I flashed to eight years ago, when I was still getting to know Bones and he told me the reason behind his real name.
Merely a bit of fancy on my mum’s part, since clearly she had no idea who my da was. Still, she thought adding numerals after my name would give me a bit of dignity. Poor sweet woman, ever reluctant to face reality . . .
If the vampire standing across from us was correct, Bones’s mother hadn’t called him “the third” on a whim. She’d named him after the father he never knew he had.
When Bones spoke, his voice was strained from the emotions I could feel him fighting to contain.
“If you’re my half-brother, that makes you over two hundred years old. If you knew of our ties, why, in all that time, did you never attempt to find me before now?”
Wraith’s smile was sad. “I didn’t know until recently when I heard your real name from some warmongering ghouls. I thought it was a jest, but then I found a picture of you. Our resemblance was enough to get me digging into my family history. In some very old archives, I found mention of a sum my father paid to Viscount Maynard for reparations concerning the viscount’s unwed pregnant daughter, Penelope. Then your name appeared in the Old Bailey trial transcripts, and your age matched how old the child would’ve been. If that plus our identical names wasn’t enough, meeting you is. You look and act enough like my father to be his dark-haired ghost.”
Something else swirled amidst the wariness in Bones’s emotions, something so poignant it brought tears to my eyes. Hope. Was it really possible that after all this time, Bones had found a living member of his family? Wraith’s real name, resemblance, and the portrait were damn compelling, not to mention the records Wraith cited could be easily authenticated. Plus, why would someone go to the trouble of lying about a family connection? Bones wasn’t the type of person who’d appreciate being Punk’d.
I linked my arm with his, hoping to help calm his whirling emotions. “You say Annette knew about this?”
Wraith nodded. “I thought news such as this should be delivered in person, so I went looking for a member of your line who’d know your location. Once Annette was satisfied of my claims, we agreed to meet at the hotel, intending to arrive here together.”
“As my present,” Bones murmured, looking over Wraith with more curiosity than suspicion this time.
A smile quirked Wraith’s mouth. “Afraid I drew the line at tying a bow around myself.”
The fictional detective Sherlock Holmes had said that once you eliminate the impossible, whatever was left, no matter how improbable, had to be the truth. It seemed unbelievable that the vampire standing across from us was Bones’s brother, but so far the facts pointed to that very thing.
“I know this may be rather startling,” Wraith went on, still with that same lopsided half-smile. “Or you might not care. So much time has passed since our humanity that I understand if this news means little to you. If you’d rather I leave, I will, but I— I had hoped that perhaps we could get to know one another.”
If I hadn’t been touching Bones, I wouldn’t have noticed the slight tremor that went through him when Wraith stumbled over those last words, showing a glimpse of vulnerability underneath that cocky exterior. Wraith might claim he’d be okay, but it seemed clear that a rebuff would wound him. As for Bones, I could tell he very much wanted to know more about this vampire who might be the only link to his long-lost human family.
A gust of frigid wind blew Wraith’s hair around his face, reminding me that we could continue this conversation in comfort instead of standing along the side of a road.
I smiled at him. “Why don’t we go back to the house? It’s warmer there, and then I can congratulate Annette on her choice of a gift. She topped my present by a mile.”
Five
WRAITH’S EYES WIDENED when we walked into the cabin and he saw Annette being restrained by Ian, the other vampire’s hand still clamped over her mouth.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. We had, uh, a prior failure to communicate,” I said by way of explanation.
Ian’s brows rose but he didn’t let go of Annette. “If this is our trespasser, care to explain why he’s not in pieces?”
“He’s not the bloke who butchered Annette,” Bones said, clearing his throat. “Turns out, he might be my . . . my brother.”
Bones reiterated Wraith’s story, uncovering the painting for illustration. Ian looked stunned at the revelation of both Bones’s parents being members of the nobility, but Bones didn’t notice. His attention was all for the blond vampire standing beside him.
“Hmmph,” was what Ian said when Bones was finished. “So your human father was the Duke of Rutland, but who was your vampire sire, Wraith?”