Nightshade

by Андреа Кремер

  Shaken by his words, I pulled out the notes he’d given me that morning, not wanting to think about how little time we had left. He bent over my shoulder.

  “So what did you make of that?”

  “Nothing new.” I handed him the piece of paper. “Except what you’ve already said.”

  “What do you think the ‘harvest child’ means?” He frowned at his own scribblings.

  “I think it means more research.” I slid back my chair.

  “Hang on,” he said, pushing a book along the surface of the table into my hands. “I thought you’d want to see this for yourself.”

  I opened the cover and stared at the handwritten title page. Haldis Annals. The years inscribed below were the first five of my own life.

  “Ren’s mother?” I murmured.

  He nodded. I fell silent as I paged through the book until I found the entry. Shay sat quietly while I read, though he stirred when I closed the text, brushing tears from my cheeks.

  “My parents were there,” I said. “The Keepers sent the Nightshades after the Searchers. But the pack didn’t know . . . no one knew what had happened to Corinne. The Keepers gave her to a wraith.”

  “Calla—” He reached for me, but I backed away, shaking my head.

  “I’ll be fine.” I headed for the spiral staircase that led to the balcony. “We have work to do.”

  About twenty minutes later I returned with an armload of texts, dropping them on the table. I picked up the largest of the books, offering Shay a thin smile, and began to read.

  We sat side by side, the silence of the library broken intermittently by the scratch of a pencil or the crackle of a turning page. Shadows poured into the room while the large grandfather clock in the corner chimed the passing of another hour.

  I blinked at the paragraph I’d been reading about Sabbat rituals. “Hey.” I read it again.

  Shay rubbed his eyes, yawning. “Find something?”

  I scanned another page of The Great Rites. “Maybe. When’s your birthday?”

  He didn’t look up from his reading. “August first.”

  I clapped. The noise made him jump.

  “What?”

  I leapt to my feet, spinning in mini-celebration. “It’s you! You’re the harvest child. They’re interchangeable terms—the Scion and the harvest child are the same person.”

  “What are you talking about?” he said. “My birthday is the middle of the summer; wouldn’t the harvest child have been born in autumn, when people are actually harvesting?”

  “No.” My grin broadened. “This is where my research pays off. Since I was reading about Samhain, I decided to read about the other Sabbats. The first of August is the witches’ harvest in the Wheel of the Year. You are the harvest child; it has to be you. We finally found something!”

  He blinked at me and then looked back at the crinkled page we’d been handing back and forth all afternoon. “So it’s all about me. This passage . . . whatever is supposed to happen at the Samhain rite.”

  My smile faded at the sight of his worried face. “Yes, yes, it is.”

  “Samhain,” he murmured. “That’s tonight.”

  “Yes.” I chewed on my lip. “But nothing’s happening with you tonight. There’s no way. All the Keepers are focused on the union. That’s where they’ll be. It has nothing to do with the Scion—tonight’s ritual is only about the new pack.”

  “Well, the prophecy just states the day, not the year,” he said. “And prophecies are about the future, right?”

  “You think it’s a far-off event?”

  “It must be.” He nodded, but his eyes were still troubled. “At least that’s some sort of progress,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Didn’t you say Bryn was coming over at five thirty to get you ready for your big night?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “It’s six.” He turned the watch face toward me.

  “She’s going to kill me.” I began stuffing my notes into my bag. “We won’t have time to hang out at Blood Moon.”

  “I thought you were getting ready for the union.” He frowned.

  “We are,” I said. “But the ceremony is near the site of the ball. Everyone involved gathers at Blood Moon to dance and drink for a couple of hours so they can all toast our health or something. But we’ll leave and go to the Samhain ritual while the humans are still distracted by the party.”

  “I see,” Shay murmured.

  I didn’t want to leave him, but there was nothing left to say. No shared laughter could dull this pain.

  I pulled on my coat and he nodded. His smile couldn’t mask the sadness in his eyes. “Good luck, Calla.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  “THERE. THAT’S THE LAST ONE.” BRYN turned me around so she could make her inspection.

  “Why are there so many buttons?” I asked, wondering how I would ever get the dress off again.

  “They’re called embellishments, Calla. Your mother loves them.” She pointed an eye shadow brush at me. “Are you sure you don’t want makeup? I could at least do your eyes. Really make them pop.”

  “No. No makeup.” I wondered why I’d want my eyes to “pop”; it sounded grotesque. “I agreed to let you do my hair. But I do not wear makeup.” I was trying hard not to be sick; if anything popped, it was going to be my stomach.

  “You’re going to ruin it.” She slapped my hand away as I reached to touch the carefully pinned arrangement of curls she had expertly piled on the top of my head. “No touching. Are you sure about the eyes?”

  I smiled at Bryn. She was stunning. More than stunning. Her chin-length ringlets were styled much in the usual way, but their bronze highlights shimmered in contrast to the inky shade of her silk empire-waisted gown, which skimmed her body like it had been spun from the night sky. It wasn’t fair.

  Bryn and the other Haldis females would go to the union in subtle beauty, like priestesses of a dark goddess. I looked like a wedding cake, and I was sure it was my mother’s fault.

  “No eyes, no lips. Nothing.” I gestured to my floor-length gown. “This is plenty. Any more and I will spontaneously combust.”

  “Fine.” She packed her beauty supplies into what resembled a large toolbox.

  There was a light knock at the door. Ansel’s muffled voice sounded anxious from the other side.

  “Are you guys done yet? Mason’s already called twice. The rest of the pack thought we’d gone into a ditch or something.”

  I glanced at Bryn. “Do you have some sort of grand entrance planned?”

  “Nah. He can come in.”

  “Okay, Ansel. We’re ready,” I called.

  The door swung open and Ansel stepped inside. Bryn pivoted on her sharp heels, ambushing him with a devastating smile. My brother stopped in his tracks. He paled, then flushed bright red, and then paled again. His lips parted, but only a strangled sound bubbled from his throat, and he abandoned his attempt at speech for the sake of sighing.

  Bryn crossed the room and took his hands. “Thank you.”

  She brushed his cheek with her lips and began to turn back to me. But Ansel grabbed her, kissing her full on the lips while she melted into his arms. I looked away, feeling foolish for the biting jealousy that struck me whenever Ansel and Bryn were together. They found each other and they’re happy.

  What if I’ve found happiness that I have to leave behind?

  After an uncomfortable period where I stared at my shoes, Bryn murmured: “We’ll continue this conversation later.”

  “I didn’t hear that, and I’m turning around now,” I said.

  Ansel grinned at me, lipstick covering his mouth.

  “You need to go wash your face.” I laughed.

  “Oh, right. You look great by the way,” he said before he headed for the bathroom.

  Bryn bounced back toward me, fishing in her handbag for lipstick, skin flushed, nearly glowing, and I wanted to hit her out of spite. I doubted I’d be glowing from happiness during the ceremony.

&nbs
p; Ansel reappeared at the door, jangling the car keys. “Let’s get this party started.”

  The three of us stood watching dancers twirl on the other side of French doors that separated the ballroom from the garden terrace. Blood Moon was hosted by Efron Bane and took place at one of his five-star hotels on the outskirts of Vail, a palatial Victorian resort that rested on the edge of a dense forest. At the far end of the ballroom a chamber orchestra sent waltzes soaring through the air. Dark satin draperies, floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows, and hundreds of candelabras made the atmosphere appropriately Halloweenish. A near-translucent paper sphere, dyed red, cocooned the ballroom’s chandelier, washing the room in ochre hues. Our very own Blood Moon.

  An ornate table along one wall featured a huge cauldron, complete with dry-ice smoke spilling out and as many delectable hors d’oeuvres and desserts as one could imagine. Keepers, Guardians, and humans alike swirled to the music decked in their finest. Viewing them through the blur of the glass doors was like watching an array of brightly colored baubles float past.

  “It’s no Eden, but it looks nice enough.” Bryn winked at me. “Too bad we can’t join in.”

  “I said I was sorry about being late,” I muttered.

  “I can’t believe you were tutoring on the night of your union,” she said with a pointed stare, pulling me away from Ansel and whispering. “You and Shay must really like your classes. Care to fill me in on that? Do you have some tips you’d like to offer me and Ansel?”

  “I already told Ansel you guys had the wrong idea,” I said. “Didn’t he fill you in?”

  “I thought maybe you’d have a different answer for me,” she said. “You know—girl talk. If you wanna spill before you walk down the aisle, now’s the time.”

  “Drop it.” The mere mention of Shay made me want to bolt. The union meant I was losing him, and that felt like losing everything. I was in no mood for teasing.

  “I’d better go see if we’re on schedule,” Ansel said, turning away from the blurred colors of the ball. “Oh hey, there’s Ren now.”

  “Oh!” Bryn hurried after Ansel. “I’ll go with you, then.”

  I ignored the sudden wrench of my gut, walking to meet Ren at the edge of the terrace. His tuxedo skimmed close to his lean body; the dark jacket and pants contrasted with the gray vest and tie. I smiled at the sight. Those were Ren’s colors when he was a wolf.

  “That dress is a ceremony in itself, Lily. How long did it take you to get it on?”

  “Too long.” I reached for my braid out of habit. When it wasn’t there, nervous energy pricked my skin. “Are you okay? I’ve been worried.”

  “Yes.” He laughed, low and sharp. “As much as I will never like that kid, Dax told me what Shay did to keep Logan at bay. Classy move. I owe him; he’s more perceptive than I gave him credit for.”

  I made a quiet, affirmative sound, rubbing my arms so I wouldn’t shiver.

  The harvest child, the Scion. Shay’s face flashed before my eyes. It’s all about me.

  Ren’s light touch on my arm pulled me out of my own thoughts. “I know it’s not your style, but you do look amazing,” he said. “As long as you can walk under all those layers.”

  “Thanks.” I ran my fingers over his tie. “You do too.”

  “So.” He reached into his pocket. “I have something for you.”

  “What?” I was completely caught off guard. Why would he have brought me a gift? Was I supposed to have a gift for him?

  The hint of a blush flitted over Ren’s cheeks. His nervousness made my heart pick up speed.

  “It’s just . . .” he began, and then paused. He paced a few feet away and then returned to my side. Finally his eyes met mine, tender and vulnerable. My breath faltered at the unfamiliar mix of emotions on the alpha’s face. Ansel’s words echoed in my mind. He’s not as confident as he puts on—especially when it comes to you.

  Ren drew his hand from his pocket, his fist clenched tightly around something. He took my wrist, turning it so my palm offered a flat, level surface.

  Something cool dropped into my hand. He snatched his fingers back, moving away as if he’d placed a ticking bomb in my grasp. I glanced down and sucked in a startled breath.

  In the middle of my palm lay a delicate ring. A smooth, polished oval sapphire gleamed up at me; the stone had been set in a silver band that was exquisitely wrought in a braided pattern. I stared in silence at the ring. My hand began to shake.

  Ren kept his distance.

  “The band is white gold,” he murmured. “It reminds me of your hair.”

  I pulled my gaze from the ring and looked at him. His eyes returned to mine, questioning. I parted my lips, but a lump in my throat obstructed any words I willed to surface. The quivering in my hand spread through the rest of my body.

  His charcoal irises flickered with disappointment. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it. I just thought you should have something before the union.

  My father said rings aren’t usually a part of this, but I want you to know that I . . .”

  He shook his head; a low growl rumbled in his chest. “Never mind,” he said, reaching for the ring as if to snatch it from my still-open palm. I snapped my fingers shut and pulled my hand against my chest. He blinked at me, startled by the sudden, protective movement. I finally managed to clear my throat, though I didn’t recognize the voice that escaped me, quaking, husky.

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” He does care about me. About us. I wondered if I could get through this night after all.

  Unwelcome stinging assailed my eyes and I dropped my gaze. I slowly unfurled my tightly clenched fist and slipped the ring onto my finger.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you.”

  He moved close to me and took my hand, running his fingertip over the ring. “You do.”

  Bryn reappeared on the terrace, this time with Dax at her side.

  “It’s time,” Dax said. Ren nodded; he brushed his lips over my forehead before following Dax down the stairs.

  “You ready for this?” Bryn asked. She offered me a bright smile, but I could hear an edge of fear in her voice.

  “I’m not sure that’s the right question,” I said. I glanced at the ring again. This is where I belong. I’ve always known my path. Now I have to walk it.

  “Just know that I’ll be right behind you.” Bryn took my arm. “None of the pack will let anything bad happen.”

  “You’re not allowed to participate,” I said, letting her lead me out, down the steps and into the forest.

  “You think they’ll be able to stop us if you’re in trouble?” She elbowed me, making a smile pull at my lips.

  “Thanks.”

  “And you look beautiful,” she added.

  “I look like a cake.”

  “But a beautiful cake.”

  Our giggles transformed into miniature clouds in the cold night air. We walked into the darkness, Bryn taking me along a path I didn’t know, deeper and deeper into the forest, a thin layer of fresh snow glittering like a carpet of diamonds. The sounds of the ball faded and disappeared. I took in the serenity of the unblemished snowfall, knowing I’d soon mar it with some creature’s blood. I glanced up at the moon, wondering again about the kill, what our prey would be.

  Blood moon. The hunter’s moon. Tonight is a night for killing. I let the moonlight pour into me, hoping it would summon my hunger for prey, but those instincts lay buried deep beneath my fear.

  “How much farther?” I asked, but saw the torchlight before she could answer. Flames pulsed in the gaps between the tall pines, which circled the opening in the woods like the bars of a cage.

  “I have to go in first.” She hugged me, leaving me outside the ring. “Naomi said you’ll know when to come. It’s going to be fine. You’re badass, remember?”

  “Of course.” My twisting gut didn’t feel badass at all; it felt like pudding.

  “And I hear brides get to go all diva at these sorts o
f things,” she said, grinning. “So if you want, you can make Ren wait a little longer; it’ll be good for him.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “I love you, Cal.” She kissed my cheek and headed for the ring of torches.

  I watched her go, fighting to steady my heartbeat, desperate to slow my breath. I didn’t trust my limbs; my body felt strange and unbalanced, like a foal trying to learn how to walk.

  Calla, you know you have to do this. This is what you were made for. This is who you are.

  Then why did I want to run? Shouldn’t I feel drawn to my own destiny?

  I put my hands over my face, struggling for calm. A steady drumbeat rose from the circle ahead, summoning spirits to the ritual. Gathering my heavy skirts in my fists, I started toward the clearing, wanting to catch a peek of what I’d be walking into.

  The scent stopped me in my tracks. I glanced around, alarmed. It couldn’t be. But it was unmistakable—that smell of rainfall and plants straining for the sun. Shay.

  For a minute my mind flashed to the ceremony. Efron speaking, “Whosoever objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Shay leaping from the shadows and tearing me out of Ren’s arms.

  I’m totally losing it. I tried to shake away the scent, the treacherous vision. It couldn’t be real. Not only was I sure there was no place in the ritual at which anyone would ask if there were objections to the union, but Shay wouldn’t be here to rescue me. There was no way.

  But when I took another breath, the scent was still there, pulling me away from the grove toward the forest shadows. I hesitated, torn by the compulsion to go to the ceremony and the need to know where the scent was coming from, if it was even real. I didn’t know how much longer I could put off my entrance.

  A new sound wove between the trees. Sabine’s voice, sweet and sorrowful, pierced the air. Another voice joined hers, Neville. Their harmonies entwined, singing of battle and sacrifice, one more reminder that the union wasn’t about romance, but duty.

  The warrior’s song. I had a little more time. Turning from the torchlight, I stole into the darkness, following the scent. It grew stronger as I moved through the trees farther into shadow and away from the flames.