Chapter 77
Compromise
“We have a new Mayor,” Michael announced, flapping the paper in his hands. “Mr Peter Kern.”
I peered over his shoulder at a thin, pinched-faced, large-nosed, reedy looking man.
The same man who’d accosted Katrina at the ball about bears needing culling.
There had been fighting since Katrina’s death, her deputy, Boyd Foster—who was instantly elevated to Mayor upon her death—had fought against the proposed development.
He’d quit last week and left town, apparently fed up with the bitter fighting.
Mr Kern was a local man who owned many buildings in the main street. Most sat empty.
“He’s for the development,” Michael added, “and is confident it will go ahead.”
Monique came over and screwed up her face. “Oh, he doesn’t look very tasty, that’s a shame.”
“Tasty or not, he is in for a rude shock,” Karson said, sprawled out in the armchair.
They all would be in for a shock when the Millers and Toronto’s reappeared. Not that any of us were naive enough to think that if Cole didn’t get the go ahead and knew about the waters—and somehow got his hands on the grimoire—that it would stop him from going up there.
“Dahlia,” Karson said, in way of greeting.
She walked in looking every bit like a warrior goddess. Her hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Dressed all in black. I couldn’t see weapons, but she’d have them cloaked and strapped to her side.
She met my eyes, and what looked like discomfort, and then anger flashed across her face.
“I expect you got the bastards?” she directed her comment to Karson.
“Of course.”
She seemed pleased by the news. She stepped forward and studied my face, frowning. “Who were they and why were they after you?”
There was an awkward silence for a moment. Matt was looking into them, he probably had names by now—hopefully; not one of them carried any form of ID in their wallets. The rest of the information we hoped to find on their phones. I shook my head, I didn’t know.
She threw a sharp look at Karson. “You can mind-read.” She didn’t wait for him to respond but barked, “You fucking slaughtered them before you found out, didn’t you? You stupid, idiot.”
I grimaced.
Karson merely stared at her as if he was unconcerned, yet I saw a shadow flicker over his eyes, like the flutter of a dark wing, maybe guilt, maybe anger—probably both.
“They had guns.” I felt compelled to defend him. “They were shooting at me.”
She snorted and didn’t take her eyes off Karson. “You expect me to believe you couldn’t leave one alive for long enough to find out who the hell they were?”
Karson hadn’t moved or attempted to defend himself, but the tension simmered around the room.
“What’s done is done,” Michael said, always the rational voice. “There’s no point dwelling on it.”
Dahlia turned so fast to face Michael her ponytail swished like a whip. “There’s a fairly good point, given we now have no fucking clue who is after her.” She placed a powerful hand on her hip.
Karson rose casually and seemed to fill up the room. “We will take care of it, Dahlia. As we took care of Amelia last night.” The shot rolled off his tongue casually. “Perhaps you could help her with her injuries though, sweetheart.”
She glared at him. “Don’t call me sweetheart, asshole.”
Karson smirked.
She turned her attention back to me. She pressed her thumb into the bruised side of my face.
I winced and jerked back.
“It’s not broken but I’m going to need something to help heal that. We’ll need BJ’s mum to whip up some stuff for the bruising and swelling.”
Maybe Karson had brought the blood to satiate them all, so if my lip bled again, they wouldn’t be tempted. Still . . .
“Can you heal the split in my lip at least?”
“Of course you need that done.” Dahlia aimed that arrow at Monique. “Wouldn’t want to bleed with the sharks around.”
Monique tilted her cup forward, Blood, rich and bright, sparkled against the stark white. “You have no need for concern Dahlia, I’m not hungry, this particular witch’s blood was just so satisfying.” She smirked.
Dahlia breathed out a long sigh and moved her gaze back to me.
I lowered myself to the edge of the couch.
She waved her hand over my face, and chanted softly, over and over.
My skin tingled like someone was waving a feather over it.
The throbbing sensation dulled, like a dwindling clock, and then slowly dissipated.
She stopped chanting. I reached up to touch my face, it still felt hot under my touch and a little swollen, but the pain was gone, and the split had closed.
“Can you please do my ribs, too?” I asked quietly.
“What’s wrong with your ribs?” She yanked at my t-shirt to look. Her eyes widened and then she frowned. “Christ, Amy. They look broken. That must be killing you.”
“A little,” I mumbled, blushing, embarrassed at my weakness.
I’d always had an exceptional pain threshold.
I broke my arm when I was fourteen. I kept saying it was a bit sore, when mum took me to the doctor two weeks later, x-rays revealed a clean break.
Doctors where amazed, I should have been screaming, apparently.
But there was nothing like super-healing, super-tough vampires to make my mortal, fragile body feel utterly pathetic.
“Why didn’t you tell me last night, Amelia.
” Karson said, furiously. I didn’t answer him.
I could hardly say ‘because I feel inferior to your supreme, elitist, immortal healing skills’, Monique would revel in that.
I shifted my gaze out the window, watching as two little birds charged up and down in a game of pursuit.
“That’s beyond my level of expertise,” Dahlia said, “we need Caron.”
She was about the last person I wanted to see, let alone ask for help from. “No, do what you can, it’ll be fine.”
She expelled a harsh breath. “You live with them, but you don’t want anything to do with Caron.”
“That’s correct.”
She looked like she was about to say something, but instead she clamped her jaw tight.
“Fuck me . . . lay down then.”
“Anytime you’d like to use those same words on me, Dahlia, I’d be open,” Michael crooned, rising gracefully from the couch.
She shot him a look that would have most men running for the hills. On the contrary, I could tell Michael loved baiting her. No wonder he and Ethan were such good friends. They were two peas in a pod.
Grimacing, I lowered myself down, using my arms to take the weight off my torso. Breathing through my teeth, I pulled my legs up until I managed to lay flat on my back. I stared up at the ceiling. Feeling awkward, I pulled my top up.
“It might hurt a bit.” She peered down with a look of apology, and what, worryingly, looked like trepidation.
She placed her palms above the worst of the bruising and began to chant.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, a stinging, maybe a pull, but nothing could prepare me for what I got.
It felt like someone had dug a claw into my rib cage.
I clenched my teeth and tried not to cry out.
The claw sank in deeper, and the pain shot like an arrow through my chest. My head pulsed like a blood pressure cuff.
Sweat beaded on my brow and top lip. The ceiling began to blur and fade.
I breathed and sucked. Sucked and breathed.
My fingers dug into the side of the couch.
She chanted over and over and over. The claw kept digging and digging and digging.
I tried not to, but I couldn’t help it, I cried out. “Argghhhhh, God, God, stop!”
She didn’t stop. Instead she chanted faster. The claw hooked under the bone and yanked.
“Stop,” I begged. A rib crunched, like a foot on a beetle, slowly crushing its shell. A fire roared through my chest and up to my head and deep fried the circuits in my brain. The lights went out.
“Amelia,” I heard a voice speaking like we were under water.
I opened my eyes. I could see stars and gray dots and the shadowed outline of Karson hovering above me.
The room was silent. A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach.
I lay still, the rapid, shallow rise and fall of my breaths the only movement I risked.
My chest ached. Sweat clung to my face and neck.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his hand sweeping across my brow. I blinked. The light shone above his head like a halo. A halo made of blinding sun, intent on burning the pupils out of my head. I thought it would have been obvious I wasn’t. I closed my eyes.
I managed, “Mmm.”
“Amelia, open your eyes.”
I didn’t want to open my eyes, I wanted to rest, I wanted to sleep and when I woke it would all go away.
“Perhaps you should get X-rays done.” Michael sounded clear and yet strangely far away.
“Not only is she exceptionally average looking. But the broomstick humping minx’s body is also pathetically weak.” Monique sounded appalled. “From the long list of fragile conquests, you really have outdone yourself this time, Karson.”
I swallowed back the bile in my throat and dragged my eyes open. “I’m not fucking weak,” I rasped.
Karson’s eyes glimmered and his lip hooked up in the corner. He moved with vampire speed to the other side of the room.
“Sorry. You should be okay to sit, I think.” Dahlia grimaced. “But you need to be careful, I think I may have repaired the cracks but I’m not sure how well, it’s not exactly my area of expertise.”
Using my hands, I leveraged myself to a seated position.
My ribs ratcheted in my chest. But it was a dull pain and manageable.
I sat with my feet on the floor, head bowed, pale and shaking.
It was better now, definitely better, I reaffirmed in my head, as if convincing my brain and stomach that it was all over and they could settle now. They weren’t so convinced.
“I’ll make sure she stays home,” Karson said.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Karson.” My voice sounded weaker than I would have liked.
“You heard her,” he scorned, “you will be staying here until it’s safe for you to leave.”
I lifted my head. “Whoever it is, attacked me, not you. I’m not hiding. I’m going out to find out who did it.” Determination gave strength back to my voice. I wiped the sweat off my brow with my fingers, rubbing them on my jeans.
“You’re being ridiculous, until we know who it is. It’s not safe for you out there, so you stay home.”
I folded my arms. Even though a voice in my head knew he was right. Another voice, one who needed to hold onto some sense of power, refused to listen. “No.”
“Yes. It’s not a negotiation. This isn’t a democratic society you can do as you please in without consequences.”
I snort bitterly. “You’re right its not a negotiation because I’m going to do as I damn well please. And there will be consequences if you try and—”
“Now, now, kiddies, stop your bickering. You two are enough to wake a vampire from his coffin,” Ethan said, looking like he’d just clambered out of bed.
His hair was wet at the tips and ruffled, and his t-shirt was crumpled.
He must have gotten home just before Karson, showered and snatched a bit of sleep.
“Morning, Rocky, I heard you calling my name. You look like shit. And Karson is right. You stay here, and I’ll get Darcy to come over and we can all search together, okay?”
“Fine,” I said, beaten, but at least it was a compromise.
Except it wasn’t.
“