Then he remembered her words when she’d seen the bodies of his neighbors: “I’ve been afraid of the dead all my life.”
“Death. You’re afraid to die.” He knew he sounded triumphant. “If you go with us, there’s a good chance it could happen.”
She ignored him.
Frustrated, he watched her pull on a borrowed jacket. If she was determined to go, he’d have to give her a weapon, for all the good it would do. Ethan turned to head down the hallway. He pulled open the door to the smallest bedroom, strode to the walk-in closet, and took the key from the hook beside the door.
“Wait.” Her voice was right behind him. “Did you just get that key off the wall? I didn’t see a key there.”
“You weren’t supposed to see it. A cloaking spell. Zareb wears many hats. Sorcerer is one of them.” He hoped he sounded as angry as he felt.
He could sense her rolling this latest bit of weirdness around in her mind. He yanked open the door and turned on the closet light.
“Wow.” Her hushed exclamation said it all.
“Wow, indeed.” He stepped inside the huge walk-in closet and studied the hundreds of weapons lining its walls. “Can you shoot a gun?” As he spoke he lifted a small handgun from the wall.
“Yes.” She reached past him and chose a different one.
He frowned. “Why not the one I picked?”
“I’ve practiced with this one.”
He watched as she chose ammunition and deftly loaded the gun. She shoved it into her purse.
Ethan studied her. “You’re different from when I first met you.”
She didn’t answer, just lifted a knife from the wall, chose a sheath, and strapped it to her thigh.
“That’s a big-ass knife.”
“That’s why I like it.” She started to turn away.
“This is the real you, isn’t it? So who was that person back in the funeral home?”
Her eyes looked flat, expressionless. “I killed the binder, didn’t I? Oh, and I still don’t know what a binder is.”
“You got lucky. Who taught you how to use a gun and knife?”
“My grandfather.”
He picked up on the slight hesitation before she said “grandfather.”
Ethan had a gut feeling. “Does your grandfather have anything to do with your fear of death?” Maybe she’d seen him die. That could be traumatic for a kid.
He needed to know, and he was prepared to stand here until she told him. Ethan didn’t have a clue why knowing was so important to him. This whole not-having-a-clue thing was getting old fast.
She met his gaze, and for a moment he thought she’d refuse to explain. But then she sighed and looked past him. “I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid of dead bodies.”
“Why?”
Cassie hesitated, and he could almost hear her inner battle.
“I’d like to know.” He tried to soften his voice, but he hadn’t done soft in a lot of years. His “soft” probably sounded like an angry growl.
He told himself that she knew his secrets so it was only fair that he know hers. But that wasn’t the reason at all.
“My grandparents lived on a farm. Once a year my parents would leave me with them for a week. I loved the animals and all that space to play. My grandmother spoiled me the whole time I was there. My grandfather was a scary man once my parents had gone, though. He never touched me, but I saw how he treated his animals, how he treated Grandma. Even though she was afraid of him, she begged me not to tell my parents, because if he got mad he’d have one of his ‘spells.’ She swore he was a good man, just crotchety in his old age. I was young, so I believed her.” She still wouldn’t look at him. “When I was ten years old, my grandmother died. She’d been sick, and one afternoon my grandfather came in from working in the fields to find her dead in her bed. He told me to go into the room and say my last good-byes to her. I was frightened. I refused.”
Ethan watched her raise a shaking hand to push back a strand of hair.
“He’d always been about staying strong and controlling situations. When his dogs didn’t obey him, he tied them to a tree. When Grandma didn’t obey him . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t really know because she never told me, but I suspect it must’ve been bad for her to fear him that much. He’d taught me to hunt, to know my way around most weapons by the time I was eight. He saw my refusal to go into that room as weakness. His cure was to chain me to my grandmother’s bed, close the bedroom door, and leave me alone with her corpse for two days.”
Ethan couldn’t believe his explosion of fury. He hoped the man was still alive so he could kill him. The Second One murmured its approval.
“He released me on the third day. The first thing I did was to run all the way to the next farm and call my parents. They came and took me away. I never saw the old man again. I refused to talk about him, but a few months later Mom told me that he’d been committed and that he would never hurt me again.” She laughed softly. “It was too late, though. That particular horse had already left the barn.” Cassie finally looked directly at him. “But after what happened in the funeral home, after what they did to Felicity, you can count on me to do my part tonight.”
“Is he still alive?”
“No.” Then she walked away. “Let’s get going before your maker sends someone to see what’s keeping you.” She didn’t glance back as she walked into the living room. She stopped at the door. “Did you feed the cat?”
He almost smiled. Almost. Such an ordinary question in the midst of extraordinary events. “Yes. And Zareb took care of the litter box.” Something he’d never thought to see his maker doing. He would’ve taken a picture and loaded it onto YouTube if he hadn’t thought that Zareb would kill him.
Ethan had stopped to pull a hoodie from the closet. His change was almost complete. From this moment until the Second One retreated, Cassie couldn’t see his face. He pulled the hood far enough forward so he was hidden in shadow. On the way out, he picked up his sunglasses.
She frowned. “The Second One?”
He nodded.
Then they left. Cassie didn’t say anything until they were in her car. “No one waited for us.”
“We’ll meet up near Eternal Rest. They’ll all come in their own cars. They’ll park a few blocks away and wait for Zareb to give instructions.”
“Cars?” She smiled. “I’m disappointed. I thought vampires would have a sexier way of getting around than that. I know you don’t do the dematerializing thing, but how about flying? Do vampires fly?”
“No.” Ethan knew she was trying to sound calm, but he could hear her quickened heartbeat, sense her tension. “If we could do all the things myths say we can do, we’d have conquered the world centuries ago. We have preternatural speed and strength, enhanced senses, and our own specific gifts. And if you belong to my bloodline, you have the Second One.”
She remained silent for a few minutes, and Ethan was hopeful that she’d run out of questions. She hadn’t.
“I was in the shower when you explained things to Zareb. So how did you end up in that glass coffin? And please tell me what a binder is?”
He kept his attention on the road. He didn’t want to repeat the story, but she had a right to know. “I was in Jersey when they caught me.” He wouldn’t go into details about the chase, about how the hell they even found him. “They shot me up with something to keep me weak until they got back to Eternal Rest. Then they took my clothes and dumped me into the coffin. I was still too weak to do anything when the binder came in with his freaking headstone.” Where had they found someone like him?
“They? Who are ‘they’?”