Darkness in the Blood (Gifted Blood Trilogy)

by Vicki Keire

  He raised one jet-black eyebrow. “You have to ask, after seeing the state of my cupboards?”

  “Guess not.” I snagged an interesting looking pastry. The crust flaked away to reveal an almost liquid cheese center. I tried not to drool. It wouldn’t do to reveal too many of my weaknesses. I couldn’t have my sometimes nemesis know how much I loved cheese in pastry form.

  “I’ll get whatever you want,” he said softly while I looked at my plate, at the beading on my robe… anything but the warm, cheese-drenched pastry halfway between me and the fallen angel. Damn. He smirked as I caved, pouncing on the pastry like Abigail on a treat.

  “Did you happen to find any clothes while you were out?” I murmured, licking errant cheese from my fingers. For about half a second, while I sipped an excellent but very bitter espresso, I almost wished I’d kept my mouth shut. My clothes were what had finally sent him over the edge last night. He poked at a croissant.

  “Your clothes were… unacceptable.”

  I selected a second cheese pastry, watching him through my eyelashes. He seemed sane this morning, so I decided to risk an explanation. “You do realize that neither Ethan nor Logan had anything to do with the state of my clothing? My demonic minion art teacher tried to take me to the Dark Realms. There was something of a struggle,” I glossed over a whole lot of facts that might upset him again with an airy wave of my hand. “My shirt got ripped when a werewolf gave me CPR. At least, I think he was a werewolf.” I toasted him with my cup. “So you see, it all turned out quite well.”

  His expression got darker. “You really must not leave this property without me by your side. I’ll find you more suitable clothing after breakfast. Perhaps we’ll even go to Paris.”

  “I don’t want to go to Paris. I have plenty of clothes at my apartment.”

  “Your apartment isn’t safe.”

  I drained the espresso with one quick flick of my wrist. “It seems like I was pretty well protected last night. My brother and my boyfriend are both still alive, despite your determination to kill them. What makes you think they can’t protect me?” I slammed the empty cup down on the table. “Leaving aside the insulting implication that I can’t take care of myself, of course.”

  Oooh, when was I going to learn to humor him? His diamond eyes sparked wild as live wires in a thunderstorm. “The idea that you can take care of yourself in this situation,” he growled, “is pure madness. And I know madness. I won’t let it happen. Neither will the two boys you so blithely accuse me of trying to murder. They have failed at protecting you, Caspia. Why else did they personally deliver you to my doorstep?”

  For that, I had no comeback. They would never have brought me here if things weren’t absolutely desperate. I buried my face in my hands and focused on the sounds of the St. Clare rushing below us, trying to calm my simmering temper.

  “Good morning. Did you get enough coffee?” Familiar black leather slid over my shoulders. Ethan. I whipped my head up so fast it knocked over my empty cardboard cup.

  I was on the verge of throwing my arms around him when I checked myself, halfway out of my chair. “My God. You look awful.” I froze, watching intently as he sat carefully in an empty iron chair.

  “I’m fine,” he lied. I could see scraped and bruised knuckles, torn fingernails, and bruised forearms. The way he sat ramrod straight reminded me that he probably had bruised and cracked, if not broken, ribs.

  “We have to get you to a hospital,” I said, biting my lip.

  “I’m not leaving.” Ethan announced with grim finality. He found his own cardboard cup of coffee. “And neither are you.” After a long drink of unsweetened coffee, Ethan finally acknowledged Asheroth’s presence. “Good morning. Thanks for not assaulting Caspia over breakfast.”

  “I assure you,” Asheroth said coldly, “I would never assault Caspia, and I resent the implication.”

  “We were kind of counting on that,” Ethan began. “We wouldn’t have brought her here at all if we’d thought you would react like you did last night. The whole point was to bring her some place safe.”

  Even I could hear the anger, the reproof in his voice. Asheroth sprang up in Ethan’s face and shouted, “Forgive me for reacting strongly to surprise Dark Realm energy in my home. And may I suggest next time you don’t hide behind your girlfriend.” Ethan jumped up too, ready to fight, broken ribs and all.

  Someone had spilled coffee onto the plate with the cheese pastries. I eyed them sadly. “That’s enough. People are missing; my town is under assault; who knows what kind of creatures want me dead, and it’s all my fault. I. Have. Had. Enough.” I jumped up, ready to storm back into the house.

  And almost collided with a surprised Cassandra Blackwood.

  I was used to seeing her in flowing skirts and sandals. But this morning, she looked like she’d hacked her way through rough terrain to be here. Her long blond hair hung in a single braid over one shoulder. A few leaves and twigs stuck out of it. Her worn hiking boots had tracked bits of forest floor across the veranda. Her kohl-rimmed eyes flickered around the breakfast table quickly before she dumped the heavy backpack she was carrying on the ground with a loud thump. “I’m sorry,” she huffed, out of breath. “I would have been here sooner, but travelling between the compounds was harder than I anticipated.” She gave me a faint but genuine smile.

  “Uh, what?” I said, gaping at her.

  “The mist wall seems to be active even between Guardian compounds.” Cassandra gave me a quick up and down glance before collapsing into the chair I’d just vacated. She flashed me a grin. “Nice robe. I brought you a change of clothes. Don’t worry; it’s not too witchy. Please tell me there’s coffee.” She rummaged through the remains of breakfast while the rest of us stared at her. “At least, that’s what happened between the Eastern and Southern compounds. I’m going to assume that’s on your end, Asheroth, because Grand’Mere would have mentioned strengthening the wards.” She spoke through a mouthful of muffin. “Next time, warn a girl, ok? I know it’s not enough to be a problem for a full Guardian, but of course she couldn’t come, since you’re all supposed to be channeling your energies into maintaining the perimeter. Although I think it’s smart, considering there’s only one of you. Do you want to send for reinforcements from North and West? I can help, even though I’m just the Eastern apprentice. Grand’Mere won’t mind.”

  She seemed to be speaking English, even though I didn’t understand a word of it.

  “Cassandra,” Asheroth said, with the murderous patience of a stalking beast. “Please shut up.”

  She froze with a cup of coffee half way to her mouth. “No, don’t,” I countered, leaning towards Asheroth on the back of her chair. “Please don’t. Why don’t you go back over that bit about Guardians and compounds and mist walls, please?”

  “You mean you don’t know?” She tilted her golden head backwards to look at me. “He hasn’t told you?”

  “No, he hasn’t.” Ethan eased himself back into his chair carefully. “Maybe you could fill in the blanks.”

  “Sweet goddess,” Cassandra said as she got her first good look at Ethan. “What the hell happened to you?” She launched herself from her chair and bent over him, feeling his forehead while she snapped directions. “Caspia, get me my bag. I knew someone was hurt but you look like someone tried to kill you.” Asheroth had the grace to look embarrassed as I lugged the heavy backpack over. She put both palms over his chest and closed her eyes. “Nothing broken, but you do have two cracked ribs, lots of bruising, some light internal bleeding and swelling, and that’s just your chest. I have some medicine to dissolve in a bath; you should soak first. Then I have a really disgusting tea that will make you sleepy, but should speed up the healing process. You’ll be feeling better by tonight.” She shrugged, as if she didn’t care whether he cooperated. “Or you could go to a regular doctor and suffer for another two or three weeks.”

  “He’ll take the witch tea,” I announced, daring him to disagree with my eyes
.

  “Fine,” Ethan nodded. He even managed a small smile. “But on one condition. Someone tell us about this Guardian compound business, or I’m not moving.”

  “Fine,” Asheroth snapped. “As tempted as I am to let you sit here in pain for two weeks, I’ll explain.” He tossed the cardboard box aside. I watched it go a little sadly. There were still a few pastries in there. Asheroth scooped the remains of my breakfast to the center of the table. “This,” he announced, “is Whitfield.”

  “Pastry crumbs and a used espresso cup? Go ahead. Tell us how you really feel,” Logan taunted as he joined us at the now crowded veranda table. Asheroth ignored him. My brother nodded at Ethan and squeezed my shoulder. To Cassandra, he gave a shy wave. She stayed where she was, frozen on her heels beside Ethan’s chair. She stared at Logan as if she’d never seen him before.

  “As I was saying,” Asheroth continued. “In the center we have Whitfield. Which we all know is something of a safe haven for those with unusual backgrounds.” Logan snorted. Asheroth slammed four empty cups down to make compass points around the mess he’d created. “How is it that so many of us, of such diverse traditions, are drawn to this place? And what keeps us relatively safe here? The simple but nonetheless infuriating answer is that we simply don’t know. All of us process it differently. Witches tend to explain it as something called ley lines; is that right, my dear?” Cassandra shrugged. She hadn’t quit staring at Logan. “The Nephilim, Dark and Light, feel that the Realms are closer here. They are, actually. It’s easier to access them, as if the layers between us and them are thinner.”

  “The orchard,” Ethan said thoughtfully. Asheroth nodded. “That’s why it was so easy to bring Caspia through.”

  “Yes, to the detriment of us all,” Asheroth snapped.

  I pressed both hands to my temples. “Please stop it.”

  “Whatever the source of this power, we all see the need to protect it, and thus, the town. Long ago, the founders surrounded it with four compounds, like this one,” he nodded to the house behind him. “Each of the four cardinal directions has one. And each one of those has a Guardian. We maintain a kind of security fence around the area. Most of the time, we don’t do much. Whitfield is fairly quiet and self-policing. But those rare times the town council feels we’re under a clear threat, we go on the defensive. And that means each Guardian puts a lot of his or her energy into an enhanced version of a security fence.”

  “The mist wall,” I said slowly. “What does it do?”

  “If your intentions are benign, not much,” Asheroth said. He looked at the mess on his table rather mournfully, as if it really was a war-torn Whitfield. “You might get as far as the town limits and decide you’re lost, turn around, and go back the way you came. You might remember you have a life-or-death matter you forgot about. But if your intentions are malicious, it’s like walking straight into a cloud of flesh-eating gas. It gets worse the stronger your magic is. And it triggers an alarm that lets the entire town council know where the wall has been breached, so we all show up to finish you off.” He said this last bit without a trace of remorse, lost in thought while looking at the far bank of the river. He came back to himself with effort. “Does that answer your question?”

  “It’s a start,” I said grudgingly. “Ethan? Are you satisfied enough to let Cassandra start to heal you now?”

  “I suppose.” He levered himself up carefully. “If you’ll come oversee the torture.”

  “Just a bath,” Cassandra said. “As hot as you can stand. Where are we going?” As Ethan gave directions, I turned to my self-appointed guardian. He stood staring at the mess on the table, as if he could see things in it that weren’t there. I padded over to him in my bare feet. “Tell me something.” He looked up, as if he’d entirely forgotten my existence. “How long have you been a Guardian?” I wondered what would make someone like Asheroth agree to something that seemed so selfless, so public-minded. What was he getting out of it? “Why did you do it? Agree to become a Guardian?”

  His voice was flat, like his eyes. “She hadn’t spoken for six whole weeks when we got here. Not one word. She was pregnant, and vulnerable, and her family wanted her back very badly. All I wanted was to keep her safe. I had failed at everything else, you see. But they lacked a fourth Guardian. It’s a position of some sacrifice, and not all that easy to fill. I just knew,” he looked around at the trees, the river, as if seeing it again for the first time. “I knew when I understood about the mist wall that I could keep her safe here, inside this compound. Even if the whole city went to hell, I could hold this little part of it, and keep her safe. So I begged them for it.” I tried to imagine it, proud Asheroth begging, and failed. He smiled with only half his face. “Yes, I begged them. I promised them forever. And they took it.”

  I was afraid to ask, but I did. “Was she safe here?”

  He nodded, a single smooth motion that might have been fierce if not for the sadness that rode him. “Safe, yes. Maybe even happy, at times. I like to think so, anyway.”

  I didn’t want to look at him, so I pulled at the sash of my robe. “Just when I think it’s safe to hate you,” I almost-whispered. “I wish I could. It would be easier.”

  “Take heart. There’s still time. Forever, in fact.”

  I had worked the edge of my sash into a series of tiny, impossible knots. “So she lived here, then? In this house?” I took a huge breath, not waiting to hear his answer. “I’d like to know more about her. I know it’s hard for you and,” I couldn’t keep a brittle laugh from escaping, “dangerous for me, but I’d like you to tell me what you can.” How young he looked when he was still and quiet. It never stopped shocking me. “Please. While I’m here.”

  But all he said was, “Your Ethan needs your help, no doubt.” And I ran, rather than look at him standing still and sane in the sunlight.

  Chapter Twenty-Three:

  Broken Things

  Scented steam and muted voices led me to a large downstairs bathroom. It was easily the size of my bedroom. The far side of the room held a large sunken tub, big enough for a full grown adult to submerge and maybe even do a little swimming. It made the antique claw foot tub in my apartment seem tiny in comparison. This one even had Jacuzzi jets. It was easier to suppress my swell of bathtub envy when I realized it was filling up with chalky white water that smelled as bad as it looked.

  A double sink stretched across one wall. Ethan leaned against it, flanked by Logan and Cassandra. Shirtless and tight-lipped, he stood patiently while the young witch poked and prodded him. His eyes met mine in mute appeal, but there was nothing I could do. I hadn’t seen the full extent of the damage until now. If his insides looked anything like his outsides, then he was lucky to be breathing. I’d only seen part of his chest, so I wasn’t that shocked to see it in the bright bathroom light. But the rest of his body looked worse than I imagined. Cassandra held his right arm and elbow, bending and flexing it while he struggled not to wince. “Stress fracture, maybe,” she murmured. It was fascinating to watch her work. She performed much of her examination with her eyes closed, resting her hands lightly over different parts of the body. Logan seemed very interested, interrupting her mutterings to ask questions.

  “He’ll live,” she announced at last. I slipped up beside a pale Ethan while she went to test the water. “Just try not to pick fights with angry Nephilim in the next few days, and you should be fine.”

  “I’m not making any promises,” Ethan said, his face tight with pain.

  She rolled her eyes and dipped a finger in the bathwater. When she pulled it back out, it looked as if she’d rolled it in white paint. “Excellent. This should take care of the multiple bone fractures. Grand’Mere sent a tea that should take care of the worst of the internal swelling, and any bleeding. It tastes god-awful, though. And it will make you sleepy for much of the day. Soak up to your neck until the water turns cold.”

  She rose to leave, and Logan followed. “I’ll try and find you something to
wear,” I promised, slipping my arms very carefully around his neck. “There has to be something here. Asheroth was almost dressed like a civilian, so there have to be men’s clothes somewhere.”

  “No red leather,” he warned. I smiled.

  “Promise.” I kissed him lightly. “I think your lips are the only non-bruised part of you.”

  “Stay with me.” He wove his fingers together at the small of my back. “When I have to drink the terrible torture tea, stay with me until I sleep.”

  “I was planning on it. Now hurry up and mend your bones.” I slipped into the adjoining bedroom, where I found a neatly folded pile of clothes. True to her word, they weren’t too witchy, especially when I thought of her regular around town wardrobe. Given my present circumstances, I would have worn one of Cassandra’s tie-dyed skirts and been grateful. But I much preferred the jeans she left me, even though they were a bit snug. I expected that; I was taller than most women I knew. I had mixed emotions about the also-snug burgundy t-shirt that proclaimed ‘Goddess Complex’ right across my breasts. Maybe she was trying to be funny. Then again, the t-shirt was dirt and blood-free, and didn’t belong to a boy, all marks in its favor. No shoes, but I still had my boots from yesterday. Lastly, there was an odd and decidedly witchy looking belt. I almost skipped it. The jeans were snug enough not to need one. But it had a couple of useful looking loops and hooks worked in among the vines and flowers burned into the leather. I put it on at the last minute just to make Cassandra happy.

  I could have found my way to the kitchen blindfolded, the brewing tea smelled that bad. Even with all the glass gone from one of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows and both veranda doors wide open, I almost gagged on the fumes. Logan and Cassandra had both pulled their shirts up over their mouths. They were playing some kind of game, ducking behind counters and cabinets while trying to fling spoonfuls of hot tea at each other. They shrieked like children, slipping on the increasingly wet floor as they tried to get past each other to the pot boiling on the stove.