Heart Seeker (The Fire Heart Chronicles Book 1)

by Juliana Haygert

  “So … what was that?” I finally asked the question that was burning in my mind. “They looked like … vampires,” I whispered the last word, lest I sound insane saying it.

  With a loud sigh, Artan sat down on the edge of the coffee table, right in front of me. “In some ways, they are.” My eyes bugged. “There are several kinds of vampires out there and you just met one, the Revenants.”

  My mother appeared by our side, a tea mug extended to Artan. “I’m glad you were there to stop them.”

  Artan nodded once in thanks and took the mug from my mother. “Me too.”

  “But why … why were they here?” I asked.

  “Like the vampires in fiction, these ones are attracted by blood,” Artan explained.

  “Especially tzigane blood,” my mother added.

  “Especially tzigane blood,” Artan repeated, nodding. “Usually, they don’t brave public places before nighttime, but I guess the blood they smelled was too strong to resist. Too powerful.” He gave me a pointed look.

  I gasped. “Me? No … I’m not powerful.” My mother sucked in a sharp breath then, and I snapped my head to her.

  Before I could say anything, Artan continued, “I took care of those three and I scouted the area. There are no more Revenants nearby.”

  “Won’t they come back?” I asked.

  “It’s a possibility … but unlikely,” he said. “Once a Revenant is killed, the others avoid that same area. We don’t exactly know why, but we think it’s because once they die, the place becomes tainted for them, as if they could sense danger there. Death, perhaps. So they stay away.” He paused. “The blood they smelled has to be really powerful for them to come back.”

  They wouldn’t be back then, because my mother barely had her powers, and mine were laughable.

  But my curiosity still wasn't sated. It had been the first time I had seen something … not human and I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

  “I saw you going for their necks. So … the only way to kill them is a stab to the neck.” The images I had seen not even an hour ago came back to the front of my mind. Ugly cuts and rips, and dark red blood everywhere. My stomach flipped.

  “A stab through the neck is the beginning,” Artan said. “To make sure they stay down, you have to take off their heads.”

  I gaped at him. “Take off …” I swallowed hard. “You took off their heads.”

  He nodded. “I couldn’t do it with the dagger; it would take much work. So, I stabbed them in the neck, knowing I would have to do more. I picked up my car, where my sword was, took their bodies into the woods just outside town, and I slashed their heads. Then I buried them, so no one will find them.”

  I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to keep everything I had eaten that afternoon in.

  My mother gasped, her eyes widening at Artan. “You’re bleeding.”

  I looked over at him, and sure enough, there was a wide cut on the sleeve of his shirt and blood trickled down.

  He glanced at it. “It’s nothing. I’ll be okay.”

  “But we better treat it,” my mother said. “I can …” She glanced to the kitchen. “I can make something.” Then she disappeared again.

  I just shook my head at her. “Wait here,” I told Artan. I let go of my tea mug and went to my bathroom, where my first aid kit was. Walking back, I noticed my mother scavenging my cabinets, grabbing all the herbs I had and more. I shook my head again and sat back in the same spot on the couch.

  This I could do. I could clean a wound and put a bandage over his cut. That would take the creatures off my mind. Hopefully.

  “You should take a look at yourself too,” Artan said, his eyes on my left shoulder.

  “What?” I lowered my head. My blouse was ripped in several places around my shoulders and upper arms. I pulled the neckline of my blouse to the side, revealing the two long red lines over my shoulder. And, as if on cue, the damn things started burning. “Shit.”

  One corner of his lips tugged up. “We’ll take care of you first.” He reached for the first aid kit.

  I slapped his hand away. “No. This is just a scratch. Yours is bleeding.” He was serious again when I scooted to the edge of the couch, to get closer to him. I peeked inside the tear on his shirt, but all I could see was blood.

  Without ceremony, Artan tugged on the sleeve, ripping it off completely. “There.”

  “That works,” I muttered.

  With some gauze, I cleaned up most of the blood around the wound and took a good look at it. The cut went over his bicep down to his tricep, almost a full circle. It wasn’t deep, but it was long and there was blood still trickling down from the edges. It didn’t look like it would need stitches, but I would only be sure once I had cleaned it.

  I put his big hand on my knee, extending his left arm. Then I dampened the gauze with antiseptic and began cleaning the wound. Artan hissed and let out a string of colorful curses. His arm tensed and his muscles expanded, hardening some more. I didn’t think I had seen so many lean muscles in one arm and one shoulder before. It was … mesmerizing.

  Shaking my head, I pushed those thoughts aside and tried to find something else to focus on. My eyes immediately found his tattoo. It was a bunch of lines—some wavy, some straight, some thin, some thick, all of them either in black or dark red—spread over the middle of his forearm to the middle of his upper arm, just under the cut. It didn’t quite form a sleeve, but it was close.

  “What does it mean?”

  Gently, he moved his arm, turning most of the tattoo to me. I withdrew my hands and paid attention.

  “Each line means something.” He pointed to the lines as he said, “This one is for honor, this one is for tradition, this one is for strength, this one is for family, and so on.”

  “Is that a warrior thing?” I asked, pushing his hand back and returning mine to his wound. “You have to complete a few tasks to earn the lines?”

  A brief lopsided smile adorned his lips. “No, nothing like that. Warriors don’t have tattoos. This was just … this was for me.”

  He was looking down at the wound, probably paying attention to how I cleaned his cut. If I did something wrong, I was sure he would chide me.

  Meanwhile, I looked up at him, at his rough face. At his amber eyes, and his tanned skin, and the stubble over his chin and sharp jaw. His hair was more disheveled than usual, probably because of the fight, but it still curled under his ear, and his earring. He was handsome; there was no denying that. I couldn’t blame the poor waitress for trying to get his attention.

  A small smile spread over my lips. “Was that for you too?” I jerked my chin toward his earring.

  It took him a moment to know what I was talking about. “Oh, this?” He touched his earring with his free hand. “This is normal for us. Men wear earrings and necklaces and bracelets and rings. Probably not as much as the women, but all of us have something.”

  Yes, I had noticed that.

  A chuckle bubbled out of me. “Well, Theron has his left ear covered in small hoops. I could argue his earrings rival the jewelry of any woman.”

  Artan lifted his head, facing me with hard eyes. “Why do you have to bring up Theron?” He straightened, pulling his arm away. “What’s up between Theron and you?”

  Right then, my mother walked up to us. She halted a few feet away, her cheeks flushed. “I’ve … I’ve brought a little healing paste. You should spread it over your cut. It’ll speed your healing.”

  I extended my hand to her. “I’ll take it.”

  She handed me the bowl, her eyes bulging at the sight of my shoulder. “You’re hurt too.”

  “I’ll live.” I placed the bowl on my lap and the strong scent of all the spices and herbs hit my nose.”

  “Apply the paste on your scratch too,” my mother said. “It’ll help.”

  “I’ll do it,” Artan said, taking the bowl from me.

  “I’ll just …” My mother pointed toward the kitchen. “Make more tea.” Then she
scurried off.

  Artan reached for my shoulder and I slapped his hand away. “Hey.”

  He faced me, as serious and stoic as ever. “Let me do this.”

  “Your cut is much worse,” I retorted.

  He shrugged. “I won’t die if I wait a few more minutes.”

  Gently, he pulled the neck of my blouse a little farther, exposing my shoulder some more. With soft fingers, he spread some of the paste over my scratch. “Answer my question.”

  I tried not paying attention to the way his fingers slid against my skin, or to his perfect face so close to mine.

  “What question?” I asked, lost.

  He locked those amber eyes on mine. “You and Theron.”

  I scoffed, leaning back. “Theron is just … he’s Theron. A friend. I think.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. “And what about the gadjo?”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “You mean Phillip.”

  “Yes, the gadjo.”

  I didn’t know if he was finished or not, but I grabbed the bowl from him and dipped my fingers into the paste. It was thick and coarse from the ground herbs.

  “He’s none of your business,” I snapped, on the defensive. I pulled his arm so his big, warm hand was back on my knee and started spreading the paste over his cut.

  “But he’s a gadjo.”

  “And?”

  “Tziganes shouldn’t date gadjos. Tziganes are to be married to tziganes.”

  Pressing my lips tight, I pushed my fingers hard on his cut while spreading the paste, just so he knew, felt, how much I despised his opinion.

  Artan hissed and pulled back.

  As if sensing we were talking about him, my phone rang and Phillip’s name flashed on the screen.

  I stood, as if I needed to get away from Artan to talk to Phillip, and answered my phone.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey, I’m back,” Phillip announced. He sounded relaxed. “I don’t have much time before I need to pick up Annie at my mother’s place, but I would like to see you.”

  I turned my back to Artan. “I would like that.” I smiled at the phone. I gave him my address and promised to be outside when he arrived in ten minutes.

  After I ended the call, I turned around and found Artan on his feet, a frown between his brows.

  “You were just attacked outside and you’re planning on going out so soon?” His voice was as cold as ice.

  “Well, I’m not looking forward to going outside at night just yet, but I can’t hide in here forever.”

  Shaking his head, he let out a long breath. “I’m gonna check around the building and the neighborhood again. If I see anything, I’ll let you know.”

  He quickly thanked my mother for the healing paste, then marched out of the apartment without a goodbye.

  My mother hissed from the kitchen.

  “What?” I snapped at her, suddenly irritated.

  “He’s right, you know.”

  I put my hands on my waist. “About?”

  “You shouldn’t go back out there so soon, especially not at night.” She paused, her gaze more defiant than I had ever seen before. “And you shouldn’t date a gadjo. It never ends well.”

  15

  I ignored my mother’s advice. Instead, I put a thin bandage over my scratch and the healing paste and put on a blouse with a more modest neckline, so Phillip couldn’t see the bandage on my shoulder.

  My phone vibrated on my dresser.

  Phillip: I’m outside.

  A smile spread over my lips, and I practically raced to the front of the building.

  A black Honda Civic was parked a little to the right of the building, right beside a bright lamp post shining down on Phillip, who was leaning against the side of the car.

  I slowed my steps and forced myself to take my time, to look cool, as if I wasn’t eager to touch him and feel him after so many days.

  “Hi,” I said, halting only a couple of feet from him.

  “Hi.” His blue eyes ran the length of me, and I prayed I hadn’t forgotten to clean any dirt or blood smudge from before. “You look beautiful.”

  My cheeks warmed. “Don’t say that. I’m nothing much.” I gestured down to my simple jeans and blouse. I had cute flats and some colorful jewelry, but that was it.

  His eyes sparkled. “I’ll change my sentence then. You are beautiful. No matter what you wear, you’re beautiful.”

  The heat in my cheeks spread down low. I bit my lip and stepped into him.

  His arms slid around me and pulled me even closer. “Sorry I couldn’t take you out this weekend.”

  On tiptoes, I tilted my chin up to him. “You’re here now, aren’t you?”

  For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t kiss me. Phillip held my gaze, his blue eyes flashing with apprehension and craving. Then his lips crushed against mine, his craving transferring to me, filling me with wants and needs. His hands traveled down my body and a shiver slid up my spine. I pressed myself into him, wanting to feel him, to feel his skin, wanting to rip off his clothes and—

  I pulled back as the knowledge that we were possibly being watched pulsed in my mind. Damn it.

  “What is it?” Phillip asked, his tone gentle and still hungry. I wanted to sate his hunger. “You tensed all of sudden.”

  “Nothing,” I lied. I saw in his eyes that I hadn’t convinced him. I sighed and extended my lie. “My mother is here. She’s preparing dinner for us, and I was thinking I shouldn’t ditch her right now.”

  “Ah.” Phillip glanced at my building. “I don’t want her to be mad at me. You know, I plan on meeting her at some point.” My insides melted as he brushed his lips against mine again. “You should go back inside, then.”

  But I didn’t want to leave him so soon. “You just got here.” I practically pouted. “Do you want to come inside? I bet there’s plenty of food for everyone.” Not the best idea with my mother inside, but at least I could spend more time with him.

  Phillip offered me a warm smile and brushed a curl out of my face. “I should go pick up Annie at my mother’s. She texted me saying Annie is calling for me.”

  My eyes bugged. Shit. “Oh, okay.”

  His arms squeezed me. “At least I got to see you.”

  With my arm around his neck, I pulled his head down so my lips could meet his again. I kissed him and hoped he could feel, through the kiss, how I wanted to be with him, how I wished he was free and we could go to a quiet place where we could make a lot of noise.

  When he pulled back, he was panting. “Jesus, you’re going to kill me.”

  I pulled his head down again and licked his ear before whispering, “If it’s while you’re above me, I’ll be happy.”

  His mouth fell over mine once more. With one arm around my waist, Phillip turned us around and pinned me to his car, the weight of his body pressing against mine.

  “Somewhat like this.”

  “Jesus, woman,” he whispered. His tongue slid down my neck and he bit my shoulder. “You can’t say stuff like that. I won’t be able to go pick up Annie now.”

  “All right,” I teased him as I dropped my arms to my sides and went still. “Then I’ll behave so you can leave me.”

  Phillip groaned and I laughed. Then his eyes fixed on mine. “I don’t understand how I can feel this way about you when I barely know you.” I nodded, feeling the same. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. If it were up to me, I wouldn't let you out of my sight for a second.”

  Speaking of which, Artan was possibly watching me right now.

  “So, we should schedule a real date, don’t you think?”

  He nodded. “How about tomorrow?”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. “A date on a Monday?”

  “You never know when my boss is gonna call and ask me to work like crazy, so yes, a date on a Monday.”

  I smiled. “Sounds good.”

  I kissed him again then shooed him away before I lost control, and asked him to take me to his place. With or wi
thout Annie around.

  After watching Phillip’s car disappear around the corner, I walked to the building’s front door.

  “Good night,” I said in my regular tone, knowing Artan was out there.

  At eight on the dot, Phillip arrived.

  I slid inside his car and was instantly embraced and scooped over to his side.

  He kissed me and I melted in his arms.

  When he pulled back, I felt like resisting. “Hi,” he whispered, his eyes intent on mine.

  My heart fluttered. “Hi,” I said, aware of the singing tone of my voice.

  He let me straighten in the passenger seat and put on the seat belt. “Where do you want to go?” Phillip asked as he drove away from my building.

  I lay against the seat and stared at him, my fingertips brushing the pendant hanging from my neck.

  At least this part of my life was normal. Or almost normal. I had met a guy whom I liked and who liked me back, and now we were going out for dinner. I wouldn’t mind if it was only a burger and fries, as long as we could talk about regular stuff and I could pretend everything else going on in my life was a lie.

  “What?” He peeked at me and smiled.

  My heart fluttered again. His blue eyes were ninety-nine percent of the time on the road, and I could admire his profile, the way his blond hair was combed back and emphasized the hard lines of his beautiful face, the way his shirt hugged his strong arms and his molded chest. I bit my lip.

  “Say something.” He glanced at me again. “Are you going to just stare at me all night?”

  “It wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

  “Then I propose we park the car somewhere so I can stare at you too.”

  I chuckled and closed my eyes. I would leave the freak world for another day. Right now, I needed to feel whatever Phillip was feeling. I reached out and put my hand on his leg. He winced in surprise and I smiled, but didn’t open my eyes.

  The walls melted away and my senses swam around. It was happening faster now, stronger, like it improved with practice.

  My senses, the colored beams interpretation of them, floated toward Phillip and disappeared inside him. Then they came back, clashing against me and I gasped.