"May already be hurt. I'm going to him."
To my amazement, Lor pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and punched a number. "Damian? She says Patrick's at the Thrifty Sip. Yeah. Okay."
"You're stubborn," said Lor as he shut the phone and shoved it into his pocket. "And you better hope you know what you're doing."
Yeah, I knew what I was doing all right. I was going to save the man I loved. At the Thrifty Sip.
Chapter 29
For the second time tonight, I stabbed someone in the gut. Granted, the skinny, foul-breathed fool tried to claw out my eyes, but still, it was icky and nauseating to render him painfully unconscious with the fulaing move. Lor didn't need weapons to punch out the other guard.
"They both have the Taint, Jessica," he said, quietly.
I handed him one sword. After we cut off their heads and they blew into dust, we entered the dark and empty Thrifty Sip. Lor returned the sword to me and I held them at the ready.
"Two guards," I said. "That's all they put on this place?"
"Two of their sickest people. Most didn't escape the cave-in. The guardians went to the location and threw flash bombs in every nook and cranny."
"But a few must've escaped."
"Enough to retaliate by bombing the gym."
"And to kidnap Patrick." Panic burbled through me again, but I quelled the clawing fear. He wasn't dead. I would know if Patrick was dead.
I also knew that the Wraiths would return to Broken Heart. If Ron had escaped the destruction of the caves, he would come back with a lot more bad guys. Not only to get the cure for the disease he'd probably put out into the vampire world, but also for revenge. He seemed like the kind of guy who relished punishing people.
While Lor checked out the front, I hurried toward the back. On my right was the tiny hallway that led to the restrooms. At the end of it was the opened door leading to the storage room. In less than a minute, I'd found the entrance to the basement.
A bare bulb hung from the ceiling, its paltry light barely illuminating the space.
"Patrick!" The swords clattered to the concrete and I rushed to him, kneeling on his left side. "Lorćan! He's down here!"
Within a second, Lor was kneeling on the other side of his brother.
Patrick's shirt was missing. And his shoes and socks. All he wore was the pair of black Dockers I'd last seen him in. He looked paler than usual, but other than the big gaping hole in the middle of his chest… God oh God. Who was I kidding? I tried not to give way to panic.
"It'll heal," I said, hearing the desperation in my voice. "He's a vampire. An ancient one. He has more power in his little pinky than most vampires have in their whole bodies. This is nothing. It's… a… a scratch."
"Jessica. They took his heart."
I looked at him, not understanding. Vampires were dead. We didn't need things like hearts and lungs and bladders. So, Patrick wouldn't have a heart. He'd live. That was the important thing. He'd live.
"When a human is Turned, certain organs are no longer needed and they shut down," explained Lor in a quiet voice. "However, we need our hearts. After we feed, we require the heart to pump the blood through us. Once it does, it shuts down."
"But I thought a vampire could only be killed if his head was cut off or he walked into the dawn. I mean… a stake to the heart won't kill us, right? He's alive right now."
"Because he's ancient and stubborn." Lor looked at me, and I saw the truth in his gaze.
"You can't expect me to say good-bye to him. He's my soul mate. I love him."
"I'm so sorry, Jessica," said Lor. "But a vampire can't live without a heart." He paused, obviously gauging how to comfort me. "If it's any consolation, you're lucky you are not bound to him. Otherwise—"
"I know. I would be dying, too. Except Lor… I am dying." I waved him away. "Go away. Just… please. I'll call you in a minute."
Lor turned into mist and slipped away, leaving me alone with Patrick. I leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I understand now. At least… I think I do." I took a precious second to steady myself then hollered, "Ruadan, you get your ass here now!"
He appeared instantly, kneeling on the opposite side of his son, where Lor had been moments ago. He looked down at his dying boy, for the second time in four millennia, and smiled sadly.
"You could've mentioned this part," I said.
"Well… that's the problem with seeing into the future. Too many variables." He brushed a lock of hair away from Patrick's forehead. "It's easy to sacrifice for a child."
That was the last thing I expected him to say. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"A child earns sacrifice just by being beloved of his parents. For a woman, born of her body. For a man, created by his seed. Is it a difficult choice… your life for the lives of your children?"
"No. Of course not. My kids are important. More important than anything. Even me."
"Yeah. I know. And I think it's easier to give up your life for your kids than to risk your heart for the love of a soul mate."
What a stupid thing to say. I looked at Patrick. He was leaving the world before I could right the wrongs between us. I loved him… and Ruadan was sitting here asking me how much I loved him. If I loved him more than my children. Damnation. Love wasn't a strong enough word for how I felt about Patrick. "He said something to me once. Something important. And beautiful. Tá mo..."
"Tá mo chroí istigh ionat," said Ruadan. "My heart is within you."
I nodded. I got it. I finally freaking got it. And it was okay. Patrick had gone beyond the veil to find me, to return me to the earthly plane. He'd given me back my life twice and never asked for one thing in return. How was that for love? For sacrifice? "You'll make sure Jenny and Bryan go to Paris? And if you do get them Porsches, you make sure they go to driving school. Or rocket school. I'm not sure what the classification of a Porsche is."
"What are you saying, Jessica?"
"His heart," I said softly, "is within me." I looked at Ruadan, resolved. "What are you waiting for? Give it to him already!"
"You would give your heart to him so that he would live? What about Jenny and Bryan?"
"I'm their mother. My only wish is for them to be protected, happy, and loved. They have all of those things because of Patrick. And so do I." I waved my hands at him. I was terrified to do this. To make this offer. My mind flew to my kids who seemed content enough in the RV. Jenny played with her Bratz dolls. Bryan had discovered an Xbox and a stash of Pepsis. I love you, I sent into their minds. I love you, my babies.
I looked at Ruadan. "Well? Go on. Give my heart to your son."
Ruadan grinned. "You already have." He looked down at Patrick. "Is she always so melodramatic?"
"Sometimes," croaked Patrick, his eyes opening. "But she's so cute, I put up with it."
"Patrick!" I leaned down and peppered kisses on his face. "I'm here. Oh honey, I'm here. I love you. Don't forget that, okay? I love you a lot."
"I know, mo ghrá."
"Are you ready, Jessica?"
"Yes." I held Patrick's hand, staring into his gorgeous silver eyes. "I love you," I said again. "I don't think that can be overstated." Then, taking a deep breath, I looked at Ruadan and waited.
He put out his hand, palm side up, and aimed it at my chest. In amazement, I watched gold glittering swirls form. With his other hand, he pointed at his own chest. Red magic seeped out, whirling to join the gold. They bound together, a circle of pulsating light, and drifted like a big snowflake into Patrick's chest wound. "I call upon the deamhan and the sidhe," Ruadan prayed. "To heal their son, flesh of their flesh, magic of their magic. So do I will it, so mote it be."
I watched in terrified amazement as the whirling lights weaved into a heart. A real heart. The pulsating organ connected to the veins. Then the flesh sealed itself and within seconds, no wound existed at all. I stared at Patrick then looked at Ruadan, mouth gaping.
"Neat, huh?" he said. "I like the sparkling lights the best."
"That's it?" I asked.
"Yep. Need a hand up, son?" He grasped his son's shoulder and hauled him to a sitting position.
"Thanks, Dad."
"You kids have fun!" He disappeared. Just pop… and he was gone.
Patrick pulled me into his lap and kissed me until I was a puddle of goo. I wrenched my mouth from his and stared at him. "I don't understand."
"My father's a show-off, love."
"But the whole heart business…"
"The important thing, Jessica, is that you were willing to give your heart for mine. You love me that much?"
"Duh." I traced his face from temples to jaw. Happiness trilled through me. I loved this man. And he was mine oh mine. Woo-hoo! "Wanna go have hot all-the-way monkey sex?" I waggled my brows.
"So, you want to bind? You're sure?"
"Oh yeah. But I don't just want a hundred years." I cupped his face and looked at him, my beautiful vampire, and said, "I want you forever."
"It just so happens," said Patrick, "I have forever free."
My New Family
by Jennifer Matthews O'Halloran
My name is Jennifer. I am almost ten years old. I am not a vampire. Sometimes I wish I was a vampire so that I could bite my dumb big brother Bryan. He is a butthead.
I have a new daddy. His name is Patrick. He says I should always remember my real daddy. And just 'cause he died doesn't mean I have to stop loving him. I like Patrick.
When my new daddy and my mommy got married, Patrick gave her the same ring she always wears. I watched him put the heart on the outside of Mommy's finger. He says that means her heart is occupied. Then Mommy put a chain with this pretty silver coin on it around his neck. Then they kissed and it was all gross. Marybeth said it was "romantic." Yuck.
Anyway, Patrick bought me a tiara. He also bought me a pony. My mommy wasn't happy about the pony, even though we have lots of space in the backyard of our new house.
I have a new grandpa, too. We call him Ru because it's easier to say than his real name. He promised to take us to Paris on Christmas break. He also bought me a tiara.
My uncle Lor spends a lot of time in the library bus. He tells me all the time why it's important to write stuff down. So I am. He also bought me a tiara, and Mommy said, "Enough already." (So I didn't tell her that Drake and Darrius gave me one, too.)
Finally, I have a new baby brother. His name is Richie. He's really cute and sweet. He is not a butthead. Or a vampire. Mommy says he's ours forever because his mother went away.
Well, I guess that's it.
For now.
Glossary
Celtic Irish Words/Terms
A ghrá mo chroí: Love of my heart
A thaisce: My dear/darling/treasure
Bard: Poet-Druid (see Fill). Storyteller and singer of Celtic tribes.
Céadsearc: First love/beloved one
Droch fhola: Bad or evil blood
Druid: The philosopher, teacher, and judge of Celtic tribes
Filí: (Old Irish) Poet-Druid (see Bard)
Go dtachta an diabhal thú: May the devil choke you (Irish curse)
Leamhán sléibhe: A Wych Elm (the only species of Elm native to Ireland)
mo chroí: My heart
Ovate: Healer-Druid. Healer and seers of Celtic tribes.
German Words/Terms
Liebling: Darling
Mein freund: My friend
Other Words/Terms
Ankh: Ancient Egyptian symbol that means "life"
Jessica's Glossary
Stuff No One Told Me So I Figured It Out On My Own, Damn You All
Ancient: Refers to one of the original seven vampires. The very first vampire was Ruadan, who is the father of Patrick, my husband. Ruadan is supposed to be this awesome and terrifying creature. But he's really like a kid who thinks the world is a candy store. Some people fear him. Me? I have to keep telling him to stop sliding on the tile in his socks.
Banning: If you piss off an Ancient, they shoot your ass into limbo and you have to stay there (see World Between Worlds) until you meet the conditions of the spell. It's not too often that someone gets released from banning because they're usually loser assholes who deserve to spend their lives in limbo.
The Binding: When vampires have consummation sex, they're hitched for a hundred freaking years. This was Ruadan the First's brilliant idea to keep horny vamps from screwing while blood-taking. In other words, if a penis meets a vagina (or other orifice) for a little fun-fun, they better really like each other. No one's ever broken a binding.
The Consortium: About five hundred years ago, Patrick and Lor created the Consortium to figure out ways that paranormal folks could make the world a better place for everyone (this is the opposite goal from other vamps—see Wraiths). A lot of the sudden leaps in human medicine and technology are because of the Consortium's work. And so I blame them for PDAs, which I hate and still haven't figured out how to use.
Drone: Mortals who do the bidding of their vampire Masters. The most famous was Igor—drone to Dracula. The Consortium's Code of Ethics forbids the use of drones, but plenty of vampires still use drones.
Family: Every vampire can be traced to one of the seven ancients. The ancients are divided into the Seven Sacred Sects (it still cracks me up to say it out loud), otherwise known as the Families.
Lycan or Lycanthrope: A shape-shifter who turns into a wolf. Lycans have been around a long time (originally from Germany) and are, in fact, the basis for humans' myths about werewolves. They worship the lunar goddess (thus the whole full moon thing), but they can change anytime they want. They're in big-time trouble because they don't have a lot of females and only one out of three children born live past their first year.
Master: The vampire who successfully Turns a human is the new vamp's protector. Basically, a Master is supposed to show the Turn-blood how to survive as a vampire. A Turn-blood has the protection of the Family (see Family or Seven Sacred Sects) to which their Master belongs.
Seven Sacred Sects: The vampire tree has seven branches. Each branch is called a Family and each Family is directly traced to one of the seven ancients. The older you are, the more mojo you get. A vampire's powers are related to his Family. For instance, only the vampires from the Family Ruadan can fly (because Ruadan is sidhe or fae or fairy).
Taint: This is the Black Plague for vampires. We're close to a real cure, but our brilliant scientist Stan is still creating formulas.
Turn-blood: A human who's been recently Turned into a vampire. If you're less than a century old, you're a Turn-blood.
Turning: Vampires can't have babies. They perpetuate their bad selves by Turning humans. Unfortunately, only one in about ten humans actually makes the transition. I haven't seen anyone Turned, but my friend Linda assures me it's gross and not to be attempted. Ever.
World Between Worlds: It's like limbo. According to Ruadan, there's a place between this plane and the next where there is a void. Some people can slip back and forth between this "veil," but it's a sucky place to take a permanent vacation.
Wraiths: Vampires with a crazy idea about world order. They're run by Ron, who's been running around for three thousand years doing all kinds of evil and stuff. I heard he has the Taint. I don't know if he does, but his minions keep getting in our hair. I'm getting really annoyed with them.
Author's Note
In creating the story about Ruadan in the Legends of the Seven Ancients, I researched Celtic myths and Irish lore. In particular, I read up on the Fomhoire and the Tuatha de Danann. I narrowed my focus on Bres and Brigid, who were the parents of Ruadan, and his part in a tale called The Second Battle of Magh Tuiredh.
Research is both a boon and a burden. No one tells the stories with the same details. No one agrees on the parentage of anyone. And no one spells the names just one way. Irish myths and folklore were oral traditions passed along for centuries. It seems that around the seventh century, a Christian monk finally said, "Wait. I gotta write this down
. Do you have some cowhide and a quill pen?"
The stories we know today as Irish mythology are probably not the stories that grandparents told their grandchildren thousands of years ago. When we pass along heritage and history to the next generation, it's only natural that we shine it up, embellish it, and make it worthy—from our own perspective—for passing along.
In other words, my dear and darling readers, I picked out bits and pieces of Irish lore, chose my favorite spelling of names, and fabricated my own myth. So, yeah. I'm probably wrong about places, times, people, and intent. The reason I write novels instead of nonfiction books is because I can fictionalize historical accounts and rewrite mythology to suit my own purposes.
If one day, hundreds of years from now, an archaeologist dusts off the yellowed, crumbling pages of I'm the Vampire, That's Why, and discovers the story of Ruadan from Legends of the Seven Ancients, and gets a big, fat commission for discovering an important lost work… well, then… that would be really freaking cool.
But for now, you and I know the real story.
Don't we?
About The Author
In junior high school, Michele Bardsley desecrated paper daily with angst-filled poetry, angst-filled journals, and angst-filled short stories. Eventually she wandered off to college to get a journalism degree, but she ended up majoring in marriage and motherhood. She promptly failed housework, plant care, and staying calm in the face of big owies.
Born and raised in Oklahoma, Michele now lives in Florida, where she is held hostage by her two children, her husband, and three cats. Occasionally they remember to feed her, but mostly she's forced to nibble on copy paper while eking out her next story. The manacles make it difficult to type, but she manages.
E-mail her at [email protected] or visit her Web site at www.MicheleBardsley.com.
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