by J. D. Brown
His hair and features had melted.
Charred red flesh hung from his cheekbones. Blackened goo was all that remained of his nose, the flesh of his mouth shriveled away. His eyelids fused together and sank inward like melted wax.
I pushed away from Jesu and retched into a bush.
“You stupid, bull-headed idiot!”
It took a moment to realize Jesu was talking to Jalmari. He said more, but in their native Finnish tongue. I looked away and caught sight of Brinnon and Valafar. They slowly ambled through the edge of the forest, coming toward us. Brinnon wore his own clothes, thank God, but he walked with a limp and grimaced while leaning heavily against the incubus, one arm thrown over Valafar’s bare shoulders. My gaze lowered to Brinnon’s left leg. Midway down his calf, someone had tied Valafar’s sweater in a knot to stop the blood loss. I could smell the fresh wound, even through the horrendous overbearing stench of burned flesh.
“What happened?” I asked them.
“You first,” said Valafar, while scowling in Jalmari’s direction. “Barbie-Q vampyre?”
“Shut up, incubus.” The hushed tremble in Jesu’s voice drew my attention. Jalmari had stopped screaming, stopped squirming, and his heartrate dropped. Jesu fell to his knees and pulled his brother into his arms. “You are not allowed to die on me, you bastard.”
My head spun. I didn’t even register when I stood, but I suddenly found myself on my feet nonetheless. “We need to get help. He’s going into shock. Valafar, can you use your powers to get Jalmari safely and quickly to Nikolas’ castle?”
Valafar threw a disgusted look at the three of us, but it wasn’t exactly a ‘no’.
“Do it,” I said. “Or I’ll stuff my pockets with Adders Tongue every day for the rest of my life.”
A low growl rode Valafar’s breath and he muttered to himself, but he looked at Jalmari, and his violet eyes radiated a soft purple glow. Brinnon let go of the incubus and steadied himself against a tree. I took Jesu’s hand and pulled him away from his brother.
“He’ll be okay,” I said. “Right now I need you to focus.”
Jesu stood, but his gaze never parted with Jalmari’s still form. I lifted my hands to cup Jesu’s cheeks and tilted his face to look at me. His eyes soon followed, and his wide green irises bore into mine, pleading. “What have I done?”
“Never mind that, honey. I need you to help carry Brinnon to the car, all right?”
Jesu scanned the area, and I wasn’t sure he heard me, but then he looked at Brinnon and sucked in a deep breath. “Mine is closer.”
I nodded and then the two of us helped Brinnon walk. Valafar disappeared with Jalmari, leaving the three of us to navigate the woods in silence. I had no reason to trust Valafar. Even if he wasn’t a powerful incubus, he could easily kill Jalmari in his current condition. If the Crone had ever considered proving she and her lackey were trustworthy, this was her chance to do so. I hated Jalmari, but he was Jesu’s only living relative. Well, the only one that counted. Everyone agreed their father, Apollyon, needed to be put down, but no one, besides me, seemed to harbor any ill feelings toward Jalmari. Jesu loved his brother, and I hated myself for coming between them. I would never forgive myself if Jalmari died. I hoped Jesu knew that.
We ascended a steep hill and I grunted under the strain of Brinnon’s weight. Vampyres were strong, but Brinnon was built like small SUV.
“What happened to your leg?” I asked.
Brinnon blushed. “I stepped in a bear trap by accident on the way back to my clothes. One of my father’s traps, nonetheless. It’ll heal soon.”
I fought the urge to punch him. “What were you doing out here? I told Nikolas not to send anyone.”
Brinnon’s gaze flickered to Jesu. My love’s stone-blank expression focused straight ahead. He didn’t so much as blink.
“Let’s just focus on getting home,” said Brinnon.
The prince was right; there would be time for questions later. We breached the end of the forest and found Jesu’s driver waiting in a red Audi on the side of the road. The driver noticed us and rushed to open the back passenger doors. The three of us collapsed inside. Brinnon gave the driver a few directions in German, and the man had us on the road racing toward the castle in no time.
Brinnon untied Valafar’s sweater and pulled up his pant leg. The wound on his calf must have been ghastly. Dry blood stuck to his hairs and coated his sock, but the scabs crusted over the gashes themselves already looked a day old. A confident smile gleamed from the prince, but his sentiment wasn’t returned. Jesu hadn’t said a word since we left the clearing, and I didn’t know how to comfort him. Telling him Jalmari would be fine seemed too empty of a promise. It was one thing for a broken bone or deep cut to heal, but could Jalmari grow a new face before the pain alone killed him?
I placed a hand over Jesu’s. The touch stung and I hissed, jerking my hand back. That’s when I noticed the red welts marring my fingers and the tops of my palms.
Brinnon marched ahead of us, his leg fully healed by the time we reached the castle. The giant wolf tapestry hanging above the heavy double doors swayed as the prince pulled the wrought iron ring and opened the door, not waiting for the help to assist him. The three of us entered an empty foyer. No one waited inside. No one came demanding explanations, or offering assistance.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
A cacophony of commotion came from deep within the spacious abode. Something crashed to the floor, and someone hollered in pain. I marched straight into the main hall, following the noise. Valafar stood in the ballroom with his back against the wall, arms crossed over his bare chest. His jaw clenched and he glared at a group of soldiers standing across from him. The soldiers kept their distance, watching the incubus with mixed levels of fear and curiosity. I rolled my eyes and entered the room. Noticing me, Valafar relaxed his shoulders and unhinged his jaw.
“Finally. Took you long enough.”
“Where’s Jalmari?”
“They took him to an infirmary around the corner.” Valafar nodded in the direction of the hall at the back of the ballroom. “The half-breed king and a female are tending to him. Looks like he’ll live, but not before he goes through hell and back.”
Brinnon joined us and dismissed the soldiers. He scanned Valafar and then bit his lip. “I’m afraid your sweater is ruined. Let me lend you a shirt. It’s the least I can do.”
Valafar’s gaze traveled the length of Brinnon’s torso, and back. “You do owe me.”
“Great,” I said. “Wait with Brinnon while I check on Jalmari. I’ll just be a minute.”
The pair headed toward the main hall while I made my way to the infirmary. A few days ago, I had no idea the hospice room even existed. Now it seemed I went there far too often. I pulled open the blue door and found a group gathered around the nearest bed. Nikolas and Tancred stood on either side, holding Jalmari’s arms down as best they could. Jalmari wriggled like a worm—a worm with very sharp fangs that snapped and hissed at his captors.
Maria rushed to clean and dress his wounds, but her movements were awkward and restrained. She used only one hand, keeping the other flat against Jalmari’s stomach. His jacket and shirt had been stripped away, exposing more raw burns across his collarbone and chest, but those were minor compared to the melted waxy flesh of his face. Jalmari thrashed side to side, screaming at the top of his lungs. I employed every ounce of strength in my being to keep myself erect, and not vomit or sob like a child. I sucked in a breath, held it, and then approached the bed. The three of them were so distracted with Jalmari, they didn’t notice me until I spoke.
“Tell me what to do.”
“You can start with an explanation,” Nikolas barked.
“No time for that,” said Maria. “Keep him solid, would you?”
I understood then why Maria kept one hand touching Jalmari at all times. She was the only one of the three of them who could keep Jalmari from phasing. I went to the foot of the bed, rolled up
Jalmari’s pant legs, and wrapped my hands around both of his ankles. It was the only place I could think of where my touch wouldn’t inflict more pain.
I concentrated on keeping his molecules together, tethering his essence to the corporeal world. It required the same willpower I used when solidifying myself after phasing. I imagined his muscles tensing, his body weighing heavily against the mattress. I could feel him pushing back, fighting gravity with his own sheer need to break free, to release himself from the excruciating pain. I tightened my mental hold and fought him into submission.
“He’s strong,” I murmured.
Maria removed her hand and opened a drawer in the supplies cabinet. “I gave him a shot of adrenaline to keep his heart going.”
I winced. Jalmari had come very close to death. If Valafar hadn’t gotten him here in time—well, I was just glad Jesu wasn’t in the room. Wait a second, where is Jesu? He was right behind me in the foyer, but he never came into the ballroom. Where did he go?
Bridget
I flung open the toilet lid and retched into the bowl. I’d recently fed, so a lot came up. My stomach cramped in complaint, now empty, but still slightly nauseous. I flushed and then went to the sink and rinsed my mouth.
I glanced at the mirror, but didn’t see my reflection. Instead, I saw Jalmari’s burned black face in my mind’s eye. I had crossed the foyer, on the way to the kitchen, when someone pounded on the main castle doors and shouted for help. I opened the door and watched in horror as an incubus carried the prince inside. Yellow puss dribbled over Jalmari’s face, crusting the collar of his shirt. He hardly breathed. And his eyes… Would he ever be able to see again?
I splashed water on my face, but it was no use. The image wouldn’t wash away.
What have I done?
No… what did Ema do?
The door to my guest room flung open. I jerked upright and twisted around as Jesu’s frame appeared in the bathroom doorway. His burning gaze and clenched fists ignited panic in my veins. For a long moment, he just looked at me, like he was too livid for words. Then his mouth curled in a snarl.
“You did this, Bridget. You told Jalmari where Ema and I would be.”
My lips parted, but I didn’t know what to say.
“Maria told me you were spying on us. I did not want to believe it.”
“Jesu, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for—”
“Jalmari wants to kill Ema. Because of you, he almost did. I had to strike my own brother to save her. If he dies, Bridget, the blood will be on your hands.”
Heat rose to my face and my fists clenched. Didn’t he get it? “We were trying to save you, Jesu.”
“I did not ask for saving.”
“We did it because we love you.”
“No.” He scoffed and shook his head. “You did it because you are selfish.”
“And Ema is such a saint? She’s taking advantage of you.”
Jesu narrowed his gaze, took a step forward, and swung his hand through the air. A sharp pain cracked across my cheek. I gasped as a tingly heat swelled the right side of my face. Dry tears stung the back of my eyes and a lump welled in my throat.
Jesu glanced at his open palm and his gaze widened in horror. He looked at me, his brow softening in regret, but he didn’t apologize. He didn’t say anything.
I sat on the edge of the bathtub and clenched my jaw, too shaken and too angry to do anything else. Jesu went to the mirror and pressed his hands against the sink. He leaned forward, scowling at his reflection.
“Damn it, Bridget,” he muttered. “Ema was raped.”
I blinked at him, taken aback. “What?”
He pushed away from the sink and groaned. “Jalmari raped her. The child is his.” He shook his head, then glanced at me from the corner of his vision. “I told Ema I was her protector. I honestly believed I was. But I could not stop him. I did not get there in time. Ema is pregnant and it is my fault because I could not save her from my own screwed up family.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “It’s not your fault, Jesu.”
He crossed his arms and scoffed. “Yeah, because I am not her protector. Ema is not the girl from my premonition, so I am off the hook, right?”
My heart sank. Everything was so messed up. I didn’t know the child belonged to Jalmari, or that he forced himself, but in the end, what difference did it make? I knew Jalmari wanted to kill Ema, and I helped.
Jesu leveled his gaze with mine. “I know what this means, Bridget. I know what I am risking. Now it is your turn to understand. I love Ema. I love her with every fiber of my being, not because of my mother’s curse, but of my own free will. I am sorry if that hurts you, but if you truly still care about me, then you will go home. Stop meddling. Stop making things worse.”
My chest tightened and I glanced at my feet while gripping the edge of the tub, as though I could physically keep myself from falling apart.
“You have until sunrise.” Jesu’s tone turned cold. “If you are not gone by then, I will have you removed.”
I looked at him and the pitch of my voice rose in panic. “Zat’s in one hour! Please, Jesu, I was drunk when Jalmari came. I wouldn’t—”
“Sunrise,” he repeated. “And I hope, for your sake, that Jalmari heals.” Jesu narrowed his gaze one final time, and then walked away.
“No, Jesu, wait.” I pushed to my feet and ran after him, but he slammed the door in my face. I stood there, fighting the sting in the back of my eyes. It was so stupid, fighting tears that wouldn’t fall anyway, but some habits never died.
I am a monster.
Even animals had functional tear ducts. All I had was the drive to kill. Jesu once called it survival. My lips teetered at the memory. It was Paris 1889, the night after the grand opening of the Eiffel Tower. Jesu had won tickets to the observatory in a game of poker. We’d dressed for the occasion, me in a ruby red taffeta gown, him in a dashing black tuxedo. Even the tower was decorated, in millions of tiny lights stung together. A carnival presided over the Champ de Mars and fireworks lit the sky. The view was so breathtaking, I hardly noticed the stuffy human socialites sharing the observatory with us. After nearly a thousand years killing, running, and hiding just to stay alive, I almost felt human again.
“But I’m not human,” I told Jesu. “I’m a monster.” I bowed my head in shame, feeling a familiar prickle behind my eyes.
Jesu took my chin between his white gloved fingers and turned my face toward his. “You are a survivor, Bridget. That makes you strong.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. I melted at the touch of his sweet, warm breath and my heart fluttered.
A couple of on-looking women gasped at our open display of affection. I felt myself blush. Jesu chuckled and pulled me into his arms. The women nearly fainted. Their husbands gave Jesu a curt look of disapproval before leading their young wives away. Jesu whispered against my cheek. “At least you are not a silly ninny like them.”
We stayed even after the tower closed for the night, making a picnic out of the custodian and stealing his keys. The view was even more magical with the observatory to ourselves, and I didn’t want the moment to end. Jesu had laughed at my romanticism, saying he would give me all of Paris, if I wanted it. But I didn’t want Paris. I wanted him. And he wanted me, at least for that night.
My lower lip trembled and I turned away from the door, bringing my mind back to the present. Jesu gave me three-hundred glorious years. Maybe it was time I let myself be grateful for getting that much, and accept the fact that I wouldn’t get any more. After all, three-hundred years of love and devotion, after a thousand years of killing, was more than I deserved. I wasn’t supposed to live long enough to know remorse, much less forgiveness or companionship.
I was just a number, after all. One of hundreds of victims my sire turned during a time of desperation. He taught me just enough to win the battle, to slow the onslaught of his enemies for a brief moment, but I was never meant to survive the war. Lord knows I should have died a hun
dred times over, but I somehow survived against all odds.
No. I didn’t survive. Some hardened shell that looks like me and sounds like me—that is what survived. The real Bridget wouldn’t help a rapist kill his victim and unborn child.
I went to the armoire and opened the drawer where I kept my duffle bag. Inside were a handful of toiletries, a few changes of clothes, and the money Jalmari gave me. I unzipped the bag and took out the cash. Seeing it in my hand twisted my stomach with shame. I had to make things right.
I went downstairs to the infirmary and stood just inside the threshold, taking in the scene. Jalmari lay sprawled out on a hospital bed, his wrists and ankles cuffed to the four posts. The metal cuffs were the kind that emitted an electric shock meant to keep a Neo-Draugrian from phasing. Whether Jalmari wore them now for his own safety, or because he was a prisoner, I didn’t know. Maria sat next to him, blocking the view of his face. She whispered soothing words while taping an I.V. to the underside of his arm. To my surprise, the I.V. wasn’t filled with blood. Instead, it connected to a morphine drip. I sighed, realizing the prince probably wasn’t coherent and wouldn’t retain much memory of my visit. That was a shame.
Clutching the dirty money in my hand, I approached the foot of the bed. “I need you to relay a message to Prince Jalmari when he is feeling well again.”
Maria stopped murmuring, but didn’t say anything.
I set the money on the blanket between Jalmari’s feet and then continued. “Tell him I said to keep his money, and zat as of today, I am retired.”
Maria drew a quick intake of breath and tilted her head to the side, like she wanted to voice an opinion, but she held back.
“Tell him also…” My gaze wavered from the clean white blanket. I leaned to the side and peered around Maria, where the pale skin of Jalmari’s chest came into view. His shoulders and neck, once red and blistered, now glistened with new baby pink tissue. I lifted my gaze further, to his face, and released a breath of relief.
