I shrugged one shoulder and turned my palm out—a gesture of equivocation, of uncertainty. “I thought it was my own anxiety I felt. But yes, I think tensions are rising.”
“It’s not just you. All over Bucharest, everywhere I go, I’m seeing fights breaking out, magic being used less responsibly, Blood Prices being taken on with less regard for life than ever.”
I heaved out a breath. “It’ll only get worse the closer we get to Her rising.”
Without warning, the world swirled around me. I clutched the edge of the wagon. Something was wrong—I knew it in my soul.
The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth, overwhelming my senses. I dropped to my knees, a Vision worming its way into my mind, even as I tried to reject it. From inside the Vision I stared up into the face of a man I almost recognized. He was broad and brutal, his face bearded and his pupils two black pinpricks in only slightly lighter irises above me. He raised a knife high, blood dripping off the blade, and I felt fire in my side, knew that that was where it had hit me once before.
Not you. You will be safe.
Maicǎ’s voice echoed in my mind even as I saw her arms fly up to defend herself, to ineffectually attempt to block the next strike downward.
No, sweetheart. Do not watch this.
She closed her eyes, and my vision went black. With a single pulsing breath, she blew her magic out, surrounding me in peace. As if from a vast distance, I felt the second thud of the knife as it slammed down. And then that, too, disappeared, leaving only her voice.
I love you, Mirela. I always have and I always will. If I could have stopped this I would. Now it’s up to you. Join your young man, your shapeshifter. Stop the Sleeping Daughter from rising—you two are the only ones who can. I’ve Seen it.
But be wary—the future is uncertain, and there are few paths to victory. Do not let the bloodlust overwhelm him. If you must pay another Blood Price, never let it be him.
And do not be afraid to love.
Her voice ended on a gasp of pain. She had time for only one more sentence.
Do not blame yourself—this is not your fault. Love you…
With a gurgling sound, she was gone.
I opened my eyes to find myself on my hands and knees beside Gavril’s wagon, sobbing. Sorin crouched by my side, one hand on my back.
“Maicǎ,” I moaned.
“What is it?” he asked.
“How long was I gone?” I stood and reeled toward the gate, Sorin following me close behind.
“Only a few seconds.”
“We still have time to save her.” I knew it wasn’t true, but I fumbled in my skirt for my key anyway, tears streaming down my face as I opened the gate and dashed in, Sorin close behind.
Three steps inside the enclosure, the bulky form of the man who killed my grandmother loomed out of the darkness on the path before me.
Reflected light from the enclosure’s buildings caught his features for a moment and illuminated them. I gasped.
It was the man from Councilman Bratu’s office. The bodyguard.
The sound I made caught his attention, and he stopped, making eye contact with me. He recognized me at the same moment and flashed an evil grin. With a feral growl, I lunged toward him. He flipped his knife into his hand from somewhere I hadn’t seen.
Sorin grabbed me from behind, pulling me back. “Not now. I don’t know if I can take him, if I have time to shift. And if I can’t, he’ll kill both of us.” He whispered urgently in my ear, both hands on my upper arms even as I strained against him. “We can’t save anyone if we’re dead.”
He took me off the path, snarling at the bodyguard, who finished cleaning off the knife in his hand, wiping it on his dark pants leg, but not before I’d seen my grandmother’s blood coating it. Then he tucked it in a sheath at his side.
Flashing an evil grin, he said, “I’ll be back for you both.”
Then he smirked, nodded, gave me a little two-fingered wave that sent chills down my body and strolled away.
I froze, unable for an instant to move. Sorin moved back to the gate, pulling it shut and throwing the bolt—the bodyguard hadn’t bothered to close it behind him.
“What are you doing?” I asked, finally realizing how foolish I was for bringing him inside the enclosure. Most of the people here would be shocked at the thought of him entering without the Elder’s permission.
“We need to hurry. I smell blood,” he said.
My insides turned to ice. It was all I could do to follow him, but once we were inside the enclosure, I dashed past him, racing toward my home. I skidded to a halt at the door, unable to bring myself to open it.
I knew what I’d find.
Nothing seemed out of place from the outside. Sorin came to a stop beside me.
His hand tentatively touched my arm, but again I felt that shock of connection go through me.
“Wait here,” he said. “Let me check it out first.”
“No. I need to know.” I reached down and took his hand, anyway. This man I didn’t know, a shifter, possibly a murderer—definitely a killer.
And right now, my lifeline to all that was worth saving in the world.
Carefully, I pushed in the door to the tea shop.
I would’ve said I couldn’t tell how anyone could consider what was in that room human—I wasn’t even certain I could have, if not for the fact that Maicǎ was slumped over her favorite chair at the tea table, her eyes open and unfocused, staring into nothing.
I took that one glimpse inside, and turned away to vomit in the bushes beside the door.
My beloved grandmother was dead.
My life would never be the same.
Chapter 10
My deep, gasping breaths were cut short by the sound of footsteps not far away. Pulling the ceainărie door shut, I grabbed Sorin’s hand and tugged him into the bushes on the other side of the door from the ones I’d retched in. Crouching down, I pulled him with me.
He frowned his puzzlement at me.
“If anyone sees you here, and then finds Maicǎ’s…body…” I could barely bring myself to say the word, “they’ll assume you did it. We have to get out of here.” From our hiding place, I scanned the footpath. The Councilman’s hit man hadn’t left any obvious evidence behind, and the passersby would wipe out any footprints.
It would have been safer to take Sorin inside the tea shop, I realized—but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to enter, not even to close my grandmother’s beautiful eyes.
A sob crawled up the back of my throat and I fought to push it back down.
My cousin Dimitru and one of his friends strolled by, laughing and joking. I wasn’t sure I’d ever laugh again. When they were gone, having walked out of sight, I stood and peered around the corner of the building.
“I need to get one thing out of the house before we go.” My voice shook with repressed emotion, and Sorin squeezed my hand. I hadn’t realized we were still clutching one another.
“Let me get it for you,” he said.
I considered for only an instant. “No. I need to say goodbye.”
He nodded and followed me to the door. “Okay, but I’m coming with you.”
We ducked inside, and I kept my eyes glued to the floor, trying to avoid puddles of blood as I moved to the shelf that held our fortune-telling items. I snagged the cards, tying the box in the scarf and slipping the entire thing into a purse I could carry around my waist. Then I moved behind the counter and flipped open the cashbox. I gathered a few coins in there and moved to the back, behind the beaded curtain, where I spun the dial of the safe and took what money Maicǎ had stored there. Although I was certain there were other hiding places for coins and cash in the tea shop, I didn’t know all of them and I didn’t have time to look. This would have to do.
Only then did I finally move toward Maicǎ’s lifeless body. This time, I didn’t bother to avoid the pools of blood surrounding her. My boots would leave footprints, but anyone with any Vision would be abl
e to See that I had not been the one to kill her.
Leaning down, I closed her eyes and kissed her soft, seamed cheek. “I love you, too, Maicǎ,” I whispered. “And I know it’s not my fault. It’s Bratu’s—and his man’s. And I swear to you, I will make them pay for what they’ve done.”
Her voice seemed to echo back to me in the words she always said. Be careful, stay safe, love you.
Smoothing back her hair, I drank in the feel of her skin one last time, dropped a kiss on her forehead. I wiped away a tear as I stood straight.
Then I turned to Sorin, squaring my shoulders and inhaling deeply. “I’m ready.”
He nodded brusquely, taking his cues from me. “I’m afraid the Councilman’s bodyguard will be watching for you,” he said. “Perhaps we should go out the front.”
“No. That’s a long way across the enclosure from here—too many chances for people to see us, to see you. The back entrance is our best bet, even if it is the one that psychopath used.” Besides, if Bratu’s henchman was still lurking around, I might have a chance to take him out sooner rather than later.
Sorin nodded and gestured for me to lead the way out of the building. Before we exited, I grabbed a tiny tin of my favorite tea. It was a silly thing to take, but I didn’t know when or if I would ever be back. This might be the last chance I had to drink this particular blend, since I had never gotten Maicǎ to teach me the portions she used to create each one.
I stepped outside, back into the nightmare of my reality, but away from the overwhelming stench of death and blood.
“Follow me,” I said.
The two of us headed out into the night, away from the ruins of the life I’d had before, and toward all but certain death as I attempted to destroy any chance the Sleeping Daughter would have to rise.
I followed Sorin blindly, letting him lead me away from my home, my community, the only place I’d ever really lived. I had explored large swaths of the city, but almost always during daylight, and always knowing that I had Maicǎ to return home to.
Less than a mile from the enclosure, I broke down sobbing. I tried to crumple to my knees, but Sorin caught me and pulled me to his side, one arm wrapped around my waist as he hauled me along beside him. I stumbled but kept moving.
“This is my fault,” I wept. “Maicǎ was my Blood Price. If I hadn’t done a reading, she would still be alive.”
“You can’t think that way,” Sorin said. “Did you try to have a Vision the night you followed me into a stronghold?”
I shook my head.
“I didn’t think so. You were trying to get home to your grandmother, right?”
I nodded.
“We came face-to-face with each other in that yard, your eyes rolled back in your head, and you collapsed. That was not your fault.” He paused to pull us up against the side of a building, away from any passersby who might hear us—assuming anyone else was out after dark. “The magic did that,” he continued, gazing intently into my eyes. “Not you. Magic claims us. It takes us and uses us and exacts a horrible price from us. No one in Gypsy Hollow is to blame for what Gypsy and her magic are doing to all of us.”
“I did a reading before Maicǎ and I went to see the Elders. I wanted more information, and I didn’t even consider the Blood Price beyond not wanting my grandmother to take it on.” My voice wavered. “And then, I did try to have a Vision of you. I wanted us to meet, to trade information so I could stop the Sleeping Daughter.”
“And if we do not stop her, everyone in the entire Hollow will die. You had no choice. None of us have any real options. We’re trapped in this cage of a city with no way out.” He bent down, his intense green gaze boring into mine. “I want to see her brought down as well. I’ve paid Blood Prices, too—though none as harsh as yours. The man I killed in your Vision, for one. And…others. Your grandmother knew the risks. She spent years dealing with the magic. She wanted you to do this, right?”
I nodded, and he took my hand, pulling me back on the street to continue walking. “We need to stop the Blood Prices, the vampires’ sacrifices, and whatever else the magic is causing. Don’t you dare blame yourself.”
I brushed my tears away from my face, trying to be brave, even as my eyes overflowed and more ran down my cheeks. “Okay,” I managed shakily.
“Also,” he added as we continued down the street, “I don’t think we should call her the Sleeping Daughter.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing, if we’re right, she’s not exactly sleeping any longer—she’s waking up. I’m beginning to think that calling her that gives her more power. More power over us, I mean.”
I chewed on my lap, considering what he said. “In magical theory, names are power. Do you think maybe no one calls her Gypsy because it might give us power over her?”
Sorin shrugged. “I can’t be certain, of course, but something about that feels right to me.”
“Me, too.” Maybe calling her the Sleeping Daughter had awarded her the same kind of power that might be given a god or a monster that could not be named—something so powerful that it overwhelmed us even to speak of it.
“Where are you taking us?” I finally became aware of our surroundings. We were in a part of the city I didn’t know—and that usually meant someplace dangerous, hostile to humans, or simply uninteresting.
There weren’t really many uninteresting places in Bucharest.
“Somewhere you can rest, where we can plan our next moves.” Sorin began walking a little faster.
“Back to your…Clan? Tribe? Pack?”
“Chain. And no. Not there. It would be better if they didn’t know that you and I were working together. Especially since the second-in-command is involved in what the vampires are doing.”
Sorin led me through the city via a route that was as convoluted as it might’ve been if he had assumed we were being followed.
Of course, for all I knew, we were. After all, the thug that Bratu had sent to murder my grandmother had said he would be coming back for us.
I shivered as I trailed behind the lynx-shifter, wishing I could unsee my grandmother’s staring eyes.
But every time I stumbled, Sorin was right beside me, as if he responded even before I tripped. As if he always knew precisely what I was going through at any given moment.
That was fantasy, of course. As a shapeshifter, Sorin simply had the reflexes of the lynx. And I had the emotional rawness of someone who just discovered her grandmother murdered. I needed to pretend he was looking out for me more than he might for anyone.
Some part of me knew that I was not functioning well—that inside was a screeching, screaming, gibbering lunatic, shoved down deep to be dealt with after Gypsy rose from her almost hundred-year sleep.
That part of me had been slapped into chains and taken down to the dungeons of my psyche. I was going to see this through. I would not let Maicǎ’s death be for nothing. I would make sure that the daughter did not rise.
And if she did, I would put that bitch back in the ground for another hundred years, even if I had to do it all by myself.
Once again, Sorin dropped back from ahead to walk beside me. “Whatever you’re thinking right now,” he said quietly, gently taking my arm in his and pulling me closer to him as we walked, “you need to clamp down on it tight. I can smell your emotions from way up ahead. And if I can, then other predators can, as well.”
“Okay.” I tried to follow his instructions, but my grief continued to leak around the shield I constructed.
If a predator caught wind of me, I’d have to let Sorin protect me.
I didn’t think I could do it alone.
Chapter 11
I hadn’t realized that there was a market open at night anywhere in Bucharest, but that’s where Sorin led us. Merchants’ stalls lined an otherwise nondescript street. Shining silk fabric sat piled high atop tables. Silver, iron, and other metals were laid out in elegant arrays on another table. There were stands of fruit and vegetable and
meat and fish—though admittedly fewer of those than other goods. One of the larger, more ornate booths displayed a wide variety of antiques, items from the time before, when Bucharest was a city and not a Hollow.
Sorin reached for my hand behind him and threaded through the crowd, moving quickly, but not so hurriedly as to draw undue attention. He stopped and bought two bags of food, offering an apple to me, but I shook my head—if I tried to eat, I might vomit again. However, when he also purchased two bottles of water, the plastic of the containers old and slightly brittle, but still functional, I happily took a long, cool swallow.
Moving through the rest of the stalls distracted me from my own morbid thoughts for a while. I tried not to stare around like an untutored rube, but the goods here were unusual. It wasn’t just that they were richer, but that the proportions were strange. There were more antiques and silks than there were foodstuffs.
As we reached the edge of the market, I thought perhaps I understood why. In one of the stalls, three women and one man posed in varying states of undress. The lack of clothing showed off not merely their attractive bodies, but the bruised and bloodied fang marks that covered them.
Blood whores.
Of course this market was less interested in food—at least the kind of food humans or even shifters might eat. This was a vampires’ market. In my misery, I hadn’t noticed how many of the market’s patrons flashed fangs when they spoke or smiled.
“Why did you drag me through there so fast?” I asked. “We could have found out more about what the vamps are doing.”
Sorin’s incredulous stare brought my statement stumbling to a stop. “Seriously? You think strolling into the Night Market and demanding information about their master plan would have done us any good at all?”
My shoulders slumped. “No. I know it wouldn’t. But I want to find out how to stop them.” Another tear trickled out of the corner of my eye, and Sorin reached out to wipe it away with his thumb.
The gesture was oddly intimate, even given the fact that we had shared space in one body.
Wicked Blood (Dark Fae Hollows) Page 6
