Made By Design (Blood Bound Series Book 2) (4 page)

Trying to forget the internal imagery of Kendrick’s hands on me, I closed my lids, straining to focus on creating a solid wall. I imagined building it with bricks, piece by piece with cement, until my mind was locked away inside. It was the same brick wall that had been created around my memories at the Armaya by Caius and Marcus through compulsion. But rather than fighting to break through the barrier, I was laboring to build it up. “Okay.” I lifted my hand to hold up two fingers. “I’m ready.”

A strange sensation tickled beneath the solid plates of my skull. Kendrick’s mind pushed against mine, harder and more determined with each nudge. The wall inside my head began to shake and crack. Then it fell, crumbling to pieces. I felt Kendrick smile. “Two fingers.”

I slumped my shoulders and crossed my arms over my chest. “This is crap. And the only other ability I have is a nightmare. I can’t do this.”

Kendrick spun and caught my shoulders, turning me to face him. His irises—more silver than usual—contained a fierceness that locked our eyes. “Yes you can, Amelia. You
can
block me. Now try again.” He released me and turned back around.

After turning and with my back resting against his, I closed my eyes and rebuilt the crumbled wall inside my mind.
I can do this,
my internal voice reassured with a resolve that was impossible to ignore, one that lit determination in my veins.

Ready?
Kendrick questioned without a word.

As I held up my hand again with all five fingers extended, I imagined they were locked inside the solid brick wall. “Ready.” Just like before, I could feel the unusual sensation of Kendrick prodding my brain, but I held my focus, refusing to let even one brick fall. After a minute the sensation eased with my internal wall still fully intact. I leaned harder against Kendrick’s back. A wave of fatigue wash over me as the wall dropped. “I did it?”

Yes you did,
Kendrick replied wordlessly, turning back around. His face was marred by a look of accomplishment and worry at the same time. Because he had achieved something too.

I pushed my mental fatigue aside. “You compelled me? What the hell, Kendrick?”

Fire boiled in my veins and it felt like my head wanted to explode. Kendrick had compelled me to kiss him back when Ty and I were broken up. My reaction had been livid at the time, not knowing that he was in love with me. And now he had done it again.

“I’m sorry. Seriously.” Kendrick’s hands came up like waving white flags. “I wasn’t trying to manipulate you, I swear.”

I stepped forward to shove him, and the walls between our minds came down. Through our bond, I understood why he’d done it. Manipulation had never been his game. He wanted to help us get back to normal, or as close as we could get. My anger fizzled and I clutched his hand, hope surging through me. “Can you make it permanent?”

“Huh?” Kendrick stared at me like I’d asked him to fly. “Amelia, no. I’m glad you don’t hate me, but that was small. Long-term compulsion takes years, even decades of practice. Most never master it on anyone but humans.”

My shoulders slumped, defeated.

Kendrick lifted my chin with his finger. “Hey, you still blocked me. This proves it’s possible. You just need more practice. Okay?”

I sighed, far from convinced. “I hope you’re right.”

A whimsical chiming echoed off the foyer’s polished marble, up the stairs, and down the hall to my room. I ignored the interruption and kept trying to pull up the walls around my thoughts and emotions. Kendrick was in his room, rifling through a box of books he’d had shipped from the Armaya. One whole box was filled with boarding magazines. The rest contained compulsion and ability books, ranging from how-to guides to recorded feats in each ability—though none mentioned being able to dehydrate plant life yet. The whole time, Kendrick’s thoughts were an open book. Not a single block to break. Yet pulling up my own barrier was wearing me out and getting me nowhere. As soon as I gained any ground, my curiosity in what he was reading would override my concentration and any walls I’d forged crumbled. Twenty-four hours of practice and nothing to show for it.

And now the doorbell was chiming again.
Damn repetitive sounds!

I scooted off the end of my bed and shot down the hall, jumping down the tall arc of marble stairs to land with cat-like grace before the solid, double front doors. A twinge of paranoia crept in. Had whoever was out there seen me through the glass-lined entrance? I peeked out and saw no one, nothing but the deepening purple of a fast approaching twilight. As I reached for the handle my paranoia grew to suspicion. We never had visitors. So who was on the other side of the door? Someone harmless…or someone sent by Caius?

In the same instant I sensed Kendrick’s approach. Not from his room or the stairs, as I would have expected, but from the kitchen. His right hand brandished a thick kitchen knife that gleamed against the crystal chandelier light.
I’ve got your back.

With a quick deep breath, I swung the door open as the chimes began to sound again.

Back-bordered by sheets of snow that blanketed every tree and hedge, stood an elderly man. He wore a blue uniform marking him as a delivery man and had a clipboard under one arm. In his other hand was an envelope. It was thin and cream in color with an embossed stamp in the corner.

The man’s aged expression froze at the sight of me, perhaps seeing something in me that was distinctly different to regular human beings. Then it was gone and he held out the clipboard. “Delivery for Miss Amelia Lamont.”

“For me?” As I took the clipboard the man stepped back, rigid and wary. I frowned and glanced down at the papers. In the gridded lines was my name, address, parcel tracking number, and a space for me to sign. No sender details. Kendrick shrugged at my side, the knife concealed behind his back. “Who’s it from?”

The old man glanced sideways to his black, unmarked delivery van, as if wishing he were there rather than here. His shifty gaze returned to me. “I just make the deliveries, Miss.”

His uneasy stance relieved my paranoia. There was no way he was sent by Caius, no way he was here to cause any trouble, and no way he even had the ability to defend himself, if he needed to. All this man could be—even though he seemed a little old for the position—was an underpaid delivery man.

I plucked the pen from the clipboard and signed my name before handing it back. The man folded the clipboard under his arm and handed me the envelope. The instant my fingers gripped the paper, the man spun on his heel, darting down the steps and disappearing into the driver’s side of the black delivery van. In seconds the engine rattled to life, and the tire tracks left in the snow-littered driveway were all that proved he’d even been here at all.

I passed the envelope from one hand to the other. It was light, almost weightless. There couldn’t have been more than a single sheet or two inside. My curiosity dared me to rip the envelope open. My paranoia feared it was from Caius; a promise that he was watching and closing in. My hands began to shake. “You open it.”

Kendrick reached for the envelope when Dorian blew in through the front gates like a gale-force wind. He stopped right before us, snatched the envelope and ripped it open. “What do we have here?”

Surprised at his sudden appearance, I scanned my brother over. He was bare chested and wore a pair of sports shorts. His dark hair was slicked back and damp from melted snow. “Where have you been?”

Dorian shrugged and removed a single sheet of paper from the envelope. “Running on the beach.” His eyebrows arched.

“What is it?” Kendrick abandoned the knife on the foyer table and stepped outside.

Dorian handed the sheet to me. “It’s the results for the vial contents.”

Anxious anticipation swirled through my stomach like a whirlwind. Caius had forced the vial’s contents on me so he could steal my immortality by draining me to death. After escaping and returning home, we’d express posted the vial and a note straight to the Analyst. Every day since, my expectation of the results had grown, my need to know what Caius had poisoned me with always edging the back of my mind. Now the waiting was over. The information I so desperately needed to see was here.

My eyes focused like lasers, drinking in every piece of information. An emblem centered at the top of the page read,
Simon Beatty, Blood Analyst
. Below was a table that identified each element that had been found to make up the silvery liquid: Pure Blood and silver nitrate. But that wasn’t all. There was a third, unrecognizable substance. According to the summary footing the page, this substance had been tested repeatedly. There had been no substantial results that could prove what it was or how its inclusion would affect the named substances. The mention of Pure Blood wasn’t a total surprise. Caius had claimed the silvery substance to be ancient vampire blood. This finding gave us a reason why Dorian and I were experiencing Pure Blood abilities even when we were turned vampires. Yet it didn’t explain how my blood could be immortal, or how this silver liquid could repackage this so-called ‘gift’ to anyone who drained all my blood.

I backed up, slumping against a porch pillar. “This is useless. It doesn’t explain anything.”

“Doesn’t silver kill vampires?” Dorian pointed at the sheet.

“It’s supposed to,” Kendrick replied, frowning at the page in my hands. “Which makes its existence with Pure Blood impossible. Unless…”

Kendrick took the page from my hands and eyed the diagram showing how the two elements along with the third unidentified one connected to one another. The silver nitrate seemed to create a barrier between a single Pure Blood cell and an unidentified compound, separating the two while acting as a bridge between them. He skimmed over the report below the diagram. “Instead of destroying the other cells, the silver nitrate has bonded to them. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Hey, what about that?” Dorian pointed at the table siding the diagram. In the table, percentages for each substance were listed, marking its potency within the silver liquid. “Could that make a difference?”

The table showed that the Pure Blood and unidentified substance each made up forty-five percent of the total liquid, while the silver nitrate made up ten percent of the total. “That’s it!”

Kendrick voiced what we had already confirmed through the bond. “The silver nitrate level was so low that somehow the Pure Blood has managed to remain intact, bonding to the element, rather than being destroyed by it.”

“And the unidentified element,” I said finishing our explanation, “has to have similar deteriorating qualities to have mirrored the Pure Blood bonding.”

“So what’s the unknown element?” Dorian questioned.

“I don’t know. But I’m betting it’s blood.” A shock of realization ran through me. I took the paper from Kendrick’s hands and slid it back into the envelope. “What if it’s werewolf blood? What if we’re part—”

“Werewolf?” Dorian shook his head. “We’re nothing like them.”

“Then why is Mom letting me be with Ty?” It made perfect sense. “If our father was…”

“So, how do we get answers?” Kendrick asked.

I shrugged as Dorian spoke. “Mom’s told us he was human before, and we know that can’t be. If we want the truth, we have to compel her.”

After being used and manipulated through compulsion, using it on our mom felt wrong. “There must be another way.”

“Right now there’s not,” Dorian said. “Plus it’s not like it’ll hurt her. She won’t even know she’s being compelled. We’ll get in and get out.”

Decision made, we stormed into Mom’s office. Perched behind her desk she was staring at the computer screen. Her cell phone was pressed to her ear and she was in the middle of saying “another one?” when her words snapped off at our intrusion. Her hair had been pulled back into a French knot, but was now messy and loosened as if she had been scratching her head in frustration or thought. She untangled her free hand from her messy tresses and impatiently motioned for us to wait. “Look, I’m going to have to call you back.” She hung up and narrowed her gaze at the three of us while turning off the computer screen. “Well, you all look very serious. Where’s the fire?”

Kendrick and I dropped into the two seats in front of the desk, while Dorian moved to stand before our mom. He took hold of her hands and squatted beside her. “Mom,” he said, his silvery-blue eyes focused on hers and his pupils dilating. “Who was our father? What was his name?”

“I’ve told you…” Mom broke off, her face turning expressionless. The light in her eyes dulled, staring into Dorian’s which were now entirely extinguished of color by enlarged, glossy-black pupils. The compulsion was working. “Athobry,” she said without emotion. “Your father was John Athobry.”

“Ask her what he was,” I whispered, fearing I’d break his hold on her.

Dorian’s gaze didn’t shift from hers but the set of his jaw tightened as if to say,
shut up, I know what I’m doing.
Then he smiled. “Was John Athobry a vampire…or a werewolf?”

Mom’s brows pinched. “Your father was human. He…” She inhaled sharply and her blank stare broke from Dorian’s, shooting to Kendrick then me. The color drained from her face.

Kendrick leaned forward. “What is it, Ms. Lamont?”

“Oh no,” she breathed, hands pulling from Dorian’s to grab for the framed photo, before pressing it to her chest. It was the one of her cradling us as infants. “He’s dead.”

“Who killed him?” I demanded, clutching the desk’s glass edge.

“What?” Mom replaced the frame on the desk as the light returned to her eyes. “Why are you asking me this? You all already know the answer.”

“Good one, Amelia.” Dorian shot me a glare. “You’ve got like the opposite of compulsion. Anti-compulsion or something.”

“Dissuade,” Kendrick said. “It’s the opposite of persuade.”

“Compulsion?” Mom reared, looking shocked and incensed all at the same time. “Were you—?”

Dorian’s hands cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “No. We would never compel you, Mom. We would never manipulate you like that.”