Memory of an Immortal Heart (Immortal Hearts) (34 page)

Nikandria
had said Khael could heal injuries – apparently he
could
. It was
like watching magic being done, but
real
.

Perhaps
that was Khael’s ability: healing?

Which
reminded Eva that she didn’t even know what
Brand’s
primary ability was.

“Eva,
you should have stayed in the suites,” Brand said as Khael finished, and Eva
heard that wariness fill his voice. The withholding had never sounded so clear
before, had never felt so agonizing…and infuriating. Eva could almost
smell
the secrets surrounding Brand.

Her
heart began to beat faster, the tide of anger in her veins rising to block her
fear, her confusion…her worry.

Khael
settled back against the wall, arms folded to watch as Brand picked up the cup
from the table.

Eva
licked her lips, trying to moisten her throat as she took a step forward and
raised her eyes to Brand’s. “What
exactly
are you are doing?”

It came
out accusing.

Brand’s
eyes flickered gold, his lips compressing. Then he walked toward Eva with the
cup. He didn’t remove his eyes from hers, and finally, when they stood only
about an arm’s length apart, he stopped. Then he extended the cup to the left.

“I
don’t…” Eva stepped back, horrified and confused.

And
felt someone move behind her. A breath touched her cheek.

Eva
jumped, lashing out as her heart froze in her chest...and Brand’s free hand
caught her fist, pulling it toward him as he steadied her. He extended the cup
of blood to the pale haired woman who had been standing silent as a ghost
behind Eva. Nikandria…Nikandria?
No
. This was
not
Nikandria.

The
woman stepped around Eva and to the side. Her movements were gliding,
predatory. Chilling. She took the cup and held it to her chest like a child
with a cup of milk as Brand’s arms slid down to surround Eva. Sandalwood filled
the air, mixing with the scent of Brand’s blood as the woman turned to survey
them.

“Leave
her be,” Brand said quietly, to the woman, who arched her brows in amusement.

She was
tall, slender, clad in tight leather pants and a long blue silk tunic. Her hair
hung to her waist in a thick braid of pale, pale gold. Her face was exotic,
full lips and angular cheekbones; her eyes large and purple, tilted in the same
way that Nikandria’s were.

Those
eyes peered into Eva, assessing – spellbinding as a snake’s – they
blinked. One moment those eyes were sharp, the next, they turned inward,
utterly dismissing any threat Eva could pose.

If not
for the sheer age in those eyes, the woman could have been Nikandria’s sister.
Except Nikandria was warmer, nicer. Not so ancient.

Not
so…completely and utterly terrifying.

Eva
shuddered, forgetting that she was furious with Brand. She leaned into his
warmth, needing it to surround her, and felt his hands run down her shoulders
in a soothing gesture.

This
woman was ice so sharp it could make you bleed.

This
woman
was
a blade.

“You
are Bréanainn’s mate,” the woman said, examining Eva across the suddenly too-small
kitchen. A trapped feeling rose in Eva’s throat. The woman touched the cup of
Brand’s blood to her lips, her nostrils flaring slightly as she scented it,
then took a judicious sip. She licked her mouth with a half grimace, and an
unsettling not-quite-there smile crossed her face as she tilted her head. “We
are glad you came. Nikandros worries for his sons. But now he can worry less
for Bréanainn.”

Khael
moved to grip the woman’s arm, pulling her toward the door.

“Brand’s
father is dead. Who are you?” Eva’s stomach clenched in foreboding as she
glided past. Brand’s arms tightened around her.

The
woman glanced back. An eyebrow quirked. Eva frowned, tried to hold her ground…

…the
woman flashed her teeth. Two long gleaming incisors descended into her mouth,
half the length of Eva’s fingers…not teeth,
fangs
. Blood still stained
those lips, and Eva’s heart jerked in her chest. Stunned fear…shock…anger…rose
inside her.

Sakai
. This
woman was
Sakai
.

A
Sakai.

At Stronghold.

Cold
terror drove through Eva’s heart.

“
I
am Ashtoreth
.” The woman’s gaze bore through Eva with a raw, dangerous
arrogance. “Don’t forget.” Then her fingers rose, brushed the pale misshapen
stones on her necklace and twined there; slowly, the threat drained from her
gaze. Her fangs retracted, she closed her lips. The woman tilted her head, as
if she were listening to something – someone – and, for a moment,
her eyes went warm.

“Oh, I
only frightened her a little bit,” she muttered, staring unfocused at the air
to Eva’s left. “The young always frighten so easily. They are like
bischee
.”
Then she snorted and looked amused – before turning to Brand.

“Bréanainn,
this child is afraid. You need to tell her the truth. And,” the woman tugged on
her necklace, looking irritated, “If you care about your life at all, the next
time you leave Stronghold, you will carry your father’s blade.”

It was
an order; Brand’s body tensed behind Eva.

Khael
spoke again in that foreign language, holding the door open. The Sakai pursed
her lips, looking as if she were about to disagree, then sighed. She turned and
followed Khael from the kitchen, still cradling the cup of Brand’s blood in her
hands.

Eva
stood there, staring at the wooden paneling of the door, and had no idea what
to do. She had no idea what to think, to say…to feel.

“Ashtoreth,”
Brand said finally, heavily, from behind her, “is my mother.”

Brand’s
mother
.

A
Sakai.

The
only safe emotion was anger.

They
fought.

“
Bréanainn
?”
Eva turned with a snarl, eyes wild, confused – and terrified. Brand tried
to pull her toward him, but she pushed away, gaze transitioning to molten gold.
He let his hands drop as she bared her teeth. “So your name isn’t Brand, but
Bréanainn
?
And you decided to keep that from me as well?” she moved closer to kitchen’s
side door.

Brand
stilled the urge to close that space and kneaded the back of his neck. He
didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to go to her, hold her. His mother had
obviously frightened Eva. And Brand
knew
Eva wasn’t mad about his name.

It was
just a name.

No
, he
mentally steeled himself.
This is about mother
. About what Eva had
witnessed with Ashtoreth.

“Bréanainn
is my birth name,” he said, a wave of weariness rising inside. Eva was wearing
one of his sweatshirts. Her body was covered in his scent and her fingers were
clenched in his sleeves, and if she had been able to grow claws in human form,
Brand was willing to bet that she would have used them to shred his face. “My
parents traveled to Hibern—Ireland—before I was born. Lis…she
always teased me by calling me Brand. The name caught on with my brothers.”

Eva’s
eyes narrowed. Her face twisted. She opened her mouth, then shook her head,
snarling, and turned to stare at the line of cabinets on the wall. She crossed
her arms, back to him.

“I
don’t understand.” Her words were sharp, grudging.

“I
liked the sword,” Brand explained, moving a step closer. “I was good at it.
Still am.”

Eva’s
shoulders tightened, and Brand realized she didn’t understand. “My father
taught the sword to all of his sons. I was obsessed with it when I was a boy.
More so than most. ‘Brand’ means sword, Eva. Lis laughed at me when I
practiced, saying I was more sword than tiger.” He gave a narrow smile. “That
was before my Initium. Afterwards I was, of course, more tiger.”

“You
used the sword on the wall in your study?”

“No.
That was my father’s.” Brand took another step. “One of a pair. Seth has the
other. I keep my own swords in the box beneath our bed.”

He
touched her hair, ran his fingers over the thick dark waves. Tension rose off
Eva’s body.

“And
your father. How did he die?”

Brand
inhaled the clean stubborn scent of her body. “He was killed by Sakai. It was
an ambush. Back when we still lived in France.”

Eva
turned, eyes glittering. Brand battled the urge to touch her, and failed. She
was so stubborn, so strong. As he dropped his hand to trace her lips, Eva bared
her teeth, snapping at his fingertips.

“So
that was another secret you kept. Something you didn’t think I should know.”

“That
isn’t it, Eva.” Brand frowned. “I would have told you. In time.”

Eva’s
lips tightened. She clenched her hands as her gaze turned inward in sudden
frustrated anger. “In
time
,” she repeated. It was a furious,
almost-pained snarl.

Brand
watched Eva grit her jaw. And he realized, with exasperation, that Eva was
trying
to hold onto her anger.

She was
dealing with what she had just seen, what she had just learned, by blaming him.

Which
meant Eva wasn’t dealing
at all
.

Brand
reached for her again but she slipped away. She whipped her head around, her
eyes taking on a direct, angry focus as she hissed, “And
Seth
. Seth is
telepathic. That’s his ability. That’s why I’m here, that’s why I’m even at
Stronghold. That’s why
you
brought me to Stronghold. But there’s one
thing Seth won’t tell me, one thing Nikandria told me that
you
need to
explain.” Eva paused. “If it isn’t healing, then what
is
your primary
ability,
Brand
?”

Brand
stilled. He shook his head. Now was
not
the time for that discussion.
“You’re running, Eva,” he said quietly. “You aren’t thinking about this. You’re
searching for reasons to be angry with me and you’re tired.”

Eva’s
nostrils flared. “And you’re avoiding the question.
Again
,” she snarled.
Then she shook her head in disgust and moved toward the door. “I should have
expected that answer. I
did
expect that answer. You always avoid my
questions.”

“I
don’t,” Brand frowned, and she paused. Her hands clenched.

“Yes,”
Eva said with soft fury, “you
do
. But that’s okay.” Pained sarcasm laced
her voice. Her head tilted forward, her hair sliding to expose the delicate
skin of her nape, “I shouldn’t expect any more. I understand if you – and
Stronghold – want to keep your secrets, Brand. I really do. Because it’s
safer that way. Because Rohe might get me again and I would only endanger your
Gens. It’s okay if you need to keep secrets from me…but be
honest
about
those secrets. If it’s Stronghold’s secrets you’re keeping, I’m fine not
knowing. Tell me that when I ask. But if the reason you’re not telling me about
your ability is because you don’t trust me…Brand, there’s no point to this
conversation at all. There’s not point to
us
at all…”

“There
is most definitely a point to us, Eva,” Brand snarled, crossing the space. He
reached out, smoothed his hand down her delicate spine, wanting to pull her
body against his, to cradle her into him. But he knew she would resist. “That
isn’t – I swear to god I trust you.”

She
shook her head, staring at the door.

“I
don’t belong here. And I’m leaving. I’ve given Seth the information he needed,
and I want to go home. I should be talking to Rainey, not arguing with you.”
Eva sounded tired. Defeated.

Her
words cut Brand, sharper than any knife. “You don’t want to know my ability,
Eva,” he said wearily. “It isn’t relevant.”

Her
head rose. She scowled. “It isn’t
relevant?
That is why you keep secrets
– not because they’re important to Stronghold, not because you don’t
trust me – but because you don’t think they are
relevant?
What,
you don’t think I
care?
”

“Eva,”
Brand began, “you don’t want to know…”

“I
do
.”

Deep in
those eyes, Brand saw the flicker of real pain. Eva thought he didn’t trust
her. She thought she didn’t belong at Stronghold. And she wanted to leave.

He had
fucked up.

Brand
cursed softly. He raked a hand through his hair. This was his fault. So he just
came out and said it: “I take memories, Eva.”

Eva
stared, almost expectantly, as if waiting for Brand to continue. Then she
blinked, absorbing what he had said.

“You
take memories.” Eva tilted her head to study his face. “You
take
memories? Like Seth can see my memories? If you can do that, then why is he the
one who…”

“No.”
Brand interrupted, weariness rising. He had never had to explain his ability
before. Not like this. When he had realized what he could do, his father had
told the rest of the family. There had been no need for further explanation. “I
take
memories, Eva. When I go into a person’s mind, I search out a
certain memory, or a set of memories. Usually it’s the ones that are most
immediate, the memories that someone is trapped inside. The memories that cause
pain. I don’t have much control. Usually the memories I need are the ones at
the surface.” Brand met her eyes. “And when I find those memories, I
take
them. I can’t leave a mind without…taking something with me.”