until the end. It's just the way of things." He shrugs like it doesn't matter, but I know it does. It matters in so many ways.
"What will you do?" I ask. "When the sire bond is broken?" I hold my breath, waiting for his reply.
"I do not know," he says, turning away from my gaze. "There is much we need to consider."
Is he thinking of me, I wonder? But his eyes are far away. Fixated on the fire. There is someone else tugging at his heart. And I think back, to all the things Liam has said these past months. I took this case for Mary. I was her healer.
“You were more, weren’t you?” I ask hesitantly.
“What do you mean?”
“More than her healer.” I place a hand on his face and pull it back to me gently. "The baby. He was yours, wasn't he? You weren't just helping Mary deliver her baby. You were helping her deliver your baby."
His eyes glisten with unshed emotion and he nods. "Babies," he says, in such a whisper I almost don't hear him.
"Babies?" I ask, sucking in a breath, thinking of Mary's last wish. That her babies would be protected. "There was more than one?"
He nods. "Twins. I… "
He pulls away from me and stands, pacing back and forth nervously. Cold rushes in where his warmth once existed and I find myself missing having him close.
I take another sip of water and place my goblet down, then slowly rise, pacing myself so as not to pass out. I take a step towards him, then another, until I have reached him.
"Liam. What happened?" I keep my voice soothing and calm, like I would if talking to a wild animal. He has that power in him, that wild, untamed madness that all the Night brothers have so much of.
"I was too late," he says, his voice breaking. "I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what. When I showed up, she was already dead, covered in blood, the baby killed. It was a massacre. It took me a moment to realize…” he sucks in his breath, then lets it out in one long, slow exhale before continuing. Each word costs him a piece of his soul to say. “She was still in labor."
It’s my turn to suck in my breath. I had several theories, but this wasn’t one of them. I reach for his hand, taking it in mine, my icy fingers thawing at his touch, as our fingers once again intertwine. I stay still and silent, creating the space he needs to tell his story.
"She was pregnant with twins. She didn't want anyone to know. Didn't want to jinx it. She said she'd had nightmares that one of the babies died. So she refused to speak about the children to anyone but me." He pauses. “We weren’t close, Mary and I. Not really. Our time together was one of passion, but little else, and each time I regretted it. Still, for some reason she trusted me. Trusted me with the truth above all others.” With his free hand he runs his fingers roughly through his wild auburn hair. "I…I delivered my daughter into the gore of her mother and brother's deathbed. And then I ran. Like a coward, I took her and I ran, telling no one."
His grief breaks him, and I pull him into a fierce embrace. His arms wind around my waist as mine wrap around his neck, and he presses his body into me, his face buried in the crook of my neck, his tears drenching my shoulder as his sobs tear free from him.
The pain he’s been holding in and using to feed his rage pours out of him, and I catch it all, staying strong enough for the both of us so that he can break, just for a moment.
I don’t speak again until his body stills and his breathing returns to normal. Then I ask the burning question on my tongue. "Liam, where's the other baby now? Where's your daughter?"
"She's somewhere safe," he says, pulling back from me to wipe his eyes and compose himself. “Somewhere Dracula wouldn't find her. She is being cared for well. Better than I ever could." His face hardens, and he looks at me. "If Dracula ever finds out about her, he’ll kill her."
I swallow, believing him. "We will keep her safe.” I say, knowing it’s presumptuous to assume he wants or needs my help in this matter. But also knowing it’s the