Blood Feud
Page 37
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“We’re not like other vampires, Logan,” she insisted cool y.
“Yeah, believe me, I get that.” I raised an eyebrow in her direction. What, did she think I was an idiot?
“I couldn’t find Greyhaven before. He’s always been off on Montmartre business. I couldn’t get close to him, didn’t even know if he was on the same continent.” She pul ed out the indigo silk. “But now I know. Now I can track him.”
“How? I know you’re good, Isabeau, but he’s one of Montmartre’s top lieutenants. Even I’ve heard his name.”
“There are rituals.”
I jerked a hand through my hair. “I’l just bet there are.”
“I have this now. I can smel him on it.”
“But why? Just to taunt you? There’s something else going on here.”
“I know,” she admitted. “But I won’t figure it out by sitting here and waiting for him to make his next move. What I can do is take this back to where I found it and dreamwalk.”
“Dreamwalk?”
“Like a trance. Similar to what you saw with the cave paintings.”
“And where exactly did you find it?”
She winced. “In the meadow where they set the trap.” My mouth dropped open. “In the field with the Hel-Blar and the blood everywhere? That’s where you’re going to lie down and go into a trance?”
“Oui. ”
“Wow. That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. And I’ve known Lucy practical y her whole life.”
“You don’t understand.”
I snorted. “I total y understand. You’re nuts.” She shrugged one shoulder, let it fal . “I’m handmaiden to the shamanka. This is what I do.”
“Ever notice you only say that when you’re about to do something reckless?” The soft light from the setting moon caught the shiny skin of her numerous scars. “Did he give you those?” I was surprised that my voice sounded more like a growl. Ox-Eye lifted his head curiously.
“Non, the dogs did this.”
I stared at her. “Your own dogs attacked you?”
“No.” She smiled for the first time, softening the tight lines in her face. “They rescued me. Kala’s dogs pul ed me out of the earth. I would never have been able to do it by myself.
Greyhaven only slipped me enough blood to change me, not enough to revive me. I was unconscious for centuries in that coffin.”
“In France?”
“No, I was buried in London, in my uncle’s family plot.”
“And Kala went to get you?”
“No, she never leaves the mountains or these woods. It’s her power center and the dogs are her totem, you would say. For al of us.”
The only reason I could fol ow what she was saying was because of Lucy and her New Age parents. Lucy talked about totems and auras and ful moon rituals the way other people talked about bal et classes and summer barbecues.
“So who found you?”
“She sent Finn across the ocean with three of her most trusted dogs. They have a way of cal ing other dogs to them.
Finn told me that by the time he found me in Highgate cemetery nearly twenty of the city’s stray dogs were there too.” I could picture it: mists, the middle of the night in a posh ancient graveyard in turn-of-the-century London under torchlight, the sound of horses and carriages over the wal . She’d have been wearing some kind of corseted gown with pearls at her throat and elbow-length gloves.
She was total y made for me.
“So the dogs found me and dug me out. I remember the sound of their claws and their teeth closing over my arms. And the air, final y, real air I could breathe. That’s when I realized I wasn’t actual y breathing and I wasn’t waking up from some nightmare in my uncle’s townhouse in 1795. It was over two hundred years later and nothing made sense.” She shivered, her eyes distant.
I’d thought our bloodchange was bad, but we knew it was coming and our family had had centuries to adapt and prepare.
We got sick, sure, and weak, and some of us came closer to actual y dying for real than others; but usual y a draft of blood and we were right as rain. Vampiric, but otherwise okay and stil ourselves in our recognizable undead life. In fact, Connor’s real worry had been that he was going to have to start dressing like worry had been that he was going to have to start dressing like me. I’d given him a black velvet frock coat for his birthday that year and hung it on the back of his door so that it was the first thing he saw when he woke up.
“Finn gave me blood to drink,” Isabeau continued. “I thought he was insane. He had to force me and I was sick al over his boots. After an hour I was so thirsty I would have drunk a barrel of blood. He brought me here as soon as I was wel enough to travel, on a ship with a windowless bedroom and a captain who didn’t ask questions. As soon as I saw Kala, I knew I was final y home.”
I whistled. “So it’s not just a story told to scare the rest of us?” She shook her head. I reached out and traced a fingertip over a half-moon scar above her elbow. I half expected her to break my hand, or at least jerk away. She just went stil .
“Your aunt thinks her scars make her hideous.” I went stil as wel . “You talked to my aunt Hyacinth?” I gaped.
“And by that I mean, Aunt Hyacinth actual y talked to someone?”
“Yes. She seems … distraught.”
“Yeah, believe me, I get that.” I raised an eyebrow in her direction. What, did she think I was an idiot?
“I couldn’t find Greyhaven before. He’s always been off on Montmartre business. I couldn’t get close to him, didn’t even know if he was on the same continent.” She pul ed out the indigo silk. “But now I know. Now I can track him.”
“How? I know you’re good, Isabeau, but he’s one of Montmartre’s top lieutenants. Even I’ve heard his name.”
“There are rituals.”
I jerked a hand through my hair. “I’l just bet there are.”
“I have this now. I can smel him on it.”
“But why? Just to taunt you? There’s something else going on here.”
“I know,” she admitted. “But I won’t figure it out by sitting here and waiting for him to make his next move. What I can do is take this back to where I found it and dreamwalk.”
“Dreamwalk?”
“Like a trance. Similar to what you saw with the cave paintings.”
“And where exactly did you find it?”
She winced. “In the meadow where they set the trap.” My mouth dropped open. “In the field with the Hel-Blar and the blood everywhere? That’s where you’re going to lie down and go into a trance?”
“Oui. ”
“Wow. That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. And I’ve known Lucy practical y her whole life.”
“You don’t understand.”
I snorted. “I total y understand. You’re nuts.” She shrugged one shoulder, let it fal . “I’m handmaiden to the shamanka. This is what I do.”
“Ever notice you only say that when you’re about to do something reckless?” The soft light from the setting moon caught the shiny skin of her numerous scars. “Did he give you those?” I was surprised that my voice sounded more like a growl. Ox-Eye lifted his head curiously.
“Non, the dogs did this.”
I stared at her. “Your own dogs attacked you?”
“No.” She smiled for the first time, softening the tight lines in her face. “They rescued me. Kala’s dogs pul ed me out of the earth. I would never have been able to do it by myself.
Greyhaven only slipped me enough blood to change me, not enough to revive me. I was unconscious for centuries in that coffin.”
“In France?”
“No, I was buried in London, in my uncle’s family plot.”
“And Kala went to get you?”
“No, she never leaves the mountains or these woods. It’s her power center and the dogs are her totem, you would say. For al of us.”
The only reason I could fol ow what she was saying was because of Lucy and her New Age parents. Lucy talked about totems and auras and ful moon rituals the way other people talked about bal et classes and summer barbecues.
“So who found you?”
“She sent Finn across the ocean with three of her most trusted dogs. They have a way of cal ing other dogs to them.
Finn told me that by the time he found me in Highgate cemetery nearly twenty of the city’s stray dogs were there too.” I could picture it: mists, the middle of the night in a posh ancient graveyard in turn-of-the-century London under torchlight, the sound of horses and carriages over the wal . She’d have been wearing some kind of corseted gown with pearls at her throat and elbow-length gloves.
She was total y made for me.
“So the dogs found me and dug me out. I remember the sound of their claws and their teeth closing over my arms. And the air, final y, real air I could breathe. That’s when I realized I wasn’t actual y breathing and I wasn’t waking up from some nightmare in my uncle’s townhouse in 1795. It was over two hundred years later and nothing made sense.” She shivered, her eyes distant.
I’d thought our bloodchange was bad, but we knew it was coming and our family had had centuries to adapt and prepare.
We got sick, sure, and weak, and some of us came closer to actual y dying for real than others; but usual y a draft of blood and we were right as rain. Vampiric, but otherwise okay and stil ourselves in our recognizable undead life. In fact, Connor’s real worry had been that he was going to have to start dressing like worry had been that he was going to have to start dressing like me. I’d given him a black velvet frock coat for his birthday that year and hung it on the back of his door so that it was the first thing he saw when he woke up.
“Finn gave me blood to drink,” Isabeau continued. “I thought he was insane. He had to force me and I was sick al over his boots. After an hour I was so thirsty I would have drunk a barrel of blood. He brought me here as soon as I was wel enough to travel, on a ship with a windowless bedroom and a captain who didn’t ask questions. As soon as I saw Kala, I knew I was final y home.”
I whistled. “So it’s not just a story told to scare the rest of us?” She shook her head. I reached out and traced a fingertip over a half-moon scar above her elbow. I half expected her to break my hand, or at least jerk away. She just went stil .
“Your aunt thinks her scars make her hideous.” I went stil as wel . “You talked to my aunt Hyacinth?” I gaped.
“And by that I mean, Aunt Hyacinth actual y talked to someone?”
“Yes. She seems … distraught.”
