Why had Henry left his comfortable life with his father for this?
That night, Henry arrived home from his hunt with a live rabbit. He sat across from Valeria and locked his gaze on hers. Her stomach clenched, and she leaned back. Henry’s fangs descended, and he bit into the animal’s flesh and drank.
“I didn’t ask for this,” he said in a low, gruff voice.
Valeria softened. “I know.”
“And you?”
She swallowed, looking down at her hands.
“I saw you,” he said, “shortly after my father brought you to us. You were a bird, and then you were standing naked in the service quarters.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t say anything.”
“Would you prefer I had?”
Henry told Valeria how, coming home from a pub one night, he had been bitten and drained, left for dead. He sensed his maker out there somewhere, but could not find him. He found other Cruor and learned as much as possible before returning for her.
In the late 1600s, they learned of the new supernatural law—the law that the races were not to mix. But they were already pregnant with Charles and so were forced into hiding. Even today they stayed as far as possible from society—supernatural and otherwise—hoping that would provide Charles the opportunity to live without fear of persecution.
* * *
“WE WERE ON OUR OWN after that,” Valeria said, “but I think that was the least alone we’d ever felt.”
“I still don’t understand how you carried a child,” I said. “I thought the Cruor can’t have children.”
“They can’t,” Valeria said, “but as I am Strigoi, it is of no concern. So long as I didn’t shift, my womb and the child could grow.”
“Charles explained the Strigoi age if they don’t shift, but this isn’t true for him.”
Valeria pressed her lips together. “Charles and—” Valeria covered her mouth and coughed quietly. “Charles aged like any normal child would … the way a Strigoi would. At nineteen, he gained the ability to shift. But even without shifting, he’d stopped aging. We realized then his Cruor heritage ran deeper than we’d thought, more than merely his need for blood. Charles will never age beyond nineteen.”
Nineteen? He certainly looked older. He “was older, technically. I couldn’t let the revelation rattle me. He was too old for me, he was too young for me … either way, all that mattered was the opportunity for us to age together.
“What if he could grow older?” I asked.
Valeria beamed. “Ah, yes! He asked us about this, and he has our blessing. Believe me, anything for love.”
He’d talked to his parents about this? I couldn’t contain the small bubble of hope that stirred within me.
“I think we’ve chatted enough,” Charles cut in. His voice had a steely edge, and he didn’t wait for a reaction before continuing. “Sophia is the descendant of a spirit elemental. We should focus our energies on discussing that instead.”
The change of subject was so sudden that even I startled at his statement. Valeria’s eyebrows arched, and Henry’s face gave a flicker of expression—concern, perhaps?
“Is this true?” Valeria asked.
“Yes.” I looked hesitantly to Charles. “I also hear people’s thoughts. People like you and your husband.”
“Well, that is something of a dilemma.” She sipped her tea, paused, and then set her cup aside. “But only because you think it to be, Sophia.”
“What do you mean?”
“Might you be able to tap into human thoughts as well?”
I bit my lip, considering. “I don’t believe so.”
“Clairaudience, then,” she said. “Not as odd as you might think.” She placed a hand over mine. “The thoughts of mortals and immortals are anchored in separate realms in order to protect elementals from mortal telepaths. However,” she continued, “clairaudients like yourself can bridge over to access the thoughts of immortals. It’s believed to be a common gift among witches and their descendants, since they are both supernatural as well as mortal.”
“They left once before,” I offered, “after Charles’ friend gave me Cruor blood to heal some injuries.”
“With his life source in your system, you were temporarily pulled from your own realm. Clairaudients cannot access thoughts in the realms they occupy, so you will not hear immortal thoughts when in the immortal realm.” She stared into the middle distance, smiling softly. “I’ve met someone like you once before. In Nepal. Anytime she drank Cruor blood, though, she heard human thoughts instead, until the immortal essence filtered from her system. Did you experience likewise?”
I shook my head. Part in answer to her question and part in shock to learn others like me existed. “I don’t think so.”
“Your gift will protect you more than it puts you at risk,” Valeria said, “so long as you do not fear it.”
* * *
AFTER THE MORE SERIOUS MATTERS had been discussed, the Liettes engaged us with their light banter. Mrs. Liette asked a lot of questions, though nothing too personal or too hard to answer. She clung to every word spoken around her, listening intently, inhaling through her nose with a small smile, her chest rising at the intake of air, as if the very oxygen in the room made her happy. She was breezy, and the moments with her seemed to freeze time.
Mr. Liette, however, was the one who most shared my interests. It happened he was a firm believer in the possibility of the Ankou having a cure for the dual-natured. His wife and Charles shared a look over his ramblings, but I was enthralled as he sustained the possibilities with information that seemed to make sense of it all. I was most charmed when he brought up Nostradamus’ predictions. He believed Nostradamus was an early messenger of the Universe, and any disproven theories were merely evidence that the future wasn’t set in stone.
Charles huffed at his father’s sentiments and implored him to talk about something else. “Anything else,” he implored. “Area 51. Elvis is still alive. Aliens. Just please”—he rubbed his hands down the sides of his face—“stop talking about Nostradamus!”
Mr. Liette chuckled and leaned closer to me. “He hates when I talk about this stuff.”
No kidding. I stole a glance at Charles and smiled. He was smiling back.
After dinner, dessert, and another round of tea/blood, the Liettes gathered their things and said their goodbyes before disappearing into the night.
As it was too early to head into bed and Charles and I wanted a reprieve from the lingering energy in the living room, we headed to the basement.
Charles plopped onto the sofa, pulling me into his strong, comforting grasp. “They like you. I can tell.”
“Yeah….”
“Oh no.” Charles frowned. “What now?”
“Your dad thinks someone followed them.”
Charles scratched the back of his neck. “He mentioned that outside.”
“Aren’t you worried?”
He smirked, shaking his head. “My dad thinks everyone’s out to get him.”
Charles switched on a spare television set he’d brought down earlier in the day, and I tried to pay attention to the screen. Some show on the Discovery channel talked about human cloning.
We snuggled under a throw blanket on the couch, and Charles wove his fingers through my hair. During one of the commercials, he looked right at me, and my heart jumped with his heavy gaze. He swept his nose slowly across my jaw, bringing his lips to my neck and inhaling.
The glow of the television reflected off his fangs, but, this time, he didn’t pull away. He cupped my face and gently kissed me, his fangs rubbing against my bottom lip. I shivered, partly from nervousness and partly from the desire building within me. He broke the kiss but didn’t move his face away from mine.
“Are you afraid?” he whispered.
“No.”
“You sure?”
My heart beat unsteadily, and I couldn’t infuse my voice with any level of certainty. “Yes?”
&nbs
p; His fingers grazed over my thighs, between them. He kissed my neck, then pressed his lips near the curve of my ear. “Now?”
I wanted to say yes. He knew my secrets, and I’d accepted we’d take the issue of our ‘future’ one day at a time. There was no reason to resist my intimate desires toward him. Finally, I managed to squeak out a quiet, “I think so.”
He leaned back into the couch, chuckling. “Of course.”
I sat up. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
Faint amusement replaced the fire in his eyes. “No,” he said. “You were too busy thinking.”
I frowned.
Charles wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close. “It’s okay,” he said. “It was a long day—a lot to take in. Let’s relax.”
I took his advice, but, inwardly, my frown remained. Hoping to get my mind off … well, everything … I forced myself to focus on the television.
The airing had moved on from talk of human cloning to talk of curing hereditary abnormalities through stem cells, reminding me of the talk I’d had with Mrs. Liette about the rules of procreation in their world.
“I’m wondering—” I peeked up. “—about your sister?”
Charles dropped his head into his hands. “My mom brought her up?”
His voice was so tender that a knot formed in my throat.
“She started to,” I said. “If you don’t want to talk about it….”
“I don’t mind—it happened a long time ago, during the war. Warriors from the Council discovered Kate was a dual-breed through a friend she had trusted. They tortured her, trying to get her to reveal our parents, bringing her close to death several times then waiting for her to heal before starting again. She was only fifteen—not yet able to shift.” His voice fell, hoarse now. “It’s my fault they killed her.”
“You aren’t responsible.”
His eyes remained on the floor. “I was there. It was during the war, and at the time, any one known as a Cruor was expected to fight. Fight or die. I did my best to show my allegiances without hurting anyone, but my sister acted more on her honor, and that’s how they eventually discovered her true nature. She never revealed our relation, and I didn’t say anything. I did nothing to stop them.”
“They would have killed you both,” I said, knowing it wouldn’t be any consolation.
“If I’d done something—anything—at least she would have known I cared.”
“I’m sure she knew,” I said gently.
He didn’t respond, and I opted for a shift in conversation. “Your other siblings—they were okay?”
Charles’ eyebrows pulled together. “My other siblings?”
“The twins.”
“What twins?”
I searched his expression for answers, but the only emotion there was confusion. I spun the beads on my bracelet. “A misunderstanding, I guess.”
Charles let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t think my parents wanted to have more kids after what happened to my sister, and I certainly didn’t want more siblings. I’d failed my sister. That can’t be redeemed with new life.”
“We can’t bring her back,” I said, “but you can do something. We can change things.”
He scoffed, but the strain around his eyes revealed he was more hurt than annoyed.
“We’ll fight back, somehow. The war against the dual-breeds can’t go on forever.”
“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.” His expression softened, along with the edge in his voice. “If I could do it over again, I would have—”
“Done something different? Like with your sister?” I didn’t need clairaudience to evaluate what he was thinking. He was afraid he might lose me to the darker side of his world, the same way he’d lost his sister. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “We’ll think of something.”
{chapter twenty-one}
THE EVENING AFTER the Liettes’ visit, I prepared for an attempt to use my clairaudience to locate Thalia’s coterie. I’d already tried twice, hoping to zone in on them and see if their thoughts would reveal anything useful, but both my attempts had been without success.
Charles said not to worry about his father’s fear of being followed, but I wanted to make certain. If anyone would know anything, it would be Thalia and her coterie over on Basker Street. Despite what Charles had said, I was certain Thalia wasn’t harmless. He might know more about his world than I did, but his intuition sucked.
Soon, however, I’d learn my own intuition was lacking as well.
I turned off my cell phone and the lights. A few lit candles, scattered around the room, released sweet walnut and vanilla into the air, and the red light of the setting sun burned through the basement windows. I sat on the floor in my chalk circle, straightened my posture, and took several deep breaths. I imagined vines growing from the earth, gently embracing me, leaving me connected and comfortable. I fell into the practiced rhythm of breathing until even the sound of my breath dissolved in my ears.
My world grew silent, but the voices blared. I centered my energy on the back of my mind, visualizing a map beside a tray of pushpins. As I descended deeper into my meditation, the tingling sensation in my mind intensified. I focused on the loudest whisper until the others fell away. A single voice remained; it would be Charles. I listened long enough to use his voice as a marker, just as I’d practiced late last night with him and Adrian. I dropped Charles to focus on the next closest voice.
Last time I tip Lucia on the best hunting grounds. I come back here, and what do I find? Nothing. Greedy little—
I tuned out and scanned for another voice, at what I guessed was about a mile further out than the last.
Why should I bother hiding? If anyone said they saw me, they’d get booked to the nearest mental institution. What a joke!
Another failed attempt.
When I tried a third time, the pain of a young woman shifting for the first time filtered into my mind. The voices were one thing, but sharing the sensations was too much. I quickly tuned out and moved onto a voice that registered about three miles away.
The location was close to Basker Street. My heart sped as I listened.
The chick works at a blood bank for God’s sake. Match made in heaven.
That wasn’t Thalia. I couldn’t lock on her—or track her at all for that matter. Ditto for Circe. Wherever they were, they were together, and the rest of the supernatural world surrounding us was vacant of any thoughts regarding the Liettes.
I panned the area for another hour before calling it quits. Releasing a final slow breath, I concentrated on blocking the voices altogether. It wasn’t foolproof. The voice of one elemental or another still occasionally punctured my own thoughts but, overall, I was getting a handle on my abilities.
The trance-working drained all my mental and emotional energy. As Paloma had taught me, I drank the water and ate the cookie I’d set nearby to replenish my energy.
Almost immediately after I flicked the lights on, Charles tapped the wall at the bottom of the basement stairs.
I yawned, though I’d been aiming for a smile. “You still haven’t heard from your parents?”
“They don’t usually call back right away. Come on. Let’s get to bed.”
We headed upstairs. Just as I shut the basement door behind me, a voice swirled through my thoughts.
Close.
Too close.
The next moment happened so fast, I didn’t have a chance to fully process the thoughts of our invader. Where had they come from? I’d just been searching.
They lunged at Charles, and instinct threw me in front of him. Pain stabbed my shoulder. My gaze dropped to the stake, coated in dark fluid, that jutted from my body. A sharp gasp echoed—not just my own, but the attacker’s as well.
Two shapes flashed around the room. Charles fighting another Cruor. As my vision faded, their preternatural movements blurred into meaningless colors. A heavy fog pushed over every synapse in my brain. The attacker’s influence. I couldn’t fi
ght it—couldn’t keep my eyes open.
I fell away, into the dark.
* * *
AN OPEN DOOR revealed a simple white bathroom and a hairbrush on the vanity. I was lying in our bed. Light streamed in through the small window to my left, marking the comforter with a long, pale rectangle.
A stringent antiseptic smell burned my nostrils, and I lifted a hand to touch the pain gnawing at my shoulder. My fingertips brushed a rough, damp material. Blood-stained gauze clung to my skin. Images from last night—was it last night?—replayed in my mind. Someone had invaded our home. Someone had tried to kill Charles, and might have succeeded if I hadn’t gotten in the way.
Shit. What if it’d been Marcus? Why hadn’t I heard anyone near the house? It’d been too dark to see anything more than Charles’ shape beside me and a moving darkness in the shadows of the hall.
I parted my lips to speak, but my mouth was too dry to form words.
I licked my lips and tried again. “Charles?”
His name left me like a breath, but no sooner had I rasped those words than he appeared in the doorway and, another moment later, at the bedside.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. Through my groggy vision, the lashes framing his eyes looked darker, his eyes more arcane and intense.
“Not so great.” I winced, pulling the shoulder of my nightgown back into place. “Is it okay?”
“Not as bad as it looks.”
“My clairaudience didn’t pick up anything.” I shook my head. “I was listening, but—”
“Hey,” Charles said softly, “don’t think about that now. Your gift … it’s still new.”
“Where’s the attacker?” I asked. Before he could answer, my clairaudience registered their life. Their thoughts sped too fast to tune into. I got a sense of anger, regret, and … love? I shot up in bed, alarm pulsing in my chest and throat. “They’re still here?”
The Forever Girl Page 20