“We’ll talk at the house,” Skye said. The cold she’d nearly forgotten during their confrontation with Redgrave had returned. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

BALTHAZAR WAS REALLY TOO LARGE TO RIDE IN the middle of the backseat, but he did anyway. This meant that he could fold Skye into his right side, his arm around her shoulders, as the car’s heaters and his own shelter warmed her from the terrible chill. Though she still shivered, he could see her strength returning to her. Despite everything, Skye was going to be all right.

This seating arrangement also meant that he could keep Charity on his left. She sat quietly, hands in her lap as neatly folded as if they were over a linen napkin instead of the blade she’d used to kill Redgrave.

His sister had done it. She’d really killed him. As badly as Balthazar had wanted his own vengeance, he would never have denied that Charity deserved that kill as much as he did. The main thing was that Redgrave was gone, forever.

“I drank her blood,” Charity said. Although Balthazar realized what she meant, Skye held out her arm, revealing the two small pink marks that lingered there, for proof. “I went back to before.”

“What did you go back to?” he said gently. He had not spoken to her this way since they were both alive.

“The day I put my bonnet on the cow to make you laugh.”

Balthazar had almost forgotten that. How ludicrous the cow had looked, and how silly they’d been about it. “That was funny, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” Charity leaned her head against his shoulder, the way she used to when she was little and they sat in front of the fire. “We used to have lots of fun, didn’t we?”

“Yeah. We did.”

That was why she’d murdered Redgrave. The sip of Skye’s blood—the tool Redgrave had thought would make any vampire his minion forever—had instead reminded Charity of who she was when she was alive. At the moment, she was more his sister … more truly herself … than she’d been since becoming a vampire. He let his head rest against hers, just for a second.

From the front seat, Britnee said, “So, I couldn’t help hearing the comment about drinking blood? Are we talking about vampires here?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Craig said.

“Yes,” Balthazar said. “I’m a vampire. So is my sister, Charity.”

“I’m not,” Skye added sleepily. “I’m just a psychic. I can see deaths suspended in time, and use them to reach through and speak to the dead.” When Balthazar glanced over at her, she said, “I’ll explain later. That last trip over the river told me a lot.”

Britnee said, “Our next substitute is going to seem so boring?”

Craig shook his head from side to side. “This night had better not get any weirder.”

Once they reached Skye’s house, she was able to take the warm shower she needed to heat herself up; Britnee found a tin of cocoa in the kitchen and set about making some for everyone, with Craig’s help. Balthazar remained downstairs with Charity.

She clearly hadn’t spent much time in a normal human home anytime recently; Charity’s curiosity led her to pick up the remotes and punch multiple buttons at once, then to trace her fingers around the sides of the unfamiliar thin plasma-screen TV. Balthazar let her do what she wanted as long as she didn’t cause any harm; for tonight, at least, he thought she was safe to be around.

In the meantime, he checked himself out in the front hall mirror; it had been too long since he’d properly fed, because the image was hazy. Still, he could see that the cuts on his face had already healed, and the bruises were almost entirely gone.

“Looking good,” Skye said.

Balthazar glanced up to see Skye standing at the top of the stairs. She wore a simple white cotton T-shirt and jeans; her hair had the slightly windblown look that told him she’d just finished with the blow dryer, and her face was clean-scrubbed, still somewhat pale. To him, she had never appeared more beautiful.

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms for her as she came down the steps to leap into them. She smelled like fresh soap and lavender. When they kissed this time, he buried his hands in her warm hair, opened his mouth, and pretended they were all alone.

When they finally pulled back from each other, Skye said, slightly breathless, “Well, I’m heated up now.”

“You’re sure you’re all right? If you need to go to the hospital—”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I’m warm again, and you’re with me, and we’re safe. I’ve never been better.” Her eyes flicked over to Charity. “I can’t believe I just said we’re safe, considering … but we are, aren’t we?”

“For now.”

Eventually, Charity would become monstrous again. But Balthazar now knew—no matter how terrible she became, no matter what she did, he would never be the one to destroy her. There had been times, over the past few years in particular, when he’d attempted to find the will to kill her. Charity was a murderer countless times over. She was unstable, manipulative, and cruel. Right now she remembered their love for each other as brother and sister, but she’d probably forget it again.

Someday, someone would have to stop her. Balthazar accepted that. But he also knew that he would never have the right. He’d killed her once; that had been more than enough to damn them both. No matter what she became, Charity was his sister—in life, in death, always.