Epi continued, completely ignoring the warning signs of Conal's anger. “You've just forgotten you can transform whenever you want to. Or need to. And you won't hurt Charlotte; your wolf form will recognize her as Nememiah's Child, just as easily as your human form does.”
Conal cursed loudly. “You're crazy, old man. It's been this way for as long as I can remember—”
“Which isn't nearly as long as I can remember,” Epi retorted mildly. “No matter. We will continue with the training and see what happens. Of course, you need to keep in mind you would fight harder and stronger as a werewolf, but if you want to attempt defeating a Valafar in human form…” he reached down and completed a fifth sigil in the pentagram and the ground beneath the church trembled “… that is completely up to you.”
I staggered backwards, falling to my knees as the pentagram swirled with thick red and black mist. From the center of the mist, a creature began to form and it climbed out through the pentagram to face me.
It was hideous, with the head of a bear and the body of a man. A man who was at least seven feet tall, and built like a fanatical weightlifter. The entirety of its body was black, a shiny, wet looking black, as if it had stepped through an oil slick. Its fangs were long and it had substantial claws at the ends of each limb. It roared, the sound like a steam train echoing through a tunnel and took a step towards me. I shrieked, dragging myself to my feet and searching for an escape.
“Use your abilities, Charlotte!” Epi yelled from across the room.
Conal ran past me, attempting to grab the creature's neck. The Valafar gripped his arm and threw Conal, its reaction instinctive. It turned back to me and with an unearthly scream, began to pace forward. I summoned the spirits, watching the Valafar get hit with a blocking wave of energy. It was thrown backwards, falling with enough force that the ground trembled beneath me. The Valafar flipped onto its feet and raced towards me, clearly angered. I pulled one of the Katchet from my belt, gripping it in my right hand. I jabbed nervously at the Valafar, but the attempt was ineffective and razor-sharp claws glanced across my right arm.
“Concentrate, Charlotte!” Epi yelled urgently. Ignoring the searing pain in my forearm, I turned to watch the Valafar approaching again.
From the corner of my eye, I caught a blur and heard a deep snarl, recalling it from the night I'd been rescued in New Orleans and Conal had turned into a werewolf. As the Valafar lunged again, a streak of black fur flew past. I stared open-mouthed as Conal, in werewolf form, launched himself at the Valafar, forcing it to the ground and biting fiercely at its neck. The Valafar and Conal rolled around the floor, biting and snapping at one another and I watched in horror when the demon lashed one heavy arm up, slashing it towards Conal's hindquarters. The Valafar howled, splitting Conal's fur and skin with its claws. Conal yelped and the terrible sound spurred me into action. I grasped the Katchet more firmly in my right hand, hurtling towards the Valafar with anger and rage feeding my movements. My head cleared, my body calmed – and I knew exactly what I needed to do. I caught the Valafar around its thick neck and plunged the dagger unswervingly into its chest. It collapsed to its knees – bear-like mouth open and howling. Sticky black liquid sprayed from its chest, splattering against my face and clothes. It began to fold in on itself, becoming smaller and smaller, until it disappeared, leaving only a blackened scorch mark on the padded floor.
Dropping the Katchet, I ran to Conal. He'd reverted to human form, naked and breathing rapidly, angry slashes oozing blood from his calf and thigh. “Conal!”
“See. I told you – you can transform whenever you want to,” Epi announced smugly.
“Epi! What do I do? How can I help him?” I shrieked angrily.
“Use a healing sigil, of course.”
I pulled the Hjördis from my pocket and reached for Conal's arm. His face was haggard, his breathing uneven as he looked up at me bashfully. “Charlotte, I'm naked…”
“That doesn't matter,” I breathed. And it didn't. All that mattered was helping him.
“Shit, that thing tastes terrible,” Conal growled and spat black liquid on the floor beside him.
“Not on his arm, Charlotte. The healing sigils must be drawn close to the injury,” Epi explained, kneeling to show me where I should place the marks. “You need to use the one for blood and the one for poison.”
“Poison?” I repeated blankly, marking the blood sigil against Conal's thigh.
“Yes, of course. Most demons are poisonous. Not to worry, this one isn't life threatening but its poison will cause a significant amount of pain.”
“Epi,” I muttered through gritted teeth, “you don't think you might have mentioned all this before we had to fight it?”
“Of course not,” he said dismissively. “Charlotte, the demons won't stop and give you instructions. This little exercise has proven exactly what I anticipated. You can fight in battle against the demons. And more importantly, you can win. Not only has it been proven to me, but it has also proven this fact to you.”
I finished the second sigil and slumped onto the floor, anxiously watching the wounds on Conal's leg. The sigils suddenly erupted with an iridescent glow and the torn skin began to knit together, leaving newly healed scars behind, the skin glossy and smooth. The blood and poison sigils receded simultaneously, fading away to nothing. It probably took less than three minutes and I glanced at Conal's face anxiously. “Are you okay?”
Conal stretched out his leg, staring at the scars skeptically. “Yeah. It feels better.” He caught sight of my arm, which was seeping blood and stung like crazy. “Do the marks on yourself, Charlotte,” he reminded gently.
I nodded and drew the blood and poison sigils against the cuts on my arm, watching the same procedure repeat on the wounds.
“How did you know I wouldn't hurt her, old man?”
“She is Nememiah's Child. One of the Angels. You will never hurt her. Part of Charlotte's allure is to make people protective. That is the Angel blood, heightening your desire to care for her. It will happen with all supernatural beings who don't wish her harm. She will draw from the people around her a desire to love and protect her.”
“What are you saying? That people might— think they love me, but it's just an illusion?” I felt ill, thinking what this would mean for Conal's feelings – and Lucas's.
“I never said that, child. I truly wish you would listen correctly. But of course, you are very young. There are many forms of love. The love I speak of is affectionate love, the desire to keep someone safe, an overwhelming feeling of caring and protection. You will draw that feeling from many people, purely because of the blood running through your veins. The love you speak of is something entirely different. And yes,” he admitted with a sigh, “that is possible for you too. Someone, or perhaps more than one, will love you in both ways.”
Conal asked the question we'd discussed a few weeks ago. “What happens if Charlotte fell in love with a supernatural? If she was to fall pregnant?”
Epi eyed Conal solemnly for a long moment, his blue eyes piercing. “The Angel blood will always dominate. No matter whom Charlotte loves, if she produces a child, its genetic makeup will follow the mother. Never the father.”
I greeted this information with silence, exhaustion and stress mixing with… profound relief. And another emotion. Regret. What Lucas had spent so long trying to save me from, was something that could never happen. His child wouldn't have killed me. His child – our child, would have been safe and healthy. I swayed a little and my vision swam, but Conal's strong arms caught me, holding me close.
“Alright. I think that is enough practice for today,” Epi announced, as though we'd survived nothing more dangerous than a brisk walk through a park. “Go home, get some rest. You might like to shower. Demon blood smells like corpses, it's not particularly appealing. I will see you here again tomorrow morning.”
“You've forgotten one thing, Vander,” Conal stated in a low growl. “I can't drive through Jackson like thi
s.”
I peeked down and blushed. Now that the drama was over, it seemed weird to see Conal naked and I tried to keep my eyes averted from certain areas of his anatomy. And failed. He was powerfully built in all areas. I turned away, trying to recover my shattered composure.
Epi flourished his hand and when I turned back, Conal was wearing a pair of jeans. He got to his feet and then helped me up, hugging me close.
“Let's go home, Sugar,” he whispered against my hair.
I took the Hjördis from my pocket to place it back in the wooden box, but Epi shook his head. “It is yours now, Charlotte. Keep it with you. You are the true owner of the Hjördis and the weapons. You are Nememiah's Child.”
Despite everything he'd put me through, I was grateful for having met Epimetheus Vander. He'd provided answers to so many questions and was helping us. Even if he was a pain in the ass. I slipped from Conal's arms to give Epi an impetuous hug.
“What was that for?” he asked and I was certain he blushed.
“For helping me to get through this.”
“You're welcome my child. And you have given me more than I ever dreamed. Finding an Angel child has been my life's work. I thought it would never happen and yet, here you are. I'm proud of you, Charlotte. You have proven yourself, far beyond my wildest dreams. I imagined when Nonny brought you here, you may have a little of Nememiah's blood. You have proven today that you are truly one of the Angel children. You will protect our world, I'm certain of it.”
Conal caught my hand in his and we walked toward the doors. I stopped in the open doorway and looked back to find Epi watching me, his blue eyes bright with tears.
Chapter 31: The Longest Night
I stared at the girl in the mirror, not certain I recognized her anymore. Epi had been right – demon blood did smell like death. It was a sickly, nauseating smell, a combination of rotting meat and feces, which clung to my skin and coated the back of my throat. I'd scrubbed with strawberry shower gel until I was sure the odor was gone then washed my hair three times, ensuring the sticky black gunk had been completely eradicated.
I studied my reflection. Many of the sigils had disappeared completely and those that were left had faded from brilliant indigo to the palest shade of blue. The scar from the Valafar's claws had grown fainter between stepping into the shower and now, little more than a silvery mark against my fair skin.
There were physical differences – weeks of intense activity had strengthened muscles, providing definition in the shape of my arms and legs. My stomach was washboard flat and there was muscle in my abdomen that I'd never had before. My hair was longer – we'd been so busy, I hadn't bothered to get it cut and now I could pull it back easily into a braid, which was convenient if Epi insisted on fighting more demons.
I knew there were other differences – not physical but psychological. I was tougher than I could ever remember being, more focused, more in control of my emotions. It sounded ludicrous, but I felt what was happening to me – it was destiny. This was what I was meant to do. This is who I was. There was no doubt in my mind; nothing would make me believe otherwise.
Subtle differences presented themselves in the mirror. My eyes seemed greener, my hair darker and my cheeks held a hint of color. My lips were redder, as if I perpetually wore lipstick. I'd considered myself ordinary but now, with the knowledge of my heritage, I felt – if not beautiful, certainly more attractive. The girl before me felt in control of herself and confident. She was able to tackle whatever the future held.
I slipped into jeans and a cotton t-shirt, padding barefoot down the hall to the living room. Conal was already out of the shower, sitting on the couch with a beer cradled between his hands. He looked up as I approached and smiled warmly. “Thought you were never coming out. I've ordered pizza, should be here soon.”
“Demon blood is pretty revolting,” I grimaced. “Took me ages to wash it out of my hair.”
“Want a drink? A beer?” he offered.
“No thanks. Still under twenty one, remember?”
Conal shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Hard to believe you're only twenty – in some ways you seem much older. Did you know I'm almost twice your age?”
I selected a can of soda from the refrigerator and sunk onto the couch beside Conal, flicking open the ring pull. “I've never asked how old you are.”
“Thirty eight.”
“And you still haven't found the right girl?” I teased, sipping the soda. “You're leaving it a bit late.”
Conal put his beer on the table and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Oh, I think I've found the right girl. Problem is, she's an Angel and not a werewolf.” He kissed my forehead. “Yum, strawberries. Much better than demon blood.” I could see my reflection in his black eyes and saw the familiar look of yearning in his handsome face.
Thoughts flitted thought my mind as rapidly as a hummingbird flaps its wings. Being here with Conal – knowing the way he felt about me – it all seemed so natural and right. He desired me – and I desired him. He loved me – and I felt love for him. There was no way of knowing what I faced and my future was uncertain. In a tumultuous rush of thoughts, I made a decision.
I leaned forward to touch his lips with mine, placing my hand against his cheek as I brushed my lips over his. He growled; a deep throaty rumble and captured me against him, deepening the kiss as his tongue probed my mouth with a ferocity and longing that overwhelmed me. I ran my fingers through his hair, drawing him closer and his hand slipped beneath my t-shirt, nimble fingers undoing the lacy bra underneath. His hand slipped beneath the lace and captured my breast, his warm fingers gentle on my skin. I gasped and released my hold on his hair. Fumbling with nerves, I undid the buttons on his shirt and rubbed my hands across his chest. He was warm, his body temperature higher than mine and I moaned as he bent to replace his hand against my breast with his mouth. I inhaled sharply, pleasant butterflies roiling through my stomach and lower regions.
Conal returned his attention to my mouth before his lips trailed languorous kisses across my neck and shoulder. “If you want to stop this, say so now,” he growled huskily.
I tugged him towards me in response. Conal gently laid me back against the couch, holding his body above mine without touching. Our eyes met and he understood what I wasn't capable of vocalizing. Conal shuddered with desire and dropped his body over mine, kissing me repeatedly until our breathing was ragged.
Four things happened within seconds of one another. My head swiftly filled with voices, dozens of them yelling at once and clamoring for attention. I shrieked, lifting my hands to my head to try and quell the pain that erupted in my temples. Conal's cell phone and mine both began ringing shrilly and the apartment phone rang a second later. Conal sat up, his eyes filled with alarm as he tried to help me. “Charlotte! Charlotte, what's wrong?”
“I— I don't know!” I tried to stand and fell forward, my knees hitting the ground sharply and I bent over double, squeezing my head between my hands. “Will you answer one of those damn calls?”
Conal snatched up his cell, answering it brusquely. He knelt beside me, rubbing my back as I struggled to regain control. I called to the spirits, asking them to relay their messages slowly, pulling strands towards me to collect information. The voices were so loud I could barely hear Conal's voice over the ruckus. With painstaking effort, I started to build a picture of what had happened. What I heard from them was horrifying, chilling my body down to the marrow. I didn't need to hear Conal's words when he disconnected the call – I already knew the worst.
“The pack has been attacked,” he announced bleakly, his eyes filled with panic. “By vampires.”
It took only minutes to prepare; while Conal collected his car keys I ran to the bedroom, to pull on shoes and snatch up the Hjördis, then strapped the weapons belt around my hips. Conal stared when I returned to the living room and he saw the weapons belt. “You should stay here, Charlotte.”
“I'm coming with you,” I
announced. “If the pack were attacked, I'm no safer here. I'd rather be with you.”
To my relief, Conal didn't argue. “Come on.”
The drive to the outskirts of Natchez seemed interminable, broken only by the telephone call I returned on my cell phone. It was a number I didn't recognize, but I knew the voice when he answered.
“Nick? It's Charlotte. What's wrong?” I asked the question, despite already knowing a good percentage of the answer. The spirits were still bombarding me with information, but so many of them were attempting to contact me, it was hard to piece together everything at once.
“Charlotte— Lucas and Ben, all of them – they're gone.” His voice was filled with anger.
“Who took them?”
“The house is a fucking mess, stuff broken up, windows smashed—”
“Who, Nick? Who took them?” I repeated impatiently, needing confirmation.
There was a long silence on the line. “I don't know, but the whole house reeks of vampires. Scents I don't recognize.”
“They're all gone?” My heart raced with panic and as much as I denied it, I knew my heart still belonged to Lucas.
“All of them,” Nick confirmed. I could hear his ragged breathing, knew he was struggling to control his rage and frustration.
“What about Katie?”
“She's safe. She's with my pack.” He paused and I caught the murmur of voices in the background. “Do you have any idea who could have done this? I didn't know who else to call, and I thought you'd want to know.”
It was my turn to pause, hot tears splashing down my cheeks when I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the truth could be denied. “It's my fault, Nick.”
“What?”
“It's me,” I confirmed. “They want me.”
“Who?”
“The vampire council… I don't remember what they're called. The vampires that govern all the others.”
“I knew you were fucking trouble, from the minute I met you,” Nick snapped angrily. There was another round of hushed discussions before Nick spoke again. “Jerome insists I'm being too hard on you, but I'll withhold judgment on that one. What the hell is going on, Charlotte?”
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