Blood Song: Division 7: The Berkano Vampire Collection

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  I didn’t think I would ever forget. I must’ve eaten garlic or taken the wrong dose of my vampire-repellant vitamin. Which would be great if that was an actual thing. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “When I went to get Bast, I saw…” He stopped pacing, his gaze pinned to me, and rubbed his hand over his mouth as if to sift his next words between his fingers for easier processing. “The amount of blood around him on the street had to have been his. I think the vampires tried to drink from him and couldn’t, but ended up killing him anyway.”

  “That one who bit me couldn’t drink mine either.” I heaved a breath, trying to wrap my brain around all of this. “They can’t drink from witches, or they can, but it doesn’t end well. For anyone.”

  “Exactly,” Hendry said. “If I’m right and Lucy is a vampire, then maybe it’s because she’s so young that she doesn’t try to drink from witches. Or maybe it’s another reason. I don’t know. All I know is that Ross and Sara said she’s never even tried to bite anyone.” He raked his hand through his curls and started up pacing again.

  “Can witches turn into vampires, then, if they can’t even be properly bit?”

  He slid me a meaningful glance. “I’d like to test your blood to find out.”

  I nodded. “Of course.” I didn’t know much about vampires, apparently even less than I thought I did, but because I hadn’t changed into one yet or felt anything shifty, I hoped I would be okay. I’d been hungry, sure, but the food I’d devoured had helped. Still, worry dragged down my spine, weighing heavily.

  “If they can’t drink from us, if we’re free to talk around them, then maybe none of their powers work on us,” Hendry said and threw up his hands. “Or maybe just some of them do. Again, I don’t know.”

  “Then why are we so afraid of them if we don’t have to be?” I asked. “Sure, they can kill us, but not because of the sounds of our voices. And why were we programmed with rules to be afraid? How could the vampires benefit from such a thing if witches taste like shit to them?”

  Hendry sighed and shook his head. “If you’re up to it, I’ll take some of your blood now to look at it under the microscope.”

  “Let’s do it.” I stood, my mind still whirring on our way out of the kitchen. “Oh, what do you think about a memorial for Bast tonight? We can tell people how brave he was and that he died for us, for all of us, even the outsiders. And while we’re at it, we can explain what we know. What we think we know.”

  “It’s a great idea,” he said.

  A sudden idea pulled me up short just inside the saloon doors in the dining room. “I hate to be exclusive, but just witches should be invited.”

  He stopped and turned, a question in his gaze. “Humans knew him, too.”

  “Maybe they can come at the very beginning, then.” I stepped toward him, close enough to feel his breath on my cheek, so only he could hear. “I think we should invite Lucy and her parents.”

  His eyes flashed. “If I’m right and she’s a vampire, you want her to come here?”

  “You said yourself she hasn’t bitten anyone,” I reminded him.

  “We both know how the people who live here treat others who they suspect are vampires.”

  “We’ll find out the truth for ourselves. If vampires can’t drink witch blood, what if we gave her human blood? With her permission, of course. And Ross and Sara’s. Maybe it will help her feel better, or maybe it won’t make any difference whatsoever, but it’s one more thing to try.”

  He trapped his bottom lip in his teeth and scrubbed his hand through his curls, pointing them in unruly directions.

  “I want to know what’s happening here, Hendry. Someone is using our fear to control us, and it’s time everyone knew the truth, whatever that may be.”

  “Careful there,” he said and grinned. “You almost sound like a leader.”

  “Well…I won’t let it go to my head.” I needed a lot more information before I officially took on that role, which included why Hendry couldn’t do it when he was unequivocally better suited to it and why we both literally choked up when we talked about home. “If we do this, we can’t let it end badly for Lucy like it did Bast. We can’t let it end like that for anyone.”

  He nodded. “Agreed. I’ll ask Ross and Sara as soon as I take a look at your blood.”

  Inside the office, he slid a needle into my arm and drew a vial of blood out. Since I had no idea how microscopes worked, I supposed it would take a while, but he waved me behind the desk almost immediately.

  “Look through that top part there,” he said, pointing. “Your platelets are moving just like mine.”

  I peered through a glass lens with a red smear at the bottom. Little orb-like things swam across the surface. Relief brought a smile to my lips as I leaned back and gazed at Hendry.

  “I’m not dead.”

  “No.” He grinned. “You’re not.”

  I touched my hand to my collar, and the smile dripped off my face in the span of a heartbeat. “At least for now.”

  He reached out and swept his fingers along my elbow, the touch likely meant to be comforting instead of igniting a thrill through my veins. “I’ll figure out how to get these collars off us. Have faith in me.”

  “I do.” As a show of my trust, I reached out and twined my fingers with his. His skin on mine made my pulse ragged, my breaths shallow, but I liked it, this terrifying, exhilarating feeling. It was almost like falling or diving off a rickety treehouse into a beanbag with no fucks given to the consequences.

  “Good,” he said, the word a caress on my lips. “I…respect you too much to let you die.”

  My heart warmed, as did everything else. “I respect you, too. So much so that I’m going to clean the bathrooms, just for you. And everyone else. And me, because I’ve been itching to clean and organize something. While I’m at it, maybe I’ll show everyone my blood platelets to prove I’m not a vampire.”

  He gave my hand a squeeze and then almost reluctantly released it. “Just…be you, and you’ll win them over.”

  “Careful there,” I said. “You almost sound like you’re complimenting me.”

  “We wouldn’t want that.” He grinned, and I felt its power all the way down to my curled toes. “Not from you.”

  “Hey, I can make you smell bad, buddy.”

  He laughed as he packed the microscope into his bag. “Are you saying I smell good? Now who’s complimenting who?”

  Chuckling, I spun out of there, the entire world floating somewhere below my feet for just a moment until I came crashing down again. Talking to him, being with him, were the only things capable of distracting me from the death sentence hanging around our necks. If—when—we got rid of them, then maybe I could start to analyze this thing, this…connection, between us. Until then, I had bathroom duty, starting with bathing myself because I reeked of sweat, fear, and maybe a little like pee.

  If I hadn’t smelled like pee, maybe I would’ve kissed him, pushed him down on the desk and climbed on top of him. But then, I would be one in a long line of whores. Unless Tessa had told me that just to burrow doubts into my head. The Hendry I’d come to know these past few days was the epitome of selfless and didn’t seem the type to use women. He was also reckless in his quest to save lives, so maybe he was just as reckless with his body and heart. I didn’t think I could do that—give myself over to someone so easily—even if I only had hours left to live, even with Hendry. Even when his smile touched his eyes before it reached his mouth, and the whole amazing display summoned a kind of magic I’d never known before.

  Between cleaning all three bathrooms and drawing up the beginnings of a schedule with ruler-straight squares on a clipboard, I read Hendry’s book, The Witch Trials: From Salem to Modern Times, while I held the fallen door to the closet while someone else fixed it. Some of the pages crumbled between my fingertips, and the ink was barely legible in some places, but as I read more and more, my stomach cramped in revulsion and cold sweat leaked down my temples. The Salem n
ightmare had happened a long, long time ago, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. The irony that the Church of Hangmen hanged witches smashed me over the head until I saw stars.

  Then I came to a heavily marked passage about a girl who accused others of being witches. It theorized she was a witch and falsely accused others to deflect from herself. Once the person was sentenced, she stole their power when they were hanged. My heart screeched to a halt when I read her name.

  Elizabeth “Betty” Parris, quite possibly a relative of Allison Parris-Williams.

  My collar clicked, loud in the silence, and I looked up and gazed into a mirror studded with jewels on the opposite wall. I had under five days left.

  Chapter 9

  111 Hours Left

  That evening, I sat by the bird’s-nest girl again in the packed dining room. Though most people offered apologetic smiles or small waves that morphed into awkward hair patting, no one seemed to want to join us, even though every other spot was taken. I was the social pariah, just as I had been at the church. Or maybe it was the girl’s ripe smell.

  “Sorry,” I said before she’d taken another bite of vegetable stew. “What’s your name again?” Though there was no again about it, because I’d never asked.

  “Jeni.” She took a big bite, but most of it slopped off both sides of her spoon.

  “Hi, Jeni. What’s your favorite smell, like of all time?”

  She chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “Spicy. Spicy jalapeno hot. Why?”

  Yeah, no. If we were to be table buddies, I didn’t want to be choking on her spice every time I inhaled. But it was a start. Maybe I could work with that and make up a scent uniquely hers that would draw her to a bathtub on at least a weekly basis.

  “Just wondering.” I turned around in my seat to search for Hendry and Lucy, even though it wasn’t necessary. His presence shook the air in a room so much that it affected my ability to breathe. He wasn’t here yet.

  Both witches and humans sat gathered around the tables, their plates almost half empty. If Lucy was on her way, we would need to begin Bast’s memorial before she got here to clear the room of humans. Just in case things went south, which I prayed wouldn’t happen.

  “You’re looking for him, aren’t you?” Jeni asked.

  “Who?” I said absently, still swiveled in my seat toward the back of the room.

  “Hendry.”

  At the smile in her voice, I turned, a slow burn torching my ears. “You caught me.”

  Her eyes lit up as she chased a potato with her spoon. “Did you know he has a…a thing with strings that makes songs? I’ve never heard it, but some people say they have.”

  “Really?” I never would’ve pegged Hendry as a song guy. Did he sing, too? His voice rolled pleasantly off his tongue, so I bet he could if he wanted to. Funny that just days ago, I hadn’t known what his voice sounded like. Now I was aware of how his body felt against mine, how light played with the color of his curls, how much I looked forward to being near him.

  Like I was now. The air electrified the tiny hairs on my back and sizzled through to my front, perking and tightening everything in between. I turned in my seat, and his hazel eyes by the entryway connected with mine. He jerked his chin for me to follow him.

  “Speak of the devil,” Jeni said, and I chose to ignore the purr in her voice.

  I rose and passed between tables on my way toward him, my body heating. On my way out, the same man who’d thanked me swayed to his feet and took me gently by the arm.

  “Will you sing for us tonight? Please?” Tears filled his eyes.

  A pang of sympathy for the man made it impossible to say no. “Later,” I promised.

  He dipped his head in a bow. “I’ll look forward to it, Fin.”

  I smiled. No one here other than Hendry had called me by my name before. “What’s your name?”

  “Paul.”

  “Paul,” I repeated to commit it to memory. “I’ll be right back.”

  Out in the entryway, Hendry led me away from the chatter of the dining room toward my closet, then turned his humored gaze on me.

  “Are you learning their names so you can lead them?” he asked.

  “I’m learning their names so I can schedule their baths. Have you taken a whiff of them lately?”

  “I’ll pass, thanks.” He leaned his shoulder against the velvet-curtained wall and crossed his arms.

  “I’ve also been learning your step-ancestors’ names. I had quite a history lesson today. Witches have stole—” I pressed my lips together and then tried again. “Witches stea—” I heaved a frustrated breath. My blood boiled since I couldn’t even say the words to talk about this madness with him. “This is—”

  “It’s exactly what you think it is.” His gaze dipped to my collar. “I know what you’re saying even though we can’t say it.”

  I wanted to ask how and why Allison would do something like this, why she’d steal witches’ magic when they were hanged, but of course he couldn’t answer me.

  “Ross, Sara, and Lucy are in the office. I told them we’d like Lucy to sing and that they can sleep in a spare room tonight since I’m not sure how long this will last, and I don’t want them outside after dark.” A loud whoop erupted from the dining room, and he glanced over his shoulder. “But listen, I had to take the garlic off the front of the door. She wouldn’t come near it.”

  “Isn’t that proof enough?” I asked.

  “I doubt it,” Hendry said. “Everyone here needs to see the proof as it unfolds.”

  “Preferably with no deaths after the unfolding is triggered.” I chewed my bottom lip. “This is risky.”

  More good-natured shouts sounded from the dining room, so I opened the door to my closet and closed it after Hendry. He pulled on the cord dangling between us and lit the small space with a glow, its warmth at odds with the chill clinging to my nerves.

  “I told Ross and Sara my theories, and they reluctantly agreed I could give Lucy some of Sara’s blood to see what happens. She’s human, so it should cause a different effect than witch blood.”

  I blew out a steadying breath. “Are we sure it’s a good idea for everyone to be there when we don’t know what will happen?”

  “There won’t be any humans in there except Ross and Sara, but I’ll place them at the back of the room. I’ll also have garlic with me, plus some stakes, but only as a very last resort. I don’t want to scare Lucy, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her. Hell, I hope the human blood helps her.”

  “If shit hits the fan, if human blood reveals her fangs, make her bite you.” I pointed at him and gave a wobbly smile. “It’s your turn, after all.”

  He caught my finger and squeezed, relaxing my hand into his, his gaze never leaving my face. “This is reckless.”

  “I know.” My cheeks heated at the pulses of energy his touch flared. “She’s a sweet girl, and everyone needs to see that side of her before they hear the word vampire and automatically turn on her. Let’s show them what a living vampire who doesn’t bite—and who hopefully doesn’t start biting—looks like.”

  “We’re using her.” He closed his eyes briefly as though the thought itself was torture.

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he was right, in a way. We were using her to help understand the Berkano, but in the long term, I hoped something more could come of it, like an alliance between witches and vampires. Someone was making us fear them, and yes, we should’ve been afraid. But since the rules drilled into all of us were flawed, we needed to work together to realize that, and learn why the rules existed in the first place.

  I stepped closer to him, our hands still twined between us, so he would look at me. “This could be the beginning of something good. Let’s see what happens.”

  As if a switch had been flipped, I realized I wasn’t just talking about tonight with Lucy, but about Hendry and me. My heart ached for something like forever with him. Or as forever as I could get with this damned collar around my neck.
I would take what I could get.

  I lifted onto my tiptoes, my lips parted, my heartbeat crashing until it hummed a steady note. A muscle twitched in his jaw. He settled his free hand on my hip, pushing me away while his fingers dug into the waistband of my pants to seemingly drag me back. He stepped away, his shoulders heaving.

  He didn’t want me. Maybe he’d been with a hundred other women, but he didn’t want me specifically. Because I didn’t look like Tessa or the other women? All I knew for sure was that my heart felt as though it were cracking right down the middle, especially when he backed toward the door, stealing the warmth of his presence. He pinned his gaze over my shoulder at the cleaning supplies, tight and pained.

  “I’ll start the memorial for Bast, and then I’ll clear the humans out. When they’re gone, you get Lucy.” He turned and was gone.

  The backs of my eyes burned. My lungs deflated. I knew I shouldn’t occupy myself with romance, though, when my main focus should be on getting this collar off my neck. Yet, around Hendry, my heart always seemed to take the lead and beat out everything else.

  With a deep ache in my chest I didn’t know what to do with, I left the closet. Once inside the dining room, I stopped inside the saloon doors, my gaze falling to the fabric of his pants. It molded to his ass with each long stride as he crossed to the front of the room. His curls teased the collar of his button-up shirt, accentuating the powerful build of his shoulders. Everyone sitting at the tables quieted without a single look or signal. That was leadership. Why he thought no one truly listened to him was beyond me. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath while waiting for him to speak.

  He turned and charged the room with his hazel eyes. When he met mine across the distance, I froze for several heartbeats, each one more frenzied than the last. His jaw clenched, and he broke our connection to glance at Tessa, who was sitting at one of the tables, frowning at her lap.

  “We lost Bast last night, as you well know,” he started, his deep voice projecting to every corner. “I would like to take this time to tell you how it happened, and then anyone who wants to come up afterward and share their memories about him will be free to do that.”