by JL Terra
He’d met people like her before in his very long life. Those who seemed adept at keeping their feelings to themselves—if they had any. Not everyone wore their heart on their sleeve, as it were. Some people tucked their emotions away and kept them to themselves.
The elevator doors enclosed them into that little pocket of quiet and closeness. “If you want, I can look in on Bella. Track her down and make sure she’s all right. That’ll free you up to work out what this whole sword thing is about, and get with the team to deal with the redheads dying. We’ve got to get to the bottom of this.”
“Redheads.” Mei said it slowly, like she was connecting some dots.
He said, “What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I’ll be finding Bella myself.”
So, she had noticed the change in her hair color. This was a step in the right direction. Of course, he suspected she had...who wouldn’t notice such a change? But he also knew enough not to mention a girl’s hair unless it was in the form of a compliment.
“Is that a good idea to go off on your own when your life is in danger?”
“When is my life not in danger?”
“Mei—”
“I don’t need you to babysit me. I’m fine on my own.” She’d pulled her hair back into a messy knot. The first two inches of her roots were fully red now, the rest that dark brown of her native color. It was possible the dark color was some form of magic and the red was real.
Malachi held his tongue on that. It might be true; she was one of the toughest humans he’d ever come across. But he’d come to appreciate the aid of a team—a family—in the last few years. After centuries of solitude, he’d found something with Ben’s group he’d never had before. She wanted to walk away from it and deny the assistance, even after she’d just made a call to Remy to get her a new apartment and scrub the one they’d left?
The woman was a contradiction in practically every way. She was the most complicated person he’d ever met, and somehow also the most compelling. Not something he’d ever have thought possible.
Malachi had no intention of forming a romantic relationship with her, though. Especially not at this stage, when he was so close to the end of his time here. And even if he did want a relationship, it wouldn’t be with Mei. Talk about infuriating. She would drive him crazy. Too bad he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
It was a good thing he was so close to completing this mission and moving on.
As they stepped off the elevator, she broke away from him and then took a few steps before turning around to face him. “I’ll see you around.”
“Mei—”
“I’m going to find Bella so I can make sure she’s safe. All her red hair...she’s in danger. I don’t need help, and I also don’t need you trying to dissuade me from this. It’s important.”
“Keeping people safe is always important.” He couldn’t argue with that. “But the sword isn’t going to just go away until you figure out what it is, what it does, and what it’s for.”
She had to understand there were priorities here. Getting distracted or succumbing to the pull of desperate emotions weren’t going to solve their problems. If she wanted to understand, then she had to seek that understanding.
He couldn’t give her the answers.
Even if he did have answers, he wasn’t going to circumvent the growth. The learning. The journey. Not now that he knew the truth of her birthright.
“Why do you care?” It wasn’t a question; it was a challenge.
“Now’s not the time to tell you.”
“So you’ve been manipulating the situation this entire time, trying to force me into a spot where I have no choice but to figure it out.” She shrugged. “You think I should get to the bottom of the sword—go find out yourself and then come back and tell me. Or, even better, go ask that guy from the Chinese medicine shop.”
“He’s gone.”
Her face twisted. “You already looked into it?”
Malachi said nothing.
“This is my business. Not yours. Stay out of it.”
“Let me take care of the Bella thing. I need you to figure out the sword and why it matters.”
“Because?”
He didn’t speak.
“If you’re not going to bother to explain, I don’t see why I should do what you say.”
Malachi knew she’d learned from Daire how to craft her ultimatums. She was near expert level. The realization made him wonder if she had any idea just how much of the family team had brushed off on her, and yet she seemed determined to keep herself withdrawn from them. It was as though she didn’t believe she quite fit. Or maybe she didn’t understand how much the team depended on her.
“So tell me, Malachi.” She lifted her chin. She didn’t care that he could see it coming by the flashes in her eyes; she was prepared to do battle. “What’s your stake in this? Why push me to figure out the sword?”
“Because it’s more important.”
“Than what? A young girl’s life? Or any of those girls who were murdered just because they have red hair like me? No, I don’t buy that.” She shook her head. “Not good enough.”
“My reasoning isn’t required to meet your satisfaction. The truth is the truth, regardless of your emotions. It’s just how the world works.”
She narrowed her eyes, and he realized he’d scored a point. It failed to give him satisfaction, though. The cost of failure was so high—and not even for him personally. If he didn’t complete this God-given mission, he would die knowing chaos would reign across the world.
“What happened...before?”
He couldn’t shrug off their conversation but still said, “With what?”
“I dreamed while I was out of it.”
“What did you see?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t need to ask.” He sighed. He’d already assumed she had experienced life from his perspective. Which of the million memories he carried around in his head had she seen?
Most had faded. Some he wished would, but they’d stubbornly refused to drop off, despite any attempt to make new memories to replace them with. Happy ones that would outweigh the bad. There were simply some memories too indelible to get rid of. They would always be there, a part of him, whether he liked it or not.
He waited for the disappointment to settle in her expression. It never did, making him wonder if she wasn’t mad at him after all, only hurt.
There was nothing he could do about that when this was so much bigger than either of them. Which was, of course, a poor excuse for the fact he was scared. If he told her who he really was—what he was—would she react like everyone else? Sure, the team all knew he was old. Like, centuries old.
But they didn’t know his origin story.
People he’d told over the years—barely a handful—usually thought he was crazy. That had often resulted in him being chained and thrown in some pit. Or they’d attempted to murder him—after which they discovered, the hard way, that he’d been telling the truth. All in all, it was a situation he tried to avoid.
Mei shook her head and glanced to the side, blowing out a long sigh. What do you want from me? The question was moot since he had no intention of asking, nor did he want an answer. All he needed was to get this done.
“Fine, don’t tell me anything I want to know. But you’re the one who has to face the consequences.” Her entire life was a challenge. For others, For herself. Trying to prove she was good enough, or strong enough. People she cared about had to prove they were trustworthy.
He wanted to be one of them.
Mei shivered. He realized it was kind of cold.
“Be careful. You had a major medical event and your body needs time to rest and recover.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m trying to help you. That’s what this is, Mei.” Whether she wanted it, or not, he would be here. At least, that was what he had in mind.
“You’re un
believable.”
He said, “I gave you my blood. That’s what healed you.”
It had likely also reverted her hair to its natural brown color. The red was nice—now that he could see it since she’d dispensed of the wig. However, her normal dark brown suited her best.
In a way, telling her the truth of what happened to her was a challenge of his own.
“Life is in the blood.”
She’d been infected, and given the origins, it had been otherworldly. Dealing with the subsequent fever and the growing infection hadn’t been easy with such limited treatment methods. How was he supposed to explain this to her?
Mei turned around and set off, walking away from him. Determined strides through the parking structure attached to her building. Dragging that suitcase behind her.
Malachi watched her go.
When she’d moved far enough, he followed. She should know he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight for any reason. Not to mention he’d been instructed by her dad to take care of her. This was deeply personal.
And yet even more still.
Dead women. A teen in danger.
Both of those things were likely connected, but he needed Mei to focus. He needed her to lead him to the end. Malachi would defeat his greatest enemy—and end his own life in the process.
And Mei was the key to it all.
Chapter 7
Mei had finally walked far enough to reach the hidden spot where she parked her bike, behind a van in the corner of the parking lot. As she buzzed her motorcycle past Malachi to the exit, she lifted a hand and waved to him. He frowned back at her, unable to see the smug smile on her face under her helmet. See if he could follow her now.
As soon as she pulled out onto the street, she allowed everything to settled back on her, determined to figure out how she truly felt about his words.
About him.
I gave you my blood. As though that wasn’t disgusting, even if it did make sense. It fit the hazy memory of drinking—something. But his blood, really? She shook her head, noticing that she was now well under the posted speed limit. Probably the driver behind her thought she didn’t know where to go, but her racing thoughts were a whole lot more complicated than simple misdirection. Her confusion over the last twenty-four hours threaded a whole lot deeper in her than even she could know.
Deep enough her hands started to shake, and she had to find a side street to pull over on. Mei kept her helmet on so no one could see her face. She sat astride her bike while it rumbled in an idle underneath her. Her breaths came out in short gasps and she fell forward, her arms crossed over the handlebars. Sobs wracked her body with all the desperation she had collected over the last few months.
Everything had changed. And why was it always about blood? Now and then.
All those tests. Years ago now, and yet she couldn’t shake the memory. Now this. At least he hadn’t taken her blood; he’d only provided her with some of his. Powerful enough to heal her. As if that made any sense at all.
Drinking his blood.
Her head swam, and as she sat back up, her palms slicked on the handles. She rubbed them together, and then on her jeans. Don’t think about that. But it was inevitable that she remember her past captivity, before the ancient scene she’d witnessed from Malachi’s mind. Shouldn’t she be over it? But yet the bloody scene was causing her to recall all sorts of junk from her past and it almost felt like puzzle pieces were falling into place.
The trauma persisted, no matter how badly she tried to pretend it wasn’t still part of her. With no energy to fight it any longer, she allowed her mind to indulge in the horrific memories of her past. Her first experience with blood.
She’d been kidnapped for hers. But hers hadn’t been a match for the type her captor had wanted and she had almost bled out entirely in the process. The incompatibility had more to do with the fact she was adopted than anything else. She wasn’t Ben Mason’s biological child. She’d escaped, thinking everything would go back the same. And, for a while, it did. That is, until her hair began to turn red, and a sword appeared out of thin air every time she found herself in fight-or-flight mode. That was about the time she’d decided to go into hiding. To keep her distance from the team. Her family. If she pretended everything was normal, then they were, right?
It was enough to make her burst out laughing if she’d been so inclined. But there was nothing amusing about Mei’s life. It was a tragedy, if anything. But more than a tragedy, she supposed. She was starting to understand that the red hair and the sword weren’t just coincidental events in her life. She was being called for something more.
She set off again and drove aimlessly across the bridge into Manhattan, then threaded her way uptown until she turned and headed back over to Brooklyn.
Bella’s house was dark. No lights on, a contrast to the way it was usually lit up all night from the inside.
Police caution tape had been strung across the door.
Mei pulled over and stared, long enough that she drew attention from a neighbor and so headed out again. Long enough she realized she could appreciate that Malachi had saved her life. Even if she didn’t understand what she’d seen. Mei should probably be surprised that there were people in the world who drank the blood of others. Even if it was only herself—and only to save her own life. But she realized she actually wasn’t surprised. She could hope, though, that there was no one left like that lord who had gorged on the women’s blood for the indulgence of it all.
Then there was Malachi who only wanted to be a legitimate part of her life in order to make demands about her priorities. She didn’t owe him anything. Not when she hardly knew who he was, or what he’d come here for. Let alone what he was.
Back in Brooklyn, with her nerves at least somewhat settled, Mei drove to the bar Ricardo usually worked out of. Still trying to find Bella. That was the core of this. Despite what Malachi wanted, she wasn’t going to turn the job of finding the teen over to him. No way. Bella was her mentee, and the teen didn’t even know who he was. Likely if he approached her and said he was friends with Mei, Bella wouldn’t believe it anyway.
She drove past the bar a couple of times, then found a quiet spot nearby to leave the bike out of sight where no one could steal it—she’d had Remy equip the key fob with a fingerprint scanner. But that didn’t mean that whoever tried to steal it, only to realize they couldn’t, might not possibly respond by destroying it. Or at least do significant damage to it.
Inside the bar they were playing Latin hip hop, and the place was starting to get busy with the post-work crowd. Sure, she was a little out of place. A Chinese girl in a Hispanic bar. These days, most people at least tried to be courteous, what with racism being in such poor taste.
Some folks were territorial, and racism could simply be a defense tactic to avoid being hurt themselves. Sadly there were more reasons as well as that—and far too much hate flowing around as a result.
Still, it would be hit or miss if she got a warm reception. And if Ricardo was here, she would stick out like a sore thumb, considering the last time she’d seen him was when she’d slammed her boot in his face and then stepped over his unconscious form to get out the front door.
A crowd had collected at the end of the bar. In the far corner were two pool tables and an admittedly good-looking guy holding court in the corner. But Mei wasn’t interested in competing for anyone’s affections.
She waved for the bartender’s attention and said, “Soda water with lime.”
He blinked, then shook his head and got it anyway. She caught a look at herself in the mirror behind the bar. Yeah. No wonder he looked at her like that, and not for her choice of drink, either. She looked like she’d been half dead an hour ago—which she supposed wasn’t far from the truth.
Mei sipped the ice-cold beverage and tried to pretend to anyone who glanced her way that everything was fine. Like she always stopped by this bar to get a cold drink on a hot summer evening.
She finally was
able to get a good look at the guy at the pool tables, and he started to remind her of the man who’d been sitting on his throne. The one who’d drank from that girl’s neck. She had to wonder who he was.
A person with too much power, and who used that power to control others through fear.
As she watched the pool table king, someone brushed past her. Panic set in before she could call it back. Mei had to use all her strength to force her feet to not flee. To remain where they were. She couldn’t allow herself to react, let alone run out the door in the direction her instincts pulled her. She sat up in her chair and watched him weave through the crowd in the bar and even saw him clip a couple of other people as he did. So, it wasn’t just her.
But the panic remained, and she suddenly knew why as she made the skin-crawling realization that he was one of the two men from the alley. They’d run off after she was bitten. At least, as far as she knew. This guy was the younger one—not the older one with the syringe—and his hair was no longer white.
He moved like a desperate man in search of a fix. Looking here for his dealer, maybe. Was that Ricardo? That had to mean Bella’s brother was here, too.
Mei moved farther down the bar and stood behind a couple so they could shield her from looking too nosy. Meanwhile, she watched the young man head for the last high-backed booth at the end, right before the hall that said RESTROOMS.
He stopped beside the table, his frantic talking very quickly turning to begging.
The occupant of the table shifted and Mei got a glance at Ricardo, a dark bruise under one eye, along with a red mark on his cheekbone. She guessed he had several other bruises and likely some cracked ribs under his shirt, given the lengths he’d gone to get her out of the house.
Ricardo’s gaze shifted, and she knew right away he’d spotted her.
Mei lifted two fingers in a pseudo-wave.
His eyes narrowed, and he glanced aside to say something to the desperate man by the table. Disappointment was evident in the man’s body language. Mei wouldn’t have been surprised if he dropped to his knees to beg. Ricardo barked something at him, and the man backed up. Shunned. Disregarded.
