Chapter 30
THIRTY
Several days later, after a grueling police interrogation and a forced vacation from Addy, I was recovering at home, mainly by becoming a total snack-hoarding, binge-watching couch gremlin.
Quinn was alive, but she hadn’t woken up yet. I kept her in a small basket I’d lined with a silk nightgown and a tiny doll pillow Edmund had produced out of thin air.
I didn’t ask where it came from or how he’d gotten it to me. There was more to Edmund than met the eye, but since I was in the same boat, I figured I couldn’t press him for answers when I wasn’t willing to give any about myself. At least not yet.
The healer couldn’t say for sure if Quinn would wake up.
She’d taken a lot of damage when she struck the wall, and pixies weren’t a hardy species to begin with.
Nor were they badass warriors who got between a deadly vampire and a witch fighting for her life, so I could only hope Quinn kept defying the odds.
I’d had several visitors, mostly nosy reporters and supernaturals who suddenly wanted to become BFFs, but I only allowed Cat and a trusted healer she’d hired to come inside.
She’d been a rock, a steady source of both information and reprieve. She knew when to talk and when to let me wallow, but she could also make a mean martini, and she always brought snacks.
She was already the best friend I’d ever had, and that made me sad. Cat did way more than the bare minimum, but her constant presence made me realize I’d been alone for so long. Too long.
I needed people in my life. Good people like her.
Unfortunately, Cat hadn’t been lying when she said I’d gone viral.
Me and my girls were still prominent on the front page of Tock, even a week after the debacle at the coffee shop. All the takedown notices worked, only for someone else to repost the video five minutes later.
Fortunately, the app now required blurring, but that didn’t stop the rest of the internet from posting the uncensored video. I had no choice but to accept that my boobs and more were forever immortalized online.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. I could handle a little public nudity if it meant people left me alone, and witches were notorious about practicing magic skyclad aka in the buff.
Most witches weren’t bothered by someone seeing them naked, and while it was annoying and a little embarrassing, it wasn’t the end of the world.
My main annoyance was with Silas and Alric showing up to my house several times.
I flat out refused to answer the door, and Edmund had a field day figuring out creative ways to throw them off the property. By now, everyone and their mother knew my house wasn’t normal.
Both of those men had done this to me. Maybe not directly, but the moment I came into a vampire’s orbit, my life had changed forever. I had zero desire to see either one of them for the foreseeable future. Maybe forever.
Silas held less blame, but his presence still reminded me of Beckett looming over me, blood dripping from his face, his eyes burning with madness. I hadn’t slept well since my attack, and I was beginning to wonder if I would ever feel rested again.
The Shifter King had sent over another pendant and a note asking me to call when I was ready.
I wore the pendant but had no plans to call him or anyone else for the foreseeable future.
The best news to come out of my life being thrown into massive chaos was Beckett’s death had freed all the infected.
As soon as Beckett had died, every single one of the vampires in our city woke up, no worse for wear.
Zero aggression, zero personality issues.
All had reverted to their former normal vampiric states.
Silas had slipped a letter under my door thanking me. He was also cured.
So, at least things were back to normal in the supernatural world, or as normal as they could be when the threat of certain death had been vanquished by a naked, angry witch who could apparently summon deadly blue flames when she was really pissed off.
Good times.
Alric was a little more circumspect in his pursuit. He’d sent a couple of letters asking to meet, but when I ignored him, he’d stepped up his game by sending food deliveries every single night.
I could have turned them away, but he knew how much I loved food.
Cat had left a little while ago, promising to return the next day so we could catch up on our research about angelic magic. I hadn’t shown her the basement yet, or the perfect circle I’d made for the blood ritual I still hadn’t performed.
Finding out who I was could wait. I was starting to have my suspicions, and those suspicions could be enough to turn my entire world on its head, more so than it already was.
For now, I was in gremlin mode. All I wanted was food, television, and silence.
Just as I was thinking this, the doorbell rang. I tossed a handful of popcorn in the direction of the sound and hissed.
“You might want to answer,” Edmund said.
He’d been pretty quiet lately, probably sensing my reluctance to have a conversation with anyone but Cat. For him to speak today piqued my curiosity.
“Who is it?”
“I’ve never seen her before, but she’s a witch. A powerful one.” He sighed. “And she’s speaking to me, so she knows your home is sentient.”
Shit. “What is she saying?”
“Alric sent her. She’s come to purge Beckett’s blood from your system.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead.”
“She said Alric said you would say that and I should tell you that Beckett sired at least two children who might have power over you if you ever run into them.”
I closed my eyes for a brief moment.
“What about Alric’s blood?”
“She said to tell you she’s not powerful enough to purge a Prime’s blood, but…” He paused, a thoughtful note in his voice, “she said you might be.”
I frowned. “How?”
“She won’t say. Answer the door, Alex. I’ll monitor what she’s doing. I can tell if she’s trying any funny business.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, untangling myself from the blankets.
I stomped to the door and flung it open. A tall, slender witch stood on the doorstep. I sagged against the doorframe. “Imelda.”
My mother’s friend stared at me for a long moment, an unreadable expression on her serious face. Finally, she let out a soft sigh and held up a floral bag. “I’ve come to help. I promise not to keep you long.”
I held the door open. Imelda brushed by me and went straight to the kitchen where she set her bag down and started unpacking right away. “Please sit and strip your shirt off.”
I blinked. “Erm. What?”
She rolled her eyes. “Every single person in this country has seen your breasts. What’s one more witch?”
I laughed in spite of myself. “Fine.” I obediently unbuttoned my shirt. “Can I keep my bra on?”
“Nope. Bare skin is best.”
I rolled my eyes and stripped that off, too, plopping it down onto the kitchen stool. “Do your worst.”
“This will hurt,” Imelda said.
She pulled out a small red vial and set it on top of the island, followed by a small scalpel, alcohol pads, and an odd-looking needleless syringe.
“Is all that necessary?”
“It is.” She worked with ruthless efficiency. She ripped open one of the alcohol pads and cleaned a space right above my heart.
She picked up the scalpel and nicked a small wound in the space she’d just cleaned. I hissed and jerked away.
Imelda rolled her eyes. “That’s not the part that hurts.”
The witch laid both her hands on me and began chanting. Her eyes took on a haunting blue glow, just as my skin started to burn like hell.
I sucked in a breath. Imelda removed one of her hands and reached for the syringe. She placed it against the wound, crimson blood moving into the syringe of its own volition. The witch kept chanting, and soon the blood changed color from red to black, and pain was all I knew.
When I came to, Imelda was packing up her bag.
“Good,” she said. “You were only out for a minute.”
I stared at her. “You suck,” I croaked.
Her lips lifted in a small smile. “I get that a lot.” She closed her bag and picked it up. “If you want to get rid of the Prime’s influence, look to your books. You will find all you need.”
I sat up straighter.
Imelda pressed gentle fingers against my cheek. “Your mother was a good woman. She would be so proud of you.”
She opened her mouth to say something else but hesitated.
Imelda leaned close and whispered in my ear.
“I— I wish I could help more, but Alric has eyes everywhere.” She gave a meaningful glance around my house, sending a chill down my spine.
“As vampires go, he is not terrible but helping you might reveal your secrets. Look to your books, Alex,” she whispered urgently. “You will find the answers you seek.”
With those words, she straightened up, gave me a sad smile, and hurried away, letting herself out of the house before I could form even one of the dozen questions burning inside my mind.
A few hours later, Edmund was preoccupied by his manic search for hidden cameras and listening devices Alric might have left behind while I was wrapped up like a burrito, watching trash television.
A breaking news bulletin flashed across my screen, interrupting a cat fight between two chefs, both of whom were trying to take the last of the smoked gouda for their last dish.
The reporter’s face was grave. “I come to you this evening with a special bulletin. A strange illness has befallen several supernaturals across the country. At this time, there have been three reported deaths.”
My blanket fell away as I reached for the remote to turn the volume up.
“The man authorities suspected was Patient Zero was killed during a coffee shop break-in, curing several afflicted supernaturals, but there is new information alleging there might be another man carrying the virus who remains symptom free. If you have seen this man or know anything about him, please call the number at the bottom of your screen.”
A faded picture flashed on the screen of a handsome young man with bright green-dominant hazel eyes. His hair was dark and shining, and laughter lines creased his face. His lips were quirked in a sort of half-smile, like someone had told a joke only he understood.
The blood drained from my face. I knew those eyes.
I saw their twin in the mirror every single morning.
And I knew that face.
I had the same faded picture locked in a box I kept under my bed. That same picture held years of my fingerprints from where I’d stroked my thumb over that face as I wondered what he was like and if he had ever loved me.
Mom had given me that picture when I was ten years old.
That man with the DANGER, DO NOT APPROACH!! sign flashing over his head on the screen was my father.
* * *