Chapter 23 Luna
Chapter Twenty-Three
Luna
I finish reading my aunt’s letter.
Dante’s real name is Suoivva, which means “Shadow” in the North Sami tongue.
For God’s sake, don’t go calling Sápmi by its common name of Lapland anywhere near the MC.
They are hugely tribal and proud when it comes to respecting their culture.
His surname is “Dainsinen,” so that’s where Dante originates from.
I know the seven renegades hunted the great wastelands around Europe and Asia hundreds of years ago. They wanted to discover the Red Queen’s origins.
After Dante told me his story, I thought there might be something in the blood of a red-haired woman that would satisfy the vampires’ hunger better than other kinds. Red hair is a mutation, after all. Redheads have the MC1R gene. Melanin-Concentrating Hormone Receptor 1.
My father always used to tell me that red hair is more like chemistry, not just a color.
We are more sensitive to pain. We need more anesthetic and painkillers to have an effect on us.
And the weirdest thing I found out is that we are better at using our brains than our bodies—because we have low levels of adrenaline.
Ever seen a redhead athlete at the Olympics?
I rest my case. Although Shaun White gets a pass!
And here is where it gets really strange.
Women with red hair smell better. It’s been scientifically proven that women with the MC1R gene have skin that holds a naturally sweet, musky fragrance.
Pheromones in our hair and skin attract more men in a special way.
Tests have proved that women with the MC1R gene taste different (if you know what I mean).
On top of that, the scent of a red-haired woman can change with her emotions.
What I needed was to take some of my blood and increase the amount. Only then would I be able to dilute it into a home brew. That’s where the DNA polymerase enzymes come in.
That is what they use in DNA testing laboratories to amplify trace amounts of DNA evidence. All I had to do was add the enzymes to the blood during the brewing process. Whatever the MC needs to feed it, the mix of MC1R blood and the enzymes is able to satisfy their bloodlust.
As for the other one (I won’t even write his name), I worked out that men have a primitive dislike for ejaculating inside a woman during her period. This is because the animal part of a man’s brain registers that he won’t be able to impregnate her during such a time.
If a vampire tastes lunar cycle blood, it protects the donor woman from being attacked by him. That’s why menopause is such a disaster for me. I can no longer protect myself from the evil I created and protected.
Dante and Ifan were right. I never should have allowed the half-breed to get away with murder.
What’s done is done. Good luck forever.
Love, T. A.
I let the thin pages drop to the floor. When I look around, it is already twilight.
Muohta is snoozing peacefully. I hate to disturb him, but I have to eat something and then go see how Shadow is doing.
Who was the Vampire Queen? How come there is no mention of her in history books? Did it happen so long ago that no records survived?
Grabbing the defrosted steak out of the refrigerator, I start heating a pan.
Washing two potatoes, I prick them with the tip of a knife and stick them in the microwave.
Time for me to start keeping an eye on my diet.
I saw that spinach and broccoli are still growing at Ben’s farm.
I might ask him for a whole heap so I can blanch and freeze it for winter.
I need folic acid, lots and lots of folic acid.
Frozen peas will have to do for now.
When I run upstairs to clean my teeth after a delicious supper of heavily salted steak and buttered vegetables, I check my reflection in the mirror.
A mauve tinge lingers around my mouth. I always get it just before my period arrives, but this month the bluish tone of my skin is even more noticeable.
I think I’m about to lose my uterine lining after allowing Shadow to take God knows how many pints of blood out of me.
That can’t be good.
For once, I’m not that worried about my hygiene. I think Tempest was right. The MC1R gene does make women smell better. I’ve never had a problem with body odor or smelly feet. I’ve always hated that cheesy stink of unwashed feet—makes me want to yak.
Sniffing my socks and sneakers, the only smell I can detect is shoe and sock material.
Good enough.
Mu and I are back in the car and reversing carefully down the steep incline. I have to crack a window to let out Muohta’s fish breath stank. Don’t want to meet Shadow with that on me. I hope he’s awake, but more importantly, I hope that he has healed.
Using the large bunch of inn keys, I let myself in and go down to the basement. Muohta heads over to the clubhouse on his never-ending quest for rats.
I know now that the distillery is where Tempest made the blood and enzyme elixir, and the brewery is where she turned it into fluids.
It is not as complicated as I thought. She has left me such detailed instructions.
“Hey, guys, it’s me.”
I don’t even raise my voice. They can hear if they are here. But still, I can’t help giving a scream of shock when a panel in the wainscoting is pulled back.
It’s the one with a mane of wild dark brown hair which he keeps tied back in a ponytail. The name on his cut reads “Rabanesson.”
He doesn’t even bother greeting me. “He could do with some more blood. Can you handle that?”
I am not the bloody expert on how much blood I can lose, you monster!
“You know what? It would help if I had access to the internet, Mr. Rabanesson. I would be able to Google how many pints I could lose—”
He cuts me off. “I am Theron, son of Rabane. The internet is working now. We will boost the signal for another two or three days. Go inside.” He hands me a flashlight.
Grr! It’s so frustrating not having access to tech 24-7. And my phone is sitting forgotten in a drawer at home now.
My concern for Shadow overrides my frustration. Ducking my head down, I crawl into the underground space behind the wooden panel after thoughtfully removing my shoes. I expected it to be dank and cramped down here, but it reminds me more of a penthouse panic room than a vampires’ bunker.
I start using the flashlight before Theron slides the panel shut.
Lying with his arm covering his eyes, Shadow acknowledges my presence. “Dearvva, Luna. I told the Riders you would come back.”
He’s wearing nothing more than his white cotton briefs in the chilly room.
The front of his torso is flawless. He has a strange tattoo high up on his left bicep where it would usually be hidden by the sleeve of his t-shirt.
It looks like some kind of a postmark stamp or a face.
There is a light trace of chest hair on his pectoral muscles, and the hair darkens as it trails down his taut stomach towards his briefs.
As always, he fascinates me in his casual mesmerizing way.
“Dearvva?”
A gruff sigh. “It means ‘greetings’ in my language.”
Finally, I understand my lover’s history and traditions. He is a warrior from the Arctic Circle. His land is called Sápmi, and the area of his village was in the Fells, the elevated parts in Nordic countries where only spruce trees and reindeer can survive.
“I found Tempest’s recipe, Shadow. I can start brewing just as soon as I get the ingredients from Vince Pruitt. What are you going to do about J—Mr. Farmer?”
Removing his arm, Shadow opens his eyes. They are bloodshot, and the dense dark blue color has faded. He is still a devastatingly handsome young man, but now he looks elegantly wasted like one of those heroin chic male models.
He was turned into a vampire at the age of twenty-three. No wonder he looks so gorgeous.
“Where was it? The recipe?” I can’t help but notice that he ignores my question about Jake Farmer. It’s horrendous. The poor man lost his daughter, and they killed him for acting out on it.
I pat my back pocket. “Right here. The Rider with the ponytail—he says his name is Theron—he told me you need to feed?”
Shadow gives a wheezing kind of laugh. “Yep, darlin’, you could say so. But I fed on you already. You will need time to recover.”
Wincing as he shifts over, Shadow pats the space he has made for me on his narrow bed.
“Come, lie with me.”
“Let me turn on the inn’s HVAC first.” Crawling out the way I came in, I fiddle around with the thermostat before returning to my lover’s bed.
Eating that food really strengthened me. I will invite Shadow to feed on me—at least I want to. It’s so scary to overthink the best thing to do.
I imagine his fangs sliding into me with their venomous embrace. I wonder, if I were to accidentally taste one drop of fluid from him, would it doom me to an eternal living death? The same as what the Red Queen did to him?
But I have always enjoyed danger. Working on scaffolding three stories high without a safety harness. Going hiking on my own and taking only uncharted trails. Begging my dad if I could go on ride-alongs with him in his patrol car.
Danger excites me.
But I have never been a fan of blood.
When I crawl back behind the panels and make sure to slide it shut behind me, I need to flick on the flashlight as I creep towards Shadow’s bed again.
The bright light floods the space, illuminating Shadow lying on his side facing the wall. He is right in front of me.
“Argh! Jesus Christ!” My scream turns into a wail as I see the damage on his back. “Shadow! What the fuck?!”
His back has a hole in it. A hole so wide I could fit my fist into it. And I think I can see the organs. For one moment, I lose my senses and collapse onto the floor. The flashlight rolls away.
I am left in the semi-dark with that… thing.
Shadow’s hand reaches out for me. I must love him because I don’t shrink away when he touches me.
“Sorry, honey. I should have covered up the wounds for you. I’m healing slowly because I don’t have fresh blood.”