Blood King (Spirit Seeker Book 1)

by Amber K. Bryant

  “Don’t be difficult. We need his help. Besides, he can rid you of that nervous tic of yours.”

  Devin stopped tapping. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She handed him a slip of paper with Elis’ business address on it. “If you tell him Sybille sent you, maybe he’ll give you a discount.”

  Elis woke.

  Bits and pieces of his dream life worked their way to the surface. It wasn’t wishful thinking; he remembered. Perhaps it was somewhat of a jumble right now, but they were memories—his memories. Candles burning lace. Unearthly screams. Something that was supposed to happen not happening. Devastation followed by hollow acceptance.

  Elis didn’t want to spend the day conjuring away his client’s addictions. He was sick of these humans with their petty issues and their unrelenting neediness. His one solace was that Sybille might show up, though why that thought should bring him any peace, he couldn’t really say.

  Or maybe he could.

  It had been two years since his soul was rejoined, two years since he finally admitted that Juliana could never be his again, two years since he began searching for someone capable of taking her place.

  Isn’t that how he perceived Sybille, as infuriating as she may be? Juliana had been maddening sometimes as well. But he loved her just the same. And now this woman, this woman who knew what he was and wasn’t afraid of him, she had captured his attention. If his mostly unremembered dreams were about anyone, they were about her. As for his jumble of memories, she was at the heart of every one of them.

  Elis had an early morning appointment, a woman struggling with an addiction to opioids. After sending her on her way, he had a block of time free. This was when Sybille showed up yesterday. She said she’d come back today. He had little choice but to take her at her word. He waited, tapping his pen against the desk, checking his phone even though she’d never once called or texted him. He began to pace, an old nervous habit he should probably have hypnotized away as soon as he’d gained the ability. He gave his watch more than a few apprehensive glances.

  When the doorbell finally chimed, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Half an hour before his next scheduled appointment. It must be her.

  But it wasn’t. A man leaned against the railing of his front stoop, trying to look like he was being casual about it. Sandy blond hair trimmed close and day-old stubble covering a long, angry welt—Elis had a feeling he should know who this guy was. His fingers tingled. He smelled like her, like Sybille. Not just her, though. The acrid scent of bloodthirster saliva wafted towards him. Someone had been feeding off of him recently. What the hell was his connection to Sybille?

  The man kicked off the railing and stepped forward, mouth open, about to tell him what he already knew.

  “Get inside,” Elis growled, opening the door wide.

  Once the man was in, he closed the door and rounded on him, pushing him back against the wall. The man was injured, not just his jaw, but the side of his head as well and a soiled bandage peeked out from the cuff of his shirtsleeve. He could guess what sort of injury that was covering up. Whatever happened with him and the bloodthirster who drank from him, there had been a struggle. He pressed his arm under the man’s chin. “Have you done something to Sybille?”

  Holding his hands up, the man didn’t resist Elis. “I would never do anything to her. Can you ease up a bit? My jaw’s already been busted once today.”

  Elis pressed harder. The man swore. “I’m here because Sybille sent me. She says she needs you and unfortunately, I have to agree it’s a possibility she does. So, let go!”

  Elis dropped his arm, but he kept his opposite hand firmly on the man’s chest. “Did something happen last night? She gave me this tea for my memory and I—”

  “She did what? She’s been here already?”

  Elis gave him the cockiest smile he could muster. “We had a long conversation. Right here on my desk.”

  The man swore again. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter right now. We need your help.”

  “Why would I help you?”

  “You wouldn’t, obviously. But you’ll help her, won’t you?”

  Elis stayed silent, but he gave Devin a little more breathing space. Devin made use of it.

  “My name is Devin, by the way. Maybe Sybille mentioned me to you. You or that night-roving spirit of yours. I work for the Esmonds.”

  He nodded. “Of course. You’re Sybille’s servant.”

  “Well, I…what?” Devin narrowed his eyes. This guy knew how to get under his skin. If only he could just take a stake to him right now. Sybille would be beyond pissed, though. “I’m Sybille’s employee. The family’s field agent. And you’re right, something happened last night. Something bad and…really weird, frankly. Do you seriously not remember anything?”

  “Some things. Clearly not enough.”

  “So, not the part where Sybille called you a jackass and told you she’d rather date a Craver than be with you?”

  “A Craver…as in you? You’re the Craver she supposedly would rather date?” Elis sniffed the air around him. “I can smell it in you, you know. The Crave and something else.”

  Devin stiffened. He should have known he wouldn’t be able to hide Crave or any of his other secrets from this thirster. Dammit. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

  “Only when it comes to simple-minded humans. I have a feeling Sybille wouldn’t like knowing her employee indulges in Low drugs.”

  “I don’t indulge. I did what I needed to do to take out someone dangerous, which I did do. Only now he’s back.”

  “Back as in…”

  “As in, returned from the dead.”

  Elis raised an eyebrow. “How long have you been acquainted with our kind? You do realize that that’s what we do. We die and then we return to life. Such as it is.”

  “Yeah, I’m not an idiot, bloodthirster. I mean, he was already one of your kind. Had been for a century. I killed him, but he didn’t stay dead.”

  Elis rubbed his chin. “The undead undead.”

  “Something like that. Look, are you going to help us or not? Sybille says we can use you, and that may be true, but after dealing with you for the past ten minutes, I’m prepared to muddle our way through without your help.”

  He headed for the door. Sybille had to be wrong about this guy. True, he hadn’t tried to mesmerize him to get answers even though he’d had plenty of opportunities. But instead he was taking potshots at Devin because of his connection to Sybille. You’d think a man over three centuries old would have matured beyond schoolyard drama by now.

  “I’m not sure you are what she thinks you are anyways, Mr. Tanner.” He reached the door, only to find Elis blocking it.

  Devin spun around, confused. “How did you…” Shit. He glanced at his phone to confirm what his gut told him had just happened. He couldn’t have been in this office more than ten minutes, but according to his phone, almost a half hour had passed. There could be only one explanation for the loss of time he’d just experienced. “You fucker.”

  “My apologies. I needed some answers you weren’t likely to give without a little persuasion.” Elis zipped up his coat. “Don’t worry, I promise I didn’t make you cluck like a chicken. Shall we go?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sybille slipped into her mother’s silk bathrobe. Its ugly green and purple vertical stripes clashed against ill-placed gaudy magenta roses. The robe was as old as Sybille herself and she detested it. Still, the lustrous material cooled her blistered skin. The thought of wearing anything else turned her stomach.

  Her mother made her a mushroom and spinach omelet and watched as she ate it along with a glass of orange juice, her expression much more serious than Sybille was accustomed to.

  “I’m fine, Mom. You can stop with the puppy-dog face. It doesn’t suit you.”

  Margot held her hand to her chest. “Am I not entitled to be concerned by the fact that my daughter almost died last night? Honestly, Sybille, t
here’s only so much a mother’s heart can take.”

  Please. Her mother’s heart was a steel cage swathed in Christmas wrapping and tied with a fancy gold bow. Everyone else might think she was refined and lovely, but Sybille knew what was underneath—not something bad, but something a lot harder than what she appeared to be on the surface. Nothing was going to break those steel bars of hers.

  “You know what, Mom, you’re right. I’ve been thinking about myself, but here you are, having to go through such an ordeal only to have me scorn you. Uncle Peter headed off to bed. I can see you’re just as exhausted as he was.”

  She plopped herself on the chair opposite Sybille and let out a long sigh. “Like you wouldn’t believe. It’s just so hard seeing your own child go through this. You wouldn’t know about that…”

  “Here we go again,” Sybille mumbled and turned her face away so that her mother wouldn’t catch the summersaults she was making her eyes do. Twenty-four years old and Margot had already been passive-aggressively insinuating Sybille needed to produce children. No husband or boyfriend in sight, but that hardly mattered.

  “Your cousin Zareen, now, she would get it, three times over!”

  “I’m sure she would. Mom, as your undeserving daughter, my gift to you is to let you get some rest. Devin will be back with Elis soon and we’ll formulate a plan.”

  “Well, I suppose I could justify a few hours of shut-eye. Let me know what you decide, though, okay pumpkin?”

  “God, Mom.”

  Margot kissed her forehead and headed off to bed. Never once did it occur to her to ask how exhausted her daughter was. Being possessed took a whole lot of energy, as her mother well knew, and last night’s possession hadn’t exactly been run of the mill. If Sybille thought about it, which she was trying not to do, it was worse than the last five possessions combined. Something was very wrong with Nate’s bloodthirster. All she could do now was hope Elis was able to help her figure it out.

  Now, with her mother and uncle upstairs, the house was too quiet. Her mind kept wandering to places she didn’t want it to go. She almost wished Celebrimbor was still there just so that his annoying presence would provide some welcome distraction. He had left in a huff, partly panicked, partly vexed, according to Peter. “The Patron didn’t appreciate how the show ended tonight. He said something like this ‘has never happened to any of the other hierophants’ and then he stormed off…without paying us.”

  That last part burned Sybille worse than the flaming tablecloth had. She’d endured all of that for nothing. Nate’s spirit was still trapped, his bloodthirster still walked the earth, she’d been burned and had her insides rearranged, and they had zero to show for it. She was going to have to dip into their dwindling savings account just to pay Devin.

  Leaning on her side to avoid putting pressure on her wounds, Sybille was calculating in her head her family’s next month’s worth of expenses when Devin showed up, Elis in tow.

  “Good Lord, Sybille.” Elis pushed passed Devin and took a seat on the edge of the couch. “Devin filled me in on the parts I can’t remember, but he didn’t mention you’d become a fashion victim as well. That robe is truly hideous on you.”

  She fingered the edges of the offending garment. “You sure know how to make a girl feel good, asshole.”

  Devin cocked his head to the side. “He does have a point. It looks like something MC Hammer’s backup dancers would have worn in 1991.”

  Why they should both choose this moment to taunt her was beyond Sybille. There were more pressing issues at hand.

  “Sorry if it’s an affront to your refined aesthetics. It happens to be the only piece of clothing that doesn’t make me want to scream when it comes into contact with my skin. It’s either this or…” She shimmied her way out of the sleeves, ignoring the pain the movement caused as the garment fell around her waist, exposing her naked body from the belly up. “Or I walk around nude.”

  Both men froze, their eyes decidedly focused south of her face.

  Devin swallowed. “Definitely the second option.”

  Elis quickly changed the subject. “I don’t remember much from last night. I don’t even remember you getting burned.”

  Sybille slumped. “My tea didn’t work then, I guess.”

  “No, it did. But my mind was resistant. I remember far more than I have before. I can recall snippets from my other visits with you too. Maybe a few more doses will bring it all back.”

  She sat upright again and leaned forward. “Maybe. What matters is that you’re here now, you and your spirit. Together. Which is a fact I’m still trying to wrap my head around.”

  “Impossible things only stay impossible if they never happen. It happened to me. I happened. So here I am, a thirster with a soul.” He paused. Opened his mouth, closed it again, then finally spit words out of it. “Are you going to put that robe back on? Not that I…it’s just…”

  Sybille resisted drumming the tips of her fingers together Mr. Burns-style. How devious it was for her to be enjoying both of their reactions this much.

  “We have more important things to attend to other than what I’m wearing or not wearing.”

  Both men shifted their glances. Finally, Elis spoke again. “Devin keeps saying you need me to help solve your case, but I don’t see how. I don’t know how Nathanial Atkins managed to come back. I don’t know what’s different about him from other thirsters. I don’t know how to stop Nate there from losing what’s left of his sanity.” He gestured in Nate’s direction. The spirit was now holding the ruined tablecloth, his face betraying a hundred years of sorrow. “Because it’s pretty apparent to me that he’s on his way to crazy town.”

  “Wait, you can see him?” If Devin hadn’t been so preoccupied with Sybille’s surprise disrobing, he would have had the brain capacity to put towards feeling disgusted. Elis could see spirits, just another advantage this stupid thirster had over him.

  For once, Elis didn’t seem smug about one-upping him. The corners of his mouth turned downwards. “Seeing spirits isn’t exactly a choice I’d make if I were to be given one.”

  Devin did his best to avoid gawking as Sybille slid back into her robe. “I do need you, Elis. Margot and Peter don’t want us to pursue this, but I can’t let it rest. This deal with the Blood King…something is very wrong and the way I look at it, we don’t really have a choice but to figure out what that something is. What if what happened is related to Crave?”

  Elis shook his head. “Crave has been used in the Low for over ten years. When a bloodthirster gets staked, they stay staked. It’s never caused this sort of thing before.”

  “As far as you know it hasn’t. I don’t know, maybe something’s changed.”

  “I might know something about that.” Devin shifted his weight, forcing himself to look Sybille in the eye. Elis studied him, no doubt wondering how much he was about to reveal. More than you even know, buddy.

  “What do you mean, Devin? Spit it out.”

  “Well, Atkin’s death, I mean his supposed death…it wasn’t a normal kill.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You mean you didn’t stake him? Then how? Decapitation, burning?”

  “Poison.”

  She sat back, then winced and leaned forward again. “You used Strike, didn’t you? But that’s only supposed to work if…Jesus Christ, you let him feed from you.”

  Devin braced himself. “It’s worse than that. I…”

  Elis interrupted him. “He took Crave, just like he used to.”

  Sybille closed her eyes. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

  That reaction managed to surprise the bloodthirster. “You knew?”

  Devin sat forward in his chair, arms on his knees, hands folded together. “Sybille, look, Atkins was one dangerous dude. I did what I had to do to take him out.”

  “Which should have been to separate him from his security and then stake him.”

  “It wasn’t that simple.”

  “Really? Are you saying you d
idn’t have the opportunity? Are you sure about that, Devin? God, you’re making my head throb. What were you thinking? Strike has too many unknowns. I’ve never even known anyone who’s seen it, much less actually used it. Where’d you get it from?”

  “That doesn’t matter right now.” Devin scooted his chair so that he was in front of her. “Look, you don’t understand, Sybille. You weren’t there!”

  “Hey, back off.” Elis thrust an arm out against his chest, the force causing his chair to tip backwards. Caught off balance, Devin tilted sideways and then managed to stand. He glared at Elis before taking a step away from him.

  Ignoring them, Sybille continued to put the pieces together. “So, when the Blood King drank from you, he was consuming blood laced with both Crave and Strike, and that killed him, or so you assumed. It’s not like Strike’s been well tested, you know.”

  “It did kill him, I told you that and believe me, it works.”

  “Whatever.” She eased herself off the couch and was standing for less than a second before she began to wobble.

  “Careful there.” Elis caught her arm, brought her towards him so she wouldn’t collapse. Devin bit his tongue to keep from swearing out loud. He should have been faster, should have been the one to have Sybille leaning up against him. Though on second thought, she’d probably stomp on his foot or kick him in the balls if he tried to get near her.

  Sybille took a long, steadying breath. “Okay, last question, Devin. Have you ever killed a bloodthirster using this method before? And don’t think I won’t figure it out if you’re lying.”

  He reached a hand towards her, despite the fear of it getting slapped. She moved to avoid his touch.

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, Sybille.”

  “No, but you’d withhold the truth, wouldn’t you?”

  He put his rejected hand into his pocket. He didn’t want to talk about this, but she’d given him no choice. For ten years he’d kept what happened to himself. Not even his parents knew the whole story.