A Curse Of Glass And Iron (Dark Heralds Book 2)

by Lynn S.

  “Garan Nolton.” It was a surprise to hear her pronounce his name. “I’m thirsty.”

  Of course, he thought. The loss of blood and the fever dehydrated her. Leaving her side, Garan went to the kitchen. He opened the door to a full fridge. The vampire wanted nothing, but Brigitte had stocked it anyway with everything from bottled water to an array of sweets. The loa indulged in little pleasures constantly.

  “Ice chips will do, until you wake up,” Garan said as he brought some on his way back.

  Cold gave definition to the bow of her lips. Pallid flesh grew rosy, lips that once were made thin by pain now looked generous, plumped and inviting. Garan caught himself wishing the woman would open her eyes.

  “Garan Nolton.” This time, her voice sounded deep and sensual, playing to whatever images might have been running through his mind. “I’m thirsty.”

  It was obvious this was pure instinct speaking through her, and only one thing satisfied the instinct. As a dhampyr, Marissa had chosen not to indulge in human blood. If she ever did, she had to take it indirectly, never biting through flesh. Such course might trigger a full transformation. At least this was what Garan understood about the vampyrs of her bloodline. Nolton wondered what was going on. Could her instinct be so desperate as to want to trigger a change?

  “Should I feed you? Are you even aware that I’m not human? So many questions…” Nolton spoke, not really expecting an answer. He kept on, drawing conclusions. “You want to come forth strong, don’t you? Our blonde friend here, she didn’t listen to you. Maybe if she had, Francis Alexander wouldn’t be much of a problem. But she shut you down and went drastic. If I were to ask you once more…would you say it’s for her own good? That ring finger has to heal…”

  “Thirst!” The answer was short and demanding.

  Garan knew what he had to do. Just a couple of drops of his blood would suffice. Still, he toyed with the idea of letting her bite his wrist. Dwellers liked chaos, after all. What would the reluctant dhampyr do if she woke up a vampire?

  Fortunately, traces of the old Garan Nolton were there, too much a gentleman to take choices from a lady. Biting through his own flesh, he allowed for sluggish drops to touch her lips. The woman reacted, licking the blood that slipped off the corner of her lips, but she didn’t open her eyes.

  “When do you plan to let her wake up? I’m not buying what you are selling, sweetheart. Not until all of her is here.”

  The woman whispered, “More.”

  Garan leaned closer, lying by her side on the bed. The open wound in his wrist had healed, the wisdom of his own blood believing he had already given too much. Marissa Salgado was there, afraid, hurt, hiding behind her instinct while giving it too much leeway. It looked as if she only knew extremes: either complete denial or relinquish of total control.

  Not good at all.

  He needed to guide her, make her trust just enough. For once he had no idea how to proceed, as the blonde was too damn distracting. His decision made, he chose his words carefully.

  “No. No more. You will have more only if you allow Marissa to open her eyes.”

  As soon as he said the words, Marissa turned her body toward him, still snuggling on the pillow. She opened her eyes, but it was not the relaxed waking of a dream. Something about the way she came to sudden attention felt robotic, unnatural. The soft gray of her eyes was completely covered by a thick reddish shield.

  Garan mistakenly thought the instinct could be bargained with.

  Marissa was beyond afraid; she had panicked and allowed for her humanity to be completely sublimated by her other self. Her instinct had a notion of Garan Nolton, but still, mistrusting, it was not looking for an ally, but a means to an end. Adriana had been in that room. The dhampyr could feel the lingering effect of her presence. It was confusing. Adriana had been there, this vampire in front of her had seen and probably talked to her, and he was still alive and extending his protection. Was he a friend or an enemy? Had he done away with Adriana as Francis once did?

  There was only one way to find out.

  The blonde woman, blinded by bloodlust, pulled Garan toward herself in a deep, slow kiss. Dhampyrs could exert certain fascination over vampires and it took Marissa’s instinct seconds to establish that Norton found her intriguing.

  That was a start.

  Curiosity would do, it had the same effect as infatuation, leading people and monsters to keep their guards down. It was pretty easy to shift from a kiss into a bite, almost as if the vampire had been asking for it. Dhampyr Marissa held fast to Garan’s neck, not quite measuring the risk of drinking from another vampire, let alone one who had no relation to her bloodline. Her instinct had tapped into power and that was all she felt she needed.

  It was just a scrape against Nolton’s neck, she didn’t get to press flesh between her teeth, as the dweller reacted in time. It was enough, though, for Garan to feel her soft, wet tongue become rough and covered in tiny, sharp scales. Dweller’s blood might prove something more than healing, it might drive her over the edge.

  Marissa’s body crashed against his as the intimacy of the moment became a struggle. He didn’t want to do her harm, just keep her at bay. She was gaining strength at a fast rate, the physical exertion was gone and the frenzy for blood made no distinction between the need to feed and other urges.

  Her wounds had not only healed, they had restored. Her hand was now whole again and she used it to trace the contours of his face with eager fingers. Her lips soon followed. She was kissing him again and there was no way of telling the difference between hunger and desire. He gave in, and kissed her once more, this time being aware of all it entailed.

  “Ah! You are still a man underneath that half-dead heart and the stone-cold stare. We just…need to press…the right buttons.” Marissa’s eyes never made contact with Garan’s and her voice had a resonance that was barely human.

  Disconnected from the real feelings of the woman, if any, her instinct just wanted to have something…someone to claim as solely her own. Nolton wanted her, there was no doubt about it, his body was burning for her. But he well knew that the female form before him, willing to explore all avenues of pleasure, those fingers running through his hair, and that enthusiastic tongue of hers, was a sham. It was not Marissa Salgado at all, and if he dared continue, he’d be no better than Francis Alexander.

  Garan could have been a killer, but he’d rather keep away from earning the title of rapist as well. As tempting as it looked, he was dealing with only half a woman. If he gave in, even if her instinct wanted it…what was to happen once Marissa came back to her senses?

  His decision to behave in the most gentlemanly of ways left him with quite a situation in his hands. There was a woman demanding attention in his bed. Marissa, possessed by her instinct, was starting to move and talk like a consecrated wood nymph. Luckily, after that initial, ardent display, she had burned most of her energy and was once again rendered too weak to pursue him. It was enough to step away and leave her there. Still, there were questions going around in his head. Increased bursts of energy followed by crashes, a fever that never left, even as her body reacted to the healing factors in his blood…something was deadly wrong.

  It was time to summon.

  The vampire walked toward the ample mirror that dominated the room and, placing a hand on its cool surface, called out.

  “Back to us, oh, unruly brother,” a spectral voice demanded as mists swirled behind the glass.

  “I need to see those in your charge.”

  “In our charge, you say. As days go by, their presence reminds the dark forest of the world outside. We are growing restless…”

  “All in good time,” Garan answered.

  The mists dissipated, leaving behind Adriana and Bastian. Adriana had not changed her opinion about the dweller, whom she considered a charlatan at best, a traitor at his worst. The first thing she saw were bloodied sheets and Marissa’s wilted body strewn across the bed. It was enough to reignite all
of her suspicions.

  “What the hell have you done to my daughter?” Adriana hit her side of the surface so hard that the framed mirror trembled. Bastian, on the other hand, resorted to being diplomatic. The vampire was granting him a very uncomfortable reprise of the situation via psychic link. Had Adriana not jumped to conclusions, she would have seen it too.

  “He is trying to help, love. Let us help as well.” Holding his wife’s hand, Bastian placed an open palm against his side of the mirror. A shadow of pain came across his face. He was seeing his daughter for the very first time and the circumstances were as close to dreadful as he could imagine. That vampire he didn’t quite trust was their only hope. “Garan, I need you to place your hand against mine. I need to see it all. You have touched her, therefore you hold a piece of her soul.”

  The vampire met his hand from the other side and both father and mother absorbed into themselves a daughter’s sorrow.

  “Her instinct is askew. It doesn’t recognize anything, not even the fealty it owes to her. It just wants to break free, even if it kills her. She needs me, and I’m not there.” Adriana’s voice broke, while Bastian tried to keep a check on his own feelings.

  “My wife is right. She is infected. Her mind is close to shattered and her body is still tainted by Dark Herald magic. Francis Alexander has been feeding on her. The instinct reviled it but there was not much to be done. She must have a mark. It’s almost impossible to detect, only appearing for all to see after the victim is dead and no longer under thrall. But there must be three small punctures below the hairline on her neck. The heralds take blood and leave poison, it is their way to bind a will. Day by day, it dilutes into her blood. You must take it upon yourself, Garan. You are strong enough to do it without consequen—”

  Before any of those involved could help it, the mists rose again, and afterward, there was just Garan’s reflection in the mirror’s surface.

  “Are you done? Are you coming back to me? Did you decide not to be so honorable?” Marissa pleaded with her eyes still shut. As she opened her arms to him, the vampire’s attention was drawn to the welcome swell of her breasts, nipples hard under thinly stretched nightgown fabric. He cursed under his breath in anticipation. Lifting her, Garan noticed her body temperature had dropped alarmingly. She was almost as cool as the undead.

  The marks were right where Bastian had said, barely pinpricks against the skin. He reopened them, trying not to hurt her, and softly sucked poison and blood as she trembled in his arms.

  “If you wake up from this trance, belle Marissa, we’ll discuss whether or not you are half as foxy as your instinct made you to be. For now, let’s file this under drunk and awkward…” The poison was stronger than he expected, blurring his thoughts. “For now…what was I saying? Oh, yes, sleep…”

  Venom and the distant call of dawn rendered the vampire unconscious. Still, he cradled the woman in his arms. His last sensation was the warmth of her skin as the cold fever subdued and the soft cadence of her breathing. Long gone were the promises of blood and sex. Sleep brought something other, less complicated. Garan closed his eyes and entered oblivion, feeling human.

  Chapter XVII

  Blood and Liquor

  The night had been heavy at Azure. Against all her rules, Veronica had decided to keep the bar open past midnight. As to why, she still wondered. It had not been productive. Feeling spent beyond reason, she simply thought she was getting old for bar shenanigans. And then she had the weekend to deal with.

  As it happened every Friday morning, Benny showed up around ten with the list of expenses for the upcoming week. Susy, the kitchen aide, was out at the French Market, stalling for about two hours already with a list of her own. The Vieux Carre’s Festival was about to start and that meant they’d have fried green tomatoes added to the menu. Veronica forgave that girl all sins, just because she knew her spices.

  The owner of Azure entertained herself with the trivialities of the day, when a couple of knocks at the front door made her leave Benny in charge of receipts.

  “Ugh! I bet Susy forgot her keys again. Stay in your chair, Ben, no need to be a gentleman over this. I’ll get the door…” Veronica was about to say something else when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed she had opened the door to a stranger. Her demeanor changed immediately as she announced, “Sorry, we are closed for business. Do you need any help?”

  The man at the door smiled, and it only made him look even more handsome. Hazel eyes beamed along with his fetching lips.

  “Sorry to interrupt your day, ma’am. I’m looking for a young woman whose car just showed up a block from here. Her name is Maritza Halloway; this is her picture.”

  Veronica was shown a photograph of the man in company of a blonde woman. The picture was taken at a beachfront. The blonde had the widest smile she had seen in a while—lips a little too stretched for comfort. The man seemed oblivious to it, his was a happy face if she’d ever seen one, a little on the smug side.

  There was something odd about it. The oh, so happy blonde had her hand resting on his shirt, but her fingertips where curved inward, as if she were holding on for dear life in fear. Veronica had a hunch, a sense of déjà vu about that gray-eyed blonde and the feeling that the disappearance had not been accidental.

  “I take it you are not a cop, darlin’. Around these parts, they gave us the choice of good-looking and bad seeds, and let’s say it’s been years since I saw a face as pretty as yours. I have not seen that young lady, but forget what I just blurted about cops. You might want to try your luck at the precinct.”

  She got what she wanted from him. The complacent smirk of someone who believed himself superior. In a couple of seconds, he’d be trying to impose. Veronica knew how to read men, and this one gave off a bad vibe. She hadn’t seen the woman, but if she had, she wouldn’t tell for the world.

  He must have had known he was about to lose her, so he insisted, “Lady, this is my fiancée. It’s really important.” Francis Alexander took a step forward. He had not come to Azure by chance. The lingering scent of Marissa’s blood permeated that place, even if the humans could not perceive it.

  Veronica, however, didn’t want to hear it and was about to close the door.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” Susy said, carrying a couple of bags from the market. She stumbled upon the man at the door and was instantly fixated.

  “Don’t worry. I was about to leave. Have a good day.” Francis Alexander stepped aside, allowing for her to enter. Susy kept grinning like a fool as Veronica told her to hurry up.

  The man turned and walked a couple of paces before suddenly turning on his heels and pushing the door in as Susy was about to close it. Francis overpowered the girl easily, knocking her to the floor as he closed the door behind him.

  A panicked Veronica ran for her cellphone, which was resting on the nearby table. It was to no avail, as the man caught up with her, moving at an unearthly speed. Francis got hold of the phone before turning his attention to Susy once again. He forced her to stand, grabbing her by the hair. This newly acquired hostage gave him complete control of the situation.

  “As I was trying to explain before being interrupted…” His serene tone only increased the shock created by his violence. “I’m looking for a woman who has undoubtedly been here.” Though his hold on Susy had relaxed, his eyes burned green and promised further violence. The girl trembled as he brought her near. His nostrils flared, close to her skin. “I can smell her on you. I can see you cradled her in your arms…”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about!” Susy whimpered.

  Both parties were right about their assertions. Marissa had been there, and the Fae believed them to be lying. At that moment, it didn’t cross his mind they might just not remember.

  Veronica tried to plead with their crazed attacker as Benny stood up from his chair. Holding him back, she whispered, “Old man, you are knocking eighty…there’s no need to play the hero. Let’s talk our way out of this.”
>
  “Is not about playing the hero,” Benny answered dryly. “It’s knowing exactly what to do.”

  ***

  It was impossible for Killian de Fae to manage anything over five miles an hour while driving down Canal Street. He hit the steering wheel, feeling he’d never make it to the far side of the French Quarter in time.

  At that moment, he had forgotten all about the discomfort of dealing on the human plane, Brigitte’s ridiculous rules, their mishaps, or the presence of iron that kept him from summoning most of his powers. He was thrilled over the daring nature of Francis Alexander. Unable to resist a challenge, the rogue fairy had called out to him.

  The prince felt the call. The voice of the Sidhe rumbled in his head. “I never thought I’d see you again, let alone wearing the sorry mask of Aidan Faraday. But then you were always fond of the pathetic. Maybe the gossip in the Seelie Court is true and its prince will forever remain the sorest of losers. And here I was worrying about them sending someone with some measure of true power…”

  Killian wasn’t above losing his temper for a mere insult to his honor, let alone one coming from a Dark Herald. “I got you, little bastard. I might be encased in human flesh for the moment, but so are you. And you must be out of your mind if you think you’ll ever best me in a fight.” Killian had not been this happy in months. The prospect of erasing the grin from Francis’s face filled him with unexpected glee. He had no need for magic. Whatever little reserve he had within him he’d use to summon Brigitte once his business was done.

  Closing in on Decatur, the traffic became truly infernal. There was a festival in full swing and the police were asking drivers to take an alternate route. The grid-like design of the streets had been altered and the detours provided a considerable delay.