The Seven Sinners Book 2

EVENING 2,575

XINIA

She played with her hands nervously as she sat in the circle with the other women. Amanda was giving her testimony while all of them listened and eventually would provide their support.

She had been in this support group for a long time. It didn’t help much, but she knew coming here eased her family’s worries.

So every week—every Friday—she would get in her car, get a coffee, and walk into the building. She’d grab her chair, move next to a woman, and sit down to listen to their horror stories.

Lea couldn’t finish. She started to sob. No one yelled at her. Everyone understood. They said comforting words to her, and she requested that someone else go.

Looking behind her, she knew that there was another group just like this one. Except the one in the other room was for men who’d experienced situations similar to theirs.

Sometimes she would hear screaming coming from one of the guys. She knew it was because someone had said something that hit a nerve.

Other times, she would hear absolutely nothing, and on those nights, she knew that hardly anyone had shown up.

In this group, the women always showed up.

She looked back at Amanda, who was absolutely losing it. She stood and walked to Lea. “Hey, let’s go to the bathroom. Running some water over your face would be nice.”

“I’m okay,” the blonde sobbed softly.

“No, you’re not,” she responded, moving a strand of hair from her eyes. “But that’s okay.”

The two women walked into the restroom. Lea went to the sink, cupping some water and splashing her face. She sighed softly, her hands gripping the sink counter, and stared down at her hands.

She stood a bit away, following Lea’s eyes. She could see cuff marks around her wrists. Lea rubbed the old wounds as the other woman handed her a paper towel to dry herself.

Lea sighed softly. She wiped her face. “They won’t fade. Silver’s a bitch.”

“Sometimes certain herbs may help lighten them.”

Lea remained quiet. She threw away the paper towel. “You’re so quiet during session.”

“Talking doesn’t help me much anymore. And I don’t quite feel like it’s my place.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been a part of this group for a while, and I’m still fucked.”

“It doesn’t get easier?”

She looked at Lea with a sad face. She bit her lip, shaking her head slowly. “It gets normal.”

The women returned to the session where another person was explaining their feelings. A few more minutes and the session ended. The girls walked each other out to their cars.

While everyone left, she remained in the dark, protected by her car’s locks. She didn’t want to go home. Going home meant seeing her parents. Seeing her parents meant their sad gaze on her, filled with pity.

And then she would go to bed, only to wake up and go to another group counseling session. Sundays were her days of rest.

Mondays she saw her psychiatrist, Tuesdays she had her other therapy appointments, Wednesdays were their family sessions, Thursdays were her physical therapy appointments.

It was never-ending, yet never helping.

She was still terrified of everything. Scared to be alone, scared to be with people. Scared to trust herself, scared to trust others. Scared of loud sounds, scared of the penetrating silence.

She took medication. Medicine for her depression. Medicine for her anxiety. Medicine to help sleep. Medicine to help her mood swings. Medicine for the pain.

They would tell her to breathe, to understand that her memories were not the reality. Yes, she supposed that was true to an extent. But her memories haunted her and ruined her reality.

She was physically exhausted. She felt so separate from herself and from others. She couldn’t concentrate.

Her only escape was the piano. It was the only thing that could bring her comfort. It was the only thing keeping her here, keeping her sane.

Her gums hurt, and her fangs broke through. She grimaced. She needed to feed, but she refused to do so often. It was a self-inflicted punishment for her to starve. Not only that, but feeding on another vampyre reminded her…

She shook her head. She started her car. She backed out and drove slowly home.

As she walked into the foyer, she laid her keys in the bowl beside the door. She sighed softly, hearing the footsteps of her parents come from the kitchen. It wasn’t that she didn’t love them; in fact, she loved them dearly.

It was just that their sad faces every time they saw her, every time they saw her scars, every time she spoke…broke her. It made her feel pathetic. Weak. Like she was the reason for all their sadness. She was.

Her mother came forth and hugged her. “How was your session, sweetheart?”

“It went well, Mom. I’m really tired.”

“But, sweetheart, you have only been up for a few hours. Come on, let’s watch your old recital videos!”

“Maybe another time, Mom.” She truly was exhausted. She moved past her parents and upstairs where she undressed and got into bed. Hunger ate at her stomach, and the pain soon followed.

It had been months since she’d fed. Maybe that was enough to end her suffering.

She woke up the next evening to her mother turning on the lights. She went to her bed and sat down, removing her covers.

She winced, wanting to sleep more.

“Sweetie, your appointment is soon.”

She wanted to dive back into her deep sleep. She didn’t want to get out of bed or get dressed. She wanted to stay there and wallow in her memories. But she sat up and nodded at her mother.

As usual, her mother picked out her outfit and laid it out before leaving her alone. It was seven thirty p.m. She slithered out of bed and slowly got dressed. She went downstairs, grabbed her keys, and went into town for therapy.

She returned at nine and as she walked in, she could hear her mother’s laughter come from the kitchen. Her father was talking to someone as well. She quietly set her keys in the bowl.

She didn’t feel like socializing tonight. Too bad her father had superior hearing, better than the average vampyre.

“My child,” her father called from the kitchen. “Come in here. Our guests would like to make a request.”

She closed her eyes and softly sighed in defeat. She walked into the kitchen and immediately recognized the other mated couple.

Her parents were in the elite class of vampyres, which was one of the reasons…she shook the thought away again.

The couple before her were elites just as her parents were.

“Blair.” She greeted the older woman.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?”

There it was. There was that look. The look said: this poor woman—what a tragedy, what a loss.

“I’m all right, Mrs. Acker.”

“I do have a request for you,” Blair began. “My daughter, Monalisa, has chosen her lifetime mate.”

“Afton?”

Blair nodded. She smiled with pride. It was a prideful moment for the Ackers, for any family actually. Her parents would never experience a beloved ceremony with her. She would never choose a beloved.

“We were hoping you would play for us? Monalisa would just love it.”

She smiled, again not wholeheartedly. “Of course, Mrs. Acker. If you could give me a list of compositions that you would prefer, I could work on them.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. We really appreciate it.”

DEMEDICUS

Back at the compound, Demedicus knocked on Zanthus’s door. It was no surprise when Zanthus opened with a bottle of rum in his right hand and cigarette in the other.

“No,” he growled.

Demedicus held the envelope in his hands. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Zanthus responded, starting to shut the door.

Demedicus put his hand out and stopped himself from being closed out. “What if this woman is your beloved—”

“I already had my beloved,” he responded solemnly. “Camila is the only woman I could ever love. Throw the pictures out.”

“I’m going to give them to Adrasteia. No brother will look. She will, however, and then she will check on the girl and make sure she’s okay. At that point, she will decide how much more she wants to intervene.”

Zanthus shut him out, and Demedicus stayed there for a moment. He felt bad for his brother. He pitied him. Demedicus went down the hall to Lycidas’s room. He knocked, and Adra answered with a bright smile.

“Here, come look at this house. I haven’t shown Lycidas yet.”

Lycidas was adamant about taking his beloved out of this house. Demedicus understood; no male would ever willingly live with their beloved and other males.

So they were moving out of this mansion, but close enough for Lycidas to remain in the Council.

“Adrasteia.”

She must have sensed his seriousness because her smile faded, and she set the laptop down. “What’s happened?”

“Solace came.”

“Solace?” she asked. “As in Zanthus’s priestess?”

“Yes, and she said that Artemis had visited her.”

“What?”

“She said that Artemis had granted Zanthus another beloved. He does not want this woman.”

“Of course he doesn’t. He’s already mated. This isn’t possible.”

“Well, even if it’s a sick joke, she gave us these pictures. Would you mind keeping them and hiding them? She said that the woman was in danger—”

“I’ll check on her. I won’t share the photos.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” As Demedicus turned to leave, she spoke up again. “How is he? Zanthus, I mean.”

“I fear that even if she is his second beloved, he will never accept her.”

“But what if he’s her first beloved,” she asked. “What would happen to her from the rejection?”

“Nothing good.”

ADRASTEIA

Once the door was shut, she went to it and locked it before returning to the bed. She was so eager to open the envelope that her hands began shaking. She sat back down on the bed and sighed softly.

She couldn’t imagine how this would end, but it wouldn’t be good. How could any of this end well?

She ripped open the seal and let the contents spill onto her bed. She saw a big white notecard first.

Xinia Zhu.

That must be her name. She put the notecard behind the photo. She smiled at the woman before her. Xinia was beautiful, and that was putting it lightly. Adrasteia wondered where she was from.

She assumed she had some Asian heritage because of her features. She had large almond eyes which were almost as dark as Adrasteia’s. Her pale skin was a stark contrast to her raven hair. Her cheekbones were high and mighty.

The photo was of her at the piano. She was wearing a dress and heels, and her eyes were focused on the sheet music before her. Behind this photo was one last thing. It was another photo, more recently taken.

This photo showed a drastically different woman. Her eyes held no happiness. Her face looked sunken in. Her hair looked unhealthy and so did her body. Clearly, she wasn’t taking care of herself.

Adrasteia immediately opened her laptop again and opened a different browser. She took a picture of the photo with her phone and did an image search. The results were enlightening.

She was surprised to see there were so many articles about Xinia, but as she read further, she understood why.

Xinia Zhu was a wonderful pianist, it seemed. She soloed with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and played for some time in the Vienna Philharmonic.

She trained all her life, practicing for several hours a day, to achieve her musical dreams.

When she reached eighteen, she attended Juilliard on a scholarship where she studied collaborative piano and music theory—whatever that meant.

She never graduated, however. And the more research Adrasteia did, the more her heart lurched from what she unraveled. Xinia went missing when she was twenty and was found a year ago when she was twenty-seven.

Juilliard extended an invitation for her to come back, and she returned for a time before dropping out.

Whatever happened during those seven years changed Xinia. Adrasteia wanted to know what it was. Just as she was about to give up for the evening, she saw a picture of the Ackers standing with Xinia at one of her recitals.

Wait, she knew that name. Her parents were friends with the Ackers. Adrasteia knew their daughter, Monalisa. Monalisa and Afton helped her when she was transitioning.

She reached for her phone on the side table and quickly dialed Monalisa, who answered almost immediately.

“Hey, Mona, it’s Adrasteia. I need a favor.”