Blythe sobbed.
“It’s been a rough couple of days. She’ll be all right. Come on, Blythe.” I walked her to the motel, feeling the suspicious gaze of Rory’s Uncle Gale the entire way. The ache in my leg felt particularly strong and I rubbed it as we walked.
Glancing at Blythe, I noticed she seemed to have gotten herself under control, but again she was strangely quiet.
“My shoulder is stinging, so we’re going to have to clean it out. That thing got me with its fangs.”
Fixing me up always seemed to cheer her up. I think it made her feel needed.
As we walked, dark crept in and the sound of crickets, loud in the field between the strip mall and the motel, nearly drowned out the sound of the van revving away. Lights spilled from a couple of open motel rooms, a few people had apparently caught the fight going on. Ignoring them, I unlocked our room and gently pushed Blythe inside.
My overnight bag was bouncing around the bed.
I shut the door behind me, grabbed the leash and approached the bag. “Hey Fenris?”
“Let me out of this vile box.”
The voice of mini-thunder was back. I laughed, then winced when it hurt my rib. I didn’t think it was broken, but cracked was a definite possibility. “I’m going to let you out and I’ll let the witch set you on fire if you try to escape.”
When I set him free, he shot up in the air, sprite dust fanning out around him in a black cloud. I lifted one of Nikolos’s T-shirts and tied it around my nose. “Don’t breathe that in, Blythe.”
She whipped a pink scarf out of her bag and wrapped her face.
“Never lock me in a box again.” He shuddered and flew around the room, his wings spread out around the cape. “I said I would let you use my blood. You owe me a new home too, so I won’t try to escape. But I must eat.”
I held up the leash.
Tiny eyes flew open wide and his mouth opened enough to show the small fangs. “You have to be kidding.”
“It’s the only way. I’m not one for trust and especially not vampires. My experiences with your kind haven’t been so great.”
“There are no others of my kind.”
“Hell of an ego you got there, Fenris.” I watched him zipping around the room, stretching his wings, as well as his small arms and legs.
“It’s not ego. I was cursed, unable to be around my own kind, and therefore I was vulnerable. No sprite community allows a vampire. So, I doubt there are others of my kind and if there were, they certainly wouldn’t show themselves to me. We’re territorial.”
“So how do we feed you?”
He scowled, fluttered back and forth in front of me. “I don’t require a feeding. I’m no spriteling.” He came closer, sniffed me.
It took effort to resist flicking him with my finger again. “Can’t resist the hell dimension stench, can you?”
“You also smell of honey.”
“That’s what you eat? Honey or bees?”
Tiny fangs showed when he grimaced. “I chew no flesh of any kind, but the blood of bees is the perfect food. Did you not notice the hive in my home?” He sank to the bed, shoulders slumping. “I will miss my home.” He looked at Blythe, curled his lip and took a step toward her. “The stomach pain would be worth it.”
“We’re sorry about your place,” I said quickly, moving to the left to block his view of Blythe. “We’re actually on a trip to see if we can do something about her magic. Speaking of which…” I pulled the piece of root I’d cut from the forest and set it on the bed, “…can you tell me what happened to that?”
He reached out a hand, then tittered and shot into the air, zipping back and forth faster than I could see. “Bad. Bad, bad magic.” He slowed, shuddered and lowered himself to the root again. A tiny tongue shot out to lick it. “Not old dead.” He licked again. “Drained of life fast. There isn’t a spark left. Where did you get it?”
“There is an entire section of forest just like that. The witches we’re looking for held a concert there and this was the result.”
He moaned, cradled the root, and started pacing.
Apparently the silly creature wasn’t all that evil. When it came to plants anyway.
“This is not magic from witches. Whatever took this life came from the same place as the poison still living in your body. Poison that smells stronger now.” He flew closer to me. “You need healing magic on your leg. I can smell the stench of that wound. Goddess-born or not, it will kill you.”
Blythe stepped closer to the bed and tugged the scarf off her mouth. “What’s he talking about?”
I sighed because the last thing I needed was Blythe and her wickedly warped magic going on a crusade to heal me. “Don’t worry about it.”
She got that look, that narrow-eyed, scary witch look I’d seen before. Then she stomped her little foot. I smirked. Nope, no longer scary.
That seemed to piss her off because she raised an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of Phro. “Let me see your leg.”
“Okay, but later. I want to know what the sprite is talking about.”
“Fenris,” he reminded me.
“Fenris,” I repeated. “You’re saying that something from that lowest dimension is nearby? Do you know what it is?”
“I do not. It’s old, feeds on life force and dark magic. And it is ravenous. That’s all I know.” He set the root down, licked his hand. He must have caught my surprised look. “Trying to kill the taste.”
I held up the leash. “Let’s go get you some real food. We won’t have to go far. Bees like me.”
“I won’t leave. I can’t now, even if I wanted to. No sprite could walk away from something that destroys plant life, not even one with my dual nature.”
“Humor me. You earn the trust, we’ll lose the leash.”
He snarled, but let me clip the tiny collar around his neck. Once outside, I found the air had cooled considerably. Street lamps bathed the entire area with light, which was great for security, but not so great if you were walking your sprite vampire on a leash. I took him to the thicker part of the forest behind the motel. Even though I felt bad about calling bees to their death, I hummed and they came. I had to turn away. Wrapping my jacket tighter around myself, I watched my breath fog in the air and waited a couple of minutes. The slight tug and stop on the leash let me know he was doing his thing. Gross.
My rib ached. My leg throbbed. My shoulder stung. Hell, my whole body hurt from that squeeze. “He said shadow,” I murmured to myself. “Why did he say shadow?”
“Who said shadow?” Fenris asked. There was a stronger tug on the leash.
“Guess one of those pissed-off baddies you told me about found me. I fought a Kuru-Pira today. He whispered or growled something in my ear. Sounded like shadow.”
“There is a reservoir of darkness in us all, creature and human, even in ones who lean toward the light. It’s the innermost darkness—that which leads to darker paths.” Fenris flew around to hover in front of me while he wiped his mouth with a tiny handkerchief.
Amused by his brainy speech, I couldn’t help but smile. “Why would a weird, hairy creature who’d been assembled all wrong talk about my innermost darkness?”
He shrugged, tucked his handkerchief into his pocket. “Probably because yours is easy to detect.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s suppressed, hunkered down and waiting, but there. Something attached to you, something that you probably inherited. You have a pure heart, but whatever this is, isn’t so pure.” His tiny head cocked to the side and he suddenly shot up into the air, making the leash stretch far.
I tugged on it, but he came back toward me fast.
“Something is breaking into your room.”
Before the words were completely out of his mouth, I ran toward the room, pulling out a knife as I moved. The muscles in my thighs screamed because it was all uphill. When I spotted brown hair, I thought we had another of those creatures, but when I ran to the back of my Jeep, I recog
nized the awkward gate of a thing I’d hoped never to see again.
The ghoul, obviously alive again, and probably still after that damned book. He’d given us so many problems a few months back. He’d shape-shifted into a cop with a Brad Pitt face, tore up Blythe’s shop, sicced a group of teens on us, then showed up at Big Cypress Swamp with dweller demons.
I stalked toward the open door. “Thought you worked for the Dweller. You just decide you missed me? That why you came all the way up here?”
He swung around and I grimaced, pretty sure he hadn’t bathed since I saw him last. He even had some dried, crusty brown stuff on the side of his head that looked like old blood. His coppery hair was even more matted than before, which surprised me because I’d thought ghouls were vain. Low, bulbous eyes, no nose and no lips made him look plain ridiculous. I assumed the vanity worked in his favor when it came to his own species. To mine, he was just plain ugly. And gross.
And I hated the uneven stagger of his hooved steps, the loud clomp of them on the asphalt.
His eyes flared wide when he saw me and he backed into the open door. “Don’t hit me!”
“You really think you’re in a position to order me around when you’re breaking into my room?”
“I just want the book.”
I crossed my arms, leaned on the front of the Jeep. “Why? Your boss is gone.”
“I’m a freelancer. I work for myself.”
“So someone else hired you to get the book? How did this person, thing or whatever know about it?”
“Everyone knows you have the book, just like everyone knows you’re a walking dead woman.”
That phrase was starting to get on my nerves. “And who is everyone?” I looked over at the tiny vamp who hovered in the air behind me. “Think he’s talking about all the baddies?”
“Probably.” He eyed the ghoul with an expression of complete disgust on his tiny green face. “What book?”
“Ah, see?” I looked back at the ghoul. “Not everyone knows about the book.” I straightened, moving away from the bumper. “Sorry you came all this way for nothing. The book isn’t here.”
“Then I’ll just take you.”
I let out a very unladylike bark of laughter.
He scowled. Something scurried through the hair on his jaw. “You don’t take me seriously. This is a failure that will come back to haunt you. Especially when you decide it’s time to know more about what your father might have given you.”
My spine snapped taut. “What did he give me?”
The ghoul chuckled. “Someday, I’m going to enjoy watching you die, but right now this world is a little more fun knowing you’re stumbling about in it blindly with that…that creature you call a brother.”
“I’ll show you blind.” I pulled my dagger from the wrist sheath and took a step toward him.
“You again!” Blythe, who must have been in the shower, came running into the room, wet hair dripping into her eyes, her hands in the air. She held out her palms and blew some powdery substance at the ghoul. “Be gone, demon!”
The screech that came out of the ghoul made me wince. “Agh! My eyes! It burns!” He ran around the room, hit the dresser, and the little figurine I’d bought for my sister tilted.
“Blythe, grab the giraffe!”
“What is this vile stuff?” The ghoul, still screaming with his hands over his eyes, tripped over my bag, hit his head on the doorjamb. He rolled out of the room and onto the sidewalk.
Blythe handed me the giraffe and I cradled it to my chest.
“So what did you blow at him?”
“Mugwort. It’s supposed to banish demons.”
Phro appeared, rolled her eyes and hopped up to sit on the small table in the corner. “Beri explained to you that ghouls aren’t demons. All you’ve done is given him a wicked case of flaming eyeballs.”
The ghoul stood, eyes squinted, the hair all around his eyes wet. He growled and ran at Blythe. I stepped in front of her and punched him where his nose should have been. Anger fueled his jerky movements as he danced back and then forward again. He swung his right fist. I stepped aside but he was faster, twisting and hitting me with his left, hard, in the gut.
“Oomph,” I grunted, curling in with the pain. My poor rib.
He looked at Blythe with murder in his dripping, bloodshot eyes. Shaking my head, I straightened and moved in front of her again. “This is stupid. Just leave before I knock you in the head again.” Hitting ghouls behind the ear kills them. I’d killed this one before. Unfortunately, they could be hit again and come back to life.
He hesitated.
I sighed, not in the mood for another fight and certainly not in the shape for it. “Look, I’m tired and I don’t have the book and you will never find it. I hid it. Tell me who wants it this time?”
He ran his hands down his disgusting fur. “Who doesn’t? Word got out and the bidding war has begun. I’m not the only freelance retriever out there.” He cleared his throat. “I’m prepared to pay for it.”
True surprise sent my eyebrows up. “Really. You have the kind of money that book is worth?”
“I don’t, but I can get you a percentage once the bidding war is done.”
Blythe gasped behind me. “You’re trying to play us and you make me sick. I will never sell my book because it’s a treasured gift.”
He wiped at one eye that still dripped, then gave us a shrewd sort of creepy-ass smile. “But Beri is homeless. I’m sure she could use the money to buy a new home for her sister.”
Instant fury flooded my body. “Tell me you didn’t burn down my sister’s house and tell me fast.”
His disgusting face twisted as he laughed. “Wasn’t much left of it, was there?”
“You’re bragging? Fucking bragging? This time, I’m cutting your head off so you can’t come back.” I took a step toward him.
He finally started to look nervous, but I didn’t have time to do anything because Blythe threw out her hands and he caught fire.
Shrieking, he began patting himself down. The fire only grew and he dropped to roll on the ground. Before the fire could go out, Blythe did it again and this time, I caught a trace of something arcing through the air from her fingers. The ghoul screamed and took off, his hooves clattering loudly on the pavement in between his terrified yells.
“Guess he’ll find out the lake is the other way,” I murmured, watching the light of the fire disappear around the buildings of the strip mall. I turned to Blythe. “That was something else. Is it what you did today in the parking lot? And why haven’t you done that before? That would have come in handy with the dweller demons.”
“I didn’t know I could do it before, but it’s not good. Look.” She pointed and I followed the direction only to see the grass had caught fire. I ran over to stomp it out. “And that,” she yelled, pointing toward the motel room. The curtains were on fire.
“Shit, Blythe!” I ran into the room, tugged hard on the heavy curtains and ended up pulling the bolted rod out of the wall. I threw them outside. Some other people staying in the motel ran over to stomp out the flames.
I wondered if they’d seen the ghoul or the little vampire I’d lost, then just slumped against the wall. I didn’t care. Exhaustion pulled at every sore muscle in my body. Our room smelled like burnt rubber, so I straightened and squared my shoulders. “Blythe, pack everything up. I’m getting us another room.”
It took a couple hundred bucks to keep us in the motel and when we finally settled into our beds, I hoped it wouldn’t be one of my usual tossing-and-turning nights. Blythe lay down and dropped off to sleep instantly. My brain didn’t want to shut down so fast and I thought of the dead forest, the young spirits in medieval clothes and the shadow business.
“Phro?” I whispered.
“Yeah.”
“What did you see in the forest?” I kicked the covers off, too hot in my sweatpants, but unwilling to sleep in next to nothing while sharing a room with Blythe.
“N
othing. Something had been barreling through the woods, crushing bushes and cracking tree limbs, but it was gone by the time I got there.”
“Weird.” Turning onto my side, I squished the pillow to try and make it less boardlike. It was a fruitless endeavor. Nothing about this bed was getting more comfortable. Even the comforter was nubby and had a mustiness that made me want to sleep in a mask. I tugged the neck of my T-shirt over my nose and held it there.
Blythe crawled around in her sleep. And she sprawled. Right now, she had one hand and one foot out of the covers and hanging off the bed. The only other exposed part of her was her hair. Blonde curls poked out between the covers and pillow.
Chuckling, I turned onto my back and let go of the shirt so I could pull out the ankhs and hold them together in my palm.
I fell asleep and woke again in Nikolos’s cell.
Chapter Seven
“Nikolos!” I ran across the room and dropped to the pallet. Brushing his tangled, dirty hair off his face, I took in the new bruises. His right eye was swollen shut and a nasty bump stuck out on the side of his head. His lips, cracked and dry, hung open, his breathing labored. “Nikolos, wake up.”
He didn’t so much as move.
“Hey,” I said softly, touching the less-bruised part of his jaw. “Please wake up. You shouldn’t be sleeping.” His lack of response filled me with fear. I ran my gaze down his body. Some of the bruises had yellowed and stood out starkly against the blue and purple. Raw rings circled each wrist. His knuckles were shredded like he’d been punching through walls.
I spotted two wooden buckets and a towel on either side of the stairs and ran over, hoping one was full of water. They both were, so I grabbed one then lugged it back to the pallet, setting it on the floor near Nikolos’s head. The towel looked and smelled clean and since there was no ladle in the water, I dipped in one end and squeezed it over his mouth. I had to do it twice, the second time holding down his chin so his mouth would stay open. He swallowed out of reflex but still didn’t open his eyes. Blood crusted the swollen eye, so after pouring a little more water down his throat, I dipped the whole towel into the liquid and started bathing his face gently. I loosened the blood and slicked his hair back with some of the water.
Blood of an Ancient: A Beri O'Dell Book, Book 2 Page 9
