When Shadows Speak 

The music box smote against marble; its fragile air died in a cacophony of splintering wood and twisted metal. Outside, the rumble of thunder obscured my escape through the servant's passage. I pressed my back against cool stone, my heart hammering, as Adrian's voice boomed through the wall.

"Find her! Now!"

With every step, my stilettos betrayed me. I yanked them off, the ancient stones cold against my bare feet. Father had shown these passages to me when I was a child, teaching me every means of escape in case our enemies ever breached the mansion. It was ironic, considering now I was using those very passageways to hide from him.

Elena's voice came through the iron ventilation grate above. "The loose ends need handling tonight. Martinez first, then we find the real Valentina."

My fingers found grooves carved into the wall decades ago-familiar initials. I traced the 'E' and 'I', memories of when Elena and I had played here as sisters, before legitimacy divided us, before she chose Adrian's side.

"Your perfume gives you away."

I spun around, Nicolas materializing from the shadows. His hand closed around my wrist, thumb brushing my pulse point. Heat sparked between us, dangerous and electric.

"Valentina wore Chanel." His dark eyes searched mine. "You're wearing something. older. More expensive."

"I wanted a change." I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

"You've changed many things since waking up." His voice fell lower. "The way you move. The way you fight. The way you look at our daughters."

"Memory loss changes people."

"So does possession." The word hung in the air between us like a pendulum, heavy with implication.

A child's muffled sob cut through the tension. I jerked my head toward the sound. "Sofia."

Nicolas released me. "Go. I'll handle the others."

I slipped through another hidden door and into the library, in the east wing of the mansion. Elena crouched before Sofia, dangling a stuffed rabbit out of reach.

"Where does your Aunt Valentina go when she disappears, little one?" Elena's saccharine voice held veiled menace. The silence of Sofia's tears spoke volumes.

"It was my rabbit first." I stepped forward, into the light, and Elena's attention turned to me. "Still has my tooth marks on the left ear, doesn't it? From when you tried to take it from me?"

Elena's eyes narrowed. "What an. interesting detail to remember, sister."

"Some memories cut deeper than others." I moved between her and Sofia. "Like the day Father told us only legitimate daughters could inherit."

"Careful." Elena's immaculately manicured nails were digging into the rabbit's worn fabric. "Memories can be dangerous things."

"So can sisters." I reached and snatched the rabbit from her grasp, passing it to Sofia. "Run to your father, sweetheart."

Sofia clutched the rabbit but didn't go. Her small hand slipped into mine-a touch that, instantly, constricted my heart.

Nicolas gestured his men through the room with economical movements of his hands; he smoothed the ruffled feathers of the Calabrese matriarch with courtesy, placed a guard at every exit. His reflection in the gilded mirrors seemed to shimmer with shadow, or perhaps that was just my fraying nerves.

A note passed into my hand, Don Vittorio's ancient fingers trembling: "Santa Muerte walks tonight. The chalice will know."

My stomach hit my pelvis. The blood oath ceremony. Everyone involved had to say his true name when he drank-a mystical binding that would shatter my deception.

Adrian strode in with the obsidian chalice. Old magic buzzed off that artifact and into my borrowed skin. The shaking in Father's hands, as he set up the ritual, was the first chink of weakness I'd seen since my return.

"The passages remember you."

A collective gasp erupted from the gathered families at Sofia's whispered revelation, her first words in months and giving credence to my disguise. Elena's face twisted, her anger barely contained.

Nicolas moved to a position behind me as Adrian neared with the chalice. His proximity set my supernatural pulse racing; an acknowledgment of sorts between two creatures pretending to be something they weren't.

I raised the chalice, the blood within calling to my changed essence. Nicolas's hand closed over mine, steadying my grip. Our eyes met in the obsidian's reflection – Santa Muerte's skeletal visage stared back, her hollow eyes fixing me with grim warning.

It was movement that caught my eye again-Elena surging forward, the silver letter opener concealed in her hand. The seconds ticked; all that remained was for a choice to be made: uncover inhuman speed by dodging, or let her blade reach its mark.

The decision wasn't mine to make; Nicolas's grip on my hand tightened, his other arm snaking around my waist. "Careful, sister," he whispered against Elena's ear, "you would not want to spill anything sacred."

Elena didn't smile at her brother; it was more a smile to herself. Of course not, brother; I wanted to be closer to family.  

The paper knife disappeared into her sleeve just that fast, but the message was on-she knew something about "Valentina" wasn't right, and she'd find out what.

I raised the chalice to my lips; the blood sang to my loaned skin. One sip and I was either in their family forever or an impostor found out. The moment that liquid kissed my tongue, Santa Muerte's presence puffed harder, her skeletal fingers brushing my soul.

Truth versus survival had never been so razor-sharp.