Chapter 29
Oliver exceeded the speed limit driving to Waldo’s apothecary.
He urgently needed to secure vials of Clare’s blood as backup. Even more so since he had held her in his arms and given himself to her in the moment of climax. They were bound to one another now.
She was his mate, his beloved.
She was also in grave danger. The idea was tearing him apart.
And if he couldn’t remain rational, what chance would he have to save her if she disappeared?
His heart pounded as he parked outside the apothecary and strode inside. He told the receptionist that he was here to see Waldo urgently, and when she told him to take a seat, his knee jiggled with impatience.
When Waldo walked out of his office, his calm greeting barely touched the edge of Oliver’s frazzled nerves.
“Come, come,” he said as he ushered Oliver into his consulting room. “Sit. Can I get you a tea or coffee?”
“A Valium might be better.”
“I do not dispense them.” Waldo smiled. “Besides, that would not help, it is not medication but ancient magick that is required now.”
“Yeah, and if I understood how to activate that ancient magick, maybe it would be alright, but fuck, Waldo I am totally lost as to where to go next with this.”
“On the contrary Oliver, you are not lost, you are found.”
Oliver frowned. “How do you mean?”
“You don’t think I know you well enough to tell when you are in love?”
Oliver’s head jerked up.
Damn warlock. This was unnerving; he felt his skin prickling with heat. “How did you guess?”
“Just call it a hunch.” Waldo smiled.
“You’re as bad as Clare with her fucking hunches,” Oliver growled, though he was unable to hide his sheepish grin.
“But yes, your hunch is correct. She means everything to me. She’s insisting on continuing undercover, even though I am terrified Matteus will take her, and I won’t be able to reach her. ”
“Scary thought, I know. But it is absolutely correct for her to take the lead. I consulted the runes and they back that up.”
“Hmmm. So I’m not in charge of this investigation anymore, is that what you’re saying?”
Waldo laughed. “Ah, drop your vampiric machismo, man. You were never in charge. Destiny was. Your destiny was to meet Clare, fall in love her and heal your trauma, thus releasing your formidable power. Together, your destiny is to break apart the Dark Dimension. I will help facilitate that in any way I can, but I am not the main player—you two are.”
Oliver tried to take all this in, it felt seismic.
Finally, he said, “I do need your help, which is why I’m here.
We need to store some of Clare’s blood. Then I will have access to it in an emergency.
If she was abducted and I had not partaken of her…
I’m not sure I could reach her. You get my gist… ”
“I do. And yes, a very wise move. I can send one of my nurses around to take blood from her today and store it. In the event of an emergency, you must come here and I will dispense it.”
“Thank you.” Oliver gave him a relieved smile, then frowned. “Though what the fuck do I do after that? Am I supposed to just turn up and carry her away like a knight in shining armor? I mean, how does that solve this problem? How do I get the other humans out and destroy that damn place?”
He knew they were rhetorical questions, but still he looked to the mage hopefully.
“One step at a time, Oliver. Be patient.”
Oliver tskked. “I’m a planner, Waldo, you know that. I plan to the nth degree. That’s how I stayed away from my addictions, by exercising meticulous control.”
“I know I sound like a stuck record, Oliver, but you just need to trust the magick to do its work when the moment arises.”
“Gah, you all talk fluff,” Oliver said. But he knew Waldo was wise, just like Emerson, who had somehow seen the good in Oliver’s addiction-ravaged body all those years ago.
But in the end, of course, it had been Oliver who had to do the work.
Doubtless, this would be no different. Except this time, he had Clare to help him. And to worry about.
“I will send one of my nurses around to your house immediately,” Waldo said. “Lucia is an unfanged vampire, she will totally understand.”
“That would ease my mind somewhat,” Oliver said, standing. Then, clapping his old friend on the back and thanking him, he left to visit Dorothea Kominsky.
There was a sour taste in his mouth as he stared up at Dorothea Kominsky’s crumbling mansion.
It had been built on the very edges of Old Motham, in an area that edged the barren expanse of the Wastelands.
She’d moved there after her divorce from Bernard Kominsky, who had taken off with a fae heiress to live in the mountains, where he managed his drug-smuggling empire.
Dorothea had lived here, bitter and twisted, doting on her only son, Matteus, for a century or more.
She no doubt survived on other creatures’ blood, since the small supply of human blood that she was awarded in the divorce settlement would not keep her going.
And she drank wine. Lots of red wine. It no doubt fooled her that she was imbibing human blood.
Taking the crumbling steps to the peeling front door, Oliver rang the bell pull and waited until the door opened a crack A small, worried-looking sprite stared at him with hollow eyes.
Ah, vampires had a way of getting sprites to work for them.
Maybe she was a feeder, she looked as if there wasn’t much blood left in her own veins.
“Is your mistress home?”
“Who shall I say is calling?”
“An old friend from the past.” He handed her his card. “On official business.”
The sprite limped off into the dark depths of the house. He wondered if Dorothea took the sprite’s blood from the large veins in her leg and had half crippled the poor being.
Finally, the sprite returned and ushered him into the drawing room.
There were cobwebs on burned-down candles. Dirty dishes sat on the stained tablecloth, along with lots of empty wine bottles. There were photos on the mantelpiece. One of Dorothea, stunning in her youth, caught his eye.
The female who sat in a wheelchair in front of him was not that Dorothea.
He hid his shock.
Dorothea had gone downhill since he had last seen her, three years ago, when he’d interviewed her about Matteus’s disappearance.
She’d gloated at him then, told him he was a no-hoper compared with her son.
It seemed the roles were reversed now. There was clearly no hope for Dorothea.
She pinned her mouth into a parody of a greeting. “Ah, Oliver Hale,” she croaked. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“I think you could hazard a guess, Dorothea.”
“I doubt if it’s to see how a poor old woman is faring.” She sneered. “I wouldn’t expect kindness from a Hale.”
“You want me to sympathize? Very well, I am sorry to see you as a shadow of your former self.”
“Ha!” she croaked. Turning, she wheeled herself with long clawed hands toward the bureau and poured herself a wine. “Want one?”
“I will decline, thank you.” He watched the blood-red liquid slug into a glass, her hand visibly shaking. Maybe he should feel sympathy, but all he could muster was a vague disgust.
There would be no son to take care of her in her dotage. No humans with a stake would even waste their time putting her out of her misery.
“So, what are you sniffing around for?” she croaked.
He watched as she greedily slugged back the wine. Her looks were long gone. She smacked her lips and grimaced at him through broken teeth. Ye gods, surely she could afford dental care? Except no Motham dentist would likely go near her in case she bit them.
Born Dorothea Bingley, she was from a lesser vampire clan that had lived in the lowlands until their food supply ran dry.
Dorothea had arrived as a child with her clan and married above herself to Bernard Kominsky.
Rumor had it she’d miscarried often until she finally produced an heir, only to have her husband leave her with a new bride and a new life over the mountains.
It was tragic really.
“I repeat, what do you want with me, Hale scum?”
Any small glow of empathy was snuffed out by her words.
“I am here with regards to your son.”
She broke eye contact. “Haven’t seen him in three years.”
“Why do I think that is a lie, Dorothea?”
“Would I tell you, knowing how much you want revenge on my family?”
“Revenge, no. Justice, yes. It’s hard to let go of a betrayal that has your loved ones murdered in cold blood. That doesn’t fade, Dorothea.”
“Bah! You Hales with your airs and graces and your snobby stuck-up ways. You all had it coming, you vile bastards.”
“Building bonds with humans that allowed us to feed without destruction, you mean? Look at you Dorothea, a broken alcoholic, feeding off livestock and red wine. Is yours not a vile lifestyle?”
“Better than yours, you vegan wimp.”
He laughed out loud at her attempt to insult him.
“I do okay on my diet of lettuce.” He stalked around the room looking at her photos—Dorothea holding Matteus in her arms, a beautiful young vampira then.
Matteus, graduating college, and standing in front of his black limo, his handsome smile not belying the cruel light in his eyes.
“So you’ve not sighted your son since…”
“Since you tried to frame him for abducting a human. She was a stupid little bitch anyhow. Didn’t know when she was onto a good thing. She could have had everything. Instead, she’s gone and shacked up with an orc.”
“An orc billionaire. Don’t think she’s done too badly.”
“My Matteus has gone further than any billionaire.”
Oliver cocked an eyebrow. “How would you know if you’ve had no contact?”
She seemed to pull herself up short. “I sense it. As his mother. He is connected to my womb, forever, the memory of carrying him is in my cells, I don’t need to be told what he’s doing to know, it’s telepathic.”
She guzzled her wine, slammed down her glass and gave a cackle. “He will be a high priest soon. And then watch out, valley lands.”
Oliver raised his brows but said nothing, waiting for her to walk into the trap of her own ego.
She swiped at her lips with her sleeve. Muttered something he couldn’t quite hear.
Oliver nudged the conversation along. “High priest, eh? Surely Matteus Kominsky, playboy extraordinaire, is not choosing celibacy?”
“No woman was good enough for my boy. He’s moved beyond pleasures of the flesh. He has a higher goal.”
“So you do have some word from him?”
She glowered. He knew she couldn’t bear him to think her son had deserted her.
“He gets information to me.” She jutted her jaw.
“But don’t get excited. You will never find him, his energy is operating at a higher frequency than yours ever will.
” She raked a hand through her thinning, dyed black hair, “You have no idea how powerful my son will soon be. He’s learned more than any vampire, acquired superpowers beyond imagination.
And soon he’ll overthrow the fucker who taught him.
That ugly beast is just a stepping stone.
And then my sweet boy will come for me, and I will—” she belched loudly, “—live in Paradise for eternity.”
“Paradise…” He waited, then nudged her some more. “If this happens, then your son is great, indeed.”
Dorothea traced the air with her glass, spilling wine on her clothing without even noticing.
“The realm he’s building is more beautiful than a fae world.
Matteus will be king, and I will be his queen, and we will rule over the humans in their silly little toy towns.
” She let out a raucous cackle. “They don’t know what is about to hit them, stupid bobble heads. ”
“Bobble heads?”
“High Tween humans. Just a load of dumb-assed bobble heads. They’ll do anything for money.
Sell their stupid souls, with the promise of eternal life.
They don’t realize Matteus is about to take over.
Motham will fall next, then we’ll move over the mountains.
Vampires will rule again.” She gave him a filthy look.
“But not Hales. Never Hales.” She drained the glass and smacked her lips.
“Matteus will come get his momma, like the good boy I raised him to be.”
“It’s a nice fantasy, Dorothea,” Oliver sneered, knowing this was the moment to squeeze her fragile ego.
“It’s not a fantasy. It’s true,” she howled at him.
Oliver stood up.
He’d heard enough. All of it was aligned with his own experiences, and she’d alluded to the involvement of another darker force. Was that the shadowy cloaked figure he’d caught sight of on his last trip?
There was no point in staying any longer. She would only descend into slinging more mud and he would probably lose his cool. Already there was a sour taste in his mouth.
“Thanks for your time, Dorothea. I’ll be on my way.”
As he made for the door, she called after him, “When you and those stupid gargoyles lost him that night, what? You think he just disappeared by some fluke? Not my son. He knew exactly what he was doing, he outwitted the lot of you. Even you, Hale, wonder boy.”
Oliver’s lips twitched. “I think two hundred plus years on earth allows me to claim manhood.”
“Bah! Should have been staked with the rest of them,” she hurled at his back.
Oliver saw red. He swung round, eyes blazing, and she cowered. “You think living for eternity is better, do you Dorothea? Like this? Stuck in a wheelchair, drinking your days away on cheap red wine and memories of what you once were?”
“I have a better place I’m heading.” She smirked.
“Unlike you. Stuck all alone in a world without clan. But my baby boy, he’s coming for me, he’ll look after his momma, he always looks after his momma.
” She was rocking now, holding her glass of red wine like a babe in arms as she repeated over and over, “My boy, my boy, he loves his momma.”
Her mind, Oliver realized, was fracturing. Soon all she would have left was this moment, repeating the same words for eternity, waiting for her son to rescue her from this hellhole of misery.
It would never happen.
“I feel sorry for you, Dorothea,” he said quietly.
“Get fucked,” she howled as he closed the door. He felt the impact as the glass she’d thrown hit the wood panels, then shattered to the ground behind him.