by LJ Rivers
“All right, Cam. Let’s get you in the tub first, though.”
“In a minute.”
He unlatched her bra, then pinched his fingers around her panties. When it proved impossible to get them off while holding her and respectfully keeping his eyes averted, he ripped the seam on either side and let the garment drop.
“Your turn,” she whispered.
Reluctantly, he set her down, shrugged off his jacket and peeled off his shirt, before helping her back on her feet. She shakily raised one hand and traced her fingers over the scars on his chest. The hairs on his neck bristled, and his breath caught in his throat. A whirlwind of emotions danced inside his body, though there were no such imprints to taste in the air, no colors to reveal her desires. Yet the strongest of sensations consumed him—embarrassment, regret, adoration, desire, hope.
“So many battle wounds,” she murmured. “You’ll have to tell me about them sometime.”
“I’ll lift you in now. It might be a little hot.”
“Hot is good,” she said in a breath.
He swung her into his arms and gazed at her honey-colored eyes, more mesmerizing than anything he’d seen all night, then lowered her into the water. The bubbles swallowed her up, and she sighed audibly as her body sunk into the tub.
He scooted the chair closer and collected a basket of soap and shampoo from the sink. When she waved her hand at his midsection, he conceded and took his pants off. Her lips pulled upward at one corner, and she turned her head away.
“Boxers, Mr. Nasri.”
He gave a wry smile. “I think we’re beyond formalities, don’t you?” After losing the boxers, he sat on the chair and faced her. “Want me to wash your hair?”
She turned away and reclined her head, allowing her wet tresses to spill over the edge of the tub. “Please.”
He moved to sit behind her and began lathering up shampoo in his hands. Clumps of blood had dried in her hair, and he started massaging them out one by one, until the foam turned a rusty shade, and he added more shampoo.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a train.”
“Sounds about right.” He couldn’t help but look as the bubbles rose and fell over her chest.
“By the way, Leon, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
He blinked and reverted his attention to her dark locks. “Yes?”
“What is the collective noun for a group of vampires?”
Chuckling, he scooped a handful of foam away and dried it off on a towel, not wanting more blood in the water if he could help it. “Nest.”
“Score.”
“It could also be a cloud or a colony, depending on the size. Ursula sometimes refers to her people as a cloud, while they themselves might be grouped into smaller nests.”
She rested one arm on the edge of the tub, and Leon observed the puncture marks on her wrist, once again hating himself for standing by while knowing the dhampirs were feeding on her.
She lowered her arm into the tub again and pulled her feet up, so her knees poked through the bubbles. “You never gave me an answer last time, but is it true vampires can turn into bats?”
He smiled. “Some can, though not all. The only ones I’ve met who could were ancient.”
“Ursula?”
“Indeed.”
“I sure hope those half-breed fangers don’t know that trick. Bats freak me out.”
“Don’t worry about them,” Leon said firmly. “Rosamund has it under control.”
“Did she behead all of them?”
Leon lifted her hair into the water. “Lean forward for a moment, so I can rinse out the soap.”
She did as requested, and he used his cupped palms to pour water over her tresses. “One of them got away, but only after Rosamund severed part of his neck.”
A few bubbles sailed into the air when Camryn blew on them. “You know, I was never much of a cat person, but Rosamund is growing on me.”
“I’d hate to get on her bad side.” Even though he’d rinsed out all the soap, he kept rinsing her hair, finally silky soft to his touch. Just as he had imagined.
“How did you find me, anyway?”
He cleared his throat. “You have Edwin to thank for that.”
She let out a long sigh. “Still looking after me, even in the afterlife.”
“He gave Dunstan a phone number to call for this kind of emergency.”
“For whom?”
Sensing a storm brewing, Leon exhaled unevenly. “Abrax.”
“My father? But why? How? Is he here?”
“He kept to the topic at hand, Cam. Apparently, the dhampirs had left a message for him in Naunet’s apartment, a way for him to contact them when the time came. He was there, Cam, at the memorial.”
She shook herself, and a few strands tangled between his fingers. “But he didn’t intervene. Why did he let them take me?”
“He didn’t realize what was happening until they dragged you out of the barn. According to Abrax, he was keeping his distance, so he was too far away when it happened and couldn’t reach you in time. But his eagle friend—a shifter—followed their trail and eventually found the cabin. Once the eagle returned, Abrax relayed the coordinates to me. He also confirmed what Ursula said about how to kill the bloodsuckers. Beheading, and one hell of a funeral pyre.”
“But I was there for hours. I don’t understand why you didn’t get to me sooner.”
“Abrax said—” Leon inhaled deeply, not wanting to say the next words aloud. But Camryn deserved the truth. “He said to wait. We wouldn’t be able to get you out of there as long as the dhampirs were at full strength, and he assured us the temptation to drink from you would be too strong for them to pass up. Once they were weakened by your blood, we could make our move.”
Water splashed over the edges as Camryn spun in the tub to face him. “You let them feed on me? You knew and did nothing to stop it?”
He hung his head. “Yes. It was the only way to—“
She pushed back and wrapped her arms around her knees, glaring at him. “Do you have any idea what I went through? How it felt to be sucked on, not just by one fanger, but all three? They took turns, Leon, as if sharing a bloody milkshake.”
“I’m so sorry, Cam. There’s no excuse. I wanted so badly to get you out of there, but Abrax said—“
“My father didn’t even show up, and you trusted him?” Her eyes narrowed. “Where is he now, then?”
“I don’t know. He said to tell you he’s had eyes on you, though.”
Realization dawned on her face. “Naunet? He sent her.” Camryn’s voice was but a whisper in the room.
Leon nodded.
“The cigarettes. Those were his.” A tear swam down her cheek, and he fought the urge to wipe it away. “But why is he still hiding? I don’t get why he wouldn’t come see me himself.”
“I don’t have all the answers Cam, but he did leave me with words of caution.”
“Which were?”
“The war isn’t over.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
As the sun rose on the horizon, Leon and I were still sitting in the kitchen. I had rummaged through my old closet and put on a pair of sweatpants and a loose jumper, and gathered my hair in a messy knot on my head. My body was still sore, but I felt miles better. Physically, at least. We’d gone over everything too many times to count, and while I had initially been upset with Leon for not rescuing me sooner, I understood his reasons. My father’s reasons, on the other hand, were more troublesome. What was his agenda in all this?
Leon added a second spoonful of sugar into his third cup of coffee and cupped his hands around it. “You look better.”
“Dunstan’s magic gave me a boost.”
He stirred his coffee, avoiding my gaze. “Yeah, about that. Please, don’t get mad at me again, but picti magic doesn’t come for free.”
“You paid him? How much do I owe you?”
“No, it’s not like that. He
asked for a favor in his pocket. From you.”
I relaxed my shoulders and added a dash of milk to my coffee. “That doesn’t sound so bad. I don’t know why you thought I’d be upset with you.”
“A favor in the veiled world is worth more than gold. It’s not something handed out to just anyone. I shouldn’t have bargained on your behalf, but I didn’t know what else to do. He’ll call on you one day, and when he does, you’ll need to repay him. And he can ask for anything as long as it matches the value of what he gave. That’s how it works.”
I thought that over for a while. Dunstan had been Edwin’s attorney, possibly a friend. If they went as far back as Dunstan had said, my guardian must have trusted him. Plus, he was the one to give Leon my father’s number. Whatever favor he asked of me, I would pay. Not because of some stupid veiled world rule, but because I owed him my life. “It sounds like a big deal, I get it, but I won’t hold it against you, Leon. You did the right thing.”
He sighed and his shoulders relaxed, as if he’d been carrying a heavy load this whole time, and I hadn’t noticed until now.
A clicking sound issued from outside, making the tiny hairs on my neck stand on end.
I sat up straight. “What was that?”
“What?”
“Shush.” The sound continued, and chills raced down my spine. “That.”
Leon’s brows knitted as he looked toward the window, then pointed at his car. “A bat!”
A dark, winged creature sat atop the hood. It was bigger than most bats I had seen—a lot bigger—but Leon was right. The first rays of dawn illuminated its black wings as it spread them wide, its beady eyes staring straight at us. As it took flight, I rushed to my feet and began looking for weapons.
“Your gun.” Leon reached into a bag on the kitchen counter and produced my Glock, tossing it to me. “I took the liberty of arming it with silver bullets.”
I caught the gun in the air and folded my hand around the cold steel, my heart slamming into my chest as my adrenaline spiked. “What about you?”
He didn’t hesitate and retrieved another gun from the bag, along with an honest-to-goodness machete.
We peered into the hall just as the door burst open.
The now half-man, half-bat folded its wings. In a cloud of dusty, onyx haze, the bat disappeared entirely, leaving only Jermaine filling the doorway. Unlike the shifters, he was fully clothed, and I briefly wondered if the garments themselves were magical, perhaps even an illusion. No signs of injuries remained on his ashen skin, and his throat was fully attached to his body once more.
“Hell’s bells. You again,” I muttered.
His lips peeled back in a feral grin as he locked eyes with me. “You murdered my brother and sister.”
“Technically, I didn’t. And neither did he.” I gestured at Leon with the tilt of my head, keeping both hands on my gun. “But only because someone beat me to it.”
“Your friend did. Where’s that damn wildcat hiding? I’ll drink her dry and wear her coat around my neck.”
“I think she’s busy burning your siblings’ remains,” Leon said, a lazy cadence in his voice.
Jermaine snarled as spears of sunlight crept across the threshold, silhouetting him against the glowing backdrop. He looked like nothing more than a shadow in the clutches of dawn. A dark, sinister monster. An abomination. “I’ll make you suffer. It won’t be quick, and you’ll beg for death.”
“You couldn’t come up with a more original line?” I mocked, then lowered my voice. “We can’t kill him, Leon. He’s too strong.”
“You can, remember?”
I shook my head.
In a blur of motion, the dhampir erased the space between us and gripped Leon by his throat, forcing his arms against the wall. When Leon’s weapons dropped from his hands, I fired my gun.
This time, steam rose from the entry wound on Jermaine’s temple. The eye nearest to it bulged from its socket for a moment, and he cracked his neck once to each side.
“That stings.” He tilted his head back and leered at me.
I shot him again. And again. But all he did was laugh.
Leon gasped for air, his skin changing color, his dark complexion acquiring a bluish tint. I couldn’t let him die. I sucked in a breath and gripped Jermaine’s arm. Before I could even attempt to draw on his magic, he flung me across the room. My head slammed into the wall, and I crumpled to the floor, the Glock slipping from my grasp.
Leon stared at me, his mouth moving to shape a word. Run. His arms flailed, his fingers clutching the dhampir’s wrists, and it was all I could do to keep from breaking down in a puddle of tears.
I shook my throbbing head and rolled up my sleeves. I recalled the feeling of how I had drawn in Dunstan’s light to heal myself. Only this time, I wouldn’t use it for good—I would use it on the bastard who murdered my guardian. Dipping my hand in the sunlight, I drew on its energy, allowing it to fuel my own.
Ripples of power burst through me as I splayed my fingers and thrust my arms out. The contours of vampire magic were tangible in the air, and I clawed at the invisible strands, willing them to come to me. Jermaine stiffened, and Leon let out a heavy breath as the dhampir let go. He pivoted to face me and whirled across the room, though not as fast as he had been moments earlier.
Before he could touch me, I grabbed my gun and planted a shot between his eyes.
Blood spurted from the entry point, and his mouth fell open, drops of crimson dripping from his fangs. Horror swept through me as I realized he must have fed on Leon.
Jermaine growled, his eyes now a deep blue.
“Die already,” I growled back, and shot him in the heart—if he had such an organ.
His sharp fingernails slashed the air in front of my face, and I kicked him in the stomach. He staggered back, but remained on his feet. Abandoning the gun, I went back to soaking up his power. I flew to my feet, my heartbeat quickening as the feeling of total darkness slithered in my veins. The power was inebriating, lending me strength and speed; it allowed me to taste his hunger, his hatred, his fear.
Jermaine’s nostrils flared as he kept backing away, edging toward the doorway. With sickening speed, I caught up with him and gave him a piece of my mean left hook. His feet left the ground as he catapulted into the dawn. Fast as a bullet, I pursued.
Crawling away on hands and knees, he left a trail of blood in the dirt. I kicked him again and gleefully watched him roll over, clutching his chest.
I felt invigorated—energized and strong—and I wanted to see him squirm before I ended his miserable life. “I’ll make you suffer. It won’t be quick, and you’ll beg for death,” I ground out, clenching my fists.
“No more,” he pleaded. “Please.”
“Vermin!”
“That’s enough,” Leon called out, giving me pause. He limped down the steps and approached slowly, with a determined look on his face. “Cam, snap out of it. This isn’t you.”
I kicked Jermaine again and crossed my arms. “He killed Edwin. He has to suffer.”
“No, he has to die.”
Edwin’s voice rang at the back of my mind: “All life is sacred. Always remember to have honor and mercy, Sciath. That’s a show of true strength.”
It was as if I was yanked out of the darkness and into the light again. Recalling those words, the life lessons he had instilled in me, woke me up. And that name. Sciath . It had been so many years since I had heard him call me that. I shuddered and backed up, giving a brief nod to Leon.
He raised the machete in his hand and let it fall on Jermaine’s neck. The gut-wrenching sound of crushing bone made my stomach churn as Leon continued chopping several times more. With what I could only guess was the crack of Jermaine’s spinal cord, his head finally separated from his body.
I shook myself as the magic flowed away like water swirling down the drain. Trembling, I sat on the dirt and hugged myself. “I—I don’t—“
“It’s all right.” Leon sat down next to m
e and folded one arm over my shoulders. “His power made you drunk. Remember how I said not to confuse your own feelings with those of another?”
“But you’re an empath. I didn’t think that applied to all kinds of magic.”
“His magic was dark and part of what makes his kind go mad. I had to sever the connection before it went too far.”
A smudge of blood coated his shirt collar.
“You’re hurt!”
He touched his neck, the hint of a smile gracing his lips. “Nothing a bar of soap and some water won’t fix.”
I rested my head on his shoulder, remembering how I had said those exact words to him on our first encounter. “Thank you.”
“Any time. Besides, if it wasn’t for you, Noelle would be left without her papa.” He leaned his head on mine and squeezed my shoulder.
So, I kept my word to his daughter. If only just.
“We’ll have to burn him now, or he’ll come back,” Leon said.
“In a minute. Let’s watch the sunrise first.”
“I never tire of it,” he said wistfully, turning his head toward the sun climbing in the sky.
Blood seeped into the grass surrounding Jermaine’s body, the machete lying in the dirt next to his head. His vacant eyes peered at me, and tiny rivulets of crimson were still running from the bullet wounds, gathering in the growing pool above his torso. I guess I should have been disgusted. Instead, I was at peace. The monsters who had killed my guardian, Naunet, Karl, and who knew how many more, were dead. It didn’t bring their victims back, but it felt damn sweet.
“Everything looks different in the daylight,” I whispered.
I cradled a cup of hot coffee and gazed at the dwindling funeral pyre outside Edwin’s house—my house. The events of the past week kept repeating themselves in my mind, but more than anything, I wanted my guardian back. He would know what to do next. Me? I had no clue. I had gotten my first real taste of what it meant to take magic from someone, and I didn’t like what it did to me. It was nothing like when I practiced with Leon or borrowed Dunstan’s light magic. Jermaine’s power had been dark and made me feel sick to my stomach. Even now, hours after his demise.