Saving His Heart (Sisterhood of Jade Book 11)

by Billi Jean

  “He has the scent. He has the ability to shift. He is Vampire, something else, Lykae, of course, but… Something else as well. An old soul, perhaps.”

  “Something else?” Bryson questioned.

  “I’m a Vampire?” Faolan exclaimed. “I don’t drink blood.”

  She smiled when Faolan covered his throat as if she might drink from him. It was a warm, purely happy smile on her lips, but it was gone too fast. Bryson felt it, deep inside where he could sense something between them, where tenderness wanted to blossom. He clenched his hand under the table.

  Isobel didn’t see his reaction since she only had eyes for Faolan. It was obvious the charm Faolan used on all adults worked as well on her as it did on everyone else. For some insane reason, that caused his heart to feel as if it had tightened painfully.

  “No, you are a Vampire.” She squeezed Faolan’s hand.

  “What did you mean by old soul?” Bryson asked when she released Faolan and both took to their meal again.

  By the look she gave him, he had the feeling he was stepping into that unspoken area they had not discussed—her. The color of her eyes turned with her emotions. Now they were shimmering lighter, the irises revealing shards of amber.

  When Faolan didn’t speak, and he didn’t either, she politely sat straighter. “Do you know what occurs when a Vampire is killed? Not with fire, but killed, say by breaking a neck, or removing a head, or—”

  “I get the picture.” He held up his hand. Dinner was not the time to discuss maiming and killings, at least not with the boy here. “Yes. He or she can return to their body.”

  “Yes. But if, for example, you were to kill a Vampire, then burn him or her, then spread his or her ashes, then what would happen?”

  “They cannot return to their bodies.” Faolan grinned when Isobel nodded.

  “How did you know that?” Bryson asked.

  Faolan chewed an enormous piece of bread. “I guessed.”

  Isobel smiled and nodded. “Good guess, although perhaps you were using logic. If a Vampire were to be killed in such a way…” She paused and played with her glass of wine. She had killed in such a way, twice if he was correct about Aquinas. “Then their soul cannot move on. Sometimes, sometimes,” she stressed, “that soul finds another home. Perhaps in a recently deceased. Or sometimes overtaking and occupying another, weaker host.”

  Bryson blinked a few times to get his brain working. It had been so long since he’d had company. And even those times had been limited to quick outlines of battle plans. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to theorize with someone who was obviously well learned in ancient lore and intelligent.

  My perfect match in so many ways. Strong. Brave. Sexy. Beautiful. Enchanting. Clear headed—when not angered beyond reason. Logical—even after being angered beyond reason. Loves food. Appears to like children. Everything about her was ideal—except regicide.

  “You mean a Vampire can be killed, burned, spread over the land and still survive to latch onto someone so they can suck their life out and exist in their body?” Faolan asked, wide-eyed.

  Isobel was silent but finally winced. “Well, I wouldn’t have put it in that context, but basically, yes.” Before Bryson could demand more, she turned to him. The speculation in her eyes intrigued him. What would she say next?

  “With Faolan, I don’t sense another soul within his body. Nor do I believe him evil enough to have done something as vile as take over someone’s body and force them to be nothing more than a passenger.”

  Faolan choked on his mouthful again. He grabbed his milk and drank a large swallow.

  “But, at times, especially with babes that do not survive birth, a soul leaves unable to live on after the trauma, and that is when another can.”

  Stunned silent, he grappled with the idea. He stared at Faolan as if he’d never seen him before. But he couldn’t help it. His big, brown eyes were innocent, but the shade would deepen and lighten depending on his moods. Vampires did such things. But so did Lykae. His hair was shot through with sandy shades, similar to the wolf clan.

  Still, Faolan was different.

  Faolan, little wolf, wasn’t even his name, not really. Jamie had given him the name, and no one had discovered another. He was different. He read thoughts. Not minds, thoughts. Elsa had shared that he read the thoughts of ancient Vampires.

  “You believe Faolan is such a creature? He is not evil,” he repeated. It needed repeating. “He’s a boy, albeit with special gifts, but he’s not evil.”

  Isobel seemed to mull over that with a great deal more consideration than he thought necessary. Her expression thoughtful, she ran her finger over the top of her wine glass.

  He glanced at Faolan, but the boy was watching Isobel as if she would spell his doom.

  “Faolan, do you feel any of this is right?”

  “Right?” he stuttered. “I don’t know if it’s right or wrong, Bryson. Maybe Elsa would know. I should call her.” He stuffed his hand into his pocket.

  Bryson stopped him. If Elsa showed up, Jamie would, as well. He didn’t need to deal with the newly mated couple clouding his already murky ability to process his thoughts. “No, no phone calls. The mountains interfere.” The lies become so easy.

  “I am not saying that Faolan is such a creature. I think he is an old soul, perhaps a reincarnate, or else simply wiser than his years from his trauma.”

  Faolan seemed to think that was the answer. “I am wise.”

  “You are wise,” she agreed. After sipping her wine, she added firmly, “And a Vampire.”

  Faolan made a face at that, which made Bryson laugh, even though the situation was extremely tense. He felt as if he were having dinner with the enemy, while a young innocent boy sat and watched. At the same time, he felt as if it were only natural that Isobel should sit and eat what he’d prepared for her. She should enjoy discussing philosophy or the weighty matters of what powers Vampires held.

  “It is difficult,” she went on, smiling warmly at the boy again. “You should start to require blood when you reach ten and three. It is then you will begin to—”

  “Wait, he might not be a Vampire at all. I sense something, true, but I am not convinced. What makes you so certain? Even Aidan was unsure.”

  She gave him the expression he’d already grown used to—the mixture of surprise and embarrassment for him as if he’d spoken silliness. He’d never been silly in his life.

  “I have no idea why you do not recognize him.”

  Is there a bite to her words?

  He sought her eyes, but she avoided his. “How could I know?” She sighed heavily, sounding tired. “And as for Aidan, I also cannot say one way or the other what his abilities are on such things. I have never met Aidan. Nor do I wish to under the current circumstances.” She trailed her fingers along the wine glass again, but he saw tension in her delicate body. “I do know that Faolan is a Vampire. It is as apparent to me as we have two hours and twenty-six minutes and thirty seconds until the sun rises.”

  Bryson grumbled under his breath at that. It was clear his question had offended her. But like a good guest, she had not snapped at him. Merely set him down through her logic.

  “Be that as it may, I still feel he could be something else altogether.”

  She finally resigned herself to look at him. “Such as?”

  “A demon. He could be a demon, or a Faye,” he tacked on when his first suggestion seemed to amaze her.

  An elegant eyebrow arched upward. “A demon? He is not evil.”

  “No, I am not evil. I am good. But we know demons that are also good. Jamie invited Fire and Moon over.”

  “Bethany and her demon mate, a Fire Demon, Agni. I see Jamie is determined to expand Elsa’s limit on friends.”

  Faolan nodded. “Yes, he wants her to branch out.”

  “Branch out?” Isobel lifted her elegant eyebrows.

  “Expand her limits,” he explained. “Do things which make her uncomfortable or move away fr
om what she’s comfortable with.”

  “Ah, I see. But a Fire Demon does not count. He is a Guardian.”

  He was shocked she knew of such things then recalled what Christian had said about her being a Dragon Guard. Both were elite mystic warriors.

  “Yes and no. Agni freed the Fire Kingdom from Lucifer’s rule. He is aiding his bonded in the Faye Realm with the darkness spreading into that land.”

  She studied him, then her wine. He couldn’t read her. What is she thinking?

  “Why do you question that Faolan is a Vampire? Do you despise your own kind?”

  Bryson pushed his chair back from the table and settled his wine closer. It had been a long time since he’d had discussions of this kind with anyone—far too long. He wanted to hate her, and should, but she fascinated him. Not only fascinated him. If not for the boy, he might have spread her out on the table tonight and feasted on her. Her neck, her…

  He tensed and took control of his fantasies. The erection pulsed, making it difficult, but he mastered himself.

  “Faolan, there is ice cream down the hall in my freezer in the laundry room. Can you find what you want and bring us each some as well?”

  The words had barely left his mouth and Faolan was off in search of dessert.

  “He has a sweet tooth.” He explained the sudden departure.

  “Ah, I see. He is a child.”

  He nodded and sat forward, studying his wine, but really thinking about what she had asked. It was a valid question. There were reasons to hate his kind. She is one reason. He ignored the whisper. “I do not hate my kind. Vampires have not done well since you last walked this earth. You must have seen this in the past few weeks since your rising.”

  She inclined her head only a fraction.

  “Aidan was lost,” he reminded her, noting that she didn’t shy away from his gaze but met it steadily. She had claimed not to know Aidan, not to have met him. But if that was so, then how could she have trapped him and killed his father?

  Listen to her. Wait. Discover why she did it. Then you will know.

  He organized his thoughts, wanting to explain the world to her, what she had slept through, not merely his own beliefs.

  “For a long time, he turned his back on us all. We who were closest to Aaron fell from power and drifted, some of us for centuries. New Vampires were born, more died. Some created strong Houses on the foundation of the slaves they collected. There were more Vampire-Lykae wars.” He rubbed his chest, remembering a wound he’d taken in the last battle. It still bothered him when the seasons changed. “There were wars with the covens that linger in the deep resentments of the eldest of our race. There were human wars, world wars that impacted us. With the passage of time, the Death Stalkers rose in number. Splintered into fractions, each with seemingly no end to the horror they live by.”

  Sipping his wine, he considered what else to say. All. Everything. “Changelings were discovered, immortals and humans that are even now little more than wild beasts. Such is the way of the world, though. One group of evil is stamped out and twenty more rise up to take its place.”

  He shook his head and caught her gaze. “But no, I do not hate our kind. Aidan has returned, taken up his role and is attempting to bring the Houses to heel through a council, and his will. I have done what I can, where I can, but perhaps it is all too little, too late. The world is becoming smaller, and the terrible things that occur in it are not solely laid at our feet any longer. Humans have grown bolder, disregarding every sense of morality they once may have felt in their desires to feed even the darkest of their dreams.”

  She didn’t speak. She was good at meeting his eyes and not shying away from his inspection. Eyes still lighter, not showing the rage from before, but not showing him anything else either, she pursed her lips.

  “Now I am faced with this, with you. What is it I should do, Isobel? Tell me, as we sit here and enjoy a meal and conversation in the most civilized manner. What shall I do with you? Turn you over to my king? Again?” He shook his head. “I could not bear it the first time. I cannot do it again. Shall I kill you? End your life and take your lifeless body to Aidan to show my loyalty to a man long since dead? By your hand? What do you believe I should do?”

  All the color drained from her face as his words spilled out. The lack was shocking. Her eyes bled black, shimmering with such emotion he wondered how he’d found her cold and unreadable moments before. She stood, shoving her chair back and leaned forward boldly, both hands on the table. Above him. The dominant position. He kept himself seated by sheer willpower.

  “You ask me?” she rasped. “Why do you ask me? Are you not set on your path?”

  “Obviously not,” he growled, indicating the table between them. “Did I not just make you a meal? Are we not here, discussing this?”

  She searched his expression, irises going from black to warmer amber.

  Bryson broke her gaze to see Faolan had his arms filled with overflowing bowls of ice cream. Isobel sat back down.

  “Maybe you could wait and do nothing,” Faolan suggested, setting the bowls on the table without dropping one. “Just wait, and don’t make a decision yet.”

  He frowned at Faolan. The boy smiled and put a spoon in a bowl and scooted it over the table at him.

  “Boy, doing nothing is making a decision.” He turned back to Isobel. “Tell me. Explain to me now, why would you kill Aaron?”

  For a moment, he thought she would answer. Her expression wasn’t cold, wasn’t back to that marble mask. She appeared lost. Would the truth finally fall from her lips? Would he have his answers? And their doom?

  There was nothing she could say to explain, nothing at all to justify the life she’d taken. She, above all else, knew her brother had been evil, a killer turned mad enough to destroy an entire village. Instead of accepting that Jorge’s punishment was just, she had killed her king.

  There was no explanation she could give, and therefore, no way out of what he had to do.

  Kill her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The food Isobel had eaten turned to a ball of misery in her stomach.

  Bryson. He wanted things from her she couldn’t give.

  The truth.

  Her death was in his eyes. She could sense it. And she knew, no matter what she said, no matter how she explained those terrible times, he would not see the truth.

  Because he did not want to.

  No one had.

  Why would he be different?

  ‘Frigid ice bitch, you thought yourself above us? That someone would come to save you? There isn’t a man in the realm that would want a woman like you.’ Gia’s spiteful voice had ripped into her, harsher than the whips the witches had wielded.

  Bryson, I thought, for a moment, you were different.

  She gathered her strength and tested the boundaries of his estate and found only one outlet—his dogs. The hounds were bred for the cold, wintery environment. Their master had chosen wisely. Not so wisely, since he’d let her roam his house.

  Without giving warning, she shifted to them, still within his protection, but now outside and not sitting across from him at his table and his accusations.

  She thought she heard Faolan call her name. The sadness within grew. She did hear Bryson bellow something after her. She was already a female hound, similar enough to the pack of dogs to fit in amongst them.

  The alpha immediately rose to its feet. She bared her fangs. Two more rose, tensing to attack. They were bred for battle. Large with brown and gray fur, they were wolf-like creatures with the keen instincts of killers. Their jaws would hold her, let alone their teeth. She prepared herself.

  The dogs howled. In a frenzy, they charged. Baying as they raced toward her. She leapt over the fence, the pack all around her, and landed safely on the other side.

  The trick to breaking free from spells, and from other Vampires, was to have nothing to lose. Rowan had taught her that the more she believed she had to lose the greater the diffi
culty of the task. If she shed everything but the essential need to survive nothing was too great a price.

  I have nothing—just my oath to you, Jorge.

  She reached the barrier and broke free, with the pack after her. The magic sliced agony, ripping down to the bone. She felt as if she’d torn out her own spine. Ignore it. Fly. Fly. She forced a shift to a hawk. Barely gaining her shape before she was forced to fight the currents and rise through the forest canopy. Each stoke of her wings was unbearable. Go. Go. Or leave your oath to Jorge behind.

  Suddenly, above her she sensed Bryson. Already? Need time.

  Focus.

  The classical, superior Vampire move meant to take her out.

  No! Be strong!

  She tucked her painful wings in and dived, speeding back to the snow-capped trees. Wind in her face, clearing her mind. Think! What won’t he expect?

  She shifted in midflight to Paris. As soon as her feet landed, she shifted to London, and on to Berlin. Each jump drew directly from her power. Weakness made her stumble. Blood loss had her head spinning. Pain rippled down every nerve ending.

  Finally, she regained her form on the banks of a familiar river. Sobbing with exhaustion, she gripped the earth with her claws. Calm. Calm. Must gain strength.

  She waited. Certain he would burst into the air above her any second.

  The river swirled beside her, and with it, memories from long past. There was a time when she would have visited the church that had once stood where she crouched.

  She stayed still, counting slowly to a hundred. There was no sign of Bryson. No sign of anyone on the breeze. But there would be. Still, she remained motionless. Her hands anchored her to the tough grass. Memories rose as fresh this night as they had been centuries before.

  Jorge. Broken, bloody. His bride by his side. Their babe—gone. Agony filling my body.

  “You must aid me, sister.”

  “Anything.” She sobbed and cradled his head in her lap. She reached down and pressed his dark hair off his brow.