Secrets in Blood

by Patricia D. Eddy

  Subtle vibrations against her chest confused her until his deep voice broke through her fog. “Evangeline. Say something, cara. Per favore. Dio, non prenderla da me.”

  Nic cradled her against him, smoothing her hair away from her face. “Can you hear me?”

  “Sick.” She coughed again, more water dribbling down her chin.

  “Shhh. I know. You are safe now. Relax.” He shifted her and wrapped her in a towel. Evangeline rested her head against his shoulder, too tired to move.

  “Water.” The word scraped over her raw throat, and a fresh wave of dizziness threatened. “Nic…”

  His scent surrounded her, but she couldn’t feel him—couldn’t feel anything until a cool cloth draped over her forehead. “Drink. Small sips.” Nic tipped a cup to her lips, and the blessedly cool liquid soothed her. “Buono. Do you know where you are?”

  “Cabin.” Two handsome vampires swam in her vision until she blinked hard and managed to focus on his classic features, now painted with worry.

  “You are in shock. Listen to me and do exactly as I say.” He rubbed her arms, and she wanted to do everything he asked, but panic set in.

  “No. No, not the in-in—”

  “I promise you, cara. I will never use the incantesimo on you. But I am a doctor—or I was for many years. You need water, warmth, and rest. And you must lie still and let me take care of you.”

  “Uh-huh.” She was too tired to argue, and his deep voice calmed her. “You heard me.”

  “I will always hear you.” Nic leaned closer and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Always. Now stay here and do not move while I refill the canteen.”

  As he rushed from the room, she closed her eyes, the comfort of sleep pulling her under until the bed dipped, and she found herself in his arms, her back against his bare chest.

  “You cannot sleep yet. You are still too dehydrated.” He held the canteen for her as she sipped. “Piu. More.”

  She did as he told her, too tired to argue. The intense drumbeat in her head faded to a dull thumping as Nic rubbed her arms, murmuring quietly in Italian.

  “I don’t…understand you.” She let her head rest on his shoulder, his tender, smooth voice holding her.

  “Just a prayer. Relax, but stay awake for me. Tell me how you found this place.”

  “I run,” she whispered. “When I hunt. It’s…the only time I feel free. I used to push myself, farther, faster. In every direction.” He helped her take another few sips of water, adjusting the blanket to cover her up to her neck. “One day, I got lost. I’d had a fight with Henry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Like the night I found you?” He kissed her cheek, and she smiled.

  “A little. But this time I had a compass. As I turned back towards the catacombs, I saw the sun glinting off one of the windows. I found the key above the door. There was so much dust, I knew it had been abandoned for years. After that day, I came here sometimes when I needed to think.”

  “Is this where you decided to escape?”

  “Yes.” Though Nic’s arms around her made her feel protected, safe, and warm, she had to sleep. Clutching the blanket, she tried to rise. “I’m okay now. I’m going to get some rest.”

  “No.” He pulled her back against him. “I have had your blood, Evangeline. The connection we now share allows me to sense your emotions, your physical health…everything about you. You nearly drowned, and you are still dehydrated. You’re sleeping here tonight. With me.”

  “I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “You are. Sleeping. Nothing else will happen. We both need rest, si?”

  She couldn’t argue with his reasoning, and though this thing between them frightened her, she didn’t want to be alone. “I need clothes,” she said. “In the trunk.”

  Nic moved so quickly she saw only a blur of black hair and golden skin before the trunk lid shut and he held out a flannel shirt and a pair of black panties. “I will help you.”

  Of course he would. Though Evangeline didn’t trust herself to stand at the moment, and Nic’s arm around her waist stopped her from hitting the floor when her knees buckled. He smoothed his hands down her arms once she’d donned the shirt, then started fastening the buttons. Her breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze. Why did she want him so desperately?

  Uncertainty churned in his dark eyes until he looked away, and she slid the panties up her legs. “Into bed now.”

  “Nic, I’m okay.” Her slurred speech belied her words, and she half-collapsed once he pulled back the blankets. “Or…not.”

  Stretching out next to her, Nic gathered her close, his warmth seeping into her and pulling her deeper towards sleep. “I will sense if you are ill in the night. Do not worry, cara. I will always protect you.”

  Too tired to reply, she relaxed into his gentle embrace. She wanted his mouth on hers, his hands in her hair. She ached to finish what she’d been too afraid to even start an hour ago. But not now. There would be time to examine her feelings again in the morning.

  Evangeline stretched, inhaling a warm, comforting scent. Part Nic and part…what the hell? She opened her eyes as Nic approached with a steaming mug in his hands. “Is that…coffee?”

  He smiled as he sat next to her, taking a sip when she reached for the drink. With a chuckle, he handed her the mug, and the scent invigorated her. “Instant, but si. Swill when you’ve had coffee in the piazze di Roma, but passable for now.”

  “What does piazze mean?” Nic slipped in and out of Italian easily, and she’d only recognized one word—Rome.

  “A town square. My apologies, cara. I have not spoken much at all in the past eighteen years, and my English is rusty.”

  “Not so rusty.” After another sip of the dark brew, she leaned back against the headboard. “Every few months, we’d get a supply drop. We’re not too far from Seattle, and from what I hear, the city is famous for its coffee. But Henry almost never ordered any. We weren’t allowed anything we could get dependent on. No coffee, no alcohol, no sugar.”

  “I cannot wait to introduce you to gelato.”

  “Whenever visitors from the other catacombs came, they complained about our lack of luxuries.”

  Nic tensed, and something dark and dangerous churned in his eyes. “There are other catacombs? Other groups working to end my kind? Quanti? Merda. How many?”

  Evangeline set her coffee down and reached for him. “Nic, what’s wrong?”

  “How many?” His voice turned hoarse, and he’d paled, his breath quickening and his hands curled into fists at his sides. “Please, Evangeline. I must know.”

  “Two? At least. Portland and Vancouver. Henry rarely talked about them.”

  Springing to his feet, he started to pace. “I must find a phone. Your escape will make it more difficult for your father to manufacture the serum, but he will find a way. If the other catacombs have prisoners of their own…” He shuddered, and his shoulders hunched. “Eighteen years ago, many of the American vampires—young ones with little history—had started to oppose the Conclave’s prohibition on feeding and controlling humans. Their stupidity contributed to the Hand of God’s bigotry against the entire vampire race.”

  “So…Henry was right? Some vampires do want to kill us…”

  Nic returned to Evangeline’s side, and when he met her gaze, the seriousness of his words frightened her. “Not kill. But control, yes. The mutation that makes us…” He shook his head. “We are so strong. Power corrupts. You have heard this saying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Imagine you were suddenly ten times as strong, immeasurably fast, and could remember everything you ever learned. Can you see the temptation the young ones must battle? It is our duty—those of us who have lived for centuries—to teach them. But sometimes, we fail. Still, the young ones do not deserve to die from the serum. No one should have to endure such pain. This is why I must get to a phone, and quickly. I must call the Conclave. We have to warn everyone.”

  “Is that
all the Conclave would do?” She couldn’t manage more than a whisper.

  “Cara, I cannot say. I am no longer one of them. Killing was never our way. Not unless we had no other choice. But the world may have changed dramatically during these long years. I cannot even be certain the Conclave still exists. But assuming they are still living, what would you have them do?”

  He’d lived for centuries. What advice could she possibly offer him? “I don’t know. There are children in the catacombs. Men and women my age who were indoctrinated with the Hand of God’s intolerance who, when faced with the truth, might turn out to be good people. Should they suffer because everything they were taught is a lie?” Needing something to do with her hands, Evangeline started worrying the blanket between her fingers.

  “I will tell you what I would suggest to the Conclave if I still had my position and the benefit of your council.”

  “My council?”

  “Si. I would be foolish to ignore the advice of one who lived her entire life taught of our evil ways.” Nic took her hand, his thumb rubbing slowly over the inside of her wrist. “I would tell the Conclave that the work of the Hand of God has the potential to kill us all. But I would also tell them of your acceptance—of how the intelligence of humans is stronger than the hate that the Hand of God is spreading.”

  “When will you go?”

  “Soon.”

  Evangeline chewed on her bottom lip. It’s not like I expected him to stay.

  “Will you come with me?”

  His question shocked her, and she pulled her hand away, trying to scoot back on the bed to put some distance between them, but there was nowhere to go. “To Italy?”

  “Yes. I do not like the idea of leaving you alone—unprotected. You saved my life. Let me repay you. Let me take you somewhere you will be safe. Help you start your new life.”

  “I’ve never even seen a plane.”

  “You would not have to pilot one,” he said with a chuckle. “Flying is not difficult.” His grin fell away, and he held her gaze. “I worry for you. What if your father finds you?”

  “I escaped once…with you in tow. I can take care of myself.”

  “You have never lived above ground. You have money? A place to stay? Identification? I suppose you could go to the local government, but what if they are loyal to the Hand of God? We do not know anything about the humans in Seattle anymore. You could end up in grave danger.”

  Evangeline scrambled to the other side of the bed and got to her feet, forgetting, until the cool morning air hit her bare legs, that she wore only a flannel shirt. “I…hadn’t thought of that.” She hugged herself tightly, goosebumps rising all along her thighs.

  What am I doing? Why am I fighting him? I have nothing. And he…I don’t want to leave him. But…

  Nic approached slowly, as if he feared she’d run from him. When they were only inches apart, he brushed the gold coin she wore. “Do you remember what I said to you when I gave you this coin?”

  “Of course.” Her throat constricted, and she swallowed hard. “You said it would bring me luck.”

  “By any measure, our situation—hunted, in the middle of the forest, without any knowledge of the state of the world—is not lucky. Yet we are together. All the years of pain, all the days I prayed for death, they led me to you. And I do not want to lose you.”

  Evangeline took a step back. She couldn’t think when he touched her. His scent, his voice…even without using the incantesimo, he had power over her. Though she had power over him as well.

  “I don’t know what to do. I just wanted to be free.” She twisted the hem of her shirt. “I can hunt. I’m fast. Smart. I can learn anything I have to in order to find a job. I planned a route to Seattle. But when I did all that, I wasn’t planning on you. Or on my father needing me for his weapon.”

  “I have a friend, almost a son to me, who will send aid to us. A plane, money, passports. Let me help you, Evangeline. As you helped me.”

  “And when we got to Italy?”

  “You could go wherever you wanted. You would be safe there. And free. You are alone now, si?”

  Evangeline’s heartbeat quickened, and the tremor in her voice belied her fear. “You know I am.”

  Nic reached for her hand, and a shock of heat ran up her arm. “As am I. Even before my capture, I was alone. I think we have both been alone for a long time.”

  Evangeline cleared her throat, trying to force some strength back into her words. “I can’t…I need time. I don’t know what to do.”

  He pulled her closer, running the backs of his knuckles over her cheek. “I cannot wait long. Neither of us can take the time we need to recover, to decide how much we trust one another. I had little choice in the matter, dying, desperate to escape, but I do not believe I chose poorly. But you do not know me. And I am a vampire. I understand your hesitation, but any delay could kill us both. You must decide quickly, Evangeline.”

  “Pressuring me isn’t going to help the situation,” she snapped and spun around, stalking over to the trunk to dig for some pants.

  Nic groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Very well. We won’t speak of this again until you are ready or I have found a phone.” With the finality of his words hanging in the air, he stalked out of the room and slammed the door.

  15

  Shit. Evangeline didn’t know what frightened her more. Nic leaving or her going with him. Despite his intensity and passion, something in his voice and his touch soothed her. He cared about her, and though she’d believed him dead, she’d cared about him ever since that night in the forest so long ago.

  Once she’d braided her hair and donned a green thermal top and soft brown pants, she headed for the kitchen.

  The sight greeting her had her straining to cover her laughter. Nic had tied a frilly, polka-dot apron over his flannel shirt as he stirred a pot on the stove. The serious expression on his face as he turned to her did her in, and a bubble of laughter escaped the hand over her mouth.

  A sad longing darkened his eyes. “I have not heard true laughter in years. I might have forgotten the sound.”

  Evangeline crossed to him, an intense need to offer comfort drawing her close, but when she ran a hand down his arm and touched the apron, she couldn’t hold back. “Hundreds of years old, barely clothed for eighteen years, and this is what you choose to wear your first day free?”

  He looked down at the apron, and rich laughter filled the tiny room. “I have offended your sense of fashion, then? Will you ever trust me again?” He ripped off the apron and tossed the material aside with as little effort as a human might need to brush away a dandelion seed.

  Despite his mirth, Evangeline sobered. “I trust you, Nic. More than anyone else I know. You’ve never done anything to hurt me.”

  His eyes sparkled in the pale swath of light streaming from the small kitchen window. How could anyone harm such beauty?

  Though he hadn’t spoken aloud, she’d heard him clearly. Shouldn’t the side effect of having his blood be gone by now? Was this mental link permanent?

  Handing her a bowl of beans, he cupped her hand for a long moment, as if he couldn’t let her go. Too soon, or maybe not soon enough, he pulled away and turned to rinse out the pan.

  “You’re not eating?” Evangeline asked as she took a seat on the rickety orange sofa.

  “I have no need for food today.” Dividing the instant coffee crystals into two mugs, he added steaming water from another pot. “We eat, but our digestion is quite slow. A few bites of food a day sates me. Less if I’ve fed.”

  “How…often do you feed?” Her cheeks flushed, and she took a deliberate, slow bite of her breakfast, not tasting a thing as she focused on him. Would he need to feed again while they were together? Would she let him?

  Nic wiped his hands on a towel, then carried the mugs of coffee over to the couch and sat down next to her. “When I was free, I had an espresso and a sip or two of blood every morning. Sorrento, where I lived, has a h
andful of vampires. The humans there donate their blood to blood banks—for which we pay them well—and there is a delivery service vampires can use so they will never find themselves without.”

  “So you never feed from the humans directly?”

  “No. Our laws prohibit this. A pint of blood can feed a vampire for two weeks, barring injury. Your blood…perhaps longer.” His lopsided grin, with no hint of fang, sent a wave of heat to her core. “Your blood has revived me completely. I’ve never known another human’s blood to have such power.”

  “And…can you use the incantesimo?” Evangeline had to know—despite fearing his answer.

  Nic eased the bowl from her fingers. Cupping the back of her neck, he stared into her eyes. “Hit me.”

  “What?”

  His pupils dilated, and his voice dropped lower. With his free hand, he slid his fingers over Evangeline’s, stroking the soft skin of her wrist where he’d fed the night before. “Hit me.”

  “No! Why the hell would you ask me to do that?” She tried to pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t let her go.

  With a shake of his head, Nic’s pupils returned to their normal size as he dropped her hand. “I could have suggested you kiss me, but I thought asking you to do something you would find distasteful would be more…proof.”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she shifted closer to him. “Oh.”

  “Whatever your father did to you, Evangeline, you are immune to the incantesimo. You should guard that information well. I fear many in this country—human and vampire—would kill or imprison you if they found out.”

  Evangeline ran her hands up and down her thighs, trying to dry the sheen of sweat that dampened her palms. “And you? What will you do with my…secret?”

  Nic leaned forward, his lips inches from hers. She focused on his bright amethyst eyes. “I will take your secret to my grave, I swear. I do not know what makes you so strong, cara. But you are. So very strong. This is why I want to stay with you. I fear now that you are on the surface, free, another of my kind—an impulsive young one—will find the scent of your blood intoxicating and try to claim you as his own.”