Father (Blood Brotherhood 1)

I visit the next day, as early as I can. They have achieved what they call stability. Nina is sitting in a chair, staring out the window, her body nearly devoid of spirit.

“What did you do to me?” she whispers the question when she sees me.

“I once visited your mother in a place just like this one," I tell her. “She was caught between worlds, just as you are now. And she was convinced I was evil, as you are now. You have a strong bloodline, Nina. You are a woman through whom power courses like a river. With great power comes…”

“Great fucking messes,” she deadpans.

“In this case, yes.”

“I saw things in the mist,” she says. “Were they real?”

“What did you see?”

“Jonah told me it was you who killed him.”

I have a choice now. I can lie, and live with that lie. I can forge a relationship based on it and I can hope that it never catches up with me. Or I can admit the truth. I think she has had enough of lies and secrets. I think she is more than ready for the truth. I think she needs it.

“Yes. It was not intentional. He was weaker than I thought. He was also intending on letting you take the blame for all of his crimes. He was a parasite feeding on your goodness, and he had to go.”

She takes a hitched breath. “He was my brother.”

“I’d kill anybody who brought you harm, Nina.”

“Look in the mirror.”

“Alright. I deserve that. You’re angry.”

“I’m in a mental institution.”

“That’s because you ran away from me and refused Thor’s help and fell into the realm of demons. You are out of your depth. Unprepared for anything that is going to happen to you. You can’t differentiate the various realities. And that presents to others as madness. You need help. You need guardianship. You need me.”

“You killed my brother. I’ll never forgive you.” The drugs they have her on make her speak with a peculiar flat affect, but I know she means those intense words spoken in bland tones.

“Don’t forgive me. But come with me when you’re discharged. Let me help you. I have never wished you any harm.”

She laughs without humor. “You never wished Jonah harm and he’s…”

“I wished Jonah quite a lot of harm. He was a terrible person, and his father’s son. You are your mother’s daughter. You were not borne of the same father. You were a gift, placed in her womb by an angel. Jonah was rutted into her body by a beast who should never have taken Brotherhood vows.”

“Jonah was still young. He could have gotten better, he…”

“He was in all likelihood going to get much worse. That’s usually how it goes. People say they get better over time, but usually they just get better at rationalizing how terrible they are.” The irony of those words is not lost on me, even as they emerge from my mouth.

“That wasn’t your choice to make. You’re a murderer!”

“Yes. I am. I am also all you have left. You may hate me all you like, Nina, but you need me.”

“I do hate you,” she hisses, using a great amount of energy to express such vehemence. “And I will always hate you. I will never forgive you for what you did to Jonah. Never.”

Chapter Fourteen

Nina

I hate him but I have to go home with Bryn. There is nobody else to go to. The drugs they’ve given me are making me feel sick and stupid, and I know it is going to be several days before they fully wear off. Aside from that, Bryn is still my legal guardian. I was technically breaking the law by leaving his property, and thereby opened myself up to the prospect of being returned to prison. This has been spelled out to me by a stern matron who did not have time for any of my ‘nonsense,’ by which I have to assume she meant, mental break. I would call the British unsympathetic, but that would like be calling cardboard un-nutritious. They’re not made to be sympathetic. They're made to be stoic and strong, and God help the rowdy American girl who fails to follow that mantra.

Thor travels with us, and Crichton too. I have an escort of three big men to stop me from acting out in some hysterical female way. Thor and Bryn sit on either side of me in the back seat of the car that Crichton drives.

I am often tearful. My appetite has waned to practically nothing. They all try to tempt me with various foods, but even the thought of eating makes my stomach churn.

I wonder how I will be able to cope back at the abbey, where the fog rolls in often enough to turn even Bryn mad. What other horrors and terrors will I encounter in those swirling mists if I am ever to be caught out in them? It feels as though I am forever doomed to the indoors — or at least to sunny realms where such meteorological phenomenon are unknown. The desert, I think. Some far off sandy realm. That is the only place I might hope to avoid the awfulness of this existence.