Obadiah rolled his shoulders menacingly, muscles rippling, as he looked down at his son. “Her name is Iona. And if you can’t smell it already, son, Lord help you, but she’s a vampire.”
I blanched. Um…'smell it'? Vampirism had a smell? I sniffed, but couldn't catch a scent of anything but the chicken coop.
The boy’s eyes widened, leaning away, then turned his gaze on me. He stuck his nose in the air, sniffing.
“She’s not a vampire,” Iona said.
“I knew that,” Obadiah said in a gravelly voice.
“This is your son?” Iona asked. “Didn’t know you had any children.”
Obadiah looked down at his son, whose blue eyes grew wide. “This here is Jedediah,” he said. His face hardened. “Let me ask you again, Nightwalker. What brings you here to our door?”
Iona’s shoes scraped in the gravel as she took a step back to stand beside me. “There have been some interesting things going on that I thought might be of concern to you.”
Obadiah’s face remained blank. “Such as?”
Iona's eyes flashed. “Did you know that there are German sorcerers operating out of Tampa?”
A hush fell over the yard. Even the clucking hens fell silent. There was a splatter as one of the eggs fell out of the hand of one of the women standing at the coop.
Obadiah suddenly reminded me of a bull ready to charge. His eyes flashed dangerously as he stared down at us. His mouth became a hard line, and his eyebrows knit together. Like a boiling teapot, he was ready to burst.
“That is a true shame,” he said. “An affront to our Lord, certainly…but I don’t believe this is my problem.”
The women standing near the coop stared up at Obadiah with large eyes, faces pale in the lamp light. Even Jedediah seemed shocked, his brow one thick line as he watched his father for direction. Obadiah, for his part, was like a wall, unmoving. He showed no more reaction, nor a hint of offering more commentary than he'd already given.
Iona slid her hands into the pockets of her jacket and shrugged. “Oh, well. Sorry to bother you, then. I thought that affronts to God were your business. My apologies. We’ll leave you be.”
She turned away and gently grabbed my elbow, turning me around too, and she started leading me back toward the flagstone path around the house.
“Just like that, we’re leaving?” I whispered.
She shushed me.
“Oh, for the love of Abraham…” Obadiah said.
Iona stopped, the grass crunching beneath our feet.
And there he was, suddenly in front of us. He moved almost as quickly as Mill or Iona.
Iona allowed him to stop us, and when I looked over at her, I saw the ghost of a smug grin on her face. She'd wanted this to happen. She had banked on his reaction.
“I am not pleased at being perceived as some sort of disposer of your problems, Nightwalker,” he said, his tone dark.
“Hey, if you don’t think that German sorcerer mercenaries in the Bay area is your problem, then whatever.” She shrugged airily. “We can leave.”
“I want to know everything,” he said. “And don’t toy with words. I’ll know if you are lying.”
Iona grinned, showing her fangs, but she obliged. She told him pretty much everything, from my encounter with Byron which led to Draven, and then all of the events of the night that led us to their backyard.
Obadiah listened throughout. It was obvious by his glower that he did not like any part of the conversation. But he stood there patiently for nearly a quarter of an hour as Iona spoke right to the heart of things.
“I won’t sugar coat it,” Iona said. “This would definitely be helping me. And Cassie here. I know that magic being used in your territory is the sort of thing that you won’t stand for. I’m not trying to pull the wool over your eyes. I’m genuinely just asking for your help. Think of it as us working together, helping one another, not just you taking care of my problems.” She laughed. “Besides. You’re still listening, even though my very existence is an affront to God.”
Obadiah glared. “You are protected under our peace with Draven.”
'Peace with Draven'? What was I missing? What were these Amish, and how were they related to the vampires of Tampa?
Obadiah let out a sigh, and turned to look at his son, who was still at the back door. He was listening to everything that was being said, his eyes wide with curiosity.
“Jed? Go with these two. Find out where this is all happening, and then call the store and leave a message when you're done.” He turned back to Iona. “We can get a few people out there in case these sorcerers come back before dawn.”
This was all just so weird. Iona talking about God, this big burly Amish man sending his son with us, talking about sending more of them?
Who were these people?
Young Jedediah’s face lit up and he dashed back into the house, moving just as eerily fast as his dad.
Obadiah turned back to us. “I’ll help you and your friend. Our interests seem to line up here, and yes, it is my responsibility to deal with matters of the occult.”
“Even though it is really wounding your pride, isn’t it?” Iona dug the knife in. “Stooping so low as to help a vampire like me?” Her grin widened.
“I would much rather avoid you lot all together,” he said.
So not a vampire. Then…
Jed reappeared with his wide grin firmly in place, a pack thrown over his shoulder.
“You’ve got a change of clothes?” Elder Neckbeard asked him. Jed nodded. “Good lad. Keep calm. Don’t make a fool of yourself.”
“I won’t,” Jed said, his smile growing.
“And you,” he said to Iona. “I swear to you that I will rip your unholy accursedness to shreds if you let anything happen to my boy.” He was serious. Those words were awfully menacing coming from a pacifist. He must not have regarded vampires as people.
“I’d rather you not use those claws, either,” Iona said.
Claws?
“Wait a second…” I said.
“What?” Iona gave me a small smirk, arching a brow. “Did I forget to tell you that they’re werewolves?”
Werewolves.
I blinked at her a few times.
Amish werewolves.
Because of course they were.
“Let’s hit the road,” Iona said, still smiling as Jedediah jumped off the porch to join us. “We've got a ways to go before daylight.
Chapter 17
The ride back to Xandra’s felt twice as long as the way down, which was saying something, because the trip to werewolf Amish country had seemed to take forever to my sleep-fogged brain.
Werewolves. I kept repeating the word over in over in my mind. All I could think of were the stories I’d heard as a kid, about the twisted men whose souls were beast-like, filled with torment and uncontrollable. I'd always imagined angst, fury, howling at the moon madness and moodiness.
Never in a million years would I have imagined the scrawny teenage Amish boy with messy red hair who was grinning at the two of us through the rearview mirror.
“I’ve never met a vampire before. Is it true that you’ll burn in the sunlight?” Jedediah asked, not even waiting for an answer before launching another question. “Is it true that you can only drink the blood of humans to survive? How old are you? Did you become a vampire by choice?”
The look on Iona's face told me she was clearly starting to regret her decision to ask for the werewolves help, or at least Elder Neckbeard’s decision to send his son along with us. “This is his revenge for me asking for his help,” she muttered. “I should have known he'd never let me get the better of him without reprisal.”
“Aren't the Amish supposed to be Godly and forgiving and turn-the-other-cheek?” I asked, also keeping my voice low as Jedediah bombarded her with an unending barrage of questions from behind us.
“Those rules only apply to humans,” Iona said. “I'm a devil to them, and clearly he has no problem inflict
ing vengeance on me.”
“So, is it true that werewolves can only transform at the full moon?” I asked, trying to spare Iona and turn the tables. She shot me a look of sweet gratitude as Jed shut up for a second and turned his attention to me.
He shook his head, nearly sending his black hat flying. He readjusted it quickly. “No, not at all. We can turn whenever we want, but it’s devilishly uncomfortable.” He twitched slightly, and I realized that he reminded me of a happy puppy. If he had a tail under those Amish pants, it would surely be wagging, and his tongue would be lolling out of his mouth if it were long enough.
“How long do you stay a werewolf? After you change?” I asked.
He shrugged. “As long as I want.”
“And you are fully aware the whole time?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, a musical lilt to his words. “Definitely. That’s the best part, honestly. I love when I get to turn into a wolf. At least when it’s not the full moon. That time of month we all go completely mad.”
“There’s a catch to everything, huh?” I said. I sank back against the seat, shaking my head. “Man. First fae, then witches and wizards, now werewolves. What kind of crazy night is this?”
“It’s not over yet,” Iona said in a low voice, gripping the steering wheel.
We made it back into town about half past five. The city was starting to wake up. More cars streamed by us, and the lights were busier once we got off the interstate.
“I’ve never been to Tampa before,” Jed said, staring out at the window in wonder. “It’s bigger than I expected.”
I shared a look with Iona. He really was like a puppy. I kinda wanted to keep him.
Xandra's house was quiet when we pulled into the driveway. The lights were on inside, but even as we came in the front door, I could sense a sort of exhaustion hanging over the place. Xandra appeared from the living room, a wan and weary look on her face.
“You’re back,” she said with a smile. “Good. I—” she hesitated, her eyes falling on Jed. “Uh. Who’s the Amish kid?”
“Werewolf,” I said, strangely satisfied to see the confusion register on her face just like had for me.
She blinked a couple times. “An Amish werewolf? Where'd you find him? An Amish animal shelter?”
“Haha,” I said.
Xandra didn't stop. “Like you’ve seen one too many of those SPCA commercials and couldn’t help yourself?” Xandra said. “Did you hear the stirrings of Sarah McLachlan's “Angel” playing as you stared into his sad eyes?”
“I do not have sad eyes,” Jed said, a little honked off.
“Listen, we don’t have a lot of options,” Iona said, closing the door behind her. “Or time.”
“Anything happen while I was gone?” I asked, walking farther inside.
“Nothing as noteworthy as your pet adoption,” she said. “Mom left a little while ago. She always goes in really early so she can make her noodles from scratch, and also give them time to rest. Dad's getting ready for work.”
“Yes, definitely tell me about the two people who were in the least bad shape first,” I said. “What about my parents? And everyone else?”
She nodded toward the living room, and I made my way past her without a word.
Mom was passed out on the couch, as close to Dad as she could be. Dad’s color had returned, and his breathing was easy. He looked almost back to normal.
“Don’t wake them,” Xandra whispered. “Your mom just fell asleep a little while ago. Popped a Xanax, I think. Said something about dealing with the regret later. She decided she needed to after your dad woke up.”
“He did?” I asked. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?”
“You sort of surprised me with the Amish werewolf, but yeah, your dad seems to be okay. Complained about a headache. He was awake long enough for your mom to get some hot bone broth in him before he needed to sleep again. I guess getting hit by magic is exhausting,” Xandra said.
“I know it's exhausting me,” I said. But there was a rush of relief that seemed to pipe through my veins knowing that he was okay, and that he had woken up.
I just wished that I had been able to be here when it happened.
Lockwood was still in the corner, face toward the wall, speaking gibberish in a low tone. I could see the tension in his shoulders, see how he clenched his hands together. His head was bowed, and I could see a bead of sweat at his chin, threatening to drip onto the carpet. I wanted to ask him to stop, but we weren’t ready for that yet.
“Just a little longer, Lockwood,” I murmured. He didn't seem to acknowledge it, but I didn't see how he could miss it unless he was in a deep, sleepless fog. Which was a strong possibility, given how our last twenty-four hours had gone. From Faerie to here, and not much time to draw breath between.
“Where's Laura?” I asked.
“Sleeping in my room,” Xandra said. “Peacefully, last I checked on her.”
I took a deep breath. Only one more to check on, and I quietly made my way over to him.
Mill was stretched out on the other side of the couch, and he was awake, his eyes on the ceiling. He couldn’t focus as he stared up, past me. It was like he was looking at something over my shoulder that I couldn’t see.
“You’re…back,” he said with so much effort it frightened me.
“Yeah, I’m here,” I said, taking his hand in mine. “And I brought help.”
He tried to lick his dry, greying lips, and when he blinked, I wasn’t sure he was going to have the strength to open his eyes again.
My heart clenched, then raced like a hamster in its wheel.
“Good,” was all he said. His head sagged against the back of the couch as he lost consciousness again.
“He’s not doing any better,” Xandra said from behind me.
I looked up to find her staring at me, brow puckered in concern. “After you left, he woke up, shouting for you. But I think his little fit used the last of his strength.”
He was…crying out for me? I brushed some of his sandy hair away from his face. There was no sweat, since he was a vampire, but the sallowness of his skin was making me twitchy.
“He's as weak as a puppy,” Xandra murmured. “But not quite as cute…That forehead. Thanks to Iona, it’s all I can see now.”
I smirked mirthlessly. “You thought he was so cute when you first met him in that coffee shop.”
She shrugged. “My tastes are complex and change with the wind.”
I stared at him, my stomach clenching like I had swallowed a whole bucket of ice. “I noticed it first, too.” I ran fingers through his hair. “But it doesn’t bother me anymore for some reason.”
“It’s because you’re soul mates,” Xandra said.
I jabbed her in the knee with my elbow, though my heart ache eased a little at the thought of her words.
He was important to me. Which was why I had to fix this. It was my fault he was poisoned.
Iona appeared, kneeling beside me. She turned his arm over, and the orangey spot had changed to a dark green. It was shiny now, almost like it was coated in fresh paint. “This is just getting worse,” she said. I saw Lockwood nodding his head out of the corner of my eye.
I looked around the room. It was a little like that field hospital in Faerie. Except here, all of the people who were hurt…were all my responsibility.
I couldn’t attack these sorcerers on my own, and two of my three heavy fighters were down for the count, one poisoned, the other doing everything in his power to keep me hidden from my enemies.
I was the center of all of this. And if I wanted to save everyone, I had to end this madness as quickly as I could. We couldn’t handle another battle like the last. Iona was my last piece on the board that wasn't a pawn, near helpless against the vampires and sorcerers arrayed against me. If I lost her... I was done, as sure as if I was the king and I lost all of my knights.
But they were after me, trying to checkmate me. If we could somehow use that to our advantage, t
urn the tables against them by just using the fact that they wanted me...
I could be bait.
Bait meant a trap.
A trap meant...maybe we could finally get an advantage.
“Jed?” I asked.
Jed, who had been standing just inside the door, uncertain, his head hanging, perked up at once when I called his name. “Yes?”
“Your dad mentioned sending help, right?”
“He did, yes.”
The sorcerers would know Mill was out. Maybe they'd be overconfident.
Maybe. I didn't like to hinge my plans on 'maybe'. We needed something else.
We needed a battlefield.
And I knew just the place.
Chapter 18
I walked out onto the dry, dead grass of the Florida State Fairgrounds. It was still dark, though the first grey light of dawn was showing up on the eastern side of the city. I could hear cars driving by on the interstate, which was close enough that I could see it, but not so close that anyone driving by would be able to clearly see us standing there in the middle of the grounds, bathed in the shadows.
It was humid. The salt from the ocean was heavy on the air as a breeze rustled some of my loose curls from my face. A heavy backpack weighed on my shoulders, moving with every step I took as momentum transferred through the items in it and they seemed to take on a life of their own, moving left as I moved right, then the opposite. It was very disconcerting, but I reconciled myself to it.
There I was, standing with Jed, Iona, and Lockwood, who was chanting under his breath still. Iona and I had led him from the car so he didn’t trip on any of the gaping holes in the ground, one of which I nearly rolled my ankle in.
I was aware of each beat of my heart, here in the still of the morn. It resounded in my head, a dull throbbing at the base of my skull. My skin prickled with fear, so much so that every nerve burned as if it were on fire. Even though my hands were shoved in the front pockets of my sweatshirt, I was trembling.
Running would probably help me burn off some of my anxiousness, but I needed to conserve my strength. The adrenaline would only last so long, and then who knew what would happen?
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