26. Chapter 26
26
“ G avin,” I said, hurrying after the vampire as he marched down the hillside, weaving purposely between grave markers. I gave a quick glance over my shoulder at the others.
Micah, Bastian, Ash, and a handful of vampire guardians I had yet to officially meet trailed behind us. Bastian walked gingerly across the sanctified burial grounds like he feared the deceased buried below might wake for a third life, if only to ravage the shifter who dared walk across their graves. He supported Micah, who winced with every step and seemed so shell-shocked after the violence and bloodshed that he neither noticed nor cared about Bastian’s nudity.
“Gavin,” I repeated.
Either Gavin was ignoring me, or he was so focused on something else that he truly hadn’t heard me.
I jogged ahead to catch up with him and caught his elbow. “Gavin, wait,” I said, halting his stride. “Just wait a second.”
Gavin gave me a pointed look, tugged his arm free from my hold, and continued down the hill.
Frustration surged up within me, and my hands balled into fists. “ Stop ,” I commanded, instinctively drawing on my will to imbue my voice with power.
Gavin stopped abruptly, his spine rigid. He clenched his jaw, tension making his muscles quiver, and he stared stubbornly down the hill toward the Gothic mansion in the valley below. The Moon Sanctuary , though I had once called this place home . Blood smears stained Gavin’s face and clothing, and only the faintest rim of silver shone around his swollen pupils. Either he was still hopped up on adrenaline from the fight, or he was hungry. Maybe both.
“Release me,” he practically growled through gritted teeth. “I must feed.”
Again, I rested my hand on his arm. “You can feed on me. I’m right here.”
Gavin closed his eyes, his expression turning pained, his breathing ragged. “Not when I’m like this,” he said and finally looked at me. “The bloodlust…” He dragged in a breath. “I could hurt you.”
The others streamed past us, but at that moment, I only had eyes for Gavin. “You wouldn’t.”
“Care to test that hypothesis?” His lips drew back, baring his elongated fangs. “Because I could dispel you of that notion in a matter of seconds.” Gavin squeezed his eyelids shut, and his throat bobbed. “Tend to your son,” he said, strain in his voice. “And I will tend to my hunger.”
“Fine,” I said, managing to make the single word only somewhat snippy. With a heavy exhale, I trailed my fingers down his forearm and captured his bloody hand, giving his sticky fingers a quick squeeze. “Come find me when you’re done. We need to talk.”
Gavin grunted his assent, but still, he refused to look at me.
I released his hand and stared after him as he continued down the hill, his stride fast and determined. He passed Bastian and Micah first, who were hanging back at the tail end of the group ahead, Micah leaning heavily on Bastian.
I jogged to catch up to them. “I think I remember there being an infirmary on the ground floor,” I said, falling in step beside Micah. “If it’s still there, we should have you patched up in no time.”
“How do you know that?” Micah asked, his voice rough and weak. His pale complexion worried me, and I hoped the pallor was more from the pain than from blood loss.
“This was my home before . . .” I inhaled a steadying breath. “I don’t know what it is now. The Moon Sanctuary apparently, but I’m not sure what that means. A haven for my kind, I suppose.”
I glanced at Bastian. Surely the grounds were warded even more heavily than the loft to prevent shifters from entering, and he had required a countersigil to enter there. Perhaps the blood bond we shared allowed him passage.
“It’s because I’m yours,” Bastian confirmed, seeming to read my mind. For all I knew, he may have actually done that very thing, drawing on the deeper connection forged by our bond. Though I certainly couldn’t pick any specific thoughts out of his mind.
“I can’t read your mind, Soph,” he said. “You’re just exceptionally expressive, and I’m good at reading people.” He shrugged. “All part of the job.”
As a spy for the House of the Sun, I thought bitterly. Right.
“The wards were crafted by a queen, and only another queen can overpower them. You gave me your blood. You marked me. I belong to you, and the wards recognized me as your property, making me welcome here.”
My brow furrowed. I was disturbed by all the language implying that I owned him, and I was mildly embarrassed that he knew so much more about this place and my people than I did. But as he had said a moment ago, it was all part of the job. And possession provided protection, something Bastian would be in desperate need of here.
“I’m going to run ahead and make sure we have everything we need to treat him.” My first aid experience was limited and rusty, a relic from my time with Javier. He hadn’t trusted human medicine, preferring the magic-laced tinctures, tonics, and salves perfected by immortal healers. Assuming the infirmary was still there, I hoped it was staffed by a healer. If it wasn’t, well, we would cross that bridge when we came to it.
I jogged ahead a few paces, then glanced back over my shoulder. “When you get to the front door, the infirmary’s the second doorway on your left. Can’t miss it. I’ll be waiting for you there.” Facing forward again, I ran ahead.
My heart beat faster the closer I drew to the mansion, both from running and from returning to the place that haunted my worst nightmares. The house looked like something straight out of the mind of one of the Bront? sisters, with an overabundance of pointed arches, flying buttresses, and ornate embellishments decorating the stone exterior. Towering spires pierced the starry night sky from atop the steep roof, and a widow’s walk graced the centermost roofline, bordered by pointed wrought-iron railing.
I barreled through the ornate front door and into the dark foyer. Carved mahogany paneling surrounded me, and moonlight filtered in through the stained glass skylight in the high ceiling above.
At first, the house seemed as abandoned in real life as it had been all these years in my mind. Hushed voices caught my ear, and I followed them to the second doorway on the left. A man and a woman, the glowing crescent sigils curving around one side of their faces elevating them to vampire guardians, stood off to the side of the infirmary, their heads bent together as they shared a whispered conversation.
I cleared my throat, my fingers blindly searching the wall to the right of the door frame for a light switch.
The vampires froze, their voices cutting off mid-word. “Apologies!” the woman said, rushing toward me and flipping the switch on the opposite side of the doorway. “We often forget to turn on the lights.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I told her and hurried into the room. Javier had been the same way, his enhanced immortal senses making artificial lighting unnecessary for him to see clearly in all but the darkest spaces.
I scanned the infirmary, finding a tray of gleaming sterling steel surgical tools arranged beside an examination table. A few bags of blood, a small stoneware bowl filled with a gritty crimson poultice, and a trio of luminous potion bottles were arranged in a neat row on a nearby counter.
“We’re ready for your son, my lady,” the man said, finally stepping forward. “Is he not with you?”
The front door banged open.
“He’s here,” I said, rushing back into the foyer just as Bastian dragged Micah across the threshold. He was practically carrying Micah at this point.
“In here,” the female vampire said from behind me, not remotely concerned by Bastian’s nudity. “Come along.” She wrinkled her nose as Bastian passed, her delicate vampire nose apparently affronted by his shifter scent.
“He’s mine,” I said, a hint of warning in my voice as I fell back on the possessive, claiming verbiage others had been using.
“Of course,” the vampire said, bowing her head. Within the infirmary, her colleague was already helping Bastian situate a now unconscious Micah on the examination table.
Bastian stepped away from Micah, retreating to stand with me in the foyer. I fought the urge to go to Micah’s side. I would only be in the way. Shoulder to shoulder, Bastian and I watched as the pair of vampires worked in perfect unison, cutting off Micah’s sweatshirt and T-shirt, cleaning the fresh crimson and darker dried blood away to reveal the eight angry red puncture wounds where the cougar shifter’s claws had pierced deep into his shoulders along the line of his collarbones.
Bastian curved an arm around my back and pulled me against his side. I rested my head on his bare shoulder, incredibly grateful for his grounding presence. Simply being near him relaxed me, which was saying a lot, considering I was watching a pair of relative strangers stitch up my seriously wounded son.
“You were injured too,” I noted, craning my neck to peer up at Bastian’s face.
He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I healed when I shifted.”
“But you must be starved,” I said. “Go find something to eat.”
“Mmm . . . I could eat you,” he murmured into my hair, causing a delicate flutter low in my belly.
I smacked his bare chest, making a point not to look down. “Food, Bas. Go find some food to eat. I’ll be fine here.”
“Soph . . .” He was clearly reluctant to leave me.
“Don’t make me use my will on you,” I warned. “You need meat, and my power is already fading. Commanding you to take care of yourself might be the thing to send me over the edge.”
“Do you need to feed?” Bastian asked, concern forming a crease between his brows.
“Soon,” I admitted begrudgingly. “But not yet, and not from you.” At his wounded expression, I added, “I won’t take your blood when you’re weakened from a fight. Besides, I’d like to have the modified tincture first, so I can go more than an hour without, well, you know.”
“Fucking someone?” Bastian offered unhelpfully.
“Ugh,” I said, letting my head fall back and fake crying. “Yes.” I glanced at him sidelong and cringed. “No offense.”
He pressed his lips against my temple. “None taken.”