Blood Feud Page 11

  “We have to get out of here,” I said to Isabeau. “Now. Up into the trees maybe.”

  “Charlemagne can’t fly,” she said, and I knew that was the end of that half-formed plan. Isabeau would never leave her dog. She’d lie down and get staked first.

  “Fine,” I said, grabbing Jen’s sword from under her empty clothes and surreptitiously slipping a bottle of blood into my shirt. “Then we do it another way.” I stepped out of the safe ring Isabeau, Magda, and I had formed. Isabeau hissed at me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Saving your very cute ass,” I hissed back. Then I smirked my most arrogant smirk at the Hel-Blar. “Did you know royal blood tastes sweetest?” I dragged the blade across the inside of my forearm, biting back a curse. In the movies, no one ever mentioned how much cutting yourself open really freaking hurt. I held up my arm, blood dripping down to my elbow and spattering over the ground. Most of the Hel-Blar paused, turning to stare at me hungrily.

  For this to be a rescue mission and not a suicide mission I was going to have to move fast.

  “Come and get it,” I shouted at them before throwing myself into the shadows between the trees, away from Isabeau and the mountain caves. I heard her litany of curses, all in French and all at the top of her lungs. Most of the Hel-Blar followed me, driven by bloodlust. They weren’t stupid exactly, just mindless when it came to feeding. Only a few stayed behind to fight the others, which I felt certain they could handle.

  I made sure my blood dripped everywhere, leaving a trail a blind puppy without a sense of smell could follow. Damn waste of blood, too. The Hel-Blar moved so fast I could barely hear their footsteps. I could hear them skittering though, like insects. They were really good at tracking.

  So I’d just have to be better at escaping.

  I pushed my legs as fast as they would go, until the forest blurred into smears of green and black on either side. The stench of rot hung heavy in the warm air. When I was sure they were well and truly distracted by my flight, I bent my arm and pressed the inside against my bicep to stop the flow of blood. The cut was already tingling warmly, which meant it was healing. I didn’t want to leave a trail anymore though; it was time to get the hell out of here.

  I slowed down slightly, in the interest of precision. I tossed the bottle aside, making sure it rolled in the undergrowth, spilling its bloody contents. Then I went in the opposite direction. I zigzagged a little until I was sure I was out of sight of any of my pursuers and then scrambled up an oak tree. I swung into the next tree and the next before finding a large enough branch to stand on with some confidence. I peered down into the shadowy green, searching for blue-tinted skin and needle teeth.

  There were at least three Hel-Blar moving through the tall ferns. Acorns and twigs crunched under their feet. They weren’t trying to be quiet anymore. Their teeth flashed. One of them stopped, sniffed the air in a surprisingly delicate way.

  “He’s here.”

  I tightened my grip on my sword and shifted slightly. I could probably leap down and land right on his head if I timed it right.

  Instead, he gurgled and turned to ash. A stake dropped into the grass where he’d been standing. His companion whirled and also crumpled. Isabeau pushed through the bushes, stopped under my tree. She looked up at me, her face unreadable.

  “Don’t do that again.”

  CHAPTER 13

  LOGAN

  I’d never seen so many dogs in my entire life.

  Even though I hadn’t known what to expect, this still wasn’t it.

  There were several cave entrances, the main one guarded by two Hounds with Rottweilers. The Rottweilers were happier to see me than the Hounds. They hissed at me but they bowed their heads to Isabeau with respect.

  Inside was a wide opening leading to the back and several more doorways carved into the rock on either side. Some of these were barred with black iron gates, the kind you find in old wine caves in Europe.

  “Private homes,” Isabeau explained, her tone clipped. Her brow was furrowed with worry. She hurried down the main hall, down a few steps and then out onto a narrow rock ledge.

  It was beautiful.

  Everyone spoke of the reclusive Hounds as if they lived in holes and burrows in the ground, like badgers. But this main cavern was straight out of a Lord of the Rings movie set and it fit the name they called themselves, Cwn Mamau. Lit torches and fires kept the damp away and caught the amethyst and quartz imbedded in the walls, flickering like lightning bugs in a jar. Red ocher paintings of dogs and people with antlers and raised hands leaped in the torchlight. On our right, a waterfall fell like glass down into a pool of milky blue water. There were at least two dozen dogs, who all lifted their heads at our approach. We took the uneven stairs, which carved into a meandering trail. Isabeau practically leaped the last few steps, running to a woman lying on a bed of furs by the underground pond.

  “Kala,” she cried.

  Kala was the infamous Hound shamanka who was rumored to have witch dogs and magical powers. She was also the closest thing Isabeau had to a queen, or a mother. Possibly both. The old woman had long white hair twisted into braids and dreadlocks and hung with beads made of bone carved into roses and skulls. She had blue tattoos in bold spiral patterns reaching from her left temple all the way down her arm and across her collarbone. Her eyes were so pale they were nearly colorless. There was blood on her teeth when she smiled.

  “Isabeau.”

  Hounds floated toward us out of the fissures and nooks like moths converging on a flame. I kept my hand on my borrowed sword, but I didn’t unsheathe it. I tried one of my most charming smiles.

  Nothing.

  I shifted so I wouldn’t knock Isabeau off her feet if I needed to fight.

  “Is this your young man?” Kala whispered hoarsely. Isabeau flicked me a glance.

  “This is Logan Drake,” she said. “Logan, this is Kala.”

  “Nice to meet you.” My training was such that I could bow and keep a grip on my weapon at the same time.

  Kala cackled. There was no other word for it.

  “Told you the bones never lie,” she said. I could have sworn Isabeau blushed. Magda looked at her sharply, then at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “This is hardly the time,” Isabeau murmured. “And it’s not like that.”

  I didn’t know what she was talking about but I very much doubted I would agree with her.

  Isabeau smoothed a braid off Kala’s cheek. “Where are you hurt? What’s been done?”

  Kala patted her arm. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had blood and my ankle has already reset itself. You didn’t have to come back.”

  “Yes, I did,” Isabeau replied fiercely. “Who did this to you? Host?”

  She sighed. “Yes. I went out to gather more mushrooms for the sacred tea and they ambushed me.”

  If she needed mushroom tea, I nearly said, she could have bought some from anyone wandering the alleys in Violet Hill at night, and some of the farmsteads as well. Violet Hill was nothing if not a progressive hippie town.

  “Did you go alone?” Isabeau frowned. “You know you should take someone with you. Kala, you’re no good in a fight.”

  I was surprised to hear that. I’d assume the leader of such a ferocious tribe would be deadly with every weapon imaginable.

  “Just because I’m a vampire doesn’t mean I’m a warrior,” Kala said to me. She clearly had other talents, like mind reading.

  “Did you recognize any of them?” Magda asked.

  Kala tried to sit up, settling instead against the back of a huge black dog of indeterminate breed. “No, there were a few of them. Their auras were strange and it distracted me. Dogs ran them off before I could get a good look. Hello, old boy,” she added when Charlemagne licked the side of her face. “They could have staked me. They chose not to.”

  Isabeau sat back on her heels. “Merde.” She met my eyes grimly. I had to fight the urge to put my hand on her shoulder for comfort.
She’d probably break my arm if I tried. Damned if that didn’t make me like her even more. I was totally screwed. “If they didn’t want to kill Kala, then they meant to create a distraction.”

  “And to get us out of the royal caves and in the path of that Hel-Blar trap.”

  “I don’t like being yanked about like a marionette,” Isabeau said darkly.

  “I didn’t think you would,” I said dryly.

  She rose to her feet. “Are you sure you’re all right?” Isabeau asked Kala.

  Kala nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Then I have to go and think,” she said, mostly to herself, before stalking off, Charlemagne at her side as always.

  Magda went to follow her but Kala stopped her. “Leave her be,” she said, but she was looking at me.

  “You stink of cow,” Kala murmured to us. “What on earth have you been doing?”

  “We were caught in a trap,” Magda said bitterly. She raised her voice, turning to glare at me. “By his people.”

  Hounds all turned to me, baring their teeth. I was pitifully aware of my single set of fangs. I narrowed my eyes at Magda. I’d been raised to be nice to girls on principle but I still really wanted to kick her. I felt sure Byron or Shelley would have wanted to also.

  “We didn’t set the damn trap,” I snapped. “Why would I go waltzing to a death trap if I knew it was there?”

  “You weren’t meant to be there at all,” she said. “Your family could have set it without you knowing it.”

  “The Drakes didn’t send the Hel-Blar after you.” I seethed, my temper prickling. “We’ve treated you with every courtesy. I’m the one who was marked by some creepy-ass Hound spell.”

  It was funny how sharp silence could be, like a needle scraping against your skin.

  Kala pushed herself up so she was sitting against a large rock painted with triple spirals.

  “What mark, boy?”

  “The dog paw,” I told her. I was beginning to feel real concern. I hadn’t had much time to think about it with the Hel-Blar attack and I kind of assumed it was just a scare tactic. I kept forgetting that this magic stuff might actually work.

  Not a pleasant realization, actually.

  “Do you have it on you?” Kala asked. Her eyes glittered, like ice breaking on a pond in spring.

  “No.”

  “That will make it harder to break, but not impossible. Are you sure it was meant for you?”

  “Isabeau said it had her mark on it.”

  “Are you accusing Isabeau?” Magda asked, incensed. “Do you see what royal loyalty is worth,” she spat.

  “I never accused Isabeau,” I ground out. “I didn’t even know it was her mark until she told me.”

  But she was already swinging her fist at me and it nearly collided. Disgusted surprise slowed my reflexes. She clipped my ear and I swung back and around. I didn’t punch her, as punching girls, even crazy ones, wasn’t cool. But I did trip her and I felt damn good about it.

  “What the hell is your problem now?” I yelled at her.

  “Isabeau is too good for you!” she yelled back. “And you’ll take her away from us to live in your stupid royal house.”

  I was too stunned to duck the next blow. I barely felt it.

  “I’m taking Isabeau home?” I echoed. “She forgot to tell me that part.”

  “Just like she forgot to tell me the bones said she’d find her mate in the royal family.” She tried to snap my kneecap with her foot but I shoved her away.

  “You’re nuts,” I told her. I couldn’t deny I was intrigued though, couldn’t deny I liked the idea of Isabeau promising herself to me and me to her. Even though I knew she was too prickly and independent to love me just because her shamanka told her to.

  Still.

  “Will you read the bones for me?” I asked Kala, ducking an empty urn Magda threw at my head. It broke into pieces against the wall. One of the dogs chased the shards, hoping for a treat. Kala wheezed a laugh.

  “Come here, boy.” She pulled a handful of painted bones out of a pouch at her belt. They looked like a cross between rune stones and spirals. I couldn’t decipher them at all. She handed them to me. “Shake them in your cupped hands and then toss them on the ground between these two crystals.” She thunked down two crystals.

  “Kala, you’re not well,” Magda protested. “The royal pain can wait.”

  She had a point, much as I hated to admit it.

  Kala only waved that away. “Throw!” she barked at me. I threw mostly out of reflex, the sharp whip of her voice startling me. Why were all the old ladies I knew so damn scary?

  The bones tumbled and scattered on the dusty ground.

  To Kala apparently they told a story. Some of the other Hounds edged closer, craning their heads for a better look. There were murmurs, a gasp. Magda scowled as if I’d just kicked a puppy. Kala nodded smugly.

  “You see now? You all see. This is the boy.”

  I didn’t see anything at all.

  “You’ll run with the dogs,” she assured me, as if that was helpful. Then she coughed, bloody spittle on her lips.

  “Leave her alone now,” Magda snapped at me, gathering the stones up for Kala and turning her back to block me.

  CHAPTER 14

  LOGAN

  I found Isabeau sitting on a rocky outcrop under the stars and a stunted pine tree. I climbed up toward her, dislodging pebbles under my boots. There was a behemoth sitting on her left, all fur and immensity.

  “What the hell is that?” I asked.

  “It’s a dog,” she replied matter-of-factly.

  “Isabeau, that’s not a dog, that’s a moose.”

  She half smiled. “He’s an English mastiff. His name is Ox-Eye.”

  Ox-Eye lifted his head. I’d seen smaller horses.

  “Ox-Eye because he’s part ox?” I asked, lowering into a crouch beside her.

  “No, like the daisy.”

  “You named this beast after a flower?”

  She scratched his ear fondly. “He’s rather gentle. Très sympathique.”

  “Sure he is,” I said doubtfully. She was rubbing a piece of faded silk between her thumb and forefinger. It was frayed at the edges. “Good luck charm?” I asked softly.

  She paused, slipped the cloth into her sleeve. “Yes, I suppose so. I thought I lost it a long time ago.”

  “What is it, Isabeau?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Isabeau.” I didn’t know how I knew exactly, but I was sure there was something else going on. She bit her lower lip, finally looking like an eighteen-year-old girl.

  “I was wearing that good luck charm, as you call it, the day I died. The day I was turned and left for dead, I should say.” She sounded angry, bitter, and fragile in a way I hadn’t thought was possible for her. It made me want to find the bastard and rip his head right off his shoulders. “I haven’t seen it since that night.”

  I frowned. “Where did you find it?”

  “In the woods outside your house,” she replied. “When we were tracking the Host.”

  “Shit.”

  “Oui. It was left for me.”

  “By?”

  “Greyhaven. Or so I assume. I was wearing it the night he killed me.”

  I sat back. “That’s why you lost it when they said his name in the woods last night.”

  “Oui,” she said again, grimly. “He’s back. And now I can finally kill him.”

  “Isabeau, he’s what, three hundred years old? Four hundred?”

  “So?”

  “So, you’re a newborn, however long he might have left you in your grave.” I really, really wanted to rip his head off. “You’re not strong enough yet.”

  “We’re not like other vampires, Logan,” she insisted coolly.

  “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 bu
siness. I couldn’t get close to him, didn’t even know if he was on the same continent.” She pulled 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’ll just bet there are.”

  “I have this now. I can smell 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 practically her whole life.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  I snorted. “I totally understand. You’re nuts.”

  She shrugged one shoulder, let it fall. “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 pulled 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?”