Chapter 6 Maeve #2
“If I tell you, it’s a lot to process.” She spoke slowly, like she was saying each word as the thought occurred to her.
“I know it’s a lot to process because it was a lot to process for me.
Even…” She hesitated and blew out a deep sigh.
“Even knowing everything I already knew.” Then she laughed, almost looking embarrassed as she rolled her eyes.
“I think I only thought I knew some of the stuff.” She nodded and grinned as she looked right at me. “I know a hell of a lot more now.”
I pinched myself to keep my excitement in. “New rule, Ciara. If you think it, you have to say it.”
She wrinkled her nose. “What? Why?”
“Because there’s a lot you won’t tell me if you don’t take that rule seriously.” I focused on still seeming casual, even as anticipation hummed through me.
I was on the verge of something big. It was like she was about to confirm every legend I’d ever read. The air in the room had thickened like even the building was waiting, and the magic I’d felt before buzzed against my skin, heightening my expectation.
“A mate is…” Ciara still spoke slowly, her brow furrowed, and I withheld my sigh.
This wasn’t the interesting part, damnit.
“A soulmate, I get it.” I waved my hand as I interrupted her. “But I suppose the real question is… Why say mate instead of husband or boyfriend?” Those were the normal words, right? The ones that society more usually used and expected as ways for describing significant others, really.
“Because—” She stopped. “It’s a different commitment.”
I raised both of my eyebrows. “Longer?”
“Forever,” she whispered.
“I think maybe you need to just tell me everything.” I needed to hear her say the damn words. I didn’t want to put them in her mouth for her.
She sighed before sinking to the floor, looking graceful even as she drew her long legs up against her. “I’m not exactly human.”
“Whoop!” I fist pumped before I could stop myself from making any sudden movements or openly celebrating.
“What?” She tilted her head again.
“I knew it,” I mumbled. “I knew there was something here. It’s the reason I came. Continue.” I gestured, suddenly all regal and gracious like I could actually tell her what to do, but really just trying to style out my ridiculous show of enthusiasm.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Like I’m not human at all.”
I held my overactive fist in my other hand, anchoring it in my lap.
But my enthusiasm spilled out of my mouth, instead.
There was no containing it. “I knew it! Vampire? You’re too fast and too strong to be fae.
And your eyes are red sometimes. And I assume people around here…
” I glanced at the drain and the staining on the floor again. “I assume they drink blood.”
The corners of her lips twitched like she was withholding a smile. “You already have theories?”
“Theories?” I scoffed. Theories and hypotheses and suppositions. And a damn blog full of proof if only more people would read the thing. “There are things that I know.” And again, I couldn’t explain it. I did just know. “Somehow.”
“Mmhmm.” But she didn’t look convinced. “Well, whatever you think you know, the things I’m about to tell you are probably going to blow your mind.”
I shook my head. “Absolutely not. I can handle vampires.” If I’d expected her to be shocked at my use of the word, I was disappointed.
She merely raised an eyebrow. “And shifters?”
Damnit. I fist-fucking-pumped again. I couldn’t help it. I mean, talk of vampires was one thing, but to have Ciara confirm shifters for me as well?
Holy shit. What a win. I could prove two of the biggest things I’d ever investigated.
“What kind of shifters?” I asked my question like that mattered. She could’ve been about to introduce me to the world of snail shifters, and I wouldn’t have given a shit.
She sighed again. “Look. I can’t lie. This isn’t a good situation.”
I nodded, agreeing with her. This was a shit situation. About as shitty as situation could get.
“This is a death situation,” I said. “I know what it is. So you might as well spill, right? Dead men tell no tales, after all.” I followed my corny line with a dark laugh, and Ciara winced.
“There’s every chance I won’t die, though.” She looked almost apologetic.
I puffed my cheeks as I blew out a sigh. “The perks of being an immortal vampire.”
“I’m half wolf shifter.” She lowered her voice to the point I almost had to lip read.
“A hybrid?” I squeaked out the words. “Holy shit, Ciara!”
She motioned with her hands—the universally accepted lower the volume gesture, and I waited a moment before speaking again, barely moving my lips—as if that made a difference somehow.
“Do they know?”
She shrugged before speaking in the same barely there voice as before. “I’m not sure. Sometimes I wonder how they can possibly not know. Other times, they seem clueless.” Then she adopted a more normal tone. “You’re not reacting the way you should be.”
It was my turn to shrug. “I thought I’d said I’m a paranormal blogger?
” Maybe I shouldn’t reveal everything about my history and Granny.
Just an overview of recent events would do for now.
“I investigate the supernatural and anything out of the ordinary. I’ve been low key following events at a local nightclub for a while now—maybe you know it?
It’s called Nightfall.” I barely waited for her confirmatory nod before I continued.
“But then I saw some grainy footage of this…guy…something falling…but not really falling, you know?” I struggled as I tried to describe the video I’d stumbled across late one night.
“The guy looked like he was being lowered. It was controlled. Sometimes he hovered. There was a blown-out apartment behind him. Anyway, I came as soon as I could.”
“And how’s that working out for you?” Ciara half chuckled as she asked the question.
I made a show of glancing around. “So far, the accommodation isn’t getting a five-star rating. Not sure about this New Orleans hospitality I’d heard about.”
Ciara laughed. “We’re usually better than this, to be honest. Maybe not my pack—we’re not very open to outsiders, but New Orleans is built for tourists.”
“So what gives? Who was that guy? The flying one?” I had so many questions, and we had nothing but time to kill. Now that Ciara had started to open up, it was time for me to get my answers.
“Oh, that was Francois.” She sounded pretty off-hand about it.
“He can fly?” That was a part of the lore I’d never believed. The whole vampires turning into bats or just flying like witches without brooms was a bit too superhero-esque for something so dark and…well, dead.
“No.” Ciara laughed again. “We don’t fly.”
“I didn’t think you did. Glad to be proved right on that. So what was going on? Magic?” I hadn’t thought they were magic-users either, though.
“Mmm.” She nodded. “You’re here at a bad time, to be honest. It’s a long story, really, but the Baton Rouge King took over New Orleans, and we should have had stability, but some older vampires have waged a challenge.
We don’t know much about them—they’re called the Ancients—and they have powers we don’t.
They seem to be able to wield magic. They’ve come to take over, though. ”
“Shit.” The word came out on a breath, and my nervous anticipation ramped up to almost excitement levels.
“I know I should be scared—like really scared—but I’m already facing death in the face, right?
What does it matter the kind of vampire who brings that about?
Tell me as much as you can. Will we be rescued?
” I hadn’t meant for that question to stop me in my tracks, but it did.
“Yeah. Will we be rescued?” The excitement inside me died down.
Ciara’s brow furrowed. “You have no idea how badly I want to tell you yes. I know they’ll try.
I’m the sister of the alpha of the local wolf shifter pack.
That means he’s the head, basically. Like their king or their boss.
He’s in charge. So we should definitely have some angry wolves on the warpath.
” A fleeting grimace crossed her mouth. “I hope. But even if they can’t help, my mate is the sireling of the King of Baton Rouge and New Orleans.
That means that the king—Nic—turned him into a vampire.
” She explained the various terms like I didn’t know anything at all.
After a short pause, she nodded. “You know what? They’ll come.
I’m sure of it. They’re planning and strategizing and they’re on the way. I have absolute faith in that.”
But I shrank down a little on the uncomfortable mattress. I’d never been someone who relied on faith. I believed in things I could prove—hence the blog, hence the evidence gathering…hence this goddamn trip to New Orleans.
I stared at the closed door and I stared at the drain in the floor. The mirror reflected my despair back at me, the reverse image of the room mocking. This was a very, very bad situation indeed.