Vampire Bound: Book Two

by R. A. Steffan

  Leonides gave a pointed glance at the group of wary guards. “And if we needed to leave, would they let us go, or try to cut us down?”

  The Fae woman’s expression turned wry. “Believe me when I say, they’d all be much happier if you were both gone.”

  “She’s not lying,” muttered one of the guards.

  Leonides met my gaze, lifting one eyebrow in a silent question. I shrugged. I was pretty sure I had a handle on my sanity for the moment, but it only made sense to have an escape route close by, just in case. For all I knew, this City where the Court was located could be five miles away, or five thousand. If Fae could magically zip around from one place to another in a similar manner to demons, there was simply no way of knowing.

  “That sounds fine,” I said. “Just take us someplace where we won’t be in anyone’s way and we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “I assume someone will collect us tomorrow when the Court is ready to speak with us?” Leonides asked.

  “Yes, of course,” said the woman. “Come, I will take you to an empty cottage where you may rest.”

  We followed her past the scowling guards and down the hill. I accepted Leonides’ steadying hand on my arm, mostly because—between maintaining my protective vortex of energy and gawking at the alien world around me—I didn’t have a whole lot of brainpower in reserve to devote to things like not stumbling over my own feet.

  There was, indeed, a sort of village or encampment built at the base of the hill where the gate was housed. Most of the buildings were functional, not fancy. At least, the parts of the buildings that I could actually see weren’t fancy. If there was one defining characteristic of the place, it was the way the plant life seemed to be trying to choke everything the Fae had built here back into nonexistence.

  Leaves and vines covered every available surface. It was like those TV documentaries looking at what the Earth would be like if humans suddenly disappeared—cities and infrastructure crumbling back into nature.

  Only the Fae were still here... and that made it doubly creepy. I was, it seemed, seeing the physical manifestation of the overpowering magical life force that had nearly floored me before I’d managed to rig a makeshift barrier.

  In a way, our surroundings were beautiful. I wished I had enough extra mental capacity to truly appreciate the fact that I was walking in an alien world... or perhaps an alternate world? I wasn’t sure. From the way I’d heard Nigellus and Edward speak of the three realms, it sounded like Dhuinne and Hell occupied the same space as Earth, with gates acting as dimensional portals rather than passages for traveling across long distances.

  It was probably moot. As far as I was concerned, both options were the stuff of far-fetched science fiction. And yet, here I was, looking up at pink clouds floating in a lavender sky as the white sun sank toward the horizon. Many of the wildly tangled plants had leaves hovering uncomfortably far along the blue end of green’s color spectrum.

  We continued past the functional buildings, garnering a number of distrustful or openly hostile looks from Fae soldiers going about their business. Beyond, lay a smattering of other structures that appeared far less institutional. The vegetation grew thicker as we approached, clogging the walkways we were traveling—though I could see the way it seemed to cringe back from Leonides’ passage. Leaves curled and wilted; vines loosened their grip in his wake, sagging from branches and fence posts.

  It was, quite honestly, disconcerting to watch. Judging by the tension in Leonides’ shoulders, it was even more disconcerting to be the cause of it. And yet, when I focused more on my inner eye and less on my physical senses, that dark void of vampire magic next to me still acted as a balm against the painfully sharp bite of Dhuinne’s power.

  Our guide pulled twisting vines free of a gate and opened it. Beyond lay a cottage covered in flowering ivy. The branches of trees grasped at the thatched roof like greedy fingers. Only the building’s rectangular shape, along with a glimpse of windows and a door peeking out from the leaves, allowed me to identify the structure for what it was.

  The Fae led us to the entrance and tugged it open, jerking the handle back and forth a couple of times to snap the vines that had grown across it. The action was matter-of-fact, as though wresting doors free of aggressive plant life was a daily occurrence here.

  Perhaps it was.

  I peered past her and into the interior, relieved to discover that the inside was free of jungle-like vegetation. In fact, it was clean and neat, furnished in a sparse but utilitarian manner with what looked like handcrafted wooden furniture.

  “You may both stay here tonight,” said the woman. She turned to look at me directly, a sly smile appearing. “Shall I bring you some food, adept? You must be hungry.”

  Alarm bells rang in my head, even before Leonides went still beside me.

  “That’s really nice of you,” I said carefully, “but we brought our own provisions from Earth.”

  Amusement twinkled in the Fae’s green eyes. “Not completely uneducated, then. Very well, adept. A fair evening to you. Someone will come for you by midday tomorrow.”

  Her eyes flicked to Leonides as well, though I noticed she didn’t wish him a fair evening. With that, she turned and left us standing in the doorway of the Fae cottage, before disappearing into the vegetation leading back to the main pathway.

  “Well,” I said, feeling hungry, thirsty, and exhausted. “I guess that part could have gone worse. At least no one’s trying to kill us, right?”

  Leonides only grunted in reply—a vaguely affirmative noise. He entered, making a quick foray around the modest space, presumably to check for threats.

  “Looks safe enough,” he said, dropping his pack on the table that formed the centerpiece of the main room. “Come on in and bar the door behind you.”

  I turned to look at the wooden door, which did not, in fact, appear to have any kind of mechanical lock. Instead, there were sturdy brackets pegged to the frame on either side, and a thick board leaning against the wall next to it. I swung it closed and lifted the board into place, bracing it shut.

  At which point, I realized rather abruptly that I was now stuck in a tiny cabin with the vampire who’d almost paid me to sleep with him on the night we first met, and who had indirectly caused me to set things on fire on two separate occasions since then because I secretly had the hots for him.

  And there was only one interior door visible inside the cottage.

  Ooh-kay, then.

  I gathered my courage in both hands and crossed to the single door. Beyond lay a room perhaps a third of the size of the main room, with a bed, a chair, and an upright wooden box that was probably a wardrobe.

  “Don’t worry,” he said dryly from somewhere behind me. “I won’t be sleeping.”

  Wow, I thought. Yeah. This isn’t awkward at all.

  “I was just wondering if there was any kind of a bathroom in this place,” I lied. “Or have we officially left the land of indoor plumbing?”

  “Bathroom, no. Plumbing... sort of.” He gestured to a sink in the kitchen area along the far wall, where what looked like a hand pump stood. “There’s a little shed out back that’s probably an outhouse. Though you may need a machete to get to it.”

  “Nah,” I said. “I’ll just have you walk out to it first and beat back the plant life for me.”

  His expression closed off abruptly.

  I frowned. “Oh, hell. Tell me you’re not buying into that line about being an undead black hole sucking in life. Because, newsflash—I can see magic, and that’s not what’s happening.”

  “Isn’t it?” he asked tonelessly.

  “No,” I told him. “It’s not. This whole place is like a giant, out of control storm of magic. And you’re like a calm spot, pushing the chaos away to make a little bubble of serenity in the middle of it.”

  He snorted, the sound faintly derisive. “Yeah—a little bubble of serenity. That’s me, all right.” His gaze turned pointed. “A more pressing question is, how
are you holding it back? I was about two seconds from dragging you straight through the gate to Earth, before you finally seemed to come back to yourself.”

  My lips turned down. “I made a tiny storm of human magic around me. Like... a tornado inside a hurricane, I guess.”

  “And can you keep it up?” he asked pointedly.

  “Do I have a choice?” I shot back.

  “Yes,” he said. “You could go back and let me tackle this without you.”

  “No,” I told him simply.

  He let out a frustrated breath.

  “You should probably eat something, in that case,” he said, changing the subject abruptly. “It sounds like you’ll need to keep your strength up.”

  “No argument from me,” I replied, placing my backpack onto the table next to his. When I removed my jacket, however, the movement rubbed my pendant across the tender skin of my sternum, and I winced.

  “Did the crystal burn you again?” Leonides asked, far too perceptive for my own good.

  “Yup,” I admitted. “I wasn’t focused enough to manage the flow of magic properly when the place first hit me.”

  “I’ll get you some blood to heal it,” he said.

  “I have the flask,” I said quickly. “No need for the Red Cross routine.”

  He only raised an eyebrow. “The flask is for emergencies. Sitting in a cozy little cottage with the door locked isn’t an emergency.”

  “You don’t have a knife,” I pointed out. Neither of us was carrying weapons. Doing so while seeking entry to an enemy’s realm under a flag of truce would have been asking for trouble.

  “I’m a vampire, Vonnie,” Leonides said tiredly. “Access to sharp objects isn’t really a problem for me.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  I FLUSHED, THINKING of the handful of times I’d seen Leonides in full fang, so to speak. “Oh. Um... right. Just let me get that food and water first, okay? Something to buffer the stomach a bit, you know?” A thought hit me. “Also, do you think it would be okay to wash up with water from that pump?”

  Because a bit of cold water would probably be helpful right now.

  “Well... it’s not a gift from a specific Fae, and you’re not drinking it, so it seems safe enough,” he allowed. “I get the impression there has to be some intention behind it on the Fae’s end.”

  “Good,” I said in relief, and crossed to the rustic sink.

  It was, as I had thought at first glance, a hand pump. I’d never used one before, but it wasn’t exactly rocket science—there was an obvious handle. I plugged the sink with a cylinder of cork provided for that purpose and started pumping. It took a bit of work to fill it deep enough that I’d be able to cup my hands in it. When I did, it was to find the water unappealingly lukewarm.

  Fortunately, that was an easy fix for me these days. I focused a modest blast of cold anger past the vortex of swirling magic surrounding me.

  Nothing happened.

  I pictured Teague’s smug Fae face very clearly in my mind, and tried again. Still nothing.

  “Erm...” I said. “I might have a slight problem. Could you hand me one of the water bottles from Earth?”

  “You know, I really don’t like it when people use terms like ‘slight problem’ in circumstances like these,” Leonides murmured, but he did bring me the water.

  I looked at it, channeling a bit of power toward it. Frost crackled on the plastic. I looked at the sink. Still nothing. Without replying to him, I rushed to the door and unbarred it, stepping outside and focusing a strong ache of sadness at Jace’s absence toward the bare patch of ground where Leonides had stood outside the door and killed the vegetation.

  No resulting spray of dirt erupted from the ground.

  Closing my eyes, I drew on my memory of the fear I’d felt when a rifle round had slammed into Edward’s body as he stood in front of me, directing the resulting power outward. The branches around me didn’t so much as rustle.

  I opened my eyes to find Leonides watching me as though he was worried I’d lost my marbles after all.

  “I... can’t seem to affect Fae earth, air, or water,” I told him.

  His eyebrows went up. “Oh. But it’s not a problem with your magic? Because you could still freeze the bottled water from Earth. That’s... interesting.”

  “Interesting? I guess that’s one way of putting it.” It was freaking me the hell out, was what it was. Which... probably didn’t make a lot of sense, since I’d spent thirty years with no idea about magic, compared to barely two weeks since my new abilities began to manifest. “Let’s just hope they won’t expect me to perform a demonstration of my powers for the Court.”

  “It seems unlikely,” Leonides said. “Apparently, getting to the gate in the first place was the test. And our guide seemed to be able to sense your magic without any showy displays. She knew right away when you made a barrier against Dhuinne’s power.”

  I relaxed a bit. “Okay. As long as it won’t affect what we came here to do.”

  “Well...” Leonides hedged. “Not gonna lie, here. I was thinking it might come in useful if we had to fight our way out for some reason.”

  “Yeah, sorry, that’s really not helping,” I told him, and trudged back inside to splash lukewarm water on my face and arms.

  Afterwards, I ate trail mix and jerky, my jaw aching from chewing the tough meat. I drank bottled water—frosty cold despite the lack of refrigeration in the Fae cottage, thank you very much. As my hunger and thirst waned, my physical exhaustion grew, making it harder to concentrate on keeping the protective vortex of magic spinning around me.

  Leonides had been rummaging around the place as I ate. “Not much here beyond the furniture and some blankets for the bed. I couldn’t find a cup for the blood, but if you’ll give me that empty water bottle, I could probably—”

  Dhuinne’s magic was prickling at me through my protections, and frankly, I was pretty much done with this day. I reached out a hand imperiously.

  “Look, just... open a vein in your wrist and give it here, all right? It worked well enough with Rans, and frankly it might be a bit easier to swallow if I don’t have to see what I’m drinking.” I paused, realizing how that probably sounded. “Er, no offense.”

  He blinked at me, and it occurred to me that while he’d seen me under some fairly shitty circumstances, he’d never really had to deal with me in full-on crabby bitch mode. After a moment, he rolled up his sleeve wordlessly. He’d ditched the long coat at some point while he was poking around the place, and I tried not to stare at the warm umber skin of a well-defined forearm.

  It’s possible I didn’t fully think this through, I realized, as he nicked the inside of his wrist with one razor-sharp fang and held it out to me.

  Since the alternative was looking like an idiot, I gamely steadied his arm with one hand and pressed my lips to the welling wound. His skin was cool, which I already sort of knew. However, having felt that coolness beneath my hands or cupping my face on a few occasions was entirely different than feeling it against my lips.

  The cut healed mere moments after he made it, and honestly, there hadn’t been much blood clinging to it. I had a brief moment of concern regarding what sort of wounds he must have inflicted on himself to produce the kind of volume I’d been drinking the past few days. However, I was quickly distracted by the way in which the physical contact between us eased the sense of Dhuinne closing in on me.

  A moment later, I felt the telltale itch of healing skin between my breasts. I let go of him, feeling Dhuinne press around me once more.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll... um... just go try and get some rest now, I guess.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, good idea. I’ll keep an eye on things and wake you if there’s a problem.”

  “Right,” I managed.

  “... right,” he echoed.

  Yup. Hardly awkward at all.

  The light outside had been fading gradually, and there was no sign that the previous inhabitant had l
eft behind candles or lamps for us. My recovering Boy Scout might’ve had something useful in his pack, but honestly if I was going to bed and staying there, I didn’t really need artificial light anyway. There was enough daylight left to fight my way out to the overgrown latrine and back, at which point I retired to the single bedroom and threw a couple of blankets from the wardrobe across the bed.

  I wavered over sleepwear for a few moments before deciding that I didn’t really want underwires digging into my boobs all night, or my jeans leaving the impressions of seams pressed into my legs. Without my magic, if someone decided to storm in and kill us tonight—and if they managed to get past Leonides—whether I was wearing underwear or not wasn’t going to make a whole lot of difference to the outcome.

  I closed the door to change into the oversized pajama top I’d brought, which buttoned up the front and hit me at mid-thigh. Then I cracked the door open a few inches before returning to the bed, in a wishy-washy, ‘sort of private but sort of not’ gesture.

  The mattress was different than other mattresses I’d slept on during my life. I thought it might have been filled with eiderdown or something, and there definitely wasn’t a metal spring coil to be found anywhere. The blankets smelled a teensy bit musty, but not horrible. I was pretty sure they were woven from natural fiber—possibly wool—but at least they weren’t scratchy.

  It was almost completely dark. I lay on my back, fiddling with Mabel’s necklace and trying to relax. The problem was, as soon as I started to doze, I also started to lose control of my protective magic. Silly me, I’d assumed that if I was safely asleep, Dhuinne’s magic wouldn’t be able to hurt my mind. I’d neglected to realize that there was always going to be a transitional period between waking and sleeping.

  Over and over, I began to drift off, only to snap awake, gasping for air in response to the feeling of drowning, as Dhuinne’s power crashed through my flimsy barrier and swamped me. Each time I fumbled to set my magic spinning again before I was completely overtaken—my heart pounding double-time.