Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
The villainous, skin-crawling unicorn stands. All at once, it’s like the room holds its collective breath. Xander shifts slightly out of the corner, and the dragon’s fingers, for a microsecond, tense on the cup that he is holding.
The unicorn stalks past my chair and heads towards Frank. I can’t help the small sigh of relief.
“You dishonoured yourself,” he says casually. “For the crime of attempting to murder a female shifter, the punishment is death.”
“Whoa, hang on a minute. I didn’t know she was a half shifter.
I thought she was human. I didn’t shift my teeth, I can’t do that.
I just bit her, that’s all… I just wanted to make her bleed, frighten her a little.
I wasn’t killing anybody. But… b-but if you want me to volunteer, I can happily take care of her.
” Is this guy for real? “I’m a handy guy to have—”
His head rolls across the floor.
Blood sprays everywhere. I hear a tut from Xander and a mumble about having to clean.
Yeah… shit… urm, Frank is making a mess.
Frank’s, urm, severed head stops rolling at my feet. His face is a mask of shock and his eyes are still open. I lift my feet off the floor, scoot to the back of the chair, and tuck them underneath me.
The unicorn has a silver sword in his hand, which disappears into nothing as quickly as I spot it. He prowls back to his seat.
Bloody hell.
I swallow and eye the head. Yeah, I’m so out of my league on this—these men—leaders in their own right are… Yeah, I have no words.
My grandad was an assassin, so as far back as I can remember my childhood was never rainbows and kittens. But I’ve never seen a dead body so close before. He didn’t take me on his kills.
The blood from Frank’s neck slows to a trickle. It’s a lot of blood.
The dragon is watching me.
He’s watching my reactions, analysing me. I meet his silver gaze with wide eyes, and his eyes crinkle with what I can only presume is concern. “Did you have to do that in front of the child?” his voice rumbles.
“Did you have to do that in my living room?” Xander grumbles.
While they argue amongst themselves, I see a flash of orange. My mouth drops open. Oh no no no. Dexter struts down the hallway and into the room. Eyes fixed on me, he prowls past all the guards and councillors without care. His whole cat vibe screams like he owns the place.
On the way past the scary unicorn, his fur stands on end, and I hear a grumbling, low growl. Oh God, Dexter. Even I know not to pick a fight with that creature.
“Reow,” he says to me innocently as he jumps up.
“Hi, baby, I’ve missed you. Has Xander been feeding you?” I drop my hand, and my fingers itch along his spine. “Yes, you are such a good kitty. Yes, you are.” Dexter stretches up on his hind legs so his bottom cups into my palm and his fluffy tail wraps around my wrist. “What a good boy.”
“Breow,” he says in agreement.
His ginger fur is so soft and thick. I’m so glad his skin is no longer sore. The areas of lost hair from the nasty flea infestation have grown back beautifully.
With each rumbling purr, he blows weird kitty bubbles from his lips; he swings his head to rub his wet mouth on my hand. I shudder. “Yuck, Dexter, thanks for the spit bath. Keep that shit to yourself.” I wrinkle my nose and rub my glistening skin on my hoodie.
Satisfied with marking me as his, he drops to the floor, and with his tail waving in the air, he struts across the room to rub against the humongous dragon. An eep sound makes its way out from my lips.
Oh no.
I shuffle to the edge of my seat—I’m ready to run interference if needed. To make matters worse, Dexter jumps onto the guy’s lap. I cringe and close my eyes. The dragon shifter grunts, and when I cautiously look back, a big silver hand gently strokes my cat.
The conversation in the room continues as I nervously bite my lip and watch the dragon with my cat.
“How can she have not been found before?”
“Some idiot has been slacking.”
“Who was hiding her?”
“Which criminal was hiding her? I demand his head,” the unicorn says. I lift my eyes from Dexter and can’t help a little snort. Yeah ’cause you’re good with chopping.
I try to avoid looking at the floor and the head that’s still sitting there… gazing at me.
I hug my knees to my chest and pull my hoodie up over my mouth. I’m not willing to put them back on the floor. I don’t think Frank’s going to come back from the dead and chomp at me—although with necromancers… I shudder. I just don’t want my feet to be near the goo.
“The fae responsible is dead,” Xander tells them. His eyes track the top of my hoodie as I bury my face up to my nose. Grandad.
“Magic was keeping her alive. Strong fae magic. I can see the remnants on her. It’s been fading for months,” says Madán, the dark-haired fae.
Months since I became sick. Months since my grandad died.
“When that magic dried up, then the girl became ill.”
“Wouldn’t that take a lot of magic?” Atticus the vampire asks.
“Yes, the person would have to be full fae.”
“If he wasn’t?” I interrupt with a small cough to clear my throat. I lift my head so my mouth is clear of the red fabric. “What would happen if the person wasn’t full fae?”
Madán turns his head and addresses me directly. “If the person wasn’t full fae, they’d be using their life force to embed the magic. It’s not recommended. If they did that for long enough, they’d die.”
Oh, Grandad, what did you do?
I hunch. My heart feels like it jerks in my chest, and my tummy flips with the realisation. The man who was an assassin, the slayer of monsters, who should have had a warrior’s death or lived a thousand more years, died slowly, his magic bleeding out of him.
Because of me.
Pain, guilt, grief clog my throat so tightly I struggle to breathe.
The illness that took him was him protecting me, giving his life force to keep me alive.
Despair rolls over me like a wave, and suddenly I feel like I’m underwater. The voices in the room become garbled. They reverberate. I can’t make out what they are saying. All I can hear is the thud thud thud of my heart.
He shouldn’t have done that.
Why the hell did you do that? My temples throb, and the lump of pain and guilt is lodged in my throat, now so thick I can scarcely breathe.
With a swallow, I lift my chin, and I stare up at the ceiling so my pain can’t leak out of my eyes. I let out a deep, shaky breath, then another.
I will not belittle his sacrifice by moaning why me, why me.
No, I’m going to be grateful. I am grateful, and I’m going to make him proud. Is my life worth more than his? Hell no. But I will not throw away his sacrifice. I love you, Grandad. I love you so very much.
Small feet land on my shoulder, and I feel a warm, small body against my neck. In a sweet whispering voice, Story says, “It’s okay. Don’t let them see you are hurting. Stay strong for just a little while longer.” My lip wobbles at the kindness of my friend, and I snap my spine straight.
The meeting continues, and they agree to run more tests. Until my family can be identified—if I have any living relatives—it appears we will stay with Xander.
Yay.
I’d rather they pop me into a nice quiet warm prison cell.
“Well, I’ve had an interesting day. It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Miss Dennison, and your friends. You have been a pleasant surprise.”
I let out a squeak and lift my eyes. The dragon shifter is standing in front of my chair. For a humongous shifter, he can sure move silently.
Dexter butts himself against the dragon’s leg, leaving a smatter of orange hair—his calling card—on the shifter’s trousers. My eyes widen, and I snap my head up.
Shit, I hope he doesn’t notice.
“I haven’t seen a beithíoch guardian for such a long time.” The dragon drops that bomb of information almost offhandedly. “Xander knows where to find me if you need assistance. Have a good evening.” He smiles gently at me and Story and bows his head in reverence to Dexter.
“It was nice to meet you, bye,” I say robotically, pulling on my ingrained manners. I’m too busy staring at my cat to watch him go.
“Dexter,” I whisper, “you’ve been very sneaky.”
“He’s not the only one. When were you going to tell me about you being poorly?
You’ve been ill for weeks, and you’ve hidden it from me until you couldn’t.
You almost died. Do you know how scared I was?
” Story pokes my shoulder with a jabby finger.
“Oh, and were you ever going to tell me you’re half vampire, half shifter?
I thought we were friends.” Her bottom lip wobbles, and her eyes fill with tears.
I hunch back into my hoodie. “I’m sorry.”
“I love you. You’re my best friend, so no more secrets.”
“Okay… I am sorry, Story. I only didn’t tell you to protect you. No more secrets.”
Story jumps down into my hand and taps her foot on my little finger. “Pinky swear?” she says. Determination shines in her big sapphire eyes.
I can’t help my chuckle. I wiggle my finger. “Okay, pinky swear.”
Story twists around my finger as if it’s a stripper pole. I wince as the agile pixie almost pulls my finger out of its socket. “Sooo Xander is nice,” she says as she twists.
Oh crap, I promised not to keep secrets.
I lower my head and whisper tell her all about him.
When the angel comes back into the room from seeing his guests to his fancy portal—I say guests loosely—Story has a raging look on her face.
She stands on my knee with her hands on her hips. Radiating barely controlled fury.
“What?” Xander asks puzzled.
Story taps her foot in agitation. “Oh, I don’t know… Perhaps I need to get someone to clean out your pantry. What with all the out-of-date cans in there,” she snarls.
Oops, I really have been a terrible influence on my once-sweet friend.
Xander narrows his eyes in confusion for a few seconds, then his eyes comically widen, and he rubs a frustrated hand through his hair. “About that, I’m sorry. I wasn’t very nice to you, my sha—” He scrubs his face.
Huh, has he forgotten my name already?
“Tru,” I mumble.
“Tru,” Xander says as he drops his chin and tilts his head to the side so I can see him clench his jaw. “Well, it looks like all the councils have agreed. I will be your guardian for the foreseeable future.”
I snort. “You’re my guardian? My guardian angel?” I slap my hand across my mouth as I giggle. Xander looks at me blankly, and I laugh harder. “Never mind, inside joke.” I guff. He looks heavenward for patience. He closes his eyes and shakes his head.
When he reopens his eyes, I’m back in control, and I watch as Xander’s attention goes to the floor and the congealed pool of blood.
Without thinking, I also glance down and immediately gag. There’s a fly sat on Frank’s eyeball. It’s sat there… happily cleaning its front legs. I close my eyes and rub the back of my hand across my mouth. God.
“Right. Let me get this guy sorted, and then we can have something to eat.”
I gag again, and my stomach churns. I vigorously shake my head. I am not up for food, no way. Thanks to Frank, I’ve lost my appetite.
“Don’t shake your head, young lady. You heard the vampires and Dr Ross, you need a proper diet. You starving yourself will not help. Do I have to remind you you’re going through a vampire transition? You need to practise better self-care.”
Is this guy for real? There’s a dead body on the floor.
“I know all that.” I throw my hands in the air in frustration. “I’m just not hungry at the moment. Perhaps my appetite will come back when there’s not a fucking body on the floor.” God, I can smell it; the metallic scent of his blood has seeped into my clothes and skin.
“Go to your room. We will talk about this later.”
“Okay.” Arsehole. This whole situation is surreal. What does he expect me to say, pass the tomato ketchup?
Xander’s foot knocks Frank’s head closer to his body. I jerk back in my seat as I watch the head roll. It moves along the floor at a weird angle. It must be the nose. As soon as the head bumps to a stop, Xander’s fingers twitch and glow gold. Waves of gold magic seep out from his hands.
I sweep Story into my palm and slide from the chair. I almost crawl over the arm to get away. I keep my eyes on him and take a hasty few steps back.
“Today has been way too much. The unicorn, the dragon, the council, the head chopping…,” I mumble as I back away. The revelation about my grandad’s illness. “This is all way too much.”
Xander opens his hand over the body. There’s a hiss and a flash of bright light, and the body that was Freaky Frank is gone.
Dissipated.
Shit, there’s no way he’s ever touching me with those glowing digits. No way.
“What are you waiting for? Go to your room,” Xander says not even looking back at me as he directs his magic at the congealed pool of blood.
I suck a deep breath in. Is this guy so used to dealing with dead bodies, so used to dealing with the monsters, that he doesn’t realise how inappropriate he’s being? Has he forgotten how to treat people or does he not care?
I hate him.
Without another word, I turn and scurry away.