Poison in the Blood

by Robyn Bachar

  Dr. Bennett and I bowed politely, and I fought the urge to attempt to read the council’s auras. After my first foray into Faerie, I was certain that I would go blind if I attempted it. My inner seer whined like Robert refusing to be set down, for I wanted to study my surroundings to the extent of my abilities, and being unable to use my vision was very limiting.

  “A seer?” the faerie on the end said. Her body was made of water, her skin rippling and glinting in the light as she moved. She studied me with limpid eyes, and I stared back in complete fascination.

  “I have not met a seer in quite some time,” Lady Hippolyta commented.

  “Mrs. Black has been aiding me in my investigation. She has been invaluable in discovering the truth,” Justine informed them. For a moment I basked in the word: invaluable.

  “You’re certain you know the truth of this situation? It seems fantastical,” Lady Hippolyta said. “I do not mean to impugn your abilities or those of your companions. I believe that caution is best, for if you are correct, a crime of this magnitude has not occurred since the formation of Faerie.”

  The enormity of her words sank in to each of us, and I watched as the weight settled onto our shoulders. It made my discovery of Mr. Farrell’s crimes at Lord Willowbrook’s ball seem insignificant in comparison. The deaths he caused touched only a handful of people. These could affect hundreds of magicians and faeries.

  “How does the council wish to proceed?” Justine asked.

  “At this time, we believe a trial would be best. We will assign an investigator to work with you in prosecuting the case. Perhaps Polonius?” she suggested, and the last faerie finally spoke.

  “Polonius is a doddering fool. Summon Horatio. He will do well in this matter,” the faerie suggested. While the first two were earth and water, this one was fire. Not coal-dark like the Infernus faeries, but her coloring was a blaze of bright oranges and yellows like a dancing flame, and she had enormous, fiery butterfly wings. She appeared cheerful, while Helen’s brethren were dour.

  Lady Hippolyta nodded and then waved her hand. A male faerie appeared in front of our group. I assumed this was the aforementioned Horatio. He was short and squat in stature, rather like a bulldog, with rough brown skin that I assumed indicated an earth faerie of some sort. He bowed to the three faeries and then turned and eyed us.

  “Madam Guardian,” he greeted Justine.

  “Horatio, we wish you to work with this guardian and her companions on a matter of justice. The Infernus clan stands accused of numerous crimes against magicians. We need you to be quick but thorough in your investigation and the trial,” Lady Hippolyta instructed.

  Horatio nodded. “I will do my best, my lady.”

  “Please do. I fear that this matter will only become worse with time, and all will suffer because of it.”

  My seer’s magic recognized the prophetic nature of her words, for the terrible truth was that Faerie was about to be greatly changed, and no one would be spared from the coming wrath.

  Chapter Thirteen

  We were transported from the faerie council’s great hall to Miss Dubois’s sitting room, along with our new faerie companion, Horatio, and Michael and Simon. For the most part Horatio ignored the chroniclers unless their information was needed, and both Michael and Simon watched the faerie like cats fascinated by a bird.

  Simon had likely not seen a faerie since he was alive, centuries ago. Though my faerie knowledge was limited, I did know that as a rule faeries avoided chroniclers and master necromancers, because the faeries disapprove of magicians’ attempts to live forever. Faeries were long-lived and nearly ageless, but they could be killed, as their elven cousins had proved by going extinct.

  After Horatio had finished questioning us about what we had discovered, he said that he would confirm our information, and that we would be called upon to testify during the trial. I was quite anxious to see what a faerie trial would be like, and also eager to see Helen and Paris punished and kept far away from my family.

  He left, and with a series of stern looks and emphatic gestures I intimated to Dr. Bennett that he had best tell Miss Dubois of their situation. My entourage and I returned to Josephine’s, and much to my surprise I was invited into the library. Generally I was only invited into the library in our home in Yorkshire when bringing Michael afternoon tea.

  “Why did you never mention that you are half-blooded?” I asked Simon, taking the offensive.

  “Perhaps because we have never discussed matters of genealogy,” he countered. “I would be willing to discuss it at another date. I have been quite curious to ask if there are any other seers in your ancestry.”

  Chagrined, I took a seat apart from the chroniclers and folded my hands in my lap, fidgeting with the fingers of my black silk gloves. “What did you wish to discuss now?”

  “I thought this would be an opportune moment to allow Michael to practice feeding from you. You have recovered from your blood loss, correct?” My face warmed with an embarrassed blush, but I managed to nod in agreement. “Excellent. Shall we proceed?”

  Michael cleared his throat. “I am not certain this is advisable. If I should lose control again—”

  “Then I will be here to prevent you from harming her.” Simon frowned sternly down at Michael, looming over his chair like a disapproving tutor, which I suppose in this instance he was. Despite his mentor’s attitude, Michael continued to hesitate, and I did not fault him for it. Though I would never admit it to either of them, I was nervous about the idea.

  “Perhaps we should wait a few more days…”

  Simon folded his arms across his chest. “Michael, if you do not feed today, your chances of hurting her will be greatly increased in a few days’ time. You are right to feel guilty for harming her, but you cannot let that guilt prevent you from completing your training. You will need to feed from her again. There is simply no avoiding that.”

  “You’re right, of course,” Michael admitted. My husband and I exchanged an awkward glance, and I began removing my right glove.

  Simon sighed and shook his head. “Let us be honest with each other, please. No one believes that you will be taking blood from your wife’s wrist. Besides, that is nearly an insult to her.”

  By now I was quite certain that my face was on fire judging by the heat of my cheeks, but I resolutely rose and crossed to Michael’s chair. He stood and clumsily brushed stray locks of my hair out of the way, and I caught his hand and held it.

  “I love you,” I reminded him. “I trust you. And if something should go wrong, I won’t blame you for it. Everyone must stumble before they learn how to walk.”

  He smiled, some of the tension easing from his frame, and he drew me into his arms and simply held me for a long moment. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the comfort of his embrace. Then the slice of his fangs broke my skin, and I flinched and tensed. The warm wave of pleasure followed, and my knees went weak.

  “Don’t overdo the spell,” Simon warned. “It may be your first instinct to please her, but if you flood her she’ll be unable to warn you if you’ve taken too much blood.”

  The sensation faded and my other senses returned. The effect was still pleasant, but I was able to think clearly enough that I would be able to warn him if I began to feel weak or dizzy.

  “Are you feeling well?” Simon asked.

  “Yes. I feel fine,” I replied. It was an odd thing to speak while my husband drained my blood, but I managed it. He healed the bite and drew away, and he seemed normal, no sense of madness or loss of control.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, and he nodded.

  I glanced at Simon and saw deep, wrenching anguish in his expression. A glimpse of a memory flashed through my mind, of Genevieve staring up at him with an open, trusting expression. “You can bite me. I am not afraid,” she promised him. It reminded me of how devastated by her loss he appeared in my vision. He must have been so lonely for so many years…

  Simon suddenly straightened, composed once
more. “Would you care to try it again?” he asked.

  “How often do you require blood? And how much?” I asked. Because I donated so rarely, I hadn’t thought to ask before.

  “Michael will require greater amounts of blood and more often than I do, because he is still adjusting to his condition. As he ages, he will need less.”

  “So I will need to donate more often than he donated to you,” I said, and Simon nodded.

  “Yes, so you can see why I think it important that Michael master his control as soon as possible if the two of you are going to be living under the same roof. Now, if you would be so kind as to continue?” he suggested.

  As always, he was, unfortunately, right. We attempted several more bites, and though the situation continued to be awkward, Michael performed admirably. No loss of control or problems with overwhelming bloodlust, and it was encouraging. So much so that when we were finished, Michael surprised both Simon and me by asking for permission to spend the night in my room.

  Simon pondered the request for a long moment, and then reluctantly nodded. “Very well, as long as no biting occurs. I am serious about that. Emily, if he bites you, I expect you to strike him.”

  I blinked, both shocked and awed by the development. Smiling broadly, I acted on impulse and hugged him. I did not experience the mystical energy field that pacified my ill-tempered son, but after a moment of stiff surprise Simon returned the hug. It was the most progress we had made in our relationship in years.

  Afterward, I took my husband’s arm and allowed him to lead me out of the room. I tried to act as though everything was normal between us again, and that this was just another average night in our marriage, but a thrill of excitement tingled through me. It reminded me of our wedding night, and the wonderful, nervous anticipation of it. When we arrived at my bedroom we stood staring at each other for an awkward moment. Michael was afraid of hurting me, and I did not need my seer powers to know that, for it was written all over his face.

  “Let’s focus on sleep this time,” I suggested. “It has been a long day, and there is no sense in taking part in…marital activities if we are both anxious.”

  “Thank you, darling,” he said, clearly relieved.

  We undressed, and as I lay in his arms I was comforted that he was much warmer to the touch, but slightly disturbed by the fact that it was my blood that had made that temperature change possible. With my head pillowed upon his chest I listened to the slow beat of his heart and drifted into a dream-filled sleep.

  Not all of my dreams are prophetic. I do, on occasion, have normal dreams. During my pregnancies I experienced a series of very strange dreams that had nothing at all to do with my magic and a good deal to do with my strange food cravings. This night, however, featured the rare occurrence of two visions.

  The first began with Helen, and this time I had no doubt as to her identity. The faerie was submerged in a bath filled with blood. My stomach hitched and threatened to reject the remnants of my dinner, but I concentrated on keeping hold of the vision.

  “It isn’t working,” Helen protested in a whine. I can’t imagine how she possibly thought bathing in blood was a viable solution. My chronicler entourage would be horrified by the shocking waste. Of course any sane blood drinker would agree that what the Infernus faeries were up to was utter madness.

  Paris came into view and knelt beside the tub, taking Helen’s hand. “We have made remarkable progress. We are so close now. A few more test subjects and we will have the problem solved.”

  “But we have been discovered. There is no more time.” Helen burst into sobs, and though I did pity her barren condition, I had no sympathy for her. Not with the number of innocent lives she had sacrificed for her unholy research.

  “I will think of something, I promise. Don’t I always come out triumphant?” he asked. She nodded, sniffling, wiping at her nose with blood-soaked hands. “Just trust me, my love. I will take care of everything.”

  I shuddered, and the dream changed. I was standing in our library in Yorkshire, frowning down at Michael. He had unbuttoned his collar and bared his throat to me.

  “I still do not see how this makes any sense. I won’t receive any sustenance from feeding from you,” I said, exasperated.

  Simon sighed from his vantage point to the side, and I tossed a glare in his direction. “The point in this case isn’t sustenance,” he said. “It’s purely meant to be pleasurable for you both.”

  “But won’t it weaken him if I drink from him? It seems dangerous to weaken Michael while I gain no benefit other than pleasure. We are capable of pleasuring each other without fangs involved at all. We have been doing it for some time,” I pointed out matter-of-factly.

  Simon winced, and I was impressed that I had managed to embarrass him. “I don’t doubt that. However, you and Michael have an eternity to spend together, and considering that you are now both blood drinkers, it is only logical to assume that you will bite him at some point. As such, you should practice this.”

  “Must you watch, though?” I asked.

  “I have witnessed Michael biting you. How is this different?”

  I turned to Michael as I pondered my response. It was difficult to put into words—it simply was different. Perhaps it was that my relationship with Simon was not the same as that of Michael.

  Simon sighed again—I must truly be trying his patience. “If you were a newly made chronicler, I would observe all your feeding attempts. Because your situation is quite unique, I feel it is best that both Michael and I observe you, and because he is participating in this bite, he can hardly monitor you.”

  “He does have a valid point, darling,” Michael pointed out.

  “I know.” I fidgeted with my skirts for a moment, and then gently sat upon Michael’s knee. He turned his head to the side, and I eyed the vein in his throat. Perhaps it was the remnants of my seer’s magic that made it seem so bright against his pale skin, or perhaps it was a newly acquired skill of mine. I sent a furtive, anxious glance toward Simon, and then I leaned closer to my husband.

  Michael took one of my hands in his and held it comfortingly. “It’s all right. I love you.”

  Reassured, I lowered my mouth to his throat and sank my fangs into his skin.

  I bolted awake, still cuddled against Michael, and discovered I was nuzzling his throat. The unique sensation of how it had felt to bite him echoed through my mind, and I propped myself up and peered down at him.

  Michael stirred and blinked up at me sleepily. “What’s wrong, Em? I wasn’t snoring, was I?”

  “Darling, you hardly breathe. I doubt you’re capable of snoring now,” I informed him. He smiled, and I kissed him. “I have something I need to tell you.”

  “Oh?” Michael quirked a drowsy brow.

  “I’ve had two dreams now, and I’m confident it will work,” I said in a rush.

  “What will?”

  “The ritual. The ritual that Simon used on his soul mate. But it didn’t work for her, but I’m certain it will work for me. I have had two dreams now where you and I were immortal together. We could be together always. You wouldn’t have to lose me.”

  The last remnants of sleepiness slipped away as my husband eyed me with confusion. “Perhaps you had better start over, and begin by explaining how you know of this ritual.”

  Taking a deep breath, I launched into the tale of how I had accidentally eavesdropped on Simon’s memory of losing his wife. Michael seemed appropriately shocked by the idea that Simon had ever been married, much less to his soul mate. I then explained how I had dreamed of us at the strange city and the parade of lighted boats, and of my dream of biting him just now. He listened, his brow increasingly furrowed with studious thought until I finished.

  “Darling, there is no proof that your dreams are visions, or that they will be true,” he reminded, ever the soul of sensibility.

  “I am certain that they are visions. You and I were meant to be together, and you are immortal, so clearly I must
be meant to be as well. How could the higher powers part us?”

  “They parted Simon and Genevieve.”

  “But she was a witch. Witch magic is completely different from seer magic. And I’m certain there have been advances in spell research since Simon attempted it. And I’ve already had visions to confirm it, so we know it will work.”

  Michael stroked my unbound hair. “I won’t risk losing you.”

  “There is no risk of that. If we do not do this ritual, you will lose me one day. The question is, are you willing to risk keeping me?”

  I leaned down and kissed him. I meant it to be a simple kiss to punctuate my question, but he held me close and deepened it until my entire body tingled with lustful anticipation. Michael rolled me beneath him, and I wrapped my arms around him. His torso was bare, and I was comforted that his skin was still as warm as it had been when we fell asleep. As he kissed me it was as though nothing had changed between us. It wasn’t the frenzied hail of kisses that had led to our accidental overindulgence, but the familiar touch of the man I loved. My soul mate.

  “I love you,” I murmured as he hiked up the skirt of my nightgown. Certain that lovemaking would occur at some point during the night, or perhaps hopeful that it would, I had already removed my undergarments before getting into bed earlier.

  “I love you, too. I love you more than anything else in this world.”

  There was such heavy emotion in his gaze, a deep sincerity, and I held him close as his sex entered mine. I gasped, both in pleasure and at the sense of completion that having him inside me triggered. We were soul mates, two halves of one whole, united in the moment of a man making love to his wife.

  He trailed kisses to my neck, and I lightly slapped his shoulder. “No biting,” I reminded him.

  “No biting,” he promised, his lips against my skin. “I must admit, though, that I am enamored of your neck.”

  “Really? You used to be enamored of my breasts,” I teased in reply. Of course after having nursed several children my breasts were no longer in the condition they had once been, so I could hardly blame him for that. Michael chuckled, and distracted me by increasing the pace of his thrusts. There was no change in how amazing he could make me feel with no biting required.