Nightshade

by Andrea Cremer

  “The book may have been created in the Middle Ages, but its contents were not. The Old Ones predate Christians.”

  “But if this book is pre-Christian, not medieval, then what the hell does that mean?” Shay shoved the tome away from him with a disgusted snort. “Someone needs to talk to this fool about how to end a narrative. No conclusion, some lame proverb,” he said. “And a picture.”

  I stopped just short of his chair. “A picture?”

  “Yeah. A picture of a cross.” He pulled the book back toward him, staring at the final page. “I guess it does lend some credence to your idea that it’s not Christian. It definitely isn’t like any crucifixes I’ve seen.”

  I inched closer, my heart fluttering. “What do you mean?”

  “Why don’t you take a look?” He raised his eyes to mine. When he saw the fear there, he stood up and moved close to me.

  “Calla.” He took both my hands in his. “I understand why you’re afraid of this book. But you’ve come this far. I think you have to look at it.”

  I began to shake my head, but he gripped my fingers tightly. “I need your help.”

  His eyes held mine, kind but challenging.

  I wanted to object, but I knew that from the moment I’d committed to meeting Shay at the library, there was no point in turning back. “Okay.”

  He drew me back to the table. My hands began to shake as he turned the book to face me. Shay sat down in the chair, crossing his arms behind his head.

  “Weird, huh? I mean, the way the bars are different on two of the ends. It makes the cross seem asymmetrical even though the pieces are the same length.”

  I stared at the image and then at Shay. “Don’t you recognize this?”

  “Recognize it?” He glanced down at the cross. “What do you mean?”

  “Shay, this is the tattoo that’s on the back of your neck.” I tapped the image with my finger.

  He laughed. “I don’t have any tattoos.”

  I blinked at him. “Yes, you do.”

  “I think I’d remember if I’d gotten ink,” he argued. “I’ve heard it’s fairly painful.”

  He flinched when I reached around his neck, pulling back the collar of his shirt. The tattoo was there, just as I’d remembered it. The cross, an exact likeness of the one that stared back at me from the Keeper’s text, lay etched in black ink on the golden skin along the nape of Shay’s neck.

  “See, I told you. No tats.” He tried to twist out of my grasp, but I stilled him by gripping his shoulder.

  “Shay—you do have the cross inked on your neck. I’m looking at it right now.”

  A shudder passed through his body. I relaxed my hold on him, giving his tense muscles a gentle squeeze.

  “Calla,” he whispered. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah.” I crouched beside his chair. “I have a hard time believing that you’ve never seen the back of your own neck.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “I must have at some point. And I don’t remember ever seeing a tattoo. Is that where it is?”

  He shivered as my fingers traced the lines of the cross on his neck.

  “Yes, right here.”

  “Give me your compact; I’ll go check it in the bathroom mirror.” He jumped up from his seat and then looked at me, waiting.

  “I don’t have a compact.”

  “You don’t?” Shay frowned. “I’ll figure something out.” He dashed away and I lowered myself into his chair, returning to the book I’d been reading.

  A few minutes later, I looked up from the page to find Shay glaring at me, wary and nervous. “So are you pulling my leg or what?”

  “You found a hand mirror?”

  “I borrowed one from the librarian at the circulation desk,” he said. “I told her I was having a problem with my contact and the bathroom mirror didn’t magnify enough.”

  “You wear contacts?”

  “No.” He pulled up another chair. “You haven’t answered my question.”

  I squared my shoulders. “I have no reason to lie to you, Shay. Are you saying you looked at your neck and saw nothing there?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I saw my neck, the bare skin of my neck. No tattoo. And definitely not a weird cross tattoo.”

  “I’m sorry. The cross is tattooed on your neck,” I said. “I don’t know much about the Keepers’ magic, so I can only guess. But they must have cast something on your sight so you can’t see it.”

  I looked at the image once again, my fingers tracing over the page. “They’ve instructed the Guardians to keep our world hidden from you, even though we’ve been asked to protect you. For some reason they don’t want you to know anything about this.”

  His face went white. “You’re saying my uncle put a spell on me so I wouldn’t know about the tattoo?”

  “He’s not your uncle.” I tried to make the reminder gentle but firm. “And yes, I think he must have.”

  Shay put his elbows on his knees, hiding his face in his hands. I hesitantly rose from my chair. My limbs quivered as I stretched my arms around his shaking body, drawing him against me. My heart was racing. As much as I knew I should maintain some physical distance from Shay, seeing him like this and not doing anything was too cruel.

  His hands dropped from his face, encircling my waist. Warmth seemed to slide from his fingertips over the length of my body. He leaned into me, resting his cheek in the hollow between my neck and shoulder, sending electric tendrils like vines over my skin. I gently brushed his messy golden brown hair, biting my lip so I wouldn’t kiss his forehead.

  “Thanks.” His quiet murmur was strained. He cleared his throat. “It’s a little hard to cope with the growing realization that I have no idea who I really am.”

  I laughed quietly.

  Shay tensed. “Is that funny?”

  I twisted my fingers through his hair. “No. It’s just that to me, it sounds a little interesting. I’ve always known exactly who I am and what I would be.”

  He straightened and I released him from my arms though I remained crouched next to his chair.

  “Do you wish you were something other than what you are?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “We are who we are. I have no desire to be something else. But right now I’m afraid of what it means for those who I care about.”

  Shay looked at me, slowly lifted his hand, and caressed my cheek. Looking into his eyes felt like stumbling upon a hidden garden.

  I quickly returned to my own seat, short of breath, my heart pounding.

  I could feel his eyes on me as I scratched shapes on my notebook page. “I wanted to learn what was in the book because I needed to know more about the Keepers and Guardians.”

  I turned to face him. Shay watched me curiously. I was relieved to see that he didn’t appear offended by my abrupt retreat.

  “But it’s clear that everything that’s happening here is about you, Shay. We need to find out who you are.”

  He didn’t speak, but nodded once.

  I pointed at the leather-bound tome. “So we know that cross is on your neck. But we don’t know what it means.”

  Shay turned back to the image. “Are these triangles on my neck too?”

  “No.” With some reluctance I dragged my chair close to his so I could look at the book.

  “But you think they’re important?” He pointed at my notebook. I glanced down and was shocked to see that I’d drawn at least ten triangles across the white page.

  “I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen them before, but I don’t know where.” I chewed on my lip for a moment, letting my mind wander.

  “Oh!”

  I rummaged through my bag and pulled out my Organic Chemistry lab workbook.

  “Are you having trouble in chem?” Shay frowned as he watched me flip through the pages.

  I shook my head and kept turning through the book until I found the introductory notes from Monday’s experiment.

  “Look. I knew I’d seen this. It’
s in the historical introduction to the alchemy lab.” I pointed at the triangles. “These are alchemical symbols.”

  Shay rose and came to peer over my shoulder. “It’s a good thing you read the introduction. I just skipped right to the experiment.”

  I smiled and continued to read. “These four triangles represent the four elements: earth, air, fire, and water.”

  I looked at the image in the Keeper’s text and then back at the workbook.

  “But I have no idea what that has to do with a cross.”

  “Looks like you just found your first research question, Cal.” He tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Fine. But is there anything else for me to work with besides that proverb? What is it again?”

  “The cross is the anchor of life,” he intoned in mock solemnity. “That’s the last line of the book. Then the picture.”

  I jotted the phrase down amid the scattered triangles on my notebook page.

  “What comes before the proverb?”

  “More nonsense.” His frustration trickled out with the reply. “There are two lines set apart from the text at the very end of the book. The last line is the proverb and the other is ‘may the Scion bear the cross.’”

  “May the Scion bear the cross. The cross is the anchor of life,” I murmured, then looked at Shay and saw comprehension dawning in his eyes even as a chilling wave poured down my spine.

  “What does Scion mean, Shay?” I whispered.

  His Adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed. “It means ‘descendant.’”

  “Descendant of whom?” I was right, he is someone.

  “It isn’t specific; it can be a descendant of anyone. Sometimes it’s used to mean ‘heir.’”

  “Shay—” I reached for his shoulder, hoping to turn him. I was afraid to touch him, but I wanted to look at the tattoo again.

  “No,” he said sharply. He pulled away from my hand, pacing toward the tall bookshelves that surrounded us.

  I jumped up. “That has to be you. You bear the cross. It’s on your neck. You’re the Scion.”

  “No, no, no.” He backed away as I approached him. “This is all—it’s some kind of trick. Or sick joke.” His face was drawn. He glared at me accusingly.

  “I have a tattoo I can’t see. My uncle isn’t a person, but a witch. And now I’m some special descendant who is mentioned in a book that was transcribed hundreds of years before I was born? I don’t think so.”

  When I realized he was about to bolt, I did the only thing I could imagine would stop him.

  “Shay.” The razor-sharp edge in my voice locked him in place.

  In that instant I leapt forward, shifting into a wolf in midair, and knocked him onto the floor. My forepaws dug into his chest, pinning him to the ground. I shifted back into human form.

  “You may wish I was lying, but you’re looking at a girl who can turn into a wolf whenever she wants. Remember?” I brushed his cheek with my fingers, too aware of the way my body melted against him. I closed my eyes, taking in his scent, the heat of his body.

  Shay reached up and wrapped his arms around my neck. One hand cupped the back of my head. He pulled me toward him. Before I could react, his lips were on mine.

  The kiss started slowly, a sweet, tentative searching. The soft touch of his mouth mesmerized me. I parted my lips for him, letting desire draw me down.

  Shay’s kiss deepened; his hand ran along my back, tracing the length of my braid, sliding beneath my shirt to stroke my skin. I felt like I was drinking sunlight. My fingers moved from his chest to his neck and stroked the line of his jaw. I pressed into him, wanting to know more of the mysteries he pulled so easily from my body. More of this freedom, this wildness.

  Shay grasped my hips and in a swift motion turned us, pinning me to the floor. His hands moved beneath my shirt, his body pressing hard against mine. I could smell his rising desire mixing with my own, our feverish need infusing the air like lightning about to strike. Instead of being pulled down into him, I was rising up, legs wrapping around him. His fingers moved carefully, tracing my curves, lingering in places that stole my breath, binding me to him and yet setting me free. My own gasp of pleasure against his mouth brought the world hurtling back.

  The room spun as I pulled out of his embrace, stumbling toward the table. My heart rammed against my ribs, insistent and painful.

  I can’t do this, I can’t. But I wanted to. More than anything.

  He scrambled to his feet, smiling at me. The warm light was in his eyes again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I stomped angrily back to my chair without speaking, hating myself, my body still aching from when I’d wrenched free of Shay.

  “Oh, right.” His smile flattened. “Kissing rules and your impending nuptials. When is that happening again?”

  “Samhain.” My heart cramped when I thought about how close it was.

  “So—what?” He tried to sound out the word. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

  I crumpled a piece of paper and threw it at him. “For someone whose name most people would read as SEE-MUSS, that’s pretty pathetic.”

  He picked up my notebook missile, tossing it in the nearest wastebasket. “Just because I have an Irish name doesn’t make me an expert in all old languages.”

  “You’re pretty good at Latin,” I countered.

  “Which is why I don’t have time to learn all the others,” he said.

  “Fair enough,” I said. “Samhain. SOW-WHEN.”

  “Okay, Samhain.” He pronounced it correctly. “Your wedding day. So when is it?”

  “October thirty-first.”

  “Halloween?” He scowled. “How romantic.”

  “Halloween doesn’t matter. Samhain does.” I threw him a warning glare, which he ignored.

  “And it’s a big deal because . . .” He waved his hand to mimic smoke rising in the air.

  “The Keepers can renew their powers that night. The veil between the worlds is thinnest at Samhain.”

  Shay’s hand dropped. “What worlds?”

  “This one and the nether.”

  “Sounds scary.” He grabbed a pen and jotted some notes, but I saw his fingers shaking. I wondered if it was from actual fear or if his body was still taut with frustrated desire like mine.

  “It probably is,” I agreed. “Luckily the Guardians just patrol the perimeter. I’ve never had to see what they do.”

  I suddenly felt queasy.

  “Whoa.” Shay peered at me. “You’re all green. What’s up?”

  I gripped the edge of the table, wishing the dizziness would subside. “I’ll have to see it this year.”

  He leaned forward. “Why?”

  “The ceremony is different this time.” My nails took a thin peel of varnish off the table. “Because they picked that night for the union, I’ll be there.”

  “Do you know what it involves?” His own face had whitened.

  “No,” I said. “The ritual of the union is a secret. I don’t know much about it at all.”

  “Sucks for you,” he muttered. “Like everything else about this.”

  “Stop it, Shay.” I tried to start reading again.

  “I don’t see why you can’t bend the rules,” he pressed. “From what I’ve been told, Ren’s dated half of Vail.”

  He looked at me as though expecting a shocked response.

  “Everyone knows that. It doesn’t matter. That was his choice.” I kept my eyes on the table. “The rules are different for him.”

  “So, what, boys will be boys and girls have to behave?” he scoffed.

  “I’m the alpha female.” I hooked my ankles around the chair’s legs. “No one can touch me. It’s the Keepers’ Law.”

  “But Ren can touch whoever he wants?” he asked. “’Cause it sounds like he does.”

  “He’s an alpha male. The hunt is in his nature.” My ankle lock on the chair legs was so tight I heard the wood creak. I didn’t want Shay to ask the ques
tion I could see on his face.

  He frowned. “But if you’re an alpha too, wouldn’t the hunt be part of your nature?”

  I didn’t answer. My legs felt like they were on fire.

  “And I touched you . . .” His fingers twitched, as if he wished he were touching me now. Does he want me as much as I want him?

  “I shouldn’t have let you.” My body went limp. “Can we talk about something else, please?”

  “But it’s not fair—” He reached for my hand.

  I leaned away from him. “Fair has nothing to do with it. It’s about tradition. Tradition is important to the Keepers.”

  “But what about . . .” His words trailed off.

  “The union is too close.” I slipped my hands under the table. “I’m not free. And for your information, Ren is not dating anyone else now either.”

  “Is he dating you?” Shay slammed his laptop shut.

  “It’s complicated.” Actually, it’s simple. I belong to Ren, not you.

  He dropped into his chair. “I can’t stand that guy. He acts like he owns you.”

  “You don’t understand him.” I squirmed at the futility of the conversation. “And you will not kiss me again, Shay Doran.”

  “I won’t promise that,” he said.

  I turned away, hoping he wouldn’t notice the warm blush that had crept over my cheeks. I didn’t want his promise, but that choice wasn’t mine. I have to stop this, now.

  “Fine.” I tried to make my voice cold. “I’m sure you’d go through life ably enough with only one hand.”

  He jerked his hands from the table. “You wouldn’t.”

  I laughed. “You’ll just have to decide if you’re willing to risk it.”

  He shuddered, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

  “I didn’t catch that.” Frustration snaked through my belly, making it tighten. I wanted him to touch me again, and I was furious with myself for it and with him for making me feel like this.

  “Just nice to know I’m falling for a vestal virgin,” he said, anger clouding his own face.