Nightshade's Bite (Blood Wars)

by Zoe Forward

  She worried for those she cared about on both sides of the war.

  He took another long draw of the cigarette and blew it out. “There will always be danger for you in Europe.”

  Her heart dropped. Michael was there.

  “He doesn’t know you’re alive,” he said softly. “He’s had to move on with his life, although it’s become about local people management for him now.”

  That meant Isaac checked up on him. Somehow, that made her feel better, as if her father accepted him into their circle. “So what’s your plan for me now?”

  Isaac relaxed back in the chair so the wings on either side of the backrest obscured his face. Based on experience, she’d stay flat and still and just be content with talking to the side of the chair until her brain stopped spinning.

  He said, “I didn’t go into this with any sort of long-term plan. You pushed me to make a split-second decision to save your life.”

  “You’ve had long enough to formulate something. I’m not going to homestead with you in the middle of nowhere or be your nurse helper when you go do your ER crap to entertain yourself. I might bite one of the patients, if its blood was clean. And here…I smell hay and farm animals? I’m not cut out for dealing with that. A horse to ride? No problem. Goats and cows and planting shit?” She shuddered.

  “Tell me how you really feel,” he said sarcastically.

  “Is this your place?”

  “It’s one of them. It’s remote. The farm is off the grid and self-sufficient.” He stood. “I’ll give you a while and meet you in the kitchen. You should be good to get up in a bit.”

  Within a half hour, the head pain dulled enough to allow her to swing her legs over the side of the bed. She plucked at the T-shirt she wore, which was at least two sizes too large. And flannel pajama pants? As grateful as she was to Isaac for keeping her alive and dressing her in what might be available at the local stores, she’d die a fashion snob. That had never been an act when she’d been Elise.

  She reached to rip out the IV but paused. Maybe there was something special in the blood that helped her wake up. She might need whatever was in there. No way did she want to fall asleep again for another few months. Besides, the IV pole made a good leverage point to get her upright and support her walk to the loo. Her muscles and joints felt uncoordinated and loose.

  The small bathroom allowed one person barely enough space to turn around between the sink, toilet, and upright shower. Put a person with an IV pole in there, and there wasn’t enough room to close the door. She flipped on the light and squinted her sensitive retinas against the brightness.

  She gasped at her reflection.

  Her eyebrows were black, but her hair had turned white. Not gray or dull like humans developed as they aged, but a shiny, frosty white like the dragon lady from Game of Thrones.

  All magic has a price.

  Talk about a feature that would make her memorable anywhere in the world. She wondered if her hair would accept dye. The bad thing about vampire hair and skin was its rejection of dyes. She’d resorted to wigs when she needed a different hair color.

  Perhaps her druid magic could keep her hair the color she wanted. Probably would be a massive power drain, but a possibility.

  The IV pole made a good walker to get out of the bedroom. “You think the hair is permanent?”

  “Yes.” Isaac put a cup on the table and motioned for her to sit. “It’s tea.”

  “Just tea?” She fell into the seat, glad to be stationary. The small kitchen appliances looked circa 1950, with the only modernization a self-grind coffeemaker.

  “Straight Earl Grey.” He sat across from her. “I find your hair whimsical.”

  “Whimsical? That’s not a word I ever imagined you’d say.”

  He poured milk out of the refrigerator into his tea before returning to the table. “Don’t ask me to apologize for doing the spell. If I could’ve woken you earlier, I would’ve.”

  “Would you have? I swear I would’ve stayed here until things improved abroad.”

  He released a single snort of sarcastic laughter. “Right. Because patience and sitting on your ass are your strengths.”

  She glared.

  “I tried to wake you up four times before now. The magic wasn’t done keeping you asleep. It’s been…nerve wracking not knowing if you’d ever wake up.”

  “Are Finn and his kids okay?” She’d go after anyone who laid a hand on Adric or his sister.

  “They’re fine in Cape Verde. His family has been watched more than anyone else. Every vampire on the Foundry knows they survived and where they’re located.”

  They sipped their tea in silence. She examined at him, really looking for the first time in years. He usually stuck to the shadows, which had made scrutinizing him impossible. Lines of exhaustion and strain creased his face. A few new raised tattoos swirled on his neck and into his shirt.

  “How do you get the tattoos?”

  “Whenever I work bigger spells, they appear.”

  “Thank you for everything. I always thought you were an angel or something, showing up and saving me every time I almost died.”

  “I’m no angel. I’m selfish as hell. Your genes are important.” Softer, he added, “I’d never let you die, if I could prevent it.”

  “Thank you.” Her vision blurred. She flicked a tear off her cheek. She reached across the table and put her hand on top of his. His body stiffened, but he didn’t yank it away. Despite the bleary eyes, her mouth turned upward. “We’re going to have to work on affection. Maybe even work up to a hug.”

  The horror on his face…her smile grew.

  “Baby steps.” Isaac let out a harsh breath. “I’m not good at accessing feelings these days. I’m the worst at talking shit out. I think I walled off emotions ages ago as a survival mechanism. This…it’s good but powerful to the point it hurts.” He murmured, “I care about you.”

  “I know. It helps to hear it out loud, though. You don’t have to spin bullshit about genes to me. I know children aren’t in the cards for me. You know this. If producing a next generation was your only motivation for keeping me alive, then you should’ve let me die when Armand cut me in half. Or go romance your once-in-a-lifetime who’s been sitting in isolation for centuries and try again.”

  “She and I are complicated.” His lips crept upward at the corners. “You’re half pure magic. If there’s one thing you should believe in at this point, it’s miracles.”

  “You’re saying I could have children?” Warmth spread from her chest outward. Her greatest want in life had been a little one. She wanted to experience pregnancy and everything that went with the bond of having a child, although being a part of Finn’s kids’ lives had been a joy. That was the closest she’d come to having a child.

  His shoulders lifted and dropped. “Deep love is mysterious. True love is the most powerful catalyst for magic. Anything’s possible. I wasn’t supposed to be able to have a child with Ehlena and look what happened.”

  She smiled to herself as she sipped the tea. “Then that gives me something to look for. True love. I guess since I’m out of the vampire and werewolf world, I could test out humans. I hear there are some pretty good dating apps out there.”

  He laughed, something she couldn’t remember hearing from him. “I can imagine your tagline: Dabbles in magic, prefers foods that are red, and might bite.”

  “You’ve done some app dating?”

  He shrugged, but his cheeks flushed.

  “What age range did you go for? Twenty to five hundred?”

  He waved his hand. “Forget it. It was an experiment in futility. We druids are cursed to have one person who’s our person, and all else pale.”

  “Was that supposed to be some sort of Jedi mind trick? Because it didn’t work. Guess it could be hard to meet women out here in the middle of nowhe
re. I never thought about how to do it these days.”

  He shrugged.

  “I’m sorry about Ehlena. You loved her, didn’t you?”

  He contemplated his cup of tea for a few moments in silence. “We have something unique. Have, not had. She’s a product of her upbringing—a predator forced to manipulate and machinate in order to survive.” Sadness rested in the lines of his face. “I’m sorry for not removing you from that toxic household. I should’ve done it the moment I found out about you, but I was scared. So was Ehlena. She didn’t know what would happen if you disappeared. In retrospect, we should’ve found out.”

  “When was that?”

  “You were nineteen. There was a vampire gathering in Vienna, and while there, Ehlena’s path crossed mine. I sensed you and confronted her about you.”

  “I’d forgotten about those dreadful events. It was a meat market to show us off to the boys. Not a great time for me. I hated those parties. Did you know Mercutio, Viktor’s father, was looking for wife number two or three around that time, and he decided he wanted me?”

  The wrinkles on his forehead deepened. He shook his head.

  “That was a no, even for my father. Guess he wasn’t my father, but at least he had small scruples. Not many, though. Mercutio probably didn’t offer enough money for me. Took me a while, but I found out how much Armand paid for me.”

  “Ehlena and I are a work in progress, but we have time on our side. I’m glad I get this short time with you.” Her empath ability picked up honesty. “Now that you’re awake…I knew the moment I woke you up, you’d start planning your return. No matter how long you try to stay away, you’ll go back to him. Then I’ll be putting you back together all the time again. I don’t like it, but—”

  “I don’t know if I’ll go back,” she interrupted. “It may have been like you and my mother. We had our moment.” It hurt to say it. She didn’t mean it, but if she went back to him, he’d probably go off the grid with her, and the Foundry would notice. She didn’t want them hunting him again.

  “You think I haven’t gone back to Ehlena?” He cracked a wicked grin. “That kind of bond is too hard for any of us to resist. This isn’t fleeting for you. Nothing that involves matters of the heart is for us. It’s a gift to feel so deeply. It’s going to become your greatest strength.”

  “I’ll make a decision about it when I don’t feel like a small breeze will blow me over.”

  “I was going to say how about before you go back, I teach you the right way to use the magic?”

  “What about the scar?” She lifted her shirt. Still there.

  “As your magic improves over the years, it will diminish in the size of the separation, but injury that severe will never go away.”

  “Guess I have to keep you around to save me when I do something stupid again?”

  “I’ll be around as long as I can, but there will be a time even I will go. No one is truly immortal other than the gods. So you need to learn how to use the magic. As long as you utilize it regularly, when faced with serious injury, you shouldn’t separate.”

  …

  Kiera watched the sun sink toward the horizon. No longer was she fearful of daylight’s burn. It did nothing to her skin. She cradled her head between her hands on the fence rail. Hues of orange lit up the sky. To the south, dark clouds threatened. The three horses in the pasture swatted their tails against persistent flies, standing in cooperation head to tail to take advantage of each other’s tail swish. A chilly breeze heralded the approach of fall and perhaps snow coming with the storm clouds.

  Her body, exhausted from two weeks of working to master spells and helping out on the farm, screamed she slow down and sleep. Surprisingly, she didn’t mind the chores to care for the animals as much as she thought. Caring for animals helped her find an inner quiet she’d never slowed down enough to discover. Isaac explained how druids, including her, were critical for protecting the innocent and tried to teach her how to listen to the magic. It informed when a wrong needed to be righted.

  She hadn’t mastered the listening to the magic part yet.

  Real sleep brought on visions of Michael. In her dreams, he never touched her and never spoke. He just stood there and allowed her to marvel at him, body tense and his gaze hard. He didn’t glare hatred or disdain, but there was a feeling of betrayal coming from him toward her. That recurring moment always hurt so deep that the pain woke her immediately. Once awake, she’d remain paralyzed for endless minutes.

  Her mind drifted in a pre-sleep haze. Michael’s image swam in her mind, so solid it felt real. His back was to her where he sat on a tree stump. Had to be his tree, the one that had been cut down. He wore a dark jacket, covering the skin she wished she could see.

  As if sensing her presence, he pivoted without changing his seated position to look in her direction. He took a puff on a cigar. His pupils dilated to black as if he’d been drugged. He looked no different, other than the smallest hint of gray at his temples. His dark T-shirt showed off his broad muscular frame and strong arms.

  When he looked to where she stood, there was no emotion. Not even a flicker of betrayal this time. All that met her was apathy.

  Her heart in her throat, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks, she reached out to him. “Michael.”

  A cold wave rolled over her. Nothing. No sign he missed her. He blankly stared and then turned to give her his back.

  This wasn’t the Michael she’d known and fallen in love with.

  His image disappeared. Disoriented, she tried to get her bearings. Previously, she’d assumed the visions of Michael to be fantasy. Now she wasn’t so sure they were fiction. This had to be a form of magic, like precognition, only in real time.

  That Michael she’d just seen had no expression and seemed almost robotic. This might not be about her. The world could be about to lose him. Ennui was an endgame for werewolves. It signaled a fast-approaching death.

  Saving him required he feel again. Stupid of her to forget he needed this. How selfish she’d been to stay here.

  He needed her. Now. To hell with the Foundry. They’d figure it out.

  She marched up the hill to Isaac’s house and found him on his laptop at the kitchen table. His eyebrows rose as he waited for her to say why she’d appeared, obviously demanding his attention.

  Finally, his low voice broke the silence. “You’ve woken up and realized it’s time for you to go to him.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want my blessing or something?”

  “No, I’m telling you what I’m going to do.”

  “Good.”

  “I can’t live like this any longer. It’s not living. And he’s…Michael’s dying.”

  “I’ll help you, but our work to protect the world has barely begun. I need your help in return.”

  “I won’t turn my back on it, but if I lose him because of stupid determination to stay away, thinking it safer for him, I won’t be any use to you.”

  “I know.” He massaged his forehead. “He might not want to be saved.”

  “When has a low probability of success ever stopped me?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  His section of the Pyrenees Mountains had to be the most beautiful in the world, especially in summer. The snow glistened even on the sunniest of days. The turquoise water of his lake was surrounded by fields of flowers and ever-moving wildlife.

  From the stump remnant of his favorite tree, Michael stared at the view before him. It should bring him peace but didn’t do jack shit to settle him. He drifted, disinterested in everything. Since the ceasefire had been struck and held, there weren’t raids to plan or wolves to free from Squad captures. Grace thrived under the care of those who’d volunteered to help nurture her, although he suspected one or two of the wolves from the nearby village angled to be his mate. In general, females didn’t shirk aw
ay from him as much anymore. Fatherhood made him more attractive or something, even if it seemed like he botched everything on a regular basis.

  The nightmares had returned the moment Blay dropped him off with Bryan in Germany after his “rescue.” With Bryan’s help, he drugged himself when he became desperate for a dreamless sleep. They experimented to find the right combination of drugs, settling on high doses of human anesthetics given via IV.

  He lit one of the high-potency cigars from Blay like he did almost every day while regarding his land during the hour before dusk. He’d smoke until he was so high, he’d pass out. Sometimes Bryan would tote him down the mountain. Other nights, he woke up at night and trudged down himself.

  He’d spent months digging up the details of the Foundry meeting where Kiera had been executed. When he couldn’t get straight answers, he’d cornered the new vampire leader, Andrew, and spared his life in exchange for every mind-fucking detail of Kiera forced to take a vial of werewolf blood in Andrew’s place and of her need for two vials before she bled out.

  But her body had disappeared. As in vanished from existence. Vampires had hunted and raided in desperation to find it. They too mustn’t have believed her dead until they could see her ashed in daylight.

  Hope kept him existing from one day to the next. That and knowing the druid had a hand in what happened. He didn’t know how, but the whole incident was bizarre.

  As the months passed, his hope she’d survived faded. He was in a living hell. Now that life had slowed down, he spent too much time clinging to memories of her, however scant they were.

  “Why must we do these meetings so far up the mountain every week?” Bryan panted as he took a seat on a stump nearby and signed into his iPad.