“A few drops. That’s all,” Rachel said and began to come closer.
Jack took a step towards Val, blocking her from Rachel. “Don’t even think you’re going near her with a blade.”
Lucas was standing painfully still, watching Val from fifteen feet away. Watching how she had moved to stand behind Jack for protection when Rachel took a step towards her. Was Lucas irritated she hadn’t gone to him for protection instead?
She hadn’t done it on purpose. It was habit. Jack had always protected her. Lucas, well, he was just happy being in her pants. He’d protect her for that reason, but Jack did it because he loved her.
How many egos was she going to have to stroke on this little adventure? She moved away from all of them, walking to the edge of the clearing and hanging out under a giant tree.
Lucas looked to Rachel and said something in a foreign language. Rachel shrugged and said something equally unintelligible back. The back and forth went on for a few minutes while she and Jack watched in growing agitation.
Then they were done, and Rachel switched to English. “Right. He’s going to go wait…somewhere out of bloodshot—in case the mere scent of your blood sends him into a frenzy—“
“What?” Jack said, in a deadly tone.
“The cliff notes? He wants her blood bad, but is abstaining. He’s gotta watch the figure. I know I watch his figure.”
“Rachel. You do not need to be given such a long leash,” Lucas said.
Rachel turned to Lucas, the picture of abject apology. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
Val rubbed her eyes, and when she opened them Lucas was gone, leaving her alone with Jack and Rachel in the middle of nowhere, ready to spill her blood.
BEST. DAY. EVER.
Chapter 19
“Is it going to hurt?” Val asked.
Rachel looked at her distractedly, opening up a black backpack and taking out some herbs and a couple of stained wooden bowls. “Do you want it to?”
Rachel laughed at Valerie’s disgusted look.
“No, Val, it probably won’t hurt. Magic is funny that way. It’s one of those pleasure/pain things. It’s either going to feel really good, or it’s going to hurt. And that’s up to you. If you’re uptight and resistant, if you fight it, then it might hurt. But if you lay back and let it happen… well, you just might like it, little girl,” Rachel said distractedly. Like the comment was an afterthought.
But still…. Ewww.
Val wanted to change the subject. “So, how long have you been a witch?”
Rachel looked through the twenty or so, Ziploc baggies of herbs she had spread out on the ground. “I was born a witch. Raised a witch,” she said, holding one bag up so she could see the contents clearly in the fading light.
“Well, that’s succinct. Um, is that marijuana?” Val asked.
“No. Mongolian Moss. Lucas found me. Took me from the coven and gave me a life. Then he gave me Marion. I’ll always be grateful to him.”
Valerie held back a startled noise. “Grateful? He took you from your family and gave you to a monster, and you’re happy about it? That’s what you’re saying?”
“Um, no, that’s what you’re saying. You don’t know witches. They were burned at the stake for a reason. Nasty, evil women. I was very talented, and when Lucas took me away… I was on a dark path. I needed a witch-based After School Special.” Rachel was looking at the ground as she said in a deep, narrator-style tone, “Just say no.”
“But now you’re a white witch? Gray witch? Glenda?” Val said sarcastically. Rachel had been Marion’s sweetie—no amount of bleach was going to make her white.
“There is no such thing as a white witch. All magic is steeped in darkness. All power comes from death and harm.”
“Enchanting.” Valerie felt goose bumps rise on her arms.
Rachel held herself stiffly, spoke too confidently…like whatever she’d done had been so bad she had to hold herself perfectly still, or it would come and get her.
“Witches are tied to the earth. They force the earth to give up its strength and power, or they take it from people and animals. Pain and death charge our batteries. It’s like splitting apart an atom—the energy released is something quantifiable, something we can take and channel. And I’m strong. But there are less invasive ways to take power, and that’s what Lucas gave me. The freedom to not need a death for my magic. Marion… she was a twisted woman. The years had not been kind to her. She was a little bit broken. That’s what happens to vampires. We shouldn’t live as long as we do. It warps us, makes us odd. Marion was almost childlike in her wonder and pleasure. But normal things didn’t bring her pleasure. Violence, pain—those are the things that she liked. And those were the things I needed to survive.” Rachel shrugged like it was no big deal. Herbody language at odds to the intensity of her words.
Val’s voice was quiet. “So you did love her.”
“That does seem to be the topic people want to ask about,” Rachel muttered. “She was my first love. My only love. As twisted as she was, she looked upon me with joy. I was a fucking revelation to her. The darkness I need to thrive, she craved. Whatever I needed to do to sustain myself, she welcomed. Isn’t that love? To find that one person who can take our darkest selves and cherish them? Look at our pain and awfulness without flinching?”
“No,” Val said hesitantly, thinking the statement through. “I don’t think that’s love. I think that’s taking someone down with you. Love is knowing that someone wants more for you, wants you for yourself and the best possible version of yourself that you can be. And that even though we might stumble, or fail at being good, they love us and know we’ll get there eventually. It’s support.”
Rachel laughed darkly. “I think we are speaking of the same thing, Valerie. That’s why Lucas is drawn to you. You cast love in terms of lightness and goodness because that’s what you are. I cast it in darkness because that’s the creature I am. Whether I want to be or not. And when it was going to break me—the killing and the torturing—when I could do it no longer without succumbing utterly to evil? That’s when Lucas found me. He gave me shelter, tied me to Marion. He gave me a gift.”
Rachel was walking a circle, sprinkling the moss on the ground as she talked.
“That’s fucking poetic,” Val said, feeling like Rachel was putting her on. “Then how could you turn on him? Marion tried to kill him.”
“Lucas is a big boy. And make no mistake, it wasn’t just the two of us who revolted—lots more would have, but they knew it was hopeless. Besides, Marion wasn’t going to beat Lucas.”
“They why did she try?” Valerie asked.
“Because Marion was bat-shit crazy, that’s why. Do you know who can kill Lucas? The Fey. The wolves. They can kill him. And they probably will. And, if we live, we can say we were there. Look for the upside, right? Now let’s do this spell. We can bond later over margaritas.”
“I don’t want to get to know you. Why are you telling me all this, anyway?” Val was genuinely confused.
Rachel looked at her, an earnest expression on her face. “Because the game has changed, Valerie. You’re my boss’s girlfriend. And I like being alive.” Her grin was wolfish.
“So now you’ll be nice to me? You can’t just betray someone and then be forgiven.”
“Really? I think you can. If you’re valuable enough, like say, the only witch a vamp has had on the payroll for 200 years. Then, yeah, I can get a free pass or two on betrayal.”
Val sat down on the ground, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I can’t believe he trusts you.”
Rachel laughed harshly. “Lucas doesn’t trust anyone. If you haven’t figured that out by now, then you’re in deep shit. He makes people obey him because, if they don’t, he’ll kill them. Brute force doesn’t need trust. It only needs the occasional reminder of who is in charge. Like the Challenge, for example.”
Talking to Rachel was like talking to the mad hatter or Jar Jar Binks—hard fucking wor
k. “That makes it sound like he wanted a Challenge.”
Rachel shrugged non-commitally.
“No. If he had wanted a Challenge to—what—purge the ranks or see who was still loyal, then he manipulated you, too and got you to do what he wanted.”
“Or?” Rachel asked, dusting her hands, and then putting all her plants back in the backpack.
“Or…you were in on it the whole time? Which you were not.” Right?
Rachel came towards her, knife in her hand, holding it hilt-out to Valerie. She crouched down before her, her shiny, chin-length hair swinging into her face. “I’ve led you down the garden path, Valerie. I’ve told you stuff and tried to help you out. Don’t forget it.”
The knife was warm, the handle a dark, worn leather so old, it was black. Or it’s stained with vampire blood. “How have you helped me? You’ve talked in riddles, tried to kill me, and now you’ve left me super-confused. Everything is conjecture—you haven’t given me a single straight answer.”
She smiled at her. “Confused might keep you alive. Trust is what will get you killed. I don’t charge by the hour or anything, so no worries.”
Jack had been deadly silent, so far away she had to turn and look for him. His arms were crossed, and he was leaning against a tree like he was bored out of his mind and not paying any attention at all.
Sure.
Chapter 20
Valerie watched her blood drip into the bowl Rachel held. “I’m bleeding because of you. Again. We have to stop meeting this way,” Val said, hearing a dull ringing in her ears. Please don’t faint.
“Bind it up tightly, all right? Here’s a Band-Aid. It’s a small cut, but you don’t want to drip any. Got it?” Rachel said dismissively.
Just looking at the cut made Val a little woozy. What a wuss.
Rachel set the bowl on the ground and squatted down next to it, raising the knife to her own hand.
“Whoa! Hold up. Are you going to cut yourself?”
Rachel looked up at her, a wide smile on her face as she said sarcastically, “What part of blood magic did you not get? Your blood is the offering, mine is the conduit for the spell. I’m going to mix them.”
“I get it, but seriously, hold up. I’m going to… go over there and sit down,” Val said weakly.
Rachel frowned at her. “You’re still yucky around blood? How is that possible? There is a lot of blood involved when dating a vampire.”
“She’s not dating him,” Jack growled, and both Valerie and Rachel jumped.
“Jesus, forgot you were there,” Rachel said.
Val decided to be the bigger person and ignore Jack’s comment. “Well, maybe I would be over my fear if it wasn’t my blood that kept getting spilled or someone wasn’t getting their heads ripped off or heart ripped out in front of me. I’ve always got a front-row seat.” Breathing deeply she walked into the woods a little, heard Rachel begin to chant and could only imagine what was going on – blood, that was what was going on.
She walked a little further into the clearing and sat down on the ground. Once upon a time, someone had told her that it was impossible to faint if one was lying down. Val hoped that was true. Ignoring the sticks that poked her in the ass and back, she lay flat on the ground, resting her arms at her sides.
She took a few breaths, listening to the sounds of the forest around her. Her bloody hand felt hot, as though it was infected. Dirt from the forest floor clung to the cut where she must have brushed it on the ground. She could hear the shushing of her blood pumping around her body, felt her muscles relax.
The forest grew quiet, hushed. Something is coming. The birds knew it and they quieted. The trees became still. Anticipation.
She felt her heartbeat stop.
Chapter 21
Val was running. Her breathing was even, steady, and she knew her lungs would never burn, her muscles wouldn’t tire. Her feet flew over the dirt path before her, as though she had angels guiding her way.
The sun streamed through the branches overhead, little pockets of light that she passed through and around. The smell of trees and fresh air filled her lungs. Heady and invasive.
Keep running.
Keep going.
He will tell you when to stop.
Her long, gray dress was kicked out in front of her, then billowed out in back as she sped through the trees.
And then the forest was gone, and she was in a meadow filled with flowers of all the colors of the rainbow. It was almost too bright.
Manic color.
The flowers came to her shins, the blossoms all open and at that perfect moment of bloom where they were all life without a hint of brown decay.
A light breeze ruffled her hair, made the flowers shift in a wave, and she felt a moment of lightness. Like she could spread her arms and fly away. A moment of perfect happiness.
She heard steps, the slight springing of undergrowth as it was trampled, and she turned to find a man coming towards her.
An inhumanly-beautiful man. Her urge was to run to him, throw her arms around him, and clasp him close.
Clasp him? I’m not much of a clasper.
She watched him approach. The breeze caught his wavy black hair and tossed it onto his forehead. As if the wind itself wanted to touch him. He wore black breeches and white hose, a crisp, white shirt with a spill of fabric down the front. A black coat molded to his body, like a riding coat. He looked up, his eyes brown, lashes thick, skin tanned, as though he spent most of his life outdoors in the sun—and the sun loved him, the plants loved him. Even the trees were leaning towards him. If Lucas was death, he was life.
Who is he?
The wind sighed the answer, carrying it to her in a soft tone, light and sad—Cerdewellyn.
He stopped next to her, and she looked up into his dark gaze, his eyes the color of wet earth. His lips were full, his jaw square. He had a Roman-look to him, which seemed a bit odd.
“I thought the Fey were Irish?”
“We started elsewhere. The Fey. We’ve had many forms over the centuries. Many locations where we dwelled.” When he spoke, he sounded like he was from Europe, somewhere between the East and the West, but not Irish after all.
She nodded like she understood.
“Where did these come from?” Val asked him, looking down at her hand and the flowers that she was holding onto tightly. She’d been picking them absently. She’d run and run, until a flower would catch her eye and she’d feel compelled to take it.
He smiled at her, a closed-lip smile, like he was indulgent and secretive at once. “You gathered them. You have five. There are seven left.” He held out his hand.
She gave them to him without hesitation.
“You are making good progress, and I thank you. Now come here.”
“Why?” Val asked, even as she moved closer.
“This is a secret. It’s our secret. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” No.
“And so I must make sure it stays a secret.”
He touched her, stroked a hand down her cheek. “Forget all about this, Valerie. Forget, until we meet again.”
Val opened her eyes, examined her bleeding hand that was covered in dirt, and couldn’t believe she’d fainted. What the hell was she doing hanging around with vampires when she fainted at the sight of blood?
She stood and went back to the clearing.
Chapter 22
Lucas stalked through the forest. This had been a mistake. He had wanted to see her with Jack. See how she interacted with him—now that she and Lucas had been intimate. He had told Rachel to bring Jack here so he could see the reality of their feud.
What on earth had possessed him? Jealousy. One drop of her glorious, Empathic blood, and he had given in to human emotion.
He had waited too long. Saving her at sixteen, rescuing her and then leaving her to live a life while he waited, patiently, like a spider hoping she’d wander into his web. That had been a foolish decision. Apparently, he had waited just long en
ough to make sure she loved another.
Irrevocably.
A young love that would mark her soul for all eternity. He had stayed away out of self-preservation, and then had failed, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
She was a weakness. His weakness. If he were a smarter man, as ruthless as he had been centuries ago, she’d be dead right now.
What she represented—excitement, feeling, passion, joy and despair—were things he craved. He was honest enough with himself to admit it was his weakness.
She had told him that she would fall in love with him. So honest. And all he had thought was ‘good. ’ In the darkest corner of his black heart, that had been the moment he had exulted. Known without a doubt that he had won. She would love him if she came to his bed.
His Valkyrie was not a casual lover. Just like the Valkyries of legend, she chose her warriors, and would take his soul if she could. She could not simply ‘scratch an itch, ’ let a man into her body, without engaging her heart.
There had been a plan: make love to her, seduce her, fuck her, take her in every way until she breathed, ate, and came only for him. Physically, he had been there, ready to be just as seduced by her flesh as he intended her to be with his. Had wanted to taste her, and claim her in every possible way a man could.
It had been so easy.
Until she had given him the ultimatum. Drink her blood, or she would not love him. As if that was possible. As if she would be able to hold herself back from love. But a tiny part of him had feared that she could do it—leave him just like she had left Jack.
He was always careful. And yet, he had given in. Her passion, kisses, and heat had all infected him, altered him just enough so that he chose poorly. It was his age. Someone younger, like Rachel, wouldn’t have been affected by making love to an Empath.
But he had been. Valerie had disconnected him from his cold shell, made him feel panicky, desperate, overwhelmed and hungry. She had not offered anything he did not want. Her blood was something he would kill for. One momentary lapse, his slight confusion, and she had won.
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