by Helen Scott
At first, my ears couldn't focus on what she was saying, but when I heard framed I snapped back to the present instead of drowning in memories of the past. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" I asked, my voice sounding meaker and more scared than I'd expected it to. It was enough to have both of the alphas studying me intensely.
"I said you were right, the head wound is the most likely cause of death, especially since the puncture wound seems to have happened after the fact. There is no healing, like the venom from a vampire's bite couldn't do anything since the body was already dead. There wasn't even any healing around the head wound.”
She went on. “The bite might be real, and have occurred post-mortem, or it could have been an attempt to mimic one. But if it is an attempt to duplicate a bite, it was done by someone who knows a lot about vampires.”
Doc's voice was croaky by the end as though she wasn't used to speaking quite so much, or maybe she was getting upset about something, but I doubted it.
"So the vampires are cleared of any wrongdoing?" Christian asked.
Doc sighed dramatically before pulling her glasses off her face and wiping them with the edge of her t-shirt. When she put them back on she said, "Technically, yes, but someone knew exactly where to put that bite and how far apart to put the puncture wounds. If I'm honest I would be surprised if the bite wasn't performed by a vampire post-mortem. If you're asking if a vampire killed him, then the only thing I can say definitively is that they didn't kill him via a bite."
"Fuck," Ambrose growled. "No one is going to believe this, they are all going to want vampire blood to be spilled in retaliation."
"If you come after us, I'll have no choice but to defend my people," Christian replied quietly.
"What if that's just what they want? What if they are trying to start a war with Nana out of the picture and you two idiots are falling for it?" I demanded.
"It's not me!" They both cried at once before looking at each other as though horrified that they each thought the other was the guilty party.
I crossed my arms over my chest and stared them both down. Being in this place was bad enough, but being in it with two grumpy alphas who were each throwing their magical weight around made my head throb. The noise of the laundry machines dulled, replaced by a ringing sound. Just before I went down, I realized what was happening.
A vision.
Perfect timing. As always.
The pain of hitting the ground never came, but the pain of the vision was there, right on time. I was watching through someone else's eyes as Bane was stabbed over and over again. As I watched the life bled from his eyes, and he slumped onto the ground in his cell.
I expected that to be it, but I was wrong, so very wrong. Vision after vision of Bane dying flowed through my mind. Stabbed, beaten, thrown down stairs, shredded by shifters, drained by vamps, contorted by witches. It was all because the stupid man wouldn't accept help from anyone.
Just when I thought it was finally over, I watched myself approach him. My stomach turned at the thought of me killing a man I once cared about. I didn't though, although I attacked him in a different way, one that quite frankly would have left me breathless had I not been trapped in a vision.
Then a man burst into the cell. Before either Bane or I could react, since we'd been too wrapped up in each other, he brought the knife down on Bane.
My heart felt like it was being shredded in my chest. Anger raced through my veins. It was beyond rare for a seer to see themselves, but we never saw our own deaths, thankfully. I had no interest in watching the man who attacked me in the vision. I knew he wasn't inflicting mortal injuries.
The future around Bane shifted so fast that I could barely keep track. But this last vision was the one I'd been in the longest, which in my experience meant that it had the largest likelihood of happening.
I studied Bane and the cell, needing to know where we had been, what had been happening to him. His face had gone ashen, and he stared up at me as blood trickled from the many stab wounds in his body.
The version of myself in the vision lurched away from Bane, despite her own stab wounds. She must be running on adrenaline, because otherwise, she’d collapse.
When she lunged for the guy she was faster than I expected and had the knife torn from his hands in a matter of moments. That was not a skill I had.
She plunged the knife into the man’s chest, then backed away, panting. I let out a cry as I stared at the scene that had unfolded before me. Who was this version of myself? I was fast, I knew how to fight, and apparently had no qualms about killing someone. I didn't recognize this version of myself. I wasn't sure I wanted to either.
I couldn't look away, though. I felt like one of those people that slowed down to watch car accidents.
As I watched, something strange happened. The blood oozing from the man on the floor seeped into the ground, and the concrete began to glow. The ground seemed to absorb the man’s blood, or perhaps his magic. I frowned, trying to make sense of it.
The bars to our cells were lined with silver and vervain, but maybe this was more than a simple security measure. I mean I still didn't know what the light that swept over the floor was, but it had to be magic to work the way it did.
It was ironic that the prison had no problem compromising their values when it came to getting what they wanted or controlling us, but the second we tried to do the same, they were horrified by our actions and abilities. Couldn't they see that their actions were just as repugnant?
As the vision faded I knew two things. First, I needed to get Bane to give a shit about himself so he didn't experience one of the myriad of horrible deaths I saw. Second, I needed to find someone who'd been at Nightstone for a long time, someone who could tell me where the floor light came from, and why the concrete would glow if blood was spilled.
Visions always gave me more questions than answers. Such was the life of a seer. But this time I had so many more questions than ever before, and my brain felt overwhelmed with it all.
Would I even be able to get Bane to listen to me long enough to tell him what I saw? And if I could find someone who'd been at Nightstone long enough to answer my questions, would they?
10
Christian
“Nasima, are you all right?” I demanded, even though the words seemed hollow. Of course, she wasn’t all right; she’d just collapsed in front of us. I glanced from her pale, eerily animated face to Ambrose. “We never should have brought her back to the laundry room.”
“It’s private,” he grumbled. “And she’s stronger than she knows.”
“Yes, but we’re supposed to help her find that strength. Clearly we failed today, given how she reacted when we arrived. We should have let her lead, and then if she ever came back here, she would have been ready.”
Ambrose just stared at me. Sometimes I forgot he had a mortal lifespan, and the simple view of the world of someone who was, well, thirty years old, just as he looked.
“Never mind,” I said wearily. “We need a better place to keep her.”
“To keep her?” His brows arched over his eyes. “Oh, Nas is going to love the way you phrased that.”
“Well, we both want to live with her, do we not? You can’t live on vamp territory. And I can’t live in shifter quarters.” Nor could I ever stand to, but I wasn't going to insult Ambrose needlessly at the moment. Even if it was my hobby most days. “We need to find neutral ground. Someplace we have true privacy.”
“I can’t be away from my pack until they’re...settled,” Ambrose said.
I nodded. “Let me take her to the vamp quarter tonight, then.”
Ambrose hesitated, clearly afraid of losing face with his pack, even if he never would have admitted that to me.
“Ambrose,” I said. “As much as I find you to be crude and irritating and embarrassingly growly and--”
“Are you going somewhere with this, Fangs?”
“I have no doubt you can continue to keep your leadership of the pac
k despite the challenges of the present day and...Nas herself.” She would hate to hear that she cost Ambrose anything, and I wanted to shield her from that, but there was no point in denying it when it was just Ambrose and me. “They need you. I’ve been here for four alphas now--lucky me--and I can promise you that you’re the best they’ve had.”
Ambrose’s eyes widened, and I could’ve sworn he was touched.
Then he said, “I never doubted I could.”
“Of course not.” Wolves.
Nas woke, then groaned when she saw us staring at her. “I’m not ready to talk.”
“Fine.” I smoothed her hair back from her face. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
“You didn’t puke everywhere, so small victories,” Ambrose told her, and I closed my eyes in exasperation.
“Thanks,” Nas managed drily.
“You can handle the visions, Nas. I know you can.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead before handing her off to me. “I should stay close to the pack tonight. Watch over her.”
He didn’t want to leave her, and I nodded, appreciating his trust despite everything else that was going on right now.
“I don’t need to be watched over,” Nas assured us, struggling away from both of us. She swayed unconvincingly on her feet.
“Of course not,” I put my arm around her waist as I glanced back at Ambrose, and the two of us exchanged a look.
“I saw that, Christian,” she said, although her voice was warm.
I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Well, you unite the vamps and shifters, sweetheart. Sometimes by driving us mad with worry, but you’re something of a miracle.”
Her face was worried. “I might not be enough to unite anyone.”
I wanted to ask if that was what’d seen in her visions, but I would wait for her to tell me. For now, I just assured her, “Nas, you’re always enough.”
She smiled faintly, and I knew she thought I was just being kind, but I meant every word.
When we were safely back in my room, I stepped into the hall and summoned Lake, one of the younger vampires, to bring her a meal from the cafeteria.
I had hoped she would start talking to me, and to my relief as she curled on the bed, she confessed, “I keep having visions of Bane.”
“Was that what you saw tonight?” I stroked her silvery hair back from her pale face. In the dim light of my room--a prison cell, for all I’d tried to transform it--she seemed to glow, lighting the space.
She nodded, catching my palm as it caressed her cheek and holding it steady against her face. Her eyes closed, her face pained as if she were seeing his death all over again. “How do I get him to see sense, Christian? He needs help.”
“Making Bane be reasonable…. I don’t know how to accomplish that,” I admitted. “I don’t have those kinds of superpowers. But when the rooms aren’t locked down, I can send men to look after him.”
“What if they’re the ones who want to kill him?”
I was taken aback. “I know Katarina tried to kill you, but the others know what happened to her. My people do not disobey me lightly, Nasima.”
“I know. But even though you’re very scary, Christian,” she said it quite fondly, “there are scarier things at Nightstone, aren’t there?”
“I can’t think of any,” I grumbled, which made her smile.
“I want to talk to Bane,” she said firmly. “Tomorrow night. He keeps putting himself in danger.”
“Why tomorrow night?” It wasn’t like her to wait, so I was sure she had some kind of plot already.
“I’ll slip into his room right before lights out.”
“That’s dangerous, love. What if he throws you out?”
“He knows I’ll be hurt if he throws me out,” she said. “Bane is a completely miserable, treacherous asshole, but he wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Well, I hate that plan,” I admitted, but her face was resolute, and I leaned forward to kiss her. Her soft lips parted against mine, her hands sweeping up my arms to my shoulders.
I waited until she broke the kiss, then I added, “Ambrose will not care for it much either.”
“I know,” she said. “But no one can move around at night. It should be the one time Bane is safe. And I’ll be safe with him.”
I gave her a long look, because I had the feeling there was more that she wasn’t telling me, and she added “Bane just needs to be trapped so he’ll listen to me without running away, and then I’ll force him to see reason.”
I scoffed at that, but she added, “You did say I was enough.”
“And I believe it,” I said. “Even with impossible bounty hunters.”
Lake returned with her meal, and as she ate she asked me, “How did you meet Bane anyway?”
“Ever since the Supe One-Strike Act came out, he’s been helping supes flee to Canada,” I told her. “Bounty hunting has always paid those bills. People think all Bane’s money goes up his nose or to sex workers, since it looks like he has nothing to show for it--but there are hundreds of Supes who would say there is something to show for it.”
“Hundreds?” Her brows rose, but then she grumbled, “He never offered to send me to Canada.”
“Sounds like one more thing for the two of you to discuss tomorrow.”
She scoffed.
“You desperately want to save him, but you don’t want to forgive him. Noted.”
“He doesn’t deserve a bloody death, but he does deserve--” She broke off suddenly, her hand rising to her throat. She coughed, a frown wrinkling her brows.
“Nas, what is it?” I asked.
Her face was turning an eerie shade of gray, and her voice was a rasp as she said, “I don’t know. I just feel so strange suddenly--”
I nodded and headed for the hall. I grabbed the first vamp I saw. “Fetch Doc. Now.”
She nodded and took off at a sprint.
“Nas, do you have any allergies you forgot to mention?” I turned around just in time to see her topple to her side on the bed. Her face was pale. Her plate of food spilled to the ground.
I wanted to scoop her up and protect her, but I couldn't help her until I knew what was wrong. I knelt and picked it up. The faintest scent of some toxic chemical rose to my nostrils.
Nasima had been poisoned.
11
Nasima
I woke to a blurry world, and beyond that, there was chaos.
Christian’s small, cozy space felt full with Doc in front of me and other blurry figures crowded behind her.
“Her vitals are nice and stable now,” Doc said. She glanced over her shoulder at a figure that swam blurrily until a cloud of dark curls and a kind face came into view. “Thanks, Dalia.”
“No problem. Maybe the vampire king will owe me a favor now, even though I didn’t have time to negotiate.” Her voice was teasing.
The world was muffled. I was still so sick. I tried to say something, and Chrisian started forward, a concerned look on his face.
“She’ll be fine,” doc cut him off. To me, she said, “Rest.”
Christian held my hand, and I could practically feel his protectiveness, like a force field he’d erect around me if he could.
“We’re close to shutdown,” Doc said. “I’ve got to be going.”
“You can stay here tonight,” Christian said steelily.
She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, I can, can I? I’m going home, Christian. Your sweetie-pie is fine.” Her rasping laugh split the room. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“I know you’re trying to annoy me into sending you off.”
“Thanks to Dalia, she’s fine,” Doc said. Then she added, “And if I were inclined to give unsolicited advice, I’d suggest you take the night to cool off before you start sinking your fangs into anyone.”
He fixed her with a cold look. “I thought you didn’t give unsolicited advice. I liked you that way.”
Doc rolled her eyes and slipped her arm through Dalia’s. Dalia gave
her a small smile then pulled away as I managed to groan a thank you. My throat felt raw, and my head was pounding.
“No problem,” Dalia said, squatting on her heels next to the bed. “We witches have to stick together. I’m sure the poison removal spell was miserable--I hope you feel better soon.”
“What was it?”
Dalia and Doc exchanged a glance. “There aren’t a lot of poisonous plants here at Nightstone,” Doc said. “There aren't a lot of plants here, period. So either it was something from general population or…”
“It came from the shifter yard,” Christian finished.
“And was delivered by your vampire.”
“I’ll deal with him, if need be.”
“That I do not doubt,” Doc said, raising her hands.
Dalia patted my shoulder. “See you around, Nas. If you ever get tired of these testosterone-factories, maybe we could get lunch?”
I managed to say something that sounded close enough to I’d like that through my ravaged, burning throat. Then the first alarm sounded, and Doc and Dalia hurried out. I collapsed onto the bed, giving in to the exhaustion that overwhelmed me.
I woke later to find myself held against his hard chest. His fingers were absently twining through my hair, and for a few long seconds, I just kept my eyes closed and let him hold me.
All hell was going to break loose in the morning. Nightstone was still unfamiliar territory for me, but I knew that much. It was nice to have a little more peace while the doors were all locked.
I hoped Ambrose and Christian would work together, that they wouldn’t blame each other.
“I know you’re awake, love,” Christian said. He shifted, just slightly, so he could kiss the top of my head. “How are you?”
I fluttered my eyes open to find a dark room beyond, and the worried, frowning face of my handsome vampire leaning above me.
“Fine,” I lied, but the rasp in my voice belied that. His frown deepened--damn. I’d hoped that maybe I could downplay how bad that was, because as much as I wanted to know who poisoned me--and make sure they didn’t ever get a second chance--I was worried about the war that might very well erupt between the vamps and the shifters if Ambrose and Christian lost their heads.
