William gathered up my hands and led me to the recliner stuffed in the corner of the living room. It was something straight from the seventies—olive green, threadbare along the arms, and downright ugly, but it was Joseph’s favorite piece of furniture in the entire house that was brimming with modern designs and comforts.
Being the wife she was, Cora didn’t relegate the recliner into a back room or office, but put it on display in the living room, much to her chagrin. She scowled at the thing every time she looked at it and William and Joseph had made it their mission to use it every chance they got just to prove its worth.
William plopped down in the chair that belonged in the bargain basement of the Salvation Army and pulled me down onto his lap. Maybe this ratty old thing wasn’t so bad after all . . .
Cora smiled without humor at William, while the two brothers exchanged grins full of camaraderie. I curved my head into the bend of his neck, breathing in the scent of him that was aromatic in a spicy/woodsy kind of way . . . in a delicious kind of way.
Whenever he was gone, I found myself making a lot of recipes with cinnamon. When I’d added it to taco meat one night, I’d been banned from the spice cupboard and doled out whatever I needed from Cora or Joseph in rationed quantities. I also found myself lying in the center of a forest after a rain storm, when the scents of the musky woods would be at their strongest.
If being in love made a person mad, then being away from the one you loved made you a lunatic. I recognized the symptoms and knew I was walking the fine line of sanity virtually every hour he was gone.
“How was Africa?” Joseph asked, his amusement dimming.
“Long,” William said, sighing. “Not much has changed from the last time I was there, either. Although this time, the pieces of human bodies I was putting back together were those of the tribe who did the massacring last time. It never ends . . .” His voice sounded heavy, tired even. “For every body I’d sew back together, there’d be ten I couldn’t. There’s so much evil out there,” he said, his body growing tense. “It never ends. It never will end.”
Cora chimed in before Joseph could: they were both hopeless optimists to the end “But there’s plenty of good out there that’s worth protecting, don’t forget that, William.”
He took in a heavy breath, my chest rising with his. “You’re right, although it’s difficult to remember when everything good in your life is half a world away.”
“I’ll second that,” I mumbled.
“How’s the family been?” he asked, tracing patterns into my palm.
“You haven’t seen anyone else yet?” Joseph asked and I wondered if he was being serious. When his smile broke, I knew he wasn’t.
“For some reason I just had to get here first.” William’s arm tightened over me.
Cora jabbed her husband in the ribs as she took a seat beside him on the couch. “Father’s been alright, kind of removed.” Joseph rubbed at his ribs, feigning agony. “Well, more than usual, at least. And Nathanial and Abigail—”
Cora set her jaw and exchanged a quick look with me; this had been a regular topic of our morning conversations. The oldest Hayward brother and his wife had gone from disinterest, to dislike, to disdain for me. If I answered the telephone in Joseph and Cora’s house while one of them was calling, they hung up. Maybe they didn’t know Joseph and Cora had this twenty-first century invention known as caller ID.
Then again, maybe they did.
“Let’s just say they’ve been just as ‘friendly’ as ever,” Joseph finished, pointing his eyes at me to demonstrate who their “friendliness” was directed at.
William exhaled, popping my chest forward with a sudden burst, and I felt a flash of anger so scalding running through him it was uncomfortable.
“Any news from Newburg?” William asked, keeping his tone regulated, and I’m sure a silent, but potent exchange was taking place in his eyes to his brother. He didn’t want me to worry about any retribution or payback we might suffer from John Townsend’s Alliance of Inheritors.
Four months back, when William saved my life by making me Immortal, I’d wound up at Townsend Manor where he was posing as a professor in the most powerful and destructive Inheritor Alliance in the world in order to unveil how they were upending the Mortal world so the Guardians could put a stop to it. The night before I was set to escape from Townsend Manor, I ended up Betrothed to John Townsend, the most powerful Inheritor, the most corrupt Immortal, and the man most capable of making my skin crawl. Twelve hours later, he had me sentenced to death, where he and his six other Council members very nearly succeeded in sucking away every last drop of . . . me.
The night of the Betrothal Ball when I’d been Betrothed to John, I knew I’d wind up dead because of him one day, but I suppose I’m to blame for expediting it by him finding me making out in bed with William, who he also discovered that same morning had been betraying him the past ten years. Talk about the perfect storm.
“No, it’s been quiet,” Joseph said, dropping his head. “Too quiet.”
William nodded and I sensed a storm of contemplation roll through his mind.
The pensive silence was shattered by another Hayward entering the living room. The screen door slammed shut again, but this time it didn’t announce my beloved, but my bane. I sighed before he opened his mouth, already well aware of what he’d be serving. Sarcasm with a side of ego.