Camilla left her art class waving over her shoulder at Ava, who’d smiled brightly back at her. Camilla was pretty sure she was the only human Ava looked at like that. Camilla forced herself to be disgusted by that, something that was getting harder and harder each time Ava smiled at her.

Camilla forced her thoughts away from Ava and onto more pressing matters: how to convince her parents to let her go out with Ava Friday night. It wasn’t going to be easy, but if she convinced them it was part of the mission they’d given her, she might be able to do it. First, she’d have to wait for the right time.

Camilla’s mom was waiting outside when she walked through the front door, in her truck. Camilla hurried to climb in, willing herself not to wilt under her mother’s harsh stare. Her mother said nothing to her, unsurprisingly.

Maria Ross hardly ever spoke to her elder daughter, unless absolutely necessary. Her younger daughter was a different story. Layla Ross was everything a Huntress could ever hope for in a daughter: bloodthirsty, heartless, and strong. Maria had no qualms about playing favorites, something Camilla had long accepted.

Camilla didn’t bother breaking the silence, just stared out the window the whole drive back. She jumped out of the truck as soon as it stopped, desperate to get away from her mom. Camilla hurried into the house, barely sparing their dogs a glance as she passed. Even they didn’t like her, as if they could sense how weak she was compared to her sister. It didn’t matter that she’d raised them, hand-fed them from birth. They still knew she wasn’t enough.

***

Hours later, Camilla sat down to dinner across from Layla, as she had the past seventeen years of her life. And as she had for seventeen years, when Camilla met her sister’s gaze, she saw unflinching hatred in her icy blue eyes. They both had their mother’s eyes, but only Layla had her burning hatred.

As always, Camilla stayed quiet while her parents discussed Layla’s training. For once, though, she had reason to speak up.

“Mom, dad,” Camilla began hesitantly. “I was, uh, wondering if I could maybe ask you something.” She waited as they stared at her, then met each other’s gaze. Her dad shrugged, disinterested as he always was when it came to Camilla.

“Well spit it out already,” her mother snapped. “We don’t have all night.”

“I was wondering if, tomorrow night, I could maybe go to a show in town with A- the shapeshifter I’ve been trying to get close to,” Camilla said hesitantly. “So she’ll trust me more. She hasn’t invited me over to their house yet, but this could make that happen sooner.”

“I’d rather bring as many of them here as possible, kill them all. Starting with the shifter bitch, since she’s the biggest threat,” Maria said, tossing her white blonde hair over her shoulder. Layla grinned, but it was more a baring of teeth than an expression of joy.

“I’d have plenty of fun with her before she died,” Layla said. “We’ll see how pretty she is when I peel the skin from her bones. See if she can still shift when she’s in that much pain,” she added, laughing. Camilla saw red at that, at the heartless amusement her sister found in her friend’s pain.

“You’re not doing anything,” Camilla snapped, glaring at her sister. “She’s not coming here.” Faster than Camilla could blink, Layla hurled a knife at her face, barely giving her time to dodge. The blade still managed to slice her cheek open, leaving a shallow cut on her cheekbone.

“Shut the fuck up Camilla,” Layla snapped, surging to her feet. “You’re not good enough to kill a monster, and you’re definitely not good enough to talk to me like that. The only reason you’re at that fucking school is because no one gives a shit what happens to you, and at least this way you can make yourself useful for once in your goddamn life.

“So don’t stick up for the monster bitch, and keep your fucking mouth shut, or maybe I’ll cut you up too,” Layla said, another knife in her hand. Camilla forced herself not to reach up and touch the scars on her neck, painfully aware of what her sister was capable of, of how little her parents cared what Layla did to her.

Camilla let her sister rant, let her keep telling her how useless she was, how weak she was. She’d heard it all before, and knew better than to interrupt. When Layla finally finished, Camilla turned to her dad to plead her case again, ignoring the blood dripping down her face.

“Please, can I go? This is all I can do. Please, let me do it,” she begged. “It will help me get closer to them, get closer to getting into their house.” Camilla ignored her mother’s scoff, ignored the poisonous glare her sister gave her, and focused all her attention on her dad. Finally, he looked at her, sighed, and nodded.

“It would help her get them to trust her more,” Derek Ross said, frowning. “She won’t get anything done if she can’t get close. May as well let her. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Maria frowned back, but nodded, only willing to accept the reasoning when it came from her husband. She cared little for her elder daughter’s opinion, trusted her little. Layla grumbled a bit, bitter that no one had listened to her, but she didn’t argue. Camilla knew her sister would find a way to make her pay for this perceived slight later, but she didn’t particularly care right then.

“Thank you,” Camilla said, smiling slightly. The expression vanished from her face when she saw the way Layla was grinning at the blood dripping from her chin.

“Don’t you dare get blood on my carpet,” Maria said harshly, pointing her knife at Camilla. “Or you can replace it.” Camilla pressed a sleeve to her cheek, fighting back a smile.

Despite the glares her sister was throwing, despite how obviously her parents still could not bear her existence, Camilla couldn’t help but feel a rush at having convinced them to agree with her for once. It couldn’t last, but for the moment, Camilla was almost happy.

When dinner finally ended, when Camilla had done all the dishes and cleaned the kitchen after the meal she’d made, she hurried back to her room to text Ava. Almost immediately after Camilla’s message sent, she got a response.

Thank the saints. Abby is going crazy about all this, and it’s sickening. See you tomorrow.

Camilla smiled a bit at that, imagining Ava’s expression to accompany that text. She could easily see her signature scowl, her narrowed gold eyes, the way her long, sharp nails would be rapidly tapping on any nearby surface.

“The hell are you smiling about?” Camilla nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her sister’s voice, spinning to stare at Layla standing in the doorway. She hadn’t heard her approach. Had she closed that door?

“Nothing,” Camilla said quickly. “It’s nothing. Did you need something?” She regretted the words the second they left her lips.

“Need something?” Layla echoed, mouth twisted in disgust. “From you? As if. Just wanted to remind you mom and dad still hate you. Tonight didn’t change that. Don’t forget it.” With that, Layla spun on her heel and stalked out, slamming the door behind her so hard one of the pictures on the wall fell to the floor.

With a sigh, Camilla picked up the fallen picture and hung it back up. Some things never changed, and she and her sister were two of them. Layla would always be that hateful, but Camilla would always be useless.