Blood and Wine - Margot Scott Page 0,33

embrace.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Isabella says, remarkably composed for a spirit who croaked barely a month ago.

John and Katherine step out of the house. Mariah beams at the sight of her grandfather and rushes to hug him. He swings her around like a child, then sets her down to get a good look at her.

He introduces her to her grandmother, who smiles shyly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Katherine so nervous. It’s unnerving, like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs. She reaches out to touch Mariah’s face. Mariah smiles warmly as grandmother and granddaughter embrace.

I wait patiently on the small patch of lawn, letting this belated reunion play out as it’s meant to. Mariah is the happiest I’ve ever seen her, and I know I deserve all the pain Edward can pitch at me and then some for denying her this happiness these past few weeks.

John ushers the women into the house. Katherine pauses in the doorway.

“Come inside, William,” Katherine says.

I expect to feel out of place among the family, but watching Mariah interact so easily with the people she loves fills me with a warmth I haven’t felt since I was a very young vampire among my brothers.

Isabella is cooking something on the stove that I can’t smell. I’m willing to bet she can’t smell it either, but old habits die harder than the body.

The interior of the guesthouse is decorated in a distinctly sixties fashion. However, I can see through the twilight’s veneer to the physical, modern décor underneath, including the refrigerators that house my blood.

“Grandpa and I are going on a short walk,” Mariah says, squeezing my hand. “He wants to show me some night-blooming moonflower not far from here.” She kisses my cheek and whispers, “Thank you for bringing me here.”

I nod, fearing it’s all too little too late.

John and Mariah head outside, leaving me to contend with Katherine and Isabella on my own.

Katherine takes a seat in one of the armchairs, while Isabella fusses over whatever she’s pretending to make on the stove. Seeing the two of them together is a head trip. Having died so young, Katherine looks like she could be her daughter’s daughter.

“I know why you’ve brought her here,” Katherine says. “And I’m afraid we can’t help you.”

“She has to leave tonight,” I say.

“She won’t,” Isabella says. “Your bringing her here has ensured that. She knows her family is here now. This is her home.”

“They’re going to kill her.”

Katherine smirks. “Meaning, you’re going to kill her for them.”

I clench my jaw, biting back a groan. “Isn’t there something you can do?”

“Mariah is on a path she must walk all the way down,” Isabella says. “As are you.”

Katherine glances at her daughter. “Indeed.”

“But you could show her the blood stores,” I tell Katherine. “Help me prove to her that I’m not a ghost. Show her what Edward plans to do with her—”

“It won’t matter, William,” Katherine says. “You know what I’ve seen. She will find out what you are soon enough. If you try to tell her now, she won’t believe you.”

“Mariah must die,” Isabella says. “It can’t be avoided.”

“With all due respect,” I say, “how is Isabella even capable of having this conversation?”

“My baby’s always been a fast learner.” Katherine smiles proudly. They share a tender look between them that makes me want to smash their heads together.

“Glad to see you’re all on-board with the prospect of Mariah’s impending death,” I say.

“An amusing accusation, coming from you,” says Katherine. “I would’ve thought you’d be the happiest of all of us to have her trapped here with you forever.”

“Not if it means killing her.” And losing the ability to touch her, I think, but decide not to say aloud.

“What happened to doing whatever it takes to get your revenge?” Katherine asks.

I sigh heavily, running a hand down my scruff. “I would rather Mariah escape this place and live a full, happy life, far from here, than to have her stuck on the estate, surrounded by her father’s family.”

Isabella offers me a bowl of something I can neither eat nor touch. I wave my hand through the dish.

“If you think my daughter will love you any less once she learns what you are and what you’ve been through, then you don’t regard her as highly as you claim to.” She stares at me for a long moment, no doubt flipping through visions of my future like pages in a picture book.

I clear my throat. “Can we please focus on the