Covet (49 page)

I sighed and rubbed the back of a hand over my cheeks. “I’m not seeing it your way. It’s just common sense. Sun Tzu says you have to pick your battles, so that’s what I’m doing. And don’t worry about the tears. I was just…remembering something sad.”

“Other than the constant tears, which were also an unfortunate habit of your mother’s, your mother was never this easy to deal with.” He searched my face as if he thought I was plotting to sneak out the first chance I got.

I resisted the urge to read his mind for confirmation. “Mom isn’t a vampire.”

“Hmm. Yes, there is the blessing of my genes to factor in. Now, do I want to know why you are reading Sun Tzu?”

“School assignment,” I lied without even looking up. Actually, I had started reading it thinking it would help me pick and choose my battles with the Clann. Now that Tristan might become Clann leader, I wanted to read it today in case he ever needed some leadership advice. But Dad didn’t need to know that.

Maybe this was how vamps got to be good at lying. They were forced to do it so much that it became second nature.

“Hmpf.” He dialed a series of numbers on his phone so fast that even I couldn’t make out which buttons he pushed. Into the phone he said something in another language that sounded vaguely like French at super high speed. After a few seconds, he walked away, speaking in English to Caravass about Tristan’s dad and the elections.

Alone in the living room, I tried to read. But every few seconds, I caught my attention drifting. I was too restless. My body didn’t want to sit still. I needed something more physical to do. Maybe some tai chi? Sighing, I tossed the book onto the coffee table and returned to my room.

I turned on my MP3’s docking station, scrolled past all the songs I usually listened to, and found one I hadn’t heard in a while.

Soon Florence and the Machine was thumping out a catchy beat. Even the lyrics about shaking off regret called to me.

It seemed I’d felt guilty and full of regret for so long for so many things…for breaking the rules and causing Nanna’s death, for what I was and how I endangered Tristan’s life with our every kiss, for the secrets I was forced to keep, even for my birth and all that it had cost my parents.

What was that saying about hindsight being 20/20? It was so easy to judge myself looking back at those decisions now. And yet, at the time of each choice, I had thought I was making the right one.

Tell me you don’t think about us every day and regret breaking up with me.

I had told Tristan the truth last night. I did wish we could still be together. But I didn’t regret doing what was needed to protect him. And I never would.

It was the one path I’d taken so far that had left me completely regret free.

And that was why, when I woke up this morning, I hadn’t cried. Seeing him, talking to him, being held and kissed by him last night, had been painful to lose at the dream’s end. But I had been able to face the day strong this time because I knew all the way to my core that I was
right
. He had to become the new Clann leader for the sake of so many people. It was his destiny, and our being together would endanger that. Only he could help teach all the descendants to let go of their fear.

I thought of the Brat Twins and Dylan, trained for years to fear me and all vampires. I used to wonder why they couldn’t just let go of that fear.

But maybe, if it was so easy to let go of a negative emotion, then I could have let go of my own guilt and regrets by now.

Maybe it took conscious effort to let it go. And in my case forgiveness, not for others’ mistakes, but for my own. I had to find a way to forgive myself for not being perfect, for screwing up even when I tried my hardest not to. For not being able to foresee the future and the consequences of every action I took.

I set the song to loop, then walked over to the vanity, my footsteps instinctively matching the beat. Leaning over, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. The outside seemed so perfect, made flawless by the vamp genes. But the inside was full of flaws.

“I forgive you,” I whispered, smiling because it felt a little silly.

I forgive you
, I told myself again, silently this time.

The smile went away. This was starting to feel not so easy now.

I tried it again.
I forgive you, Savannah Colbert. I forgive you for not being perfect. For being only half a vampire and half a witch and probably a horrible failure at both. And for having to drink human blood once a week.

I hesitated then dived into the toughest part, determined to finish it. Staring into my reflection’s eyes, I thought,
I forgive you for falling in love with Tristan, and for dating him in spite of the rules. And most of all, I forgive you for causing your grandma’s death and for taking away your mother’s mother before any of us were ready.

Now the tears came, rushing over onto my cheeks. But this time it was okay, and I didn’t curse myself for being weak and crying. Because I forgave myself for that, too.

I’m not perfect. And I don’t have to be. I can figure it out as I go, and as long as I do the best I can, it’s okay if I still screw up.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. I felt…lighter. Better. Like maybe, just maybe, some of the guilt weighing me down was gone.

I gave in to the urge to sway with the music, letting it wash over and through me.

Then, for the first time in months, I truly danced again.

CHAPTER 35

TRISTAN

It had been the week from hell. Mom had self-medicated through the weekend, but on Monday she came back to life with a vengeance. Every time I walked into the kitchen past Dad’s open office door, there she was in Dad’s chair behind his desk on his phone with the descendants, destroying all of Dad’s and Grandpa’s hard work on the peace treaty.

Not that she saw it that way.

“Listen, Beth, you’ve got it all wrong,” she snapped, her voice carrying down the hall to where I was digging through the fridge for a snack. “The vamps absolutely can not be trusted, and Tristan knows it better than anyone else. He’s anything
but
a vamp lover! He made the mistake of falling for that little vamp’s innocent façade, only to be tricked into being kidnapped by her and her father then drugged and carted off to the vamp council like some kind of trophy, where they tortured him and tried to get him to spill everything he knew about us. But Tristan is a Coleman, and four generations of Colemans haven’t led our people for nothing. He was strong, just like his father. He withstood everything they put him through, and then some. My son has been to war, he’s been in the trenches as deep behind enemy lines as you can get, and he survived. If that alone doesn’t make him worthy to be our next leader, I don’t know what does!”

A long pause before she replied, “So I can count on your family’s vote for Tristan this Saturday? Excellent! I look forward to seeing you and John then.”

I walked down the hallway, coming to a stop in the office doorway as she hung up the phone and made a note in the Clann address book.

She glanced up with a tight smile. “Got another family’s vote for you. Honestly, son, I think we just might have this in the bag.”

Yeah, but at what cost? “You know, the peace treaty was really important to Dad. It took both Grandpa and Dad’s entire lives to get it instated and keep it going.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, well, your grandpa was delusional, and your father led a sheltered life. Sam had no clue what the vamps are really like, nor did he want to see the truth. I tried to tell him. Now look what his naive optimism has gotten him. But don’t you worry, son. I will see to it that his murder is avenged. Starting with securing your leadership. Then we’ll turn our sights toward making every last vamp pay.”

I opened my mouth to tell her I had no intention of ever becoming a vamp hater like her. But then I shut my mouth and walked away. What would be the point of arguing with her now? She had just lost the love of her life. There would be no reasoning with her for a while. And who knows? Maybe if I had seen what she’d seen, lost as many loved ones as she had to vampires, maybe I would be just as filled with rage.

I only hoped I could undo whatever damage she might cause this week. If I got the majority vote.

I didn’t see much of Emily all week. Mostly she kept to her room. The few times I did see her emerge from her room, we didn’t have anything to say to each other. I wanted to forgive her for her “memory loss,” but I just couldn’t. Not yet. Every day that she couldn’t remember or wouldn’t tell the truth was one more day the trail of clues was allowed to fade away.

The funeral Saturday morning was a total circus. I’d expected a pretty big turnout as hundreds of descendants from all over the world flew in to honor the loss of our leader. What I hadn’t prepared for was all the non-Clann people and media who showed up. People who had worked at Dad’s manufacturing plant, local politicians, and local media mixed with recognizable celebrities in the business world and national media.

I’d had no idea Dad was so well known and loved outside the Clann. Realizing it made me miss him all the more.

I had to read a speech, which had taken me days to try and get just right. Afterward, I couldn’t even remember giving it. All I remembered was the sight of that coffin with Dad closed up inside it, hidden from view so no one would see the supposed fang marks high on his neck.

After the funeral, Mom held a Clann-only gathering at the country club, where descendant after descendant got up to talk about Dad. I didn’t remember much of it, either. I was too busy worrying.

Because now that it was real, now that I had seen my father buried in the ground, the upcoming vote was also all too real. And so were the possible consequences.

Savannah was right. I had to become the next Clann leader, for her sake, for her dad’s, for the safety of all these men, women and children gathered today in the banquet room.

If the Williams family took control of the Clann, no one here would be safe. Once they started another war, it wouldn’t be just a single, organized battle. It would be ongoing and everywhere…in public places and private, spilling over into Clann homes and businesses. They would make sure it was as dirty a war as possible, and no one would be spared, not even the kids. And it wouldn’t just affect the Clann and the vamps. Ordinary humans would also get caught in the crossfire.

I’d done my research this week, talking with Dr. Faulkner by phone so I could get caught up on the details of the Clann’s history with the vamps. The last war had been fought on and off for hundreds of years, with historians mistaking it for all kinds of world wars and plagues and mob-related violence. Thousands had died on both sides, including ordinary people recruited to help each side.

We couldn’t let another war begin
. I
couldn’t, not if I could do something to stop it. Savannah was right. There was no way to run from my responsibilities. If I was selfish, if I turned away from the Clann, she and I would never be safe again anywhere on this planet.

I
had
to become the next Clann leader.

Maybe then, with enough time and effort and reasoning, I could bring the Clann around. I could help them see that we could coexist with the vamps, not just under an uneasy peace treaty, but with a better understanding for both sides. We didn’t have to live our lives in fear like this.

Dad was right. Someone was behind the Clann killings, and there was no way it was just some rogue vamp. It couldn’t be a coincidence that both the Clann’s leader and extended family had been targeted. The obvious reason for the connection was that there was some kind of political agenda behind it.

Someone wanted another war. But who? Who had the most to gain from such a war?

Figuring that out would be my first and most important goal as Clann leader.

Savannah’s dad had put me in touch with Caravass, the council leader for the vamps. I’d spoken to him several times this week, and though neither of us had any updates to share, we’d both agreed that someone must be trying to play off our groups’ fears and mistrust. I couldn’t be sure yet that Caravass was trustworthy, other than my instincts, which Dad had always told me to pay attention to. Only time would really tell. But for now, my gut said he was a necessary ally, and I was hopeful we could work together to put an end to the killings.

I just had to secure the majority vote tonight. Which was why, when I spotted Mom mingling throughout the banquet like the First Lady working for last-minute votes during a presidential election, I didn’t try to stop her. Her methods might be crappy and cause me more work to have to undo later, but if they got me in as Clann leader, so be it.

I was starting to understand why politicians all had a certain underlying ruthlessness to them. In order to do good, it seemed like a whole lot of compromise and strategic maneuvering was required first.

I just hoped, a year from now, I could still stand to look at myself in the mirror.

* * *

By the time the banquet broke up and everyone prepared to head out to the Circle for the vote, I was strung tight and having a hard time not showing it.

Unlike Mr. Williams. He stood on the opposite side of the clearing’s stone chair that had been my family’s all the way back to my great-great-grandpa, and he should have looked nervous. Instead, Mr. Williams was nothing but cool, calm and confident. Where I felt like a kid playing pretend in my suit, he looked ready to become the next U.S. president, never mind leader of the Clann.

For the first time in my life, I hated being young. If I were a couple of years older, he wouldn’t look so smug.

The stone chalice was passed throughout the crowd. You had to be eighteen to vote, which was probably a major point in my favor since it meant Dylan and the Brat Twins couldn’t vote yet. The teenaged descendants had been allowed to attend, though, while younger descendants had been excluded from the gathering in order to keep the event as orderly and formal as possible. The vote itself was a magic-based process. Mom had explained it to me this afternoon. Descendants had to use power to make their mark on the ballots, ensuring that each vote’s maker could be traced, thus preventing any ballot stuffing.