Bleeding Hearts Page 16

  “Na-Foir?” Connor frowned. “I’ve never heard that word.”

  “Of course you haven’t,” she returned. “We’ve lived in secret for centuries.”

  “Your note said you represented the Hel-Blar.”

  “A small ruse to buy us time. For too long we’ve been confused with the Hel-Blar, been hunted or used as scapegoats. But we’re not like them.” She lifted her arm, the firelight making it look almost healthy. “Na-Foir means ‘corpse-pale.’ ” She grimaced. “Not entirely flattering, I’ll grant you. But we’ve been lost in folktale and legend long enough that it hardly matters.

  “We’re not contagious,” she continued. “And some of us used to look more Hel-Blar than we do at present. But in reality we’re more like the Hounds or Montmartre’s Host, though we’ve never served him. We survived the bloodchange as they did, through will and luck and strength—only we have more scars to prove it.”

  Connor looked faintly stunned, as if he couldn’t process all the information we’d been given. For me, it was just another chapter in the fantasy novel my life had turned into; he looked like he was about to descend into a full-blown existential crisis.

  “This color”—Aidan pushed up his sleeve, showing off blue-tinted muscles—“is not the color of madness. It’s the color of survival.” His eyes glittered. “The hunger that makes the Hel-Blar so vicious would do the same to anyone, prince and pauper alike. They turn blue because they’re bloated with blood and still not sated. We’re as pale as any other vampire now because we found a way through that starvation, but our veins remember.” He flexed, those blue veins as ropey as snakes under his skin. “The fangs are a side effect of the hunger.” He’d said that before. The fact that it was starting to make a little sense was not actually comforting.

  “We had a scientist,” he said to the camera. “And she spent years working in her labs, testing Hel-Blar and finding out what makes us different. We’re willing to share those discoveries with the council and with Geoffrey Drake.”

  “My uncle. He’s a scientist,” Connor said to me. “Are you their scientist?” he asked the only other female vampire at the fire.

  She shook her head.

  “Gretchen was eaten.”

  I gulped. “Eaten?”

  “By one of her test subjects.”

  I had to remember to stop asking questions. I hadn’t yet gotten an answer I liked.

  “We’ve spent centuries hiding from other vampires, from our own kind,” Saga said quietly. “But no more. I’ve bloodkin to protect. We might never pass for humans, but we’ll damn well pass for vampires now that a new Blood Moon’s been called.”

  “And the Hel-Blar you’re keeping in the backyard?” Connor asked.

  Saga shrugged one shoulder. “I might need them. An army’s an army, and we can’t afford to be picky.”

  “That’s enslavement.”

  “Or pragmatism. It’s certainly not any worse than what you do to us.”

  “We’re trying to save people from being hurt!”

  “So are we, little boy.”

  He bristled at that. So did I.

  “You think we’re all the same,” Aidan interjected smoothly, looking at the camera again. “It’s time you heard our stories. They could just as easily become your own. This is our court, who’ll be attending the Blood Moon. We expect them to be allowed past your guards, Liam Drake, if your talk of peace treaties all these years has been honest.” The Hel-Blar were shrieking in their pen, rattling the fences. He lifted his wampum belt.

  “This is a record of my people, the Wendat, and of myself, Aidan Hawkfeather. After I was turned I was too ill to notice the bear hibernating at the back of the cave I’d dragged myself to. By the time I was desperate enough to think of drinking his blood, I’d already changed color and grown more fangs than I might have otherwise. But I’ve never been feral.” He quirked a smile. “I might have been, if I’d been saved by a porcupine spirit instead of the Great Bear.”

  I tried to imagine drinking all the blood from a giant brown bear and gagged.

  “And Emma,” Saga said.

  “I was turned just three years ago,” Emma said softly. She was a plump woman in her thirties. She looked quiet and calm, except for the silver stakes glittering on a strap between her breasts and the scar bisecting her eyebrow. “My family thought I was dead. I heard them weeping and then I heard the embalmers discussing chemicals. I could smell them, sharp and poisonous, but I was too weak to open my eyes.” She was marbled with blue and gray and pale, pale white. “The poisons didn’t kill me, but they stopped me from waking before I was buried, kept me too weak to claw my way out for months.” She pointed to the scar, tilting her head so we could see where it ran in a jagged line down to her chin and past her collarbone, toward her heart. “Another vampire did this to me. When Saga found me, I couldn’t even speak. “

  The man next to her was wearing an expensive suit and a ring set with an emerald on his pinky. He could have been a lawyer or a wealthy businessman, except for the faded tribal tattoos on his neck and hands.

  “Max.” Saga nodded to him.

  “Maxixcatzin, as my mother named me,” he said smoothly. “The hunger had me for nearly a hundred years. I lived in the rain forest, and when I knew myself enough to know I needed blood, not sugarcane or papayas, I drank from jaguars and panthers—and it was enough to survive. Barely. I never drank from a human because I never came across one. My tribe’s shaman had me banned before I was turned. I don’t know what I would have become if I’d lived in a city or been buried under concrete. By the time Saga found me, I was more panther than vampire.”

  “And I was born on Tortuga,” Saga said with a bloodthirsty grin. “I was turned at port but I didn’t know what the sickness was until we were at sea and too far from land to feed properly. I knew I was ill, knew something was wrong, so I locked myself in the brig and swallowed the key. It was months before we made it to shore. I nearly didn’t survive.” Snow was falling, settling in her hair, and the last of the fire gilded her hard expression, her pale, red-veined eyes like maple leaves in autumn. “But I was lucky, strong. So I spent centuries chasing legends, chasing witches, doctors, and scientists. It took me that long to find a way to train the Hel-Blar, to have them heel to me so we might prove to others that we are different. The whistle I use was taken from a snake charmer in India, made three hundred years ago and since blessed by a shaman. The collars have magic in them—old magic and old blood.” Her smile went wolfish. “But you don’t need to know all of our secrets.

  “We meant to take your Lucy so she could be a link between our families. But I think Christabel is a better choice. She doesn’t come with your prejudices and she comes with your son. So we’ll take our council seat by your promise,” she threatened darkly, “or we’ll steal it. I have enough Hel-Blar trained to the whistle to carry out my plans, whichever choice you make.”

  The snarling was close.

  Too close.

  The vampires around the fire rose to their feet, smooth and soft as the smoke. Light glinted on fangs and stakes. Snarls and the clacking of teeth made all the hair on my body stand up straight. Goosebumps tightened my skin. I was so tense I wondered how I didn’t break into pieces, like porcelain hitting the ground.

  Hel-Blar scrabbled toward us.

  “You haven’t trained them all,” Connor said, whipping a stake out of his boot as the smell of wet mushrooms hit the back of my throat. I retched.

  Saga lifted her whistle and blew it hard. Her eyebrows met, making her look like a stern teacher. I’d hate to know the kind of detention she’d give out.

  Connor took a knife from his other boot and handed it to me. “Trust me—if you need it, you’ll know how to use it. But try not to jab yourself with it in the meantime.”

  I clutched it and made a few jabbing motions.

  “You’re not chopping onions,” Connor said, the corner of his mouth lifting despite our circumstances. “Here, hold it lik
e this.” He adjusted it so that it was lying along my forearm, point toward my elbow.

  “It’s backward. And when did you get all tough?”

  “It’s easier to stab this way,” he said, ignoring my question. “Lift your arm.” I did. “See? It’s already facing out and you haven’t had to move your hand at all.”

  “Oh. Cool.”

  “And if you get surprised from behind, it’s easier to stab backward.”

  I felt the need to defend my lack of fighting skills. “I’m used to pepper spray.”

  “Can you run?” he asked.

  “Of course I can.”

  “You might have to,” he said grimly when Saga blew her whistle for a third time and still the Hel-Blar ran at us.

  “Mangy, scurvy-rotten dogs,” she spat, trading her whistle for a cutlass. Emma was already flinging silver-tipped stakes. The Hel-Blar descended like cannibalistic beetles. They weren’t wearing collars. The sounds they made and the way they moved, shuffling and creeping, made me shiver all over. Even my toes were trembling.

  Connor grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the way. We jumped over a bench and he half carried, half dragged me toward the maze. The battle continued behind us, jaws snapping, stakes flying, Saga laughing.

  “Into the maze,” Connor said. “Before they realize we’ve gone.”

  Okay, I take it back. Geeky nice boys are way hotter than bad boys.

  Especially when they were taking off their shirts.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. I was thinking, “Whoa. Hello.”

  “There’s blood on this.” He contorted to wipe the last bit of blood off his wound, then threw the shirt in the direction opposite of where we were going. “Might buy us a few minutes.”

  The entrance to the maze was narrow, cedar catching at my hair. White flowers glowed in the darkness, tendrils climbing the odd labyrinth. The ground was weedy underfoot. I was already lost and we hadn’t even stepped inside yet. I hated puzzles. I wasn’t any good at them, despite the hundred times Lucy had made me watch the movie Labyrinth to swoon over David Bowie in tight pants.

  “I really hate everyone right now,” I announced, running to keep up with his long strides. “I just want to be reading Pride and Prejudice for the hundredth time and eating ice cream.”

  “I know,” Connor said, still holding my hand, cool fingertips grazing the inside of my wrist.

  An owl called from somewhere in the forest, but all we could see was the path through green darkness and the barest hint of light from the moon hitting the snow on the mountaintop. I wondered if my mom felt like this right now, lost in her own battle. If she could defeat her illness, I could defeat this. I was just going to have to pretend it was that simple.

  We ran, skidding on weeds and pine needles and old leaves. I smelled mushrooms faintly. The Hel-Blar were on our heels, despite the battle.

  “Hold on,” I said when we had to double back a second time and retrace our steps. My breath was burning in my throat. “In the story of Theseus and the Minotaur, Ariadne gives Theseus a red thread to carry through the labyrinth. So he doesn’t get lost.”

  “I don’t have thread,” Connor said doubtfully. “You?”

  “Well, no,” I admitted. “And she holds it at one end so he can find his way back from the center. But we want to go straight through.”

  “Still, it’s a good idea. We have to find a way to mark where we’ve been so we don’t end up back at the beginning.” His fists clenched. If he thought any harder he’d hurt himself. “I know! My mom told us about something like this. A military trick to help you not get lost.”

  “Your mom knows weird stuff.”

  “You have no idea.” He put his hand on the cedars. “Apparently, if we always stay to our left, we won’t get lost. And one of us has to touch the wall at all times.”

  I followed behind him, ducking under a stray flower. “Not all the turns are left, though,” I pointed out when we came to a dead end three turns later.

  “But it’s easier to backtrack,” he said, even going so far as to walk backward to the last left we’d taken. He went right, then went back to staying to the left of the path and taking all left turns. It might take us forever, but hopefully we’d find our way out. “We need weapons.” He looked at the ground. “If you see any good stones, fill your pockets.”

  I jogged to keep up with him. We passed a statue of a woman draped in a toga and moss. Her head was at her feet, staring blankly at us.

  “Uh, Christa?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Run faster!”

  Chapter 20

  Lucy

  I was reaching for a stake before I recognized him.

  I knew that dark hair, the pale skin, and the very fine muscles as he bent over farther into my bedroom.

  Nicholas.

  “Lucy,” he whispered. “Lucy, wake up!”

  I would probably never get another chance to surprise him again. He normally had all the advantages: speed, strength, and a preternatural nose. But right now I was downwind, and he wasn’t expecting me. I smiled, taking out my cell phone.

  “Boo!”

  He jumped so fast and so hard, the window rattled. He also made a weird sound, like a choked scream, followed by a stream of curses. Then he whirled, stake in hand. It all happened in the space of a single heartbeat. I hit the camera button and took a photo of his shocked face, gray eyes wide as plates.

  Then I laughed so hard I doubled over, gasping for breath.

  “You know, some people are scared of vampires,” he informed me drily, sauntering over to my side. I just snorted, still laughing. It wasn’t very attractive to snort like a pig in front of your boyfriend, but I couldn’t help it. I dropped onto the cold grass, chortling. He looked down at me. “Are you done?”

  I wiped my eyes, shaking my head. I might just laugh until the sun came up. It felt good, normal—if I ignored the faint edge of hysteria to my wheezing. My stomach muscles ached. He sat next to me, smelling like wood smoke and rain.

  And between one chuckle and the next, he pressed me back into the grass, his mouth closing over mine.

  He swallowed my laughter and kissed me fiercely, deeply, as if I were delicious. I kissed him back, feeling powerful and yet weak in all the right places. My knees went soft, my belly was as warm as if I’d drunk a pot of hot chocolate. I didn’t care that the ground was cold and there was a rock digging into my left ankle. He covered me and, though he should have felt heavy, he just felt right. His hand traveled lightly along my side, tickling, until his fingers closed tightly over my hipbone. He kissed my collarbone, the side of my neck, under my ear. He nipped at my lower lip and I nipped back, touching the tip of his tongue with mine. I could have stayed there for hours, but he pulled back slightly, his eyes the translucent gray of a seashell.

  I couldn’t remember why I’d been laughing so hard, or why he was here.

  “Hey,” he said softly.

  “Hey,” I said back. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to show you something,” he rolled over, sitting up.

  I wrinkled my nose and sat up as well, pretending I was interested in the bag he was dragging from under my window. I just wanted to keep kissing.

  He pulled out a blanket.

  I blinked at him. “You brought me a blanket?”

  “Just wait.” He spread it out and then nudged me onto it. The thick wool cut the damp cold of the grass. He pulled out a second blanket and a pillow. “Okay, now lie back.”

  I shot him a look.

  He rolled his eyes. “Just do it. God, you’re stubborn.”

  I grudgingly lay back and turned my head to look at him as he did the same. “Now what?”

  “Look up.”

  I glanced up, expecting stars and tree branches. It wasn’t just the stars, though there were millions of them, thick as spilled salt, or that the Milky Way looked close enough to touch, pouring out across the sky. It was the clear crystal of the light, the velvet of the
sky arching over us in a way that made me feel tiny. I exhaled. “Whoa.”

  He pointed to the left. “There.”

  The sky was washed with colors—green, red, and blue—all wavering and dancing. They flickered like torchlight, moved like water. It was beautiful.

  “The northern lights,” I whispered.

  He nodded. “Isabeau said it’s a sign.”

  “Uh-oh. Good sign or bad sign?”

  “She didn’t say. She rushed out to do some kind of magic thing. Solange and Logan went with her.”

  “Oh.”

  He slanted me a glance. “But I wanted to come here instead.”

  “Oh,” I said again, more cheerfully. I shifted and hugged his arm. “You’re a good boyfriend.”

  “You have no idea,” he teased. I kissed the side of his mouth, hugging him tighter. I was an idiot if I let the weirdness with Solange interfere with the most romantic night ever. And since I was so determined to prove to everyone that I wasn’t an idiot, I should start now. I kissed him again and tilted my head back to watch the northern lights dancing. It was like a kaleidoscope of smoke and crystals, forming and reforming into different shapes.

  “Does that look like a two-headed cow to you?” I asked.

  “I see a phoenix.”

  “How is that a phoenix?”

  “The red part there.”

  “Oh, I meant the green.” The green shifted into a dragon and then a rowboat. “That blue part looks like a cat sitting on Bruno’s head.”

  Nicholas chuckled. “I’m sure he’d be thrilled. There, lion on top of a pyramid.”

  I snuggled closer. “This is nice.”

  “Wait, I forgot the best part.” He shifted and I heard rustling. He triumphantly held up a bag.

  “Chocolate!” I grinned, popping one in my mouth. “Real chocolate, not carob. I totally love you right now.”

  I paused as the words echoed around us. I swallowed chocolate and nougat and tried not to blush. We’d known each other forever. We made out on a regular basis. I shouldn’t feel embarrassed to be the first one to say “I love you.” Even if he didn’t say it back. We’d saved each other’s lives a bunch of times. Words were just words. Right? I ate another chocolate before I said something really stupid.