“For normal families, or ours?” Alicia asked. She shrugged, running a hand along the smooth shiny black fender of the Ferarri. “Still, I don’t suppose normal families buy such nice presents for their wayward daughters.” She wiggled her brows. “Though I still think you should have gone with the little red ‘vette. Then we could match.”
“That would just be too cute, ‘Leesh.” Amber rolled her eyes, flung back her hair and walked side by side with her sister—and she didn’t much care how official or unofficial it was, Alicia was her sister. It was an odd family, an odd, overprotective, obscenely wealthy family. The girls had two mothers, always had. One vampire, one mortal. And Amber’s father watched over and protected all of them—even though he looked young enough to be their brother.
Which was why she hadn’t told him about the dream that had been plaguing her for more than a year now. A dream that intrigued her—and terrified her, though she wasn’t sure why. Her dreams tended to be precognizant, and everyone knew it. So there was no reason to trouble the entire tribe until she’d figured out what this one meant.
Just who the hell was the blond-haired vampire with the fiery eyes that made every part of her being turn molten when they locked with hers? And what was in the ornately carved box he handed to her that made her heart turn to ice with dread? She could never remember. Never. But there was a cold certainty in her mind that what the box contained … was death. She didn’t understand what that meant. But she believed it. The tear in the vampire’s eye as he handed her the box was too real to be denied. Death. Whoever he was, he would bring her death.
Amber closed her eyes and focused her mind on her mother, ordering herself to lock the dream away and keep it entirely to herself. We’re here, Mom.
By the time the two were on the steps, Amber could hear the locks turning. The door was flung open, and Angelica, beautiful and forever young, was wrapping her arms around both of them. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here. You just don’t know.”
Amber hugged her mother hard, then stepped away. “Mom, we’re here every weekend. How could you possibly miss us already?” And that was when she picked it up—the tense, sad vibe her mother couldn’t have hoped to hide from her. Worry. Grief, even. She felt her blood rush to her feet and searched her mother’s face. “God, what is it? Has something happened to Dad?”
“I’m fine, Amber,” Jameson said. He stepped into the foyer with Susan at his side and held out his arms. Amber went to hug him, while Alicia hugged her mother, then they switched places and repeated the heartfelt, if obligatory, embraces.
Wringing her hands, Angelica hurried into the living room, with the others following. Amber kept looking at her father, asking him silently what was going on. He told her without a word to be patient and to brace herself for tragedy.
Amber was on the verge of tears even before she made it to the living room and settled into an overstuffed chair. Alicia, though unable to read minds with the accuracy of a vampire, was adept at reading faces and at feeling emotions. She, too, had picked up on the grief in the air. She sat in a rocking chair, reached out to clasp Amber’s hand. Susan sat on the sofa, and Angelica sat beside her. Over the years, as Susan had aged like any normal woman, she’d taken on an almost motherly role with Angelica. She protected her, loved her, and kept one hand on her shoulder now.
Jameson remained standing, seeming to gather his words in his mind.
“Father, for God’s sake, say something!” Amber exploded at last. “Has someone died? Are Eric and Tamara all right? God, is it Rhiannon? Or Roland? What’s happened?”
Jameson licked his lips and shook his head. “No one has passed, Amber. But it’s … it’s Willem.”
Amber blinked in shock. Five years ago, Willem Stone had saved her from the hands of a ruthless scientist who’d been treating her like his own personal guinea pig. Since then, he and the vampiress he’d fallen in love with, Sarafina, had become a part of her odd little family. But unlike the rest of them, Willem was a mere mortal. Not one of the Chosen, not one who could be transformed. Just a mortal man. The most exceptional, incredible mortal man Amber had ever known.
Almost afraid to ask the question, she forced the words out. “What’s happened to Willem?”
Alicia’s hand squeezed hers tighter when Jameson said the single word.
“Cancer.”
It was as if he were speaking a foreign language. She felt her brows bend into question marks. “What?”
“He has a brain tumor, Amber. It’s inoperable. And it’s … terminal.”
“No.” She searched her father’s eyes, then her mother’s and Susan’s. “There has to be something we can do. There has to be something—”
“He’s a mortal,” Angelica whispered. “Mortals. die.”
As she said it, Alicia and her mother exchanged a knowing look, one of sad acceptance, but it wasn’t lost on Amber Lily. She wasn’t used to dealing with death. She refused to accept it as the inevitable end to those she loved. Even the mortals.
“It can’t happen. Not now, not yet,” she said, as if saying the words emphatically enough could make them true. “God, Sarafina only just found him. How can he be taken from her like this? They should have had years together. Decades!”
“It’s not fair,” Alicia whispered. Then she licked her lips, shook her head. “But, it won’t kill him. Will’s the strongest man I know. He’ll beat it. He will.”
Amber nodded. “'Leesha’s right. God, he withstood torture in the desert, he was given medals for protecting all those men who would have died if he’d talked. He’s a hero. He faced down Stiles, he even faced down Aunt Rhiannon and Sarafina and lived to tell the tale!”
“This is different, Amber,” Susan said softly. “I know it’s not fair, but it’s the way life works. Death is—it’s a natural part of the cycle for some of us, honey. It’s just the way of things—part of being human.”
Amber lifted her head, staring for a long time at Susan, noticing her gray hairs, extra weight, the wrinkles around her eyes. She looked at Alicia, who’d changed in the past five years in far more subtle ways. She’d lost the look of a teenager, looked like a woman now. While Amber hadn’t changed at all. Not since that house in Byram, Connecticut. Not since Frank Stiles and his experiments.
She lowered her head. “Sarafina must be devastated.”
“Rhiannon is with them right now at their place in Salem Harbor,” Jameson said. “Eric’s doing research at the lab at Wind Ridge, but.” He shook his head. “There’s not a lot of time.”
Amber’s brows drew together. “How long?”
“Six months, at the outside.”
Her eyes fell closed even as the words were spoken, and tears flooded them. God, six months. It was less than a heartbeat. She sniffed and knuckled away her tears. “I need to go to him. I need to see him—both of them. How is he? Have you spoken to him?”
“It was Rhiannon who phoned with the news,” Angelica said softly. “She specifically asked for you to come.”
Amber nodded. “And what about the rest of you?”
“We’ll be coming later. First we’re heading down to Eric’s. Roland is already there. They need all the help they can get with the research,” Jameson said.
“Besides,” Angelica added, “we don’t want to overwhelm ‘Fina and Will. All of us descending on them at once might be a little too much.”
“They’ll want time alone, too.” Amber swallowed her tears, though they nearly