Despite her message about treasures in earthen vessels, I still saw within myself only darkness and failure.
I sat up at last, murmuring thanks to the bees, and saw Libby.
She sat at the edge of the concrete, chin on her knees, staring at the bees and me. It looked as if she had been there for some time. Perhaps since before I arrived--I had not exactly scanned for observers. My insides turned cold, and a desire struck me to crawl into the nearest hiding place and curl into a small, pathetic lump.
"What happened?" she asked in a small voice. Her position, with her knees against her chest and arms wrapped around them, was a defensive posture.
She feared me, yet she had not fled. I slowly pushed myself to my hands and knees. "I had a small disagreement with my brother."
Her eyes widened. "Robert did that to you? Like, with a knife?"
"Pray you never encounter that side of him." If he ever threatened her with those claws, I might be forced to break my vow to never use death magic.
The puzzle box, and the life it contained, called to me. I crawled to my disguised trunk, opened it, and withdrew the box. The engraved wood and silver gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. I hugged it to my chest.
Humanity flowed into my empty spirit. My frustration and grief over Robert drowned me in anguish. Tears blurred my eyes. But worse still was the horrified embarrassment that Libby had observed me at my lowest point. How could she watch me, damaged and incapacitated, and not despise me?
Other emotions followed those--powerful, dangerous emotions centered around Libby.
Blast it all, I had a terrible crush on her.
Yet, despite my emotional wallowing, the life streamed steadily through the wholesome wood and metal, into my wounded body. The pain in my insides was far less, as was the burning sensation on my left side, where I had struck the concrete steps.
I pulled the puzzle box away from my heart, and the feelings faded as the healing inside me slowed. I returned it to my heart and drew a deep breath. It was the metaphysical equivalent of feeling returning to a bloodless limb. Worse, it left me exceptionally vulnerable.
Libby uncurled, stepped a few paces closer to me, and sat down again. "Were you talking to Robert about me?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"Because he told me about you?"
The pain was too raw and fresh. "I am not interested in an interrogation."
She flinched and drew her knees in again. "Oh. I'm sorry. I know you're hurt." Her eyes flicked from wound to wound. "You probably don't want a doctor."
"No." Why had I snapped at her? My unstable emotional state made me far too sensitive.
A loose cloud of bees swirled out of the sky, back to the hives. Several landed on my shoulder. "The life feeder's eyes are swollen shut. He shall not bother you for some time."
I smiled. "Excellent work."
Many bees had given their lives for mine today. It touched me deeper than it should have, and I blinked away more tears.
Libby watched and said nothing. Her very presence sent electrical prickles across my skin, as if imagining her touch. Curse these emotions. I'd grown used to the monotony of my condition, when all I felt was varying degrees of hate.
As I met her eyes again, she asked, "Who is He Whom You Fear?"
I stiffened. Questions exploded in my brain. "How do you know that term?"
"The bees told me. I've been listening to them."
"You understand the bees?"
"Yeah. They sing in English."
I blinked several times and clutched the puzzle box a little tighter. "They speak the language of bees. You have a gift."
She tilted her head to one side. "Really? Huh. Maybe it's because I ate their honey."
Point. That was a potential side effect I had not considered.
But she could not be long distracted from her question. "Are you scared of your dad?"
I exhaled. "Yes."
She patted my shoulder, sending shivers through me. "I'd be scared of him, too."
Chapter 8
Libby
Mal eyed me, as if he expected me to run away screaming. "You are adept at discovering my secrets."
I couldn't resist a smug grin. "I'm good at figuring stuff out. I read a lot of fantasy, so it's not hard to put the pieces together."
He gazed at the box in his arms. He'd been hugging it for a while. If I was right and it had his soul in it, it explained why he was acting so weird.
When he had limped into the orchard and dropped flat among the beehives, I'd thought he'd been shot. There was blood all over the back of his shirt, and his skin had been white and waxy-looking, like a corpse. It had scared me, and I sat there, frozen. I couldn't call 911 for a lich, could I? And he couldn't die, could he?
Then the bees swarmed him, and a little bit later, he noticed me. If he hadn't have been undead, I think he'd have died of embarrassment. He sort of hunched up and avoided looking at me for a few minutes.
It made my heart ache the way it did when I tended a hurt animal. I wanted to hug him, or bandage his cuts, or something--but I didn't know how to even offer. Me, the sick girl, trying to help a soulless monster? Yeah, right.
And now we were casually discussing his father.
After a moment he said quietly, "What did the bees tell you about He Whom I Fear?"
"They said he's draining the life from the land." Even saying the words made chills trickle down the backs of my legs, as if my body recommended running away.
He turned to the nearest hive and murmured, "This is true?"
"Yes, Mal," they sang in chorus from all around us. "We smell him on the wind. He comes."
I hugged my knees a little tighter. "What's he look like?"
"I have not seen him in many years. Once he looked like Robert and I, but now..." He shrugged. "Death often changes one's appearance."
Like the man in the fog. "Um, does he kind of like ... have a face like a skull? And kind of brown wrinkled skin? And he kind of ... has blackness around him?"
Mal's eyes widened, and his breathing sped up. "You--you've seen him?"
I told the story of the creepy, smeary man, and the way his darkness seemed to reach for me. Remembering it made me cold again, despite the warm sunlight.
Mal dug his fingers into his messy black hair, and sat that way for a moment. "He's here. In Arvin." He closed his eyes and seemed to try to control himself.
"Are you going to leave?" It seemed logical--I mean, if my evil undead Dad was in town, I'd outrun light particles.
Mal looked at me, and his eyes were a freaked-out green. "I should. But I cannot--I must fulfill my contractual five weeks for the almond crop. Your father already asked many of us to stay on for the blueberries. I had considered it, but now ..."
He was going to leave. A lump formed in my throat, my lower lip puckered, and my eyes burned. I made a show of brushing my hair out of my eyes until I had my face under control. Darn it, I only wanted to be his friend, not his girlfriend. Doing the girlfriend thing was what got me stuck with Robert.
When I dared look at him again, Mal was gazing across the fields, as if pretending he hadn't seen my face. "Don't worry, Libby. I'll attempt the purification rite before I leave. Look--the fog is clearing."
I blinked tears from my eyes. A breeze had picked up, and the mountains appeared in the distance in shades of blue and green. I hadn't seen them in weeks. I looked at the sky, which had begun to lose its milky color. "Excellent!"
But I didn't feel excellent. Mal had shown me real, live magic, and once he left I'd never see it again. And worse, I'd never see Mal again.
A hundred arguments flashed through my head--I wanted him around to handle Robert, I wanted him to teach me more about the motes, I wanted to see how he raised his bees--but beneath them lay a truth I didn't want to face.
I was crushing on a lich.
He slowly rose to his feet, grimacing, unaware of the conflicts inside me. "Let me show you the place where I'd like to
perform the rite. Might I ride in your cart?"
"Sure! You don't have to ask!" We climbed into the golf cart. As I sank into the cushions, I realized how long I'd been outside today. Fatigue tugged at my muscles and eyelids.
Mal twisted sideways to keep the cuts on his back from touching the seat. His face was gray-white and his eyes had turned gray, too. The puzzle box rested on his lap.
I smiled despite myself. "We're a pair, aren't we?"
His eyes crinkled a little. "Yes, yes we are."
"Where to?"
He pointed down the middle of the orchard. "The far end of the property. The canal gate."
I drove as gently as possible. Fortunately, the orchard floor was smooth from years of lawn mowers and raked nuts. The myriads of white blossoms formed a sweet-smelling roof overhead, and the breeze sent petals snowing to the ground.
It would have been romantic if we weren't both sick and in pain. As it was, I was thankful to reach the orchard's edge and see the canal embankment rising ahead of us.
I parked the cart, and Mal and I climbed the ten-foot embankment. Slowly. When we reached the top, we both had to sit and catch our breath. The canal ran full, the green water only a yard below us, and it hardly made a sound. Reeds and other weeds lined the water's edge, helping to prevent erosion. The water's rippling, curling grace relaxed me, and I sighed.
Several bees left the orchard and buzzed around us.
I nodded at them. "They're sure interested in us."
"They watch and protect." Mal scooped up a handful of earth and sniffed it, then tossed it into the sluggish emerald water. It startled a couple of mallards out of the reeds--a brown female and a green-headed male. They swam upstream, quacking.
"This is a good place," he murmured, gazing at the water. "Teeming with life."
A fish swirled to the surface and dove again. Too bad I was too sick to fetch my fishing tackle. "I come out here to be alone, sometimes. It's nice to see water--there's not exactly lots of it out here in the south valley. But people are always getting drowned in the canals, so Mom and Dad are touchy about them."
He gazed at me, and his eyes slowly shifted from gray to green. Like the water. "I could heal you right now, if I had the strength."
I leaned toward him, and my heart beat faster. "Really? There's that many life motes?"
He nodded. "Unfortunately, all my strength is being used to heal myself. It may be several days before I'm well enough."
My hopes fell, and I glanced at the bloodstains on his back. It had dried to a rusty brown. A sympathy pain twinged between my shoulder blades. "Stupid Robert. Why'd he knife you, anyway?"
His jaw clenched. "I tried to negotiate. Either he leaves you alone, or I treat his vampirism."
"Oh. That was--I mean--" My crush-feelings threw confetti and danced, but this disconnected my brain from my mouth."That was really nice. That you care so much. And you--I'm the reason you're hurt." Heat rose into my cheeks, and I looked hard at the flowing water rather than at Mal.
"Well." He gingerly stretched his legs down the embankment. "He is my brother, and I feel responsible for what he's done to you. Not that it mattered--as you can see, he refused treatment."
I dared look at him as my face cooled. "You can treat vampirism? Like, with the honey?"
"Yes."
"But I thought there was no cure!"
He shot me a sideways look. "You said you read a lot of fantasy books. Often their facts are incorrect."
All the vampire characters I had read flashed through my mind. "I guess Robert's a different kind of vampire, right?"
Mal plucked a long blade of marsh grass from the canal bank. "Imagine this is a human soul." He twisted the grass in the middle. "This is how one creates a vampire."
He handed me the grass, and I studied it. "So he's not even dead? Just twisted?"
He nodded.
"How do you make a lich?"
Mal plucked another blade of grass, and painstakingly peeled it in half. Then he threw half in the canal. He handed the remainder to me. His eyes burned a dangerous yellow, but not at me--it was the helpless pain of a victim.
I held the mutilated grass blade, and the reality of this struck home. Robert and Mal had been normal boys once. Then their father had destroyed them, as Mal's fingers had destroyed the grass.
"Why would anyone do this to you?" I exploded. "He should die in a fire!" I flung the grass in the water and grabbed Mal's cold hand. "Once I'm well, I'm going to hunt down your dad and make sure he goes to prison forever!"
He gazed at my hand gripping his, then met my eyes. The yellow mellowed to amber, and he heaved a deep sigh. "If only such a thing were possible."
I leaped to my feet and kicked a rock off the embankment into the trees. "I swear, if your dad comes around, I'll ..."
Fatigue hit me like a fifty-pound sack of nut meats. I plopped on the dirt beside Mal and rubbed my temples.
"You are not well yet, Libby." His voice was so soft I barely heard him. "We must heal you before he comes."
"Yeah! So I can kick his butt so hard, his face cheeks will become butt cheeks!"
Mal nearly smiled. His eyes crinkled, but his mouth refused to stretch. "Your spirit encourages me. Come, let's return you home. We both need rest."
In the west, storm clouds piled on the horizon. As I drove Mal to his camper, the mountains grew so clear, I could see individual trees along their backs. The fog moisture departed entirely, and sweet-smelling sea air filled the valley. Wind ruffled the orchards, tossing bees and blossoms about.
"Storm coming," I told Mal as I dropped him off.
He gazed at the bright, clean sunlight, the intense blue shadows, and finally at the oncoming clouds. "A spring storm. It will give us both a chance to rest." He touched the cart's roof, and I wished it had been my face. "Rest. Gather your strength."
"I will." He limped to his camper, and I drove to the house.
Usually I enjoyed storms, but not that night. As it grew dark, and I curled up in bed with the wind roaring through the shingles, thoughts of Mal's father crept through my mind, as well as the look on Mal's face when I described him.
Where was that creepy old man tonight? Raising corpses? Draining life out of the land? Calling down lightning?
If I had been bitten by a vampire--what would the vampire's creator do to me?
Mal
After Libby kindly returned me to my camper, I crawled into my narrow bed and slept.
I awoke the next morning to wind, heavy clouds and spots of rain. I ate and drank, checked my bees--who wisely remained in their hives--and went back to sleep.
This pattern continued for two more days. Every time I awoke, my body was slightly more healed. It would have been faster had I possessed any honey. But the bees assured me they were not yet ready to share, and a cursory inspection of the frames revealed only the beginnings of the rich burr comb.
The third day, Suki awakened me.
I wish I could say that Robert did, but I sleep deeply when injured. By the time I roused, he had come and gone.
Suki stood outside my camper, barking with an urgent note in her voice.
I groped for the spot beside my bed where I had stowed the puzzle box. It was gone. I sat up with a gasp. Robert's stink hung in the camper's close air like smoke.
He had stolen my phylactery from my home! No wonder it was customary for liches to hide their phylacteries far and deep. My connection with it told me he was still in the orchard, but headed north, toward open fields. Possibly he meant to burn it.
If my soul was destroyed, I would die instantly.
I pulled on clothing and boots, charged out the door--and fell on my face in the dirt. My body betrayed me with weakness. Fresh pain seared through the nearly-healed wound in my back.
I lacked the necessary life magic to mend my cursed half-alive body. At that moment, I was savagely tempted to yield to the pull of my hungry lich nature and suck the land dry. I would heal immediately--but at the e
xpense of the living things for several square acres.
Suki ran to me in a half-crouch, swinging her tail in the odd sweep customary with collies. Several bees accompanied her. They circled my head and sang, "She hates the life feeder, and followed him here. We begged her to awaken you."
"Thank you, Suki!" I stroked her, rubbed her ears and patted her sides. "You are an invaluable companion for Libby."
Suki wriggled in pleasure. I could tell she disliked my scent, but her endeavors to help me touched my heart--or the fractional remains of it that felt things besides hate.
"I must catch Robert now." I summoned my supernatural speed and sprinted--
--and collapsed within sight of the bee station. My body's reserves had gone to rebuild damaged tissue, and I had not eaten enough to replenish them. But every minute I wasted on weakness, the closer Robert drew to taking my life.
If only Libby could help! But she was so ill. She had magical talent, albeit untrained. If she could attack Robert with life magic ...
I crawled to my camouflaged trunk. Suki walked beside me, ears flattened in sympathy.
I opened the trunk and rummaged inside. Hidden under my beekeeping equipment were many useful items I had acquired during my time spent 'observing' the Marchers.
There was one item that I wanted in particular. My fingers closed on its smooth coolness--a golden cowrie shell the size of an egg. It had been fitted with a silver chain, and made a lovely magic amulet. Since it had once been a living creature, it naturally attracted and emitted life magic.
I scribbled a note on a scrap of paper, rolled it up and wedged it inside the cowrie's mouth. Then I hung it around Suki's neck. "Take this to your mistress."
The dog whirled and dashed off as if she'd understood everything. Perhaps she had. She carried almost as many life motes as my bees.
I struggled to my feet with bees buzzing anxiously around me. "I must pursue him. Help me, friends."
"He is quite far," they sang. "You will never reach him in time."
"I must try." I set out at a slow limp through the orchard.
Malevolent (The Puzzle Box Series Book 1) Page 9