7. Nicholas #2
Helene groans. “In other news, I found your runes at the festival. Esmerelda is trying to sell them. I, ah, I stole them. Not on purpose. I thought I set them down when the troll attacked but I must have stashed them somewhere, because they fell out when I ripped off that stupid costume. I don’t remember.
I’m sorry. Karma is gonna get me, isn’t it? ”
The cycles have already started and not going to her, not speaking to her, won’t help anything. More often than not, fate ensures her blood is on my hand and it kills me.
She’s right. There’s no escape.
My awareness splits further, old spots blooming behind my eyes like something listening back. Straightening, I cut toward the fence around the cemetery and vault over it, much faster than Helene.
Of all the fucking times...They shouldn't be here.
The black wall of the forest looms dead ahead, all paths sloping near it and the river. I speed into the trees and grab the closest vampire by the throat. Before he recognizes the attack I slam him against the trunk of an oak and squeeze.
“Talk, or die.”
The man claws at my wrist with pale, spidery fingers, eyes bulging. Red rims the center of his iris, and he gasps in a gut reaction. We don’t need to breathe.
Only the living do.
“Let him go, Silver,” a smooth voice cuts in from the left. “There’s no sense in choking the afterlife out of Gustaf. He hasn’t done anything yet.”
Helene’s words are still in my ears. It makes my grip tighten instead of loosen.
“You have a lot of nerve to come into my territory, Jules.” I refuse to look away from the sputtering mess of Gustaf.
He’s young, turned in his late teens and given new life as a vampire for the last five years. And he smells like it. Still got a damn cowlick and cheeks his mother probably pinched three times a day.
Jules sniffs and stares at the long curve of his claws, the tips stained, the gap between his teeth locked in place for eternity. “Is it yours? I hadn’t realized you’d marked it already. I thought you, like us, were simply passing through. Did we have to ask permission?”
Fucking vampires.
They…we…are a general archetype I can’t stand. Superiority and self-loathing bugs the undying hell out of me, the mirror too harsh.
Something about her calls things here.
I glance at Jules. “How many did you bring with you?”
My fingers squeeze tighter on Gustaf’s neck, but no matter how he kicks at me, there’s no breaking the hold.
I keep him pinned.
“Come on, Nic, go easy on the poor thing. He’s still learning our ways. He wasn’t going to drain the woman.” A note of desperation colors Jule’s coo.
Another type of plea, this one to protect his fledgling. Drain the woman.
I straighten my arm and lock it at the elbow, claws digging into Gustaf’s neck. My woman. “Why did you come?”
Jules sniffs, shrugs. “Do we need a reason? There aren’t many of us but we aren’t cattle confined to a pen yet. Are we? We’re free to roam. This place called to us on our way to New York.”
No, she did. Something about her pulls everything into orbit.
I blink slowly. “Then you’d better be on your way.”
Gustaf’s eyes widen. The hollows of his cheeks deepen, the wind knocked from his sails.
“The princess is in the area, too,” Jules answers with another purposeful shrug.
I shake my head. “Not good enough.”
Why would Rigantona Beausoleil come to Nightshade Hollow?
A small, too-human voice in my head whispers, the same reason they all do.
The forest goes oddly quiet. Night creatures normally awake and winging through the air at this hour keep their distance from the three of us, but the cold spots in my head are a dead giveaway. There are more vampires out there than these two.
This is new.
Something is different this time. I feel it. The cycle is repeating, but it’s off. Others of my kind, and foreigners not of this realm, are being pulled to Helene as well.
The princess executes the will of the queen.
A few Bloodletters are the least of my concerns. Wherever Riga goes, death follows.
Jules lifts his face to the sky. “This place is special, isn’t it, Nic? You sense it, too, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
I refuse to slacken my arm. Slowly, I tilt toward him, ignoring Gustaf and his useless struggles. “Get out. I won’t tell you again.”
“You’re not playing fair. There’s more than enough—”
“No,” I cut him off. “Get out and take the others with you. There is no room for a nest. Deliver a message to Riga: Back. The fuck. Off.”
I won’t allow it. Not when there is so much at stake. Because Forest got to her first, and by all the fucking gods, this time, he won’t get a second more of any time I could have.
“Let him go.” Jules takes another step toward me, his eyes hard points of onyx.
I slide Gustaf higher up the trunk. “Leave.”
The standoff stretches against the wrongness of the night. Even the wind holds its breath, the trees bent below the weight of decaying foliage. A cloud darts over the moon and Gustaf’s red face darkens under the shadow.
Jules plays it off with an unconvincing laugh. “Will the life of my fledgling slake your bloodlust, Silver?”
I stay silent. He will take the terms however he wants to but the sentiment is the only thing of merit. This place and the people in it, for the time being, are mine, and all because of Helene. As long as she walks the streets of this ghost town then the others will steer clear.
Not like it makes a difference.
The small voice in my head is now resigned and emotional, trembling and firm in its belief.
It is already decided how it will end for her.
The certainty arrives before thought does. It always does. It’s memory that doesn’t belong to this body.
Jules grabs my arm. “Fine, then. You have our agreement. We’re out.”
I release Gustaf, and the vampire immediately drops to his feet, his spine curving as he hacks.
“Collect them all.” I jerk my head toward the other vampires smart enough to stay concealed. “Spread the word. One hint of Riga, and it will be war.”
Jules has nothing else to say and no more bargaining chips. He’ll do as he’s told because the option is permanent death, and I know where to cover the bodies to make them untraceable.
I head deeper into the heart of the forest with my shoulders shrugged and the wind curling the hair on the back of my neck. The further away from the others I go, the easier it is to exist.
Sound returns although the wrongness of the night lingers.
For once, I want her alive in my arms long enough to ruin what comes after. But she never lasts past me.