A flash of lightning burst across the sky, its angry echo of thunder not far behind. Rain slammed violently against the window of the study where I sat.
I'd curled up in the quiet reading nook, my night dress and fuzzy socks tucked beneath me, in an attempt for a moment away from the family. Their energetic chatter swallowed all the energy in every room. They always had bright smiles, and loud, confident voices that commanded rooms. For the most part, they radiated positivity but no matter how long I was around them, that same quality just didn't rub off on me.
Another strike of lightning cracked through the sky, closer this time. Thunder grumbled above, loud and heavy as the footsteps of the gods.
Something was wrong.
I could feel it in my bones, but when I brought it up to my sister, she'd waved me off with drunken lackadaisy. None of them were paying attention to the wild energy in the sky.
My twin, Delphine Rios. We were nothing alike. Not our looks. Not our characters. Where I was quiet, observant, and mindful – an inherited trait from our mothers' side, Dee carried that fiery essence of the Rios family. Our fathers side. She was everything that side of the family admired. She was everything I was not. And we lived with them.
I was reminded of our differences, regularly.
I was always pitted against her in an unfair, unspoken social battle of superiority, often. I'd long grown used to the way we were measured against each other. Our eldest brother, Ronan, was set to inherit leadership as the Head of House Rios after he graduated from Hellebore, but that important little fact never stopped Abuela from instigating her quiet power games between the cousins. And especially not us sisters.
Nevertheless, it just became something I had to get used to.
Laughter echoed from down the corridor, tearing me from my thoughts. A moment later, Dee stumbled into the study, a lazy grin plastered on her face, her eyes glassy with the intoxication of wine.
"Naiaaaaa…" She whined, collapsing dramatically into the couch beside me. Her reddish-blonde locks cascaded over the armchair.
"Yes?" I asked, my voice clipped, making sure she knew I was annoyed.
She gave me a look. "Are you still mad because I told you to relax?"
I flipped a page of my book, pretending to read. "No…"
She raised a perfectly waxed eyebrow. "Yeah, okay."
Dee shifted in her seat to face me, her expression excruciatingly high-and mighty. "Look, if anyone thought it was actually something serious, they'd say something. So what if it's a magic storm? Those stupid Devils are probably trying out some new alchemical war-junk to take over Auraelius. Their base isn't that far from here, and if that's the case, what are we even supposed to do about it?"
The tension in my face softened, the logic of her words plucking away at my nerves.
I sighed. "You're probably right."
"I'm always right." She nudged my elbow with a playful grin.
I couldn't help but crack a smirk. As different as we were, Dee always knew how to break down my walls.
Then, lightning cracked down again – this time striking the old brick by the front gate. The thunder boomed so loud I nearly jumped out of my seat. My instincts told me something was wrong.
I shook my head, my heart thumping with foreboding. "Something feels wrong, Dee."
She rolled her eyes. "You're being too paranoid-"
She didn't finish her sentence. She was interrupted by a searing green flash in the driveway that flooded the room with magic light.
We glanced at each other and then Dee threw herself over me to peer out the second story window.
A portal door had opened within the gates of the house. Something only allies to the House Rios were permitted. Through the viridescent shimmer stepped Mr. Twain, our friend Kade's father.
He was swallowed by the rage of the storm. Rain pelted his black coat and slicked back his dark hair, plastering his ponytail to the back of his neck. He moved, fast and erratic – too fast for me to see his expression. His briefcase dropped into a puddle that had pooled over parts of the brick driveway, and he scrambled to retrieve it.
Mr. Twain was the sort of man who was composed to a fault. Cold, even. And so seeing him distressed in this way was alarming.
He struck the door, frantically.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK…
Dee and I exchanged a puzzled look, and bolted for the stairs where the relentless, repetitive banging of the door knock echoed through the marble walls.
When we reached the top of the stairs, still out of sight, a butler had already cracked open the door, just as Mr. Twain shoved his way inside.
"I need to speak with Amber." He barked, his chest heaving. " I need to speak with her right now!"
The butler moved aside immediately but Abuela was already striding down the hall with Ronan and father close behind her.
"What is the meaning of this Dorian?" She demanded. "It's the middle of the night, and just because you're a friend does not mean you can –"
"Amalia!" He cried, dropping to his knees.
Abuela's face drained of color at the sound of her daughter's name.
Amalia Rios. The baby. The ballerina. The jewel of House Rios.
Our father would tell us gold-spun stories of his little sister. Amalia was the picture-perfect example of what a Siren should be.
That was, until the scandal.
Banished from the west of Aterra for infidelity with a married Cambrion – her lover in her youth. Our aunt was forced to carry her unborn child to term in exile on the other side of the country. It was a political move, painted as punishment by the most powerful Cambrion families, the Cortez, the Borbons, and the Hellebores, to sever the power the Rios House held in the West, knowing we would never let one of our own, especially not the jewel, struggle alone.
But her decision took the family by surprise.
The shame of it all drove her to isolate herself completely from her own family. She vanished without a word.
Nineteen years ago, Tia Amalia disappeared to the east without a trace. Nineteen years later, not a soul had seen her.
Until now.
"Amalia is dead!" Mr. Twain cried.
He collapsed, sobbing on the floor, his fists cracking the marble floor with his Vampiric strength. Before her banishment, they had been engaged. And though he'd remarried since her disappearance, it was common knowledge that he never stopped loving her.
Abuela was frozen.
My father pushed past her, acting when his mother could not. Jaw clenched, he wore his stoic expression well for his mothers sake, but the pain behind my fathers' eyes was undeniable.
"We will speak in my mothers office." He said, lifting Mr. Twain off the floor.
Ronan grasped our grandmother as she swayed slightly. She looked up at him, stuttering. He whispered to her, most likely calming her down. I'd never seen her so distraught.
It almost made her seem human.
They disappeared down the hall. Dee turned to me, her eyes wide with confusion and emotion, but I didn't meet her gaze. I just stared at the empty hallway where they had vanished. My mouth bitter with the taste of being right.
"You guys never listen to me." I whispered.
Thunder cracked above us with a viciousness. Dee flinched beside me.
I inhaled sharply, breathing through the chill that washed over me.
Something big was happening.
Something had changed.
And there was all but nothing we could do but sit.
Wait.
And see.