I was grateful when Jerome appeared and he spoke soothingly to Rowena while I worked in silence. The numbness was wearing off, leaving the anger and rage and helplessness in its wake and I knew it wasn't a good thing. I still had six people to heal, still had to face Lucas. Still had so many things to deal with. I wished the numbness would come back and forced myself to focus on the present, to take one step at a time. I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself and move on.
Conal reappeared from the bathroom. “That feels so much better,” he announced. “But I'm going to have a shitload of bruises again.” His hair was still damp and he'd dressed in jeans and a black American Choppers t-shirt. He stopped beside me, where I was working on Ripley.
“And thankfully, you don't stink like rotting carcasses,” I agreed with a sly grin. “What took you so long?”
“Epi provided plenty of showers, but not nearly enough hot water. I was just gonna give up when he appeared, muttering something about the need for a bathtub.”
“Thank goodness for that. You stunk.”
He grinned. “Just because you got to the shower first, Sugar.”
“Haven't you heard, it's always ladies first?” I replied easily.
“There aren't too many ladies I know who'll take on a demon, a transformed Angel and a pack of vampires,” he said with a wink. “And what was it you called the Drâghici leaders? The Three Stooges? Way to go to piss them off, Charlotte.”
I shrugged. “What can I say? I call it as I see it. And you know as well as I do, the plan was to annoy them.”
“Well, you certainly did that. Which reminds me, I must have a word to Epi about that fearless sigil. Not such a good idea…” He laughed as I aimed a quick punch at his shoulder and he sidestepped it easily. “Agility has worn off too, Sugar. I'll rustle up coffee.” He studied my face for a couple of seconds, his brow furrowed. “You're still looking mighty pale. How's the head?”
“Throbbing,” I admitted.
“I'll get you some painkillers,” he offered.
“Thanks.”
Ripley watched this exchange silently, and he abstained from making any comment when Conal walked away, although his eyes revealed his curiosity. He motioned to the healing sigil I'd placed against the cross the Drâghici had branded on his thigh. “How does that work?”
I shrugged a little, unsure how to explain something of which I had little understanding. “To be honest? I haven't got a clue. Suffice to say, it works effectively.” I motioned towards the bottle he held clasped between his fingers. “Drink some more, Ripley. It'll help you feel better.”
Taking a steadying breath, I made my way next to the one person I was most dreading talking to. Lucas. I could have avoided him and treated one of the other men, but I needed to get this over and done with.
My heartbeat accelerated as I approached him and I struggled to control it, hyperaware that he would hear the tempo change. It was a strain to produce an unconvincing smile, which faded as hastily as it had appeared. “Hi,” I said warily.
“Charlotte,” Lucas responded, blue eyes gazing at me intently. “Wait a moment, please.” He raised the bottle he'd been holding to his lips, drinking until he'd drained the contents. When he lowered the bottle, he smiled sheepishly. “I'm struggling with your scent.”
“It's been a while,” I agreed quietly. I eyed the bottle cautiously. “Okay now?”
He attempted a shrug and winced. “I believe so.”
I settled down at his side, keeping my movements slow and cautious.
“It seems there were a lot of things about you we hadn't discovered.” His gaze grazed across my arms, where some of the sigils remained strong and blue against my skin. “Phelan says those markings give you special abilities?”
“Yeah,” I felt painfully self-conscious as I reached for his wrist, marking his skin and while the wound was healing I pointed to some of the sigils on my own arms. “Agility… Endurance… Strength… Courage… Stamina.”
“And fearlessness?”
I looked up sharply, but he was lying back against the pillows, his expression enigmatic.
“Yeah. It's my personal favorite. Without it, I'm not sure I could have worked up the courage to face the Drâghici.”
“I thought you were remarkable,” Lucas responded. “Seeing you walk into the Consiliului stronghold - you were incredibly confident.”
“It was mainly due to the fearless sigil,” I admitted. “When I walked in there - I really didn't have a care in the world. No fear whatsoever.” The liberating effect of the sigil had astounded me. “But Conal seems to think it wasn't such a good idea.”
“You and Conal,” he paused, visibly swallowed. “Are you a couple now?”
I met his eyes, stunned by the abrupt question. “Um… no…well…” I muttered lamely. With a heavy sigh, I shook my head. “It's complicated.”
“I'm good at complicated,” he replied evenly.
For a moment I stared at him, thinking of a dozen different ways to continue this discussion and discarding every single option as being too complicated. “Can we talk about this later? When we can have some privacy?” I glanced around, aware of everyone else in the room. Having this discussion with Lucas was going to be difficult enough, without having an audience.
“If you wish,” Lucas agreed. His gaze held mine for a few seconds more, then he directed his attention to the Hjördis in my hand. “When I first saw you in Sfantu Drâghici and you removed your jacket, the marks were all brilliantly blue and covered every inch of skin.” He studied my bare arm, his eyes tracing the marks. “Some of them have disappeared.”
I returned to my first aid efforts, forcing my attention to the burns on his chest and swallowed deeply, trying not to gag as I healed the deep slashes where a silver knife had gouged his skin open. “They're indigo when I first mark them. As the power of the sigil is used up in combat, they fade and then disappear. These were drawn early this morning, they'll fade away to nothing in the next day or two.”
“Do they hurt you?” He studied his own arm, where I'd hastily drawn the invisibility sigil above his wrist, but it had vanished. “When you drew the mark on me, it felt as if it burned.”
“They hurt you more. When I mark my skin, it's like being scratched with a needle.” I reached forward, bringing my face closer to his as I worked to heal the gash on his cheek. His aroma wafted towards me and I pushed down the crazy urge to hold my breath, to avoid his scent overwhelming me and making me do something crazy. Like throw myself into his arms and kissing him. The mere touch of his skin against mine was already causing electrical energy to spark through my fingers.
“Because you're an Angel,” Lucas responded huskily. “I can hardly believe it.”
I slipped further down the bed, continuing to work. “It takes a bit of getting used to,” I muttered.
Holden was lying beside us and he entered the conversation. “When did you discover all this?” Like Lucas, he held a bottle of blood balanced on his thigh and I realized he bore a remarkable resemblance to his brother. Holden kept his hair much shorter, but it was the same shade of blonde and his sky blue eyes watched me with interest.
“About three months ago. Conal took me to a cookout at his parents' home and I met Nonny. She's the Tremaine pack's secret keeper. When she began to understand what I could do, she brought me here to meet Epi and he confirmed what I was after a lot of tests and discussion.”
Conal appeared, brandishing a mug of coffee. He handed me a couple of painkillers and I swigged them down with the coffee, savoring the wonderful aroma of the brown liquid beneath my noise.
“Nonny's finishing up with Gwynn, once she's settled back into bed she's gonna get some food cooking. No doubt you're starving, Sugar.”
“Absolutely,” I agreed with a little smile.
Conal lifted his gaze to Lucas. “How're you feeling?” His voice was impassive, the look on his face carefully neutral.
Lucas's return gaze was equally blank whe
n he responded. “Better, thank you.”
The tension between the two men could have been cut with a knife and I squirmed uncomfortably between them. I would have willingly faced off against another demon, rather than be sitting here with the two men I'd fallen in love with.
It was a mess, and it was all my own fault.
Chapter 4: Explanations
“Food's up!” Nonny announced from the kitchen doorway.
There was a noisy stampede as the Lingard men raced towards the kitchen and Nonny grumbled at them good-naturedly. “Charlotte, you stay there, honey. I'll bring yours out.”
I sank gratefully onto the floor, content to sit and relax after treating everyone's injuries. Nick, Rafe and Ralph had returned about half an hour ago, loaded down with bag upon bag of blood. Despite Conal's ministration of Tylenol, my head was still pounding and I was nauseated.
Nonny appeared with a tray and Striker whistled. “Lottie - you gonna eat all of that? Seriously?”
There was no comparison between the pile of food on my plate and what the men were eating - mine was at least double the quantity. Nonny had outdone herself with three large steaks, a couple of baked potatoes slathered in sour cream, collard greens and two cobs of corn, smothered in butter. “Absolutely,” I confirmed, licking my lips and tucking in.
Conal slipped down onto the floor beside me and grinned at Striker. “Charlotte has the metabolism of a hummingbird. We have to keep stuffing her with food, otherwise she starts dropping weight rapidly,” he explained. “With all the training, we discovered very quickly that you have to keep feeding her. Constantly.”
“She eats like a world championship wrestler,” Phelan agreed, his voice filled with admiration. “I've never seen anyone who can consume as much food as Lottie can.”
“She ate well enough at our house,” Striker said, eyeing my plate doubtfully. “But nothing like that.”
Jerome was chatting to Nonny, who'd joined us for dinner. “You're doing the right thing with the steak, Nonny, she'll benefit from anything with a lot of protein to help her body recover from the blood loss.”
Nonny nodded her understanding. “We've got protein shakes in the refrigerator.”
“Excellent,” Jerome smiled. “She should have one now, two more each day and she'll need iron rich foods for the next week or two. Plenty of leafy green vegetables, lots of red meat.”
I smiled at Jerome. “Back to being my Doctor?”
He grinned and winked. “Someone has to keep an eye on you, young woman. You have a penchant for getting yourself into trouble astonishingly quickly.”
“I'm not doing it on purpose,” I grumbled good-naturedly. The food was improving how I felt; despite Nonny's ministrations I hadn't eaten since before we left early this morning and it was apparent hunger hadn't helped my mood or the queasiness.
“Nah, trouble finds her naturally,” Nick remarked. He was sitting at the foot of Lucas's bed, plowing through his own dinner. “Though I gotta admit, she's a damn good fighter… for a human girl.”
“Thanks for the rousing endorsement,” I laughed and the sound surprised me. It felt like I hadn't laughed in forever. Glancing around at my friends, for the first time since this horror began I was both thankful and grateful for the blessings I'd received. The Tines were weak and had suffered enormous tribulations, but I'd healed their external injuries and they would regain the strength they'd once had in time. Already some of them were looking much better, despite still being covered in dirt and grime, their irises were gradually returning to normal and the blood intake had been put to work inside their bodies, their lips no longer blistered and cracked. Lucas and Striker had already discussed showering after dinner and Ben had requested his bed be raised as he was more comfortable sitting up now the wounds were healed over.
“You did good, kid,” Phelan agreed on his way back from the kitchen. He had a six pack of beers and handed them out to the werewolves and shifters before settling on a wooden chair. “Although I have to agree with Conal - that fearless rune makes you crazy reckless.”
I poked my tongue out at him and devoured some more food, taking the protein shake Nonny proffered. “I don't know about me being crazy - but I'm fairly certain the Consiliului are all nuts.”
“Why would the Consiliului attack a werewolf pack?” Ben questioned aloud, his forehead creased into a worried frown. “What possible reason would they have for doing that?”
“For the same reasons they're attacking other supe's - to start a war,” Conal stated soberly. “From what Charlotte's figured out, they want control of all the supernatural groups around the world. They're intending to kill anyone who isn't a pureblood.”
“They've attacked other packs? How do you know this?” Lucas asked.
As succinctly as possible, Conal explained the entire situation. How I received information from the spirits and the nightmares I regularly endured.
Epi joined in the discussion, explaining my role as Nememiah's Child and the history of the Angel children, their role on earth and my responsibility to create peace amongst the supernatural groups. He discussed his vast knowledge of Nememiah's Children, how they'd died out over a thousand years ago and how his study of them had become his life's work.
Conal took over again and I was happy to sit back and let them deal with it. I wasn't entirely certain the Tines were up to this discussion so soon, but looking at their shocked and worried faces, I knew it wouldn't make a difference whether they were told later rather than sooner - they were going to be distressed either way. “We discovered there was another Angel child - Archangelo. The Consiliului have created him and he's a hybrid vampire and angel. They wanted Charlotte to complete the set - they were planning to create Charlotte and then have Archangelo and Charlotte create a race of demon/angel hybrids.” The dark look in his black eyes showed exactly what he thought of that idea.
“Charlotte, you know that's an impossibility,” Lucas remarked.
“No it isn't, apparently.” I grimaced, laying my knife and fork on the now-empty plate. “Epi believes my blood is a genetic characteristic which can't be overridden. If I have a child - with anyone - whether they're human or supernatural, the child retains the angel blood. If the Drâghici had succeeded, the process would have created me, but Epi believes Archangelo and I retain the ability to reproduce and the children would be a hybrid mixture of both demon and angel blood.”
“That's entirely correct,” Epi agreed sharply. “I am rarely wrong.”
“Speaking of Archangelo, Lott, that was an outstanding throw. Never thought you'd be capable of something like that,” Striker announced proudly.
“I've had plenty of practice,” I said. “For the past three months, it's all we've done. Epi's teaching me everything he knows about Nememiah's Children, he and Conal have been training me to fight.” I glanced at Lucas and saw jealousy simmering in his expression, before he quickly swallowed it down.
“I thought you'd killed him,” Phelan remarked. He crossed his ankle over one knee, looking thoughtful. “You're positive it was him you saw?”
I nodded. “It was definitely him, standing at the gates in a bloodstained shirt. He watched as I entered the portal, not moving, just… staring.” I shrugged. “At least I gave the Drâghici something else to think about - I doubt they were thrilled that the tourists got an eyeful of Archangelo like that. Hard to explain away the blood.”
“If he really is vampire, he'll be difficult to kill,” Holden said. “A chest wound would never do it, Charlotte. You shouldn't have been able to pierce his chest with that weapon the way you did.” Holden sipped from his bottle, looking thoughtful. “Are you sure he's vampire at all?”
“You saw him yourself, Holden. He is vampire, undoubtedly. He smells like vampire,” Ripley announced. “But definitely something more.”
“We don't take a hit like that to the chest,” Striker argued. “A knife, a throwing star, whatever the hell that thing is that Charlotte threw - wouldn't have any
impact on vampire flesh.”
“A silver knife did,” Lucas responded quietly. “You bear scars as proof. Perhaps the weapon Charlotte wielded has that same capability.”
A shocked silence descended in the room and Striker's eyes flashed with fury and blatant frustration.
“Charlotte's weapons aren't silver, that much we do know. Frankly, we don't know enough about Archangelo to ascertain what he's capable of, or how to kill him. There have been no Angel children for over a thousand years and never one that's been created as vampire. Obviously he bleeds and his skin seems as fragile as Charlotte's,” Conal said, his composure diminishing the tension which had permeated the church. “But I guess we don't know whether the usual ways of killing a vampire will work either, until we try it.”
“Killed many vampires?” Striker asked coldly.
“No, but I'd be a fool if I didn't know how it was done,” Conal retorted.
“Striker. Enough.” Lucas's voice was coldly authoritative. “These people have provided us rescue and shelter. You will give them respect.”
The battle Striker fought to still his tongue was in evidence, from the clenched fists to the sharp line of his compressed lips. He focused on his hands, until he inhaled visibly and the muscles in his shoulders loosened. “My apologies,” he muttered.
“I assume Archangelo must be killed,” Jerome questioned.
“There's no choice,” I announced. “The Consiliului are killing indiscriminately in their quest for power. They've already murdered dozens that we know of, maybe more and they're using Archangelo to help them do it. Archangelo's a dangerous weapon at their disposal. If it's a choice between killing him or allowing the Consiliului to proceed with their plans and attempt to capture me to… mate with him, I'll choose killing him.”
They all lapsed into thoughtful silence and I waited, wondering what they were thinking. Were they shocked? Were they repulsed that I would consider killing someone without a second thought? A quick peek at Lucas from beneath lowered lashes confirmed he was watching me, but his face was mask-like, with no emotion detectable.
Knowledge Hurts Page 3