I’d gotten my talent for death magic from my father. Maybe this news should have made me feel nostalgic or sad, but I mostly felt numb. Is it wrong to resent the dead? Because if I felt anything, that was it.
Maisie continued. “How much do you know about our mother?”
I paused, remembering Maisie was in the same boat. Since we’d been separated seconds after our vampire mother died in childbirth, the mages probably weren’t too excited to tell her about dear old Mom. Especially since they apparently chose to believe our father was the victim of the whole scenario.
“Lavinia forbade anyone to speak about our mother in her presence. I overheard things, of course, but it’s kind of fuzzy. So I didn’t learn much from the vampire side. But back in California, Adam took me to meet Briallen Pimpernell. She’s the faery who acted as midwife at our birth.”
“That’s right!” Maisie said. “What did she tell you?”
I briefly told Maisie the story of how the faery cared for Phoebe during her yearlong pregnancy. Lavinia and Ameritat—our grandmothers—had decided hiding Phoebe out in the woods would keep the scandal under wraps for a while. “Apparently, she was heartbroken when she arrived. Wouldn’t speak to Briallen at all. Eventually, she opened up and told Briallen about Tristan. By that point, I guess he was already dead—or assumed to be,” I corrected, remembering Briallen’s assertion that his body had never been found, “and Phoebe was heartbroken and withdrawn.”
Maisie was silent for a moment, digesting it all. “Did Briallen describe her?”
“Briallen said she had curly red hair and brown eyes. Said she was intelligent and earnest. Like I said, when she got there, she barely spoke. But I guess after she felt us move, she got excited and opened up to Briallen.”
Maisie sighed. “It’s all so tragic, isn’t it? That she looked forward to our birth and never had a chance to know us and us her?”
I shrugged. “I guess so.”
Maisie shot me a look for my lack of sentimentality. “At least we have each other now, right?”
I smiled. “Yeah.”
Maisie blew out a breath, as if expelling the emotions built up talking about our parents’ sad fates. “Let’s change the subject. How’s Giguhl doing in fight club?”
“Pretty good, actually. He’s won two fights so far.”
“That’s great! I wish I could see him in action.”
“Slade’s got quite a setup there. Have you ever been to Vein?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never been to the Black Light District.”
“Really?” I guess I shouldn’t have been shocked. After all, the BLD was full of rough characters. Not exactly the type of place a spiritual leader of the mage race would hang out.
Something shifted in her expression, like a lightbulb went on somewhere. “When’s his next fight?”
“Tomorrow night. Why?”
“Well,” she said slowly, “I was just thinking. Maybe I could tag along. Would you mind?”
“I don’t know, Maisie. I mean, it’s kind of a rough scene. Besides, we still haven’t figured out who’s after me. If the mage takes another shot, I wouldn’t want you caught in the cross-fire.” I hadn’t mentioned Michael’s theories to any of the mages yet, and I didn’t plan on doing so until I had more proof. Whether he was right or not, I assumed if another attack was coming, it would happen when I was away from the protection of the mage compound.