by ZL Morris
Carefully, I begin setting Willow up with one tube in each arm and one in each foot. By the time I’m finished properly situating those, Tallulah hands me the next four. I make sure to place two in her neck, on both sides, and one in each hand.
When I’ve hit most of her artery points, I pick up the first blood bag. My eyes grow wide when I realise how many bags have been filled. A quick count shows fifteen bags so far. Vampires are the type of creatures to take blood not give it freely. I can only imagine what kind of impact Willow has had on this group in the short time she’s been here.
A glance at Willow’s face has me rushing to set up the bags. She’s normally a pale-skinned girl, but her skin is grey with death. Eight people line up behind the sofa, and once each bag is connected, I hand them off so they can hold them securely above her.
Satisfied she’s connected to the eight bags properly, I rock back on my heels. There’s nothing any of us can do now but wait and see what happens. Her brain has been starved of oxygen in her human form, so I’m not sure if it will be compromised if she does manage to turn.
I turn to the guys. Their eyes are still on a constant switch between light purple and onyx. They’re upset, but they’re also beyond livid. I’ve never seen them act this way with anyone other than Willow.
After swallowing thickly, I murmur, “There’s nothing else I can do for her. I don’t know if this will work, but I’m doing everything I can for her. Lilith and I are very fond of her.”
A familiar cry sounds from behind me, and I whip around in time to see Lilith collapse. The huge gargoyle catches her small body before she can hit the floor. As animalistic cries come from her, I shoot into action. Careful not to hurt her, I snatch her from the gargoyle and try to soothe her enough to find out what’s wrong, but it doesn’t work. I begin to feel sick with dread.
She clutches my arms to the point of pain and sobs through her words. “He’s dead, our baby is dead!”
My stomach drops with her wails. “How?” is all I manage to squeeze out past the lump in my throat.
“Me.” The gargoyle straightens. “Your son took her to Belcoot. I was on patrol in the area because Osken knew you were going to war. He didn’t want it to spill into our territory because of all the children. I came across your son trying to bargain with the Blood Moon Alpha to take him with Willow.”
Vicious growls start up behind us, but I nod for him to continue.
“Your son announced he loved her, but Belcoot wouldn’t allow your son to go with them. Then Belcoot pulled a gun.” The gargoyle swallows thickly, and his massive shoulders droop. “I had to act. She was an innocent. I eliminated Belcoot, but the gun went off in the struggle. Your son went into a frenzy because of the blood. I needed to stop him from biting her.”
“The bags are almost empty!” Tallulah shouts.
Indecision flickers through me for barely a second: comfort Lilith or try to save Willow. I quickly make my decision though. I can grieve for my boy later, but I need to try to save Willow. I can’t have her death on my conscience because of something my own flesh and blood did to her. If she does survive, will she ever forgive Lilith or me for the way Tobias turned out? We raised him to be better than this.
“What should we do now?” Zadimus asks once I’ve hooked up the new bags.
“We continue to swap the empty bags with full ones.” I make sure to place the eight empty bags together. They might need to be refilled if nothing happens once we’re through the first mountain we’ve gathered.
“Then?” Idris asks sadly.
Voice devoid of emotion, I answer, “We wait.”
Lilith comes to sit beside me, and I wrap my free arm around her to comfort her as she cries into my chest.
It’s not until much later we learn the full extent of Tobias’s actions.
About the Author
The words tend to flow easier when I'm talking about my characters, but I always seem to get stuck when I try to talk about myself. So, where to start. I'm from the UK, although my body clock would prefer me to be on an American time zone. I have two children, and refer to them as mini me and monster. Mini me is almost six, and monster is seven. I have to admit that I wasn't ever the type of child or teenager to have my head stuck in a book, and I only started to take reading seriously when mini me became poorly. Lots of hospital visits meant I needed time to escape while the baby was sleeping… a book monster was born.
Guilty secret
I've not read or watched any Harry Potter. When I started reading I jumped straight in at the deep end with smut. Lots, and lots of smut.
Where it all began.
I joined a group two years ago and they introduced me to Fan-fiction. And this is where the real fun began. Two short months it took for a couple of wenches to convince me to try my hand at writing. While I thought I'd give it a shot with the intention of showing them how shockingly bad I was… it bit me royally on the backside because my friends wanted more.
Now, two years have flown by, and I've gone from writing fan-fiction to writing my own original stories.
Connect with me on my website.
Note From The Publisher
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