Blood Feud
Page 39
Her room had been simple, nearly sparse. There was a futon covered in quilts and several dog beds in the corners, thick rugs, and a smal oil painting of a French vineyard. There were no concert posters or a closet stuffed with dresses, just a hope chest for her clothes, another one for weapons, and a jewelry box fil ed with amulets and bone beads. Everything about her was different.
And she’d ruined me for regular girls.
Even now, as she stalked through the forest, hypervigilant for the stench of Hel-Blar or a sneak attack from the Host.
“We’re close,” she murmured.
“I know.” I could feel the stinging in my nostrils, the penny-sharp tang of dried blood. Broken glass glittered in the undergrowth. Charlemagne sniffed his way around the clearing and then sat, tongue lol ing out of the corner of his mouth.
Clearly, we were alone. What a waste of a moonlit night.
She frowned at the ground. “Look, dog prints.” I fol owed her gaze to the trampled grass, the paw marks.
“Charlemagne?”
“No, there are too many. And they’re fresh.” I took a closer look. “Someone came back here after we left, just to add dog prints?” I rocked back on my heels, chil ed. “To frame the Hounds for the attacks, same as the death charm in my pocket.”
She nodded tersely. “Montmartre, probably.”
“He doesn’t want the treaties,” I agreed. “He’d much prefer we fight each other than him.” I sighed. “So, what now?” She was walking the perimeter much as Charlemagne had, her head tilted, sniffing delicately. “Now for the ritual.” I frowned. “Are you sure about this? Montmartre could be anywhere. And I didn’t even know magic was actual y real before your trick with the love charm.”
She shook her head, mystified. The bone beads in her hair clattered together. “I’l never understand how vampires could be so ignorant of the magic in their own veins, in their own bodies.” I shrugged uncomfortably.
“I can do this, Logan,” she said confidently. “Kala trained me for this.”
“What if something goes wrong? I can’t exactly wave a magic wand over you. I’m not Harry Potter.”
“Who?”
“Who?”
“Never mind,” I said.
“Al you have to do to pul me out is say my name three times.
If that doesn’t work, bury both my hands in the earth.”
“I’m not even going to ask.”
“It wil ground me back into my body. Honestly, what does your family teach you?”
She pul ed dried herbs out of a pouch hanging from her belt and scattered the mixture in the center of the meadow. I could smel mint, clove, peppercorn, and something unfamiliar. She’d put a new amulet around her neck: this one was tarnished silver and hung with tiny bel s and garnet beads like frozen drops of blood. There were symbols etched around the edges.
Next she pul ed what looked like tibia bones out of her pack and stuck them into the dirt. They were smooth and polished and painted with more symbols. One was wrapped in copper wire and pearls.
“Are those human?” I frowned. Vampires didn’t leave bones behind, only ashes.
“Dog,” she replied. “And wolf.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say to that.
She lay down on her back between the bones, one at her head, one at her feet. The trees around us glimmered with broken bottles. Her arms were bare as usual, scars proudly displayed, chain mail draped over her heart. She closed her eyes, looking like a feral Sleeping Beauty.
I unsheathed my sword and paced slowly around her, listening so intently for sounds of another ambush that sweat gathered under my hair. She shifted, making herself more comfortable and murmured something too softly for me to hear.
She lay there for a long time, quietly and eerily stil .
Just as I was beginning to think there was nothing more magical happening than a nap, every nerve ending tingled and the hairs on my arms stirred. It suddenly felt like I was entirely covered in static electricity.
I turned to Isabeau, sword swinging out protectively.
She was alone, safe. But I could have sworn a silver glow pushed out of her skin, making her shine. She didn’t seem concerned; in fact she smiled, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. I admit I was relieved. I wasn’t exactly sure how to go about fighting an invisible enemy.
There were clearly gaps in the famous Drake education.
I could just imagine what Mom would have to say about that.
And then the grass around her flattened outward in a circle, as if pushed by a strong wind. When it hit me, I staggered back, hitting a tree. A bottle fel from a branch overhead and tipped blood into the grass. I straightened, cursing.
Isabeau stood up as wel . She seemed to be glowing even more than before. It was a little distracting.
“I guess it didn’t work,” I told her.
She blinked at me. “Actual y, it worked a little too wel .” I was beginning to notice that everything around me seemed insubstantial, faded. And that I appeared to be glowing a little bit too, like those nature films about incandescent phloem under the surface of the sea. “I don’t think I want to know what you mean by that.”
mean by that.”
“You’re dreamwalking with me, Logan.”
“Yup, that’s what I didn’t want to know.”
She looked confused. “This has never happened before.”
“Yeah, that’s the opposite of comforting.” I could see through my hand.
And she’d ruined me for regular girls.
Even now, as she stalked through the forest, hypervigilant for the stench of Hel-Blar or a sneak attack from the Host.
“We’re close,” she murmured.
“I know.” I could feel the stinging in my nostrils, the penny-sharp tang of dried blood. Broken glass glittered in the undergrowth. Charlemagne sniffed his way around the clearing and then sat, tongue lol ing out of the corner of his mouth.
Clearly, we were alone. What a waste of a moonlit night.
She frowned at the ground. “Look, dog prints.” I fol owed her gaze to the trampled grass, the paw marks.
“Charlemagne?”
“No, there are too many. And they’re fresh.” I took a closer look. “Someone came back here after we left, just to add dog prints?” I rocked back on my heels, chil ed. “To frame the Hounds for the attacks, same as the death charm in my pocket.”
She nodded tersely. “Montmartre, probably.”
“He doesn’t want the treaties,” I agreed. “He’d much prefer we fight each other than him.” I sighed. “So, what now?” She was walking the perimeter much as Charlemagne had, her head tilted, sniffing delicately. “Now for the ritual.” I frowned. “Are you sure about this? Montmartre could be anywhere. And I didn’t even know magic was actual y real before your trick with the love charm.”
She shook her head, mystified. The bone beads in her hair clattered together. “I’l never understand how vampires could be so ignorant of the magic in their own veins, in their own bodies.” I shrugged uncomfortably.
“I can do this, Logan,” she said confidently. “Kala trained me for this.”
“What if something goes wrong? I can’t exactly wave a magic wand over you. I’m not Harry Potter.”
“Who?”
“Who?”
“Never mind,” I said.
“Al you have to do to pul me out is say my name three times.
If that doesn’t work, bury both my hands in the earth.”
“I’m not even going to ask.”
“It wil ground me back into my body. Honestly, what does your family teach you?”
She pul ed dried herbs out of a pouch hanging from her belt and scattered the mixture in the center of the meadow. I could smel mint, clove, peppercorn, and something unfamiliar. She’d put a new amulet around her neck: this one was tarnished silver and hung with tiny bel s and garnet beads like frozen drops of blood. There were symbols etched around the edges.
Next she pul ed what looked like tibia bones out of her pack and stuck them into the dirt. They were smooth and polished and painted with more symbols. One was wrapped in copper wire and pearls.
“Are those human?” I frowned. Vampires didn’t leave bones behind, only ashes.
“Dog,” she replied. “And wolf.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say to that.
She lay down on her back between the bones, one at her head, one at her feet. The trees around us glimmered with broken bottles. Her arms were bare as usual, scars proudly displayed, chain mail draped over her heart. She closed her eyes, looking like a feral Sleeping Beauty.
I unsheathed my sword and paced slowly around her, listening so intently for sounds of another ambush that sweat gathered under my hair. She shifted, making herself more comfortable and murmured something too softly for me to hear.
She lay there for a long time, quietly and eerily stil .
Just as I was beginning to think there was nothing more magical happening than a nap, every nerve ending tingled and the hairs on my arms stirred. It suddenly felt like I was entirely covered in static electricity.
I turned to Isabeau, sword swinging out protectively.
She was alone, safe. But I could have sworn a silver glow pushed out of her skin, making her shine. She didn’t seem concerned; in fact she smiled, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. I admit I was relieved. I wasn’t exactly sure how to go about fighting an invisible enemy.
There were clearly gaps in the famous Drake education.
I could just imagine what Mom would have to say about that.
And then the grass around her flattened outward in a circle, as if pushed by a strong wind. When it hit me, I staggered back, hitting a tree. A bottle fel from a branch overhead and tipped blood into the grass. I straightened, cursing.
Isabeau stood up as wel . She seemed to be glowing even more than before. It was a little distracting.
“I guess it didn’t work,” I told her.
She blinked at me. “Actual y, it worked a little too wel .” I was beginning to notice that everything around me seemed insubstantial, faded. And that I appeared to be glowing a little bit too, like those nature films about incandescent phloem under the surface of the sea. “I don’t think I want to know what you mean by that.”
mean by that.”
“You’re dreamwalking with me, Logan.”
“Yup, that’s what I didn’t want to know.”
She looked confused. “This has never happened before.”
“Yeah, that’s the opposite of comforting.” I could see through my hand.
