Chapter Twenty-Four: The Edge of a Knife
Andy had not cried when her mother died. She'd never really known her. Fiona Brodrick had been a hands-off kind of mother, leaving her children alone except for regular lessons in magic. Maybe it would have been different if she hadn't kept moving them around and devoted herself to rooting out the abusers of magic. The past was past and Andy couldn't work up any real regrets when she thought about her mother. They hadn't been meant for closeness.
It was the woman lying dead in her arms that she'd loved more than any other, that she held the most loyalty for and would sell her soul to have back. Andy didn't care about the sun beginning to set in the distance. She didn't care that the tide would be rising and where she sat would be flooded. She couldn't hear the roll of the waves or the crying of gulls. Andy could only be aware of her sister. The scent of death, the threat of rigor mortis.
Mona couldn't be dead. It was supposed to be Andy. She was supposed to die and Mona would survive. After all, Mona was the responsible one. She was more capable, more gifted. Andy was impulsive, more often out of control than in it. Somehow Fate had gotten confused. Andy was going to live forever while her sister hadn't even made it past twenty-five. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. She let out a humorless laugh. Fair. Andy wasn't a child anymore. She knew that such a thing did not exist. But pain did. Oh, pain was a living, breathing thing that made her supposedly superior immortal body ache.
"You remind me of someone I once knew." At the sound of Naomi's voice Andy immediately changed. With her fangs bared she abandoned her sister's body and tried to attack. She passed through Naomi's image and bashed herself on the rocks. "Don't be so rash, Andromeda. I wouldn't appear to you in solid form. I'm not suicidal. You could very well kill me in your state and use any means to do it."
"I could have killed you before," Andy snarled, glaring at Naomi's projected self. The other witch shook her head.
"You weren't willing to do absolutely everything before now. I probably made a mistake in killing Mona. I've made another me."
"I am nothing like you!" Andy shouted as she jumped to her feet. She wished Naomi were solid. She wanted to kill her. She wanted to tear her apart and burn the pieces.
"I had a sister once," Naomi went on calmly as if Andy hadn't interrupted her. "I loved her a great deal. When she was killed, I went mad. I took revenge on everyone responsible. I destroyed their lives. To this day, I can still hear them screaming."
"And you paid for it," Andy said, knowing all too well how the story went. She also began to see how love and pain were dangerous things to mix. They caused people to do terrible things. Mona had been right. Naomi had acted exactly as any human would when she abused her gift so long ago.
She had acted as Andy wanted to at this moment.
"I do not regret what I did nor do I bow to the will of your gods," Naomi spat, temper flashing briefly in her eyes. "My sister was precious to me. My whole family was dear to my heart and they were taken away. I killed their killers."
"As I will kill you." The witches stared at each other for a moment. Then Naomi smiled.
"I thought so. But will you kill everyone responsible? You do realize that if Emma hadn't roped you into that half-baked scheme to get her precious Josef's immortality back, your sister would still be alive. It was her fault as much as it was mine. Your fault, too. I think you know that."
"Emma did not mean to do this," Andy said, even though she held resentment towards her for just what Naomi had said. She never thought that Naomi was that perceptive. Of course, they hadn't exactly spent a lot of time together when they weren't trying to kill each other. "We were going to deal with this ourselves. If you hadn't summoned your dark magics then Mona wouldn't have realized what was going on!"
"And what about Mick St. John?" she asked slyly. Andy stiffened.
"I don't care about Mick St. John. He has nothing to do with me and never will." Naomi laughed derisively.
"Oh, come off it. He's your sire. You'll always be connected by blood and by Fate. So what are your feelings for him? How do you see the vampire who refused to save your sister's life?"
"You don't deserve any of my time," Andy replied flatly, kneeling besides her sister and taking her back into her arms.
"Ooh, denial. That's a fine thing. Let that anger burn inside you until there is no other choice but to explode. If you're going to kill me then I might as well take some comfort in the fact that my presence in the world will not be erased. I leave you behind, bitter and alone. How long until you become what I am?" Andy stared down at her dead sister's face and, through the intense anger that Naomi was inspiring, began to think. This wasn't right. Something about this was not right. Why the hell would Naomi be talking to her about this? What was the point?
"You don't know what you're talking about." It was a lame reply but it was meant to be. She was waiting for something. One word.
"You need to learn acceptance, Andromeda." There it was. Andy turned and stared at Naomi's image. The anger had drained out of her face.
"You said that before but you looked different," she whispered. Naomi smiled gently, the light blue of her eyes darkening to a warmer shade. Her face changed, as did the rest of her, to match the dead witch lying on the beach.
"I had you going for a minute there," Mona pointed out, sitting besides her sister and looking out towards the ocean. "I'm glad you picked the ocean. Of course, you always knew what I liked the most."
"You were my sister. I paid attention." Andy stared at her, shock mixing with joy. "How?"
"I love you. That's all I really need," she replied as she turned to look into Andy's face. "I wanted to point out the danger you were in, Meda. Naomi was a young woman very much like you. Gifted and courageous but also impatient. And she had an awful temper."
"Thanks for the comparison," Andy mumbled sarcastically. Too bad she couldn't dismiss Mona's point.
"The grief became rage for her. The rage became so destructive that no one could come into her life without being touched by her poison. I was not going to enjoy my afterlife if I knew that was happening to you." Mona studied her body. "The pain is only temporary, you know. It didn't hurt to die. The staying hurt more than the dying."
"But I wanted you to stay," Andy whispered.
"I will stay with you," Mona promised, seeing the sorrow all too plainly. "I will always be with you."
"I already know that!" Andy snapped then closed her mouth, ashamed of herself. Mona smiled in response.
"Don't stop now. You need to get it out and I'm here to listen. Go on." Andy closed her eyes. Why was it her sister could be insufferably patient no matter the circumstances? Would she ever learn that skill?
"I know you'll be with me. It's not a matter of what's happened to you. You're safe and happy and free. I'm not. I'm stuck here without you for hundreds of years, if I manage to live that long. And I need you. I've never lived without you before and I don't want to start. I know it's selfish but the loss of you, the change… hurts. And it will always hurt. You came here in Naomi's shape to face me with why I can't kill her to avenge you. If I kill her, I become her. If I start looking for people to blame, to punish, then I won't ever recover."
"It's never a matter of knowing," Mona said quietly.
"Acceptance. I know but I don't… I'm not ready to let go of you," Andy told her, reaching to touch Mona's hand before realizing there was nothing there to touch. She sighed.
"I understand. I love you, Meda. Just remember that, know that I wouldn't want you to mourn me. Please, celebrate my life when you're ready. Don't grieve because it's over." Mona looked up as the sun dipped down below the horizon. "But take your time. Everyone deserves an opportunity to let out the pain of loss. It's only human."
"I'm not human," Andy pointed out dryly. Mona tilted her head to the side.
"No, you're not. You're Andy. You'll have to figure out who that is on your own."
It was midnight and Mick still hadn't found Andy. He knew she hadn't left town while Naomi was still on the loose but that left a lot of ground to cover. No bodies had mysteriously appeared at the morgue so Mick had to assume Mona's body was still with Andy. Rigor mortis had to have set in by now. Holding onto an obviously dead body couldn't be pleasant, even for a mourner. So where had Andy taken her sister?
Andy probably hadn't fed since that morning, either. His primary concern was that a hungry, vengeful and tormented fledgling was strolling around L.A. and picking off tourists. He'd come home to check the news. Hopefully no bodies had been found on the street mysteriously drained of blood. Once he reached his floor, Mick knew he'd been looking in all the wrong places. Andy's scent was coming from his apartment along with the smell of very hard liquor.
"And he's back," she muttered when the door swung open and the scent of angry vampire reached her nose. Andy didn't bother getting up from the couch since he was standing in front of her in less than three seconds.
"Where the hell have you been?"
"Lots of places," she replied, fingers wrapped loosely around the neck of a bottle filled with a clear liquid that could only be vodka. "You're going to have to be more specific. Where the hell have I been since when?"
"Since you walked off with your sister," Mick specified, telling himself that if he started yelling at her it wouldn't do any good. She was too far-gone to care at the moment.
"Oh, I stole candy from children and terrorized the populace with my scary fangs. It's what I do every Wednesday night," she said blithely. Mick squeezed his eyes shut in a bid for patience. He heard her sigh and when he opened her eyes she'd left the couch and started moving around his kitchen. "Drinking didn't do much good. I took one sip then got fed up with the cliché of drinking my troubles away. I thought about smoking but there really wasn't much point since I hate the smell." She poured the vodka down the drain, sighing again.
"Where did you go, Andy?" Mick asked. She wasn't nearly as angry now as she had been before. Instead she gave the impression of being extremely tired.
"The beach. Mona wanted her ashes spread across the ocean. I talked to her for along time before I cremated her. Then I just walked." Andy shrugged. "I liked the other story better. It's more exciting."
"I'm happier with the truth," he said, relaxing at last. She glanced at him and there was an edge to her voice that hadn't been there before.
"I am, too. So tell me the truth, Mick. Why didn't you turn my sister when I begged you to do it?" His eyes widened and Andy found a bitter satisfaction in his obvious discomfort.
"She wouldn't have wanted this. I didn't mean for it to happen to you, either."
"But it did happen to me," Andy pointed out, fingers tightening on the empty bottle. "I asked you to turn her. I've known her all my life while you only knew her for a little over a week. Would it be safe to assume that I knew what she wanted better than you did?"
"This isn't living, Andromeda," Mick said with a note of finality. Conversation over, end of story. The bottle shattered in Andy's hand and her fingers closed over the shards of glass.
"What do you think you do every day, Mick? What the hell have I been doing for the past week? We live. We fight and we cry and we love. I don't know how else to define living." Andy opened her palm and calmly picked the glass out. She hated how her emotions kept jumping from one extreme to another. She wanted to rage at him but at the same time she just didn't have the energy for it.
"I don't see it that way." Andy looked up into his eyes.
"Mona once told me that you and I had to learn the same lesson. Acceptance." Mick wasn't sure what he was doing but he knew he wanted to touch her, to let her know that she wasn't alone. He took her hand, running his thumb over the newly healed skin. Her pulse fluttered beneath his fingers. Andy jerked her hand away. "Enough."
"I care about you," he told her, continuing to reach out. She moved back towards the stairs.
"I don't want to hear this, Mick. I can't take it right now." Or ever. It would be so much easier to handle her feelings if there wasn't some tiny, glimmering hope that what she felt for him could be returned.
"Just listen," Mick said. He moved in a blur and took Andy's face in his hands. "It's complicated."
"No, it isn't," Andy corrected him, struggling to break free. "You love Beth and you feel responsible for me. It's not complicated at all." He locked his fingers in her hair so that when she jerked back she ended up tugging at her own hair. She let out a temperamental hiss, fangs bared. Mick growled in response and backed her up against the wall.
"You're wrong," he said as his eyes changed to a predatory shade of white. "This is very complicated. But not right now." He kissed her. His fangs cut against her lips and she opened her mouth to the taste of blood and man. Andy gripped his shirt, accidentally ripping through the material with her nails. She couldn't concentrate on controlling her strength, on controlling anything. Mick lifted her up and she wrapped her legs tight around his waist.
He didn't have to be careful with her. He didn't have to worry about hurting her or breaking her or pushing too far. Mick cut his tongue on Andy's fangs and growled when she began to suck at the wound. The slow grind he'd started against her body cut deeper into her restraint. She pulled away from his mouth and arched her neck, pressing his lips against the skin. He scraped his fangs down her throat. "Andromeda."
"Do it," she begged. "Please, just do it." Mick couldn't say no this time. He bit down, groaning at the blood filling his mouth. Andy closed her eyes tightly and allowed herself to pretend. She pretended this could happen again, that there was no Beth.
Most of all, she pretended he loved her in the same way she was beginning to love him.