Grim Haven (Devilborn Book 1)

by Jen Rasmussen

  He nodded and stifled a yawn at the same time. Up close, he looked awfully worn out. “You’re looking for a chef?”

  “We just opened a new restaurant, and we’ve got two more under construction, including one fine dining. I said you were an old colleague coming to do some consulting.”

  “Got it.”

  “Which unfortunately means the manager will descend on us as soon as he can,” I warned. “But we’ll just have to deal with him. It was the only excuse I could think of at the time.”

  “Could’ve just said I was a boyfriend.”

  He sounded like he was smiling, but I didn’t know for sure, because I kept my eyes on the opening elevator doors. “I didn’t… I wanted you to have your own room.”

  We got out on the third floor, and I walked him back into the new section, where both our rooms were. “You really didn’t run into anyone on your way here?” I asked.

  “No, and I wasn’t followed, as far as I know,” Cooper said. “But it would be great if you could lay a few wards on me, just in case.”

  “Already done. I put some extra spells in your room. Here it is.”

  Cooper glanced at the door, but made no move to go inside. “Where’s yours?”

  “It’s 319, just there.” I pointed out my door. “It’s a suite, and it officially doubles as my office. So I’ve ordered a breakfast tray and coffee service to be delivered at nine, to make it look like a real meeting. We don’t do breakfast at the hotel yet, but they’ll get stuff from the coffee shop down the street, it’s really g—”

  Cooper pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

  At first I was so taken by surprise, I responded automatically. And then it felt so good to have his arms around me. To have anyone’s arms around me, much less Cooper Blackwood’s. He was exactly as good a kisser as I would have expected him to be.

  So I kissed him back, and slid my hand just the tiniest inch or two under his shirt, to feel the heat of his skin. He made a noise in the back of his throat and held me tighter.

  When he finally pulled back, he kept his face close to mine, a small smile on his lips. “Sorry. Bad timing, I know. But it was overdue.”

  Before I could put together an answer, he turned away and swiped his keycard through the lock. “You really do look good,” he said, and then he was gone.

  “You too,” I said to the empty hallway.

  Balls. My mind is too overloaded for this. I need sleep.

  I dreamed of both the spider and Cooper, although thankfully not at once. I couldn’t say which was more unsettling.

  Rosalie came in at 8:45 the next morning to set up my “meeting.” By then I had already redone my hair three times and changed my shirt twice.

  Would Cooper say anything about the kiss? Should I bring it up, if he didn’t?

  “Strange, to have a business meeting on a Sunday,” Rosalie said as she arranged the breakfast on my table.

  “My guest just got into town,” I said with a shrug.

  “I heard. Tanya had the night shift last night, and she says your friend is very handsome.” She drew out very handsome in a sing-song voice.

  I tried to smooth over my scowl before she saw it. “He’s not a friend, exactly.”

  “Ooooh, I see.” Rosalie winked, then held up a Mount Phearson notepad, shrink-wrapped with a matching Mount Phearson pen. “How many of these do you need?”

  “Just two. No, make that three.” It was inevitable that Lance would interrupt us at some point.

  “So, something a bit more than friends, maybe?”

  “Something a bit less!” I was saved from further questioning by a knock on the door. “There, you can see him for yourself. But then we have to get started.”

  Sure enough, it was Cooper, freshly shaved and looking much more rested. He gifted Rosalie with one of his signature smiles when I introduced them, and that was enough for her to practically float away on a cloud.

  Good lord, was I really like her? Like all of them? I despised his fan club. Not its individual members, but the fact of its existence. I certainly had no desire to be a part of it.

  When Rosalie was gone, I grabbed a croissant and sat down. “Okay. Where do we start?”

  Cooper took his time pouring his coffee, then selecting a croissant of his own (chocolate, thankfully), before he took the chair across from me. I had the distinct feeling he was stalling.

  He’s not going to bring it up already, is he? Balls, does he think he needs to let me down easy, or something?

  But apparently he had it together better than I did; it was the Wick clan Cooper had on his mind. And the Blackwood clan, too.

  “One of the reasons I was so late yesterday was, I was trying to get in touch with my father,” he said. “We don’t communicate directly if we can help it. Normally we use more roundabout channels that are more secure, but take longer.”

  “Did you get a hold of him?” I asked.

  “I did. Given the circumstances, I asked for authorization to bring you into the loop.” Cooper practically snarled into his mug as he took a sip of coffee. “I didn’t get it.”

  “Oh. Okay. That’s going to make this harder.”

  “No, it won’t, because I’m about to tell you everything anyway. I only bring it up so you’ll understand it’s kind of important that you not repeat it. There could be repercussions for me, if he finds out.”

  I nodded. “Okay. I’ll keep your secrets as best I can.”

  He smiled at that. “The realistic approach. I like that. Die-hard promises can be hard to keep sometimes, especially when you have no idea what’s coming.”

  “So let’s have it.”

  Cooper’s hand disappeared under the table. Judging by the way he was moving, he was rummaging in his pocket, or maybe trying to tug out something that was too tight a fit.

  Finally, he set something that looked like a chunk of amber on the table between us. I leaned forward to get a closer look at what was suspended inside it.

  “Is that…?”

  I looked at him, then back down at it, then at him again. I knew I was staring like an idiot, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Please tell me we aren’t fighting over an acorn.”

  “It’s not an acorn,” Cooper said. “But it is a seed. The West Seed, to be exact.”

  “Then I take it there are also East, North, and South Seeds?”

  He nodded. “And this may sound crazy, but if all four were planted together at the same time, they would start a forest that would completely destroy your town here, and everybody in it. And it wouldn’t end there.”

  “You’re right, that does sound crazy. Luckily, I’m pretty well acclimated to crazy.” I got up to get another croissant and more hot water for my tea. I had a feeling I was in for a long morning. “I think maybe you should start at the beginning.”

  The beginning meant the world where both the vitals and the feeders Cooper had told me about originated. The vitals evolved to turn their power inward for long life and health. They had no magic because they didn’t use their vitality outside of themselves. The feeders, on the other hand, produced no vitality of their own. As their name suggested, they evolved to feed on the vitality of others.

  They got good at it. And good at the magic all that stolen vitality gave them. So good that their power grew, while that of the vitals weakened, until the feeders conquered their world.

  The trouble was, it wasn’t terribly efficient to feed on vitals one at a time. There were problems with supply, with having to feed too often, and especially with killing their victims by accidentally overfeeding. They didn’t want one chicken dinner; they wanted eggs for a lifetime. What they needed was a sustainable farming system.

  So they came up with one, in the form of forests of feeder trees.

  “Sapwoods, in English,” Cooper told me. “Ironically enough, not named after sap the noun, but sap the verb.”

  “Meaning they sap vitality,” I said.

  He nodded. “They feed on
it, the way trees in this world feed on water and sunlight and carbon dioxide.”

  “And then what, produce fruit the feeders can eat?”

  “Well, more like nuts, but you have the general idea,” Cooper said. “Somehow, when the trees process vitality, it gets amplified and concentrated. So it’s like I said, they feed on it like carbon dioxide, but they also produce it, like regular trees produce oxygen.” He shrugged and gave me a sheepish smile. “I’m not much of a scientist, actually, so I don’t really understand all the details.”

  “Have you ever seen one of these trees?” I asked.

  “I’ve seen illustrations. They kind of look like oak trees, so I guess that’s why the seeds look kind of like acorns.”

  The seeds couldn’t grow alone. They had to be planted in a specific pattern, all at once. They would feed off one another, giving each other strength, until they were mature enough to start feeding on their environment. Eventually they would expand into an entire forest, surrounding—and sapping—a settlement of captive vitals.

  Besides providing the feeders with magical sustenance, the sapwoods had the added benefit of keeping their victims low enough on vitality to be permanently weak, both physically and mentally. It seemed they would never be able to fight back, and the feeders would reign supreme forever.

  “Until one of my ancestors found a way to break free,” Cooper said. “But the rebellion is a long story, and you’re just about out of tea again.”

  I glanced at my mug, then went to refill it while he gave me what he insisted was the short version. It still felt long, and involved a lot of names that I couldn’t keep straight. Clearly this bit of lore was a point of pride with the Blackwood clan: they beat the feeders at last. Or nearly so.

  But the war ravaged their world. The feeders deployed all sorts of nasty magical weaponry, ultimately destroying the balance of nature, the ecosystem, even the atmosphere. When the world was dying at last, the few who remained—vitals and feeders alike—fled.

  The Wick clan escaped with four sapwood seeds—one for each point of the compass—the bare minimum to plant in the prescribed pattern. Apparently eight would have been better, or sixteen, if they could have managed it. But four would be enough, under the right conditions, to start a new forest.

  The Blackwood clan chased them, and took the seeds. And that was when the hunters became the hunted. They’d been keeping them safe ever since, while the Wicks did everything in their power to get them back.

  “And now here you are, with the West Seed.” I frowned down at it, still sitting on the table. “It’s not marked. How can you be sure it’s the west one?”

  “It’s green,” said Cooper. “The others are different colors. Or so I hear. I’ve never seen them.”

  “Well, color-coding is handy. Who has the other three?”

  “I don’t know. The whole clan is kept pretty isolated, but the carriers especially. Only a handful of people are supposed to know that I’m carrying the West, and I assure you, none of them are Wicks. But Kestrel knew.”

  “How can you be sure?” I asked. “You said they hunt all of you. How do you know she wasn’t coming after you for information, or just because you’re a Blackwood?”

  “Because she went straight for the kill, without trying to question me first.”

  I nodded, remembering the attack at the restaurant. She certainly hadn’t seemed interested in a long conversation. “Why not just destroy the seeds, then?”

  “Because we haven’t found a way to. They’re imbued with all sorts of magic, and they resist all the usual stuff. Fire, freezing.” Cooper smiled at me. “Really big hammers.”

  I laughed. “Then why not hide them? Or just stick them in a safe deposit box somewhere?”

  “Too risky.” He picked the seed back up and tucked it away.

  “And the pocket of your jeans isn’t risky? What if it falls out?”

  He smiled at that. “We’re coming up on three hundred years at this job. We’ve learned the fine art of sewing interior pockets into our clothes.”

  “As have I, but it still seems vulnerable,” I said.

  Cooper spread his hands, the way you do when you’re helpless to change a dumb rule. “The carriers are duty-bound to keep our seeds on us at all times, to show them to no one, to speak of them never… and to never, ever fight back if a Wick should find us. Our instructions on that last point are particularly clear. We are to do whatever it takes to escape, but then we are to run and hide.”

  The resentment in his voice—both now and when we’d touched on this before—made sense now that I’d heard the whole story, and his clan’s proud history. “Running and hiding doesn’t sound very Blackwood-like,” I said.

  He glowered, but it wasn’t really at me. After a second of brooding he said, “Anyway, all that is my problem. Your problem is what would happen if Cillian Wick were to get the seeds. Sounds to me like he thinks he’s found the perfect spot to plant them.”

  I nodded, having worked that out on my own. “But surely that’s not too big a risk. You just said you guys have kept the seeds safe for hundreds of years.”

  “But things are changing now,” said Cooper.

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. But Kestrel knew.” He shook his head. “And besides, the Wicks are getting desperate. They’re getting more and more sickly as time goes on, the longer they’re stuck feeding on the crappy vitality of humans, or even animals when they have to.”

  I gave him an offended look. “What do you mean, crappy vitality?”

  He laughed and raised his hands, as if to ward off a blow. “Easy there. I’m talking quantity, not quality. Humans are just kind of a low vitality race. I’m sure you’ve noticed that. It’s why there’s so little magic in this world.”

  “But if it’s been so long, why aren’t the Wicks adapting? Learning to survive on less?”

  “I told you, I’m not much of a scientist. All I know is, the Wicks are in trouble. Pretty much their only hope is to find a place with a lot of vitality packed into its population, like this one, and then plant sapwoods around it. Otherwise, their clan is going to die out.”

  I ran my hands through my hair, not liking any of this one bit. Back in Lenox, I’d told Cooper I wanted no part of his fight. “But now the fight’s in Bristol,” I muttered. “And I’m cornered.”

  “It’s even worse than that,” Cooper said.

  I turned away, pretending to look out the window, not wanting him to see the sulky expression I was pretty sure I was wearing. “How so?”

  “Well, think about it. If they were to succeed in planting a sapwood forest here, they’d have a chance to regain their old power. They may be just one clan, and this may be just one place, but… well, it started small in my world, too.”

  I looked back at him. “So you’re saying what? That they might take over the whole world?”

  “I’m saying they need to be stopped. All my clan has been doing, all this time, is stalling them. That’s not good enough.”

  “So what do you sug—”

  But I never got the chance to find out what he suggested. We were interrupted by a knock, heralding the arrival of Lance and Agatha. Crappy timing, but frankly, I was surprised it had taken them that long.

  “Verity! We heard you were meeting with a chef. Why didn’t you tell us?” Without waiting for an answer, Lance extended his hand to Cooper.

  Agatha gave me her gentle smile, and Cooper an appraising look. “I can see why you might have wanted to keep him to yourself a while,” she half-whispered.

  I couldn’t help but smile back. I’d been too distracted to think much about the kiss, but now that Agatha mentioned it, I was reminded again of just how beautiful a man Cooper was.

  After I’d made the introductions I said, “I didn’t call you guys because it wasn’t a big enough deal to bring you in on. Cooper’s an old coworker of mine. I figured since he was passing through this way, I’d talk to him about what we’re doi
ng here, see if he had any ideas. Nothing formal or official.”

  Lance helped himself to coffee. “Just passing through, huh?” he asked Cooper as he sat down.

  “He’s only here for a day or two,” I said.

  But Cooper took his own seat again and said, “Actually, I might be talked into staying.”

  Lance smiled. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, Cooper, is that so?” I asked.

  He shrugged without meeting my eyes.

  What was he doing? I wanted his help getting rid of Cillian Wick and his idiot son, it was true. But I’d kind of hoped that would mean drawing the fire on himself, or something. Leaving town, and leading the Wicks after him. Assuring me that no matter what, the Blackwoods would not give up those seeds.

  Not to mention, he had orders to stay as far away from the Wicks as possible. What good would it do me, to have him stay? It wasn’t like he was allowed to fight.

  But he wants to.

  I stared at Cooper. Was that the idea? That he would use Bristol—and maybe the powerful people here—to take a stand against his enemy? Against the clear orders of his father and his clan?

  That I would help him do it?

  Balls.

  This was not what I’d signed up for by calling him here. Was it?

  I could hardly voice these concerns in front of the Boyles. So instead I sat quietly and stewed, while the others made conversation. About the restaurants, especially the fine-dining-establishment-to-be-named-later. And about Cooper. His experience, his culinary style, his opinions. It was practically a job interview.

  Not that I didn’t expect that from Lance. But what I’d anticipated as a nuisance was taking on a whole different meaning, now that Cooper seemed to be considering the idea.

  I was just about to interrupt and suggest we break it up and call for some lunch, when there was another knock at my door. I thought it might be Rosalie, to clear the coffee service and catch another glimpse of Cooper. But it was Wendy Thaggard, of all people. She was with two others, a pretty brunette with a curious expression, and a tall, auburn-haired man who looked, frankly, dorky. I didn’t think either of them were townies.