Blood Prophecy
Page 22
“Maman, you promised,” Christophe snapped, breaking her hold. Viola couldn’t say a word, though a thousand clammered to be spoken.
Veronique’s fangs were fully and viciously extended. Hunger lined her gray irises with red. She snapped her attention on Tristan, who was pushing to his feet, pressing his palm to the bloody gash on his head. Blood dripped onto his tunic. Christophe’s fangs lengthened as well and Viola squeaked.
“I promised I wouldn’t kill your wife’s bastard. I made no such promise about her lover.”
Viola went cold and brittle inside. She might not have been able to save her mother but she could save Tristan. She didn’t shift position, knew it would only betray her. She whipped her arm out, locking her elbow tight and catching Tristan in the throat with her fist. Already dizzy, he flew off hisfeet and tumbled down the ravine to the river.
Veronique turned hard gray eyes toward Viola.
Toward me.
It took me a moment to realize this wasn’t the Madame Veronique of Viola’s long ago. I was back in my own body, back in the real world without castles and dragons anywhere.
I was Solange again.
But Madame Veronique was still trying to kill me.
Chapter 9
Christabel
Tuesday night
I hadn’t had a chance to read an entire novel in weeks.
Whatever the others might say about politics, civil war, and hunters, the real evil here was lack of reading time. If they all read more they might freak out less. And if I was going to live forever I was going to have to start a reading list.
Starting with How to Survive Your Boyfriend’s Family.
Well, not boyfriend exactly. I’d only known him a few weeks. But we were dating . . . when we weren’t running for our lives.
Connor kept pace beside me, alert for sounds that I still couldn’t quite catalogue. After all, it’s not like I’d had much experience with the skittering of beetles under tree bark or an owl fluffing her wings a hundred feet over my head. It was disconcerting but at least it didn’t give me splitting headaches anymore. And I kind of loved that I was only wearing a thin shirt and Aidan’s wampum belt under my army jacket but I wasn’t the least bit cold. I could run faster than any other creature in the forest, even in my heavy combat boots. And even when I had mixed feelings as to where I was running to.
Aidan was the one who’d turned me into a vampire. He’d saved my life by doing so, but he’d been the one to kidnap me and put me in danger in the first place. All because he thought I was Lucy and could give him leverage with the Drakes. The Drakes, who weren’t too bothered with leverage at the moment, since their daughter had just had the mother of all temper tantrums. The temper tantrums I was used to didn’t come with tiaras.
“Your family sure is high maintenance,” I muttered, nearly tripping over a root because the sound of mole digging underneath startled me.
“Didn’t used to be.” Connor flashed me a very brief, slightly sad smile. “Not like this.”
I was an idiot. He’d basically watched his little sister go darkside, as he put it, and it had sent the whole family into a tailspin. I stopped running. “I’m sorry,” I said softly, twining my fingers through his. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, squeezing my hand. “Sure.”
“Are all your brothers as bad a liar as you are?” I asked, stepping closer. I could see the widening of his pupils, and the pale blue fire of his irises. He’d told me my eyes would change too, would go lighter until they looked like amber. I couldn’t imagine they’d be half as beautiful as his. He was gentle and self-deprecating and way tougher than people gave him credit for. And twin or not, he was even hotter than Quinn, in my humble opinion.
I kissed him hard but quick. Making out in the woods wouldn’t make him feel better the way finding a solution to his family’s dilemma would, but for now it was all I could offer.
“You’ll get through this,” I promised him, the same way he’d promised me I’d survive when I was fighting the bloodchange.
“I know.” The dangerous edge he usually kept so hidden, the one that sent all sort of delicious shivers over the backs of my knees, flashed through his usually kind expression. He crowded me back against a tree, moving so quickly it was like a backward dance too fast for human eyes to see. His kiss was considerably darker than mine had been. It made me catch my breath, even though I didn’t breathe anymore. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to that. If I thought about the emptiness in my chest where there should be a heartbeat, I got sweaty and panicky.
“We’re going to get Solange back,” he said, against my mouth. My fangs poked into my bottom lip. “Thanks to you.”
“We don’t know if Aidan will even help us,” I felt the need to point out. “And Saga’s not exactly predictable.”
“You’re our best hope.”
“If you call me Obi-Wan I’m going to kick you.”
He grinned. “Hot. Say Obi-Wan again.”
I laughed, shoving his shoulder. “Shut up.”
The only reason I was their best hope was the same reason I wore Aidan’s wampum belt: he considered me his emissary. I wasn’t just a regular vampire, I was Na-Foir like him. The rest of the vampire world was only just finding out about us. Apparently they’d been hiding for centuries, because the intense blue rivers of our veins made us appear faintly blue all over. As in Hel-Blar blue. And I’d had enough experience with the Hel-Blar to understand the fear. Still, I wasn’t Hel-Blar. I wasn’t that sick gangrene-blue and I didn’t smell like an old swamp. According to Connor, I smelled like cinnamon. That wasn’t exactly enough to convince the others; they either stared at me or went to great lengths to avoid eye contact. Except for Sky, who was more interested in convincing me to let her read one of my poems; Uncle Geoffrey, who wanted to study me; and Lucy, who didn’t seem to notice the stuff other people got all worked up about.
Veronique’s fangs were fully and viciously extended. Hunger lined her gray irises with red. She snapped her attention on Tristan, who was pushing to his feet, pressing his palm to the bloody gash on his head. Blood dripped onto his tunic. Christophe’s fangs lengthened as well and Viola squeaked.
“I promised I wouldn’t kill your wife’s bastard. I made no such promise about her lover.”
Viola went cold and brittle inside. She might not have been able to save her mother but she could save Tristan. She didn’t shift position, knew it would only betray her. She whipped her arm out, locking her elbow tight and catching Tristan in the throat with her fist. Already dizzy, he flew off hisfeet and tumbled down the ravine to the river.
Veronique turned hard gray eyes toward Viola.
Toward me.
It took me a moment to realize this wasn’t the Madame Veronique of Viola’s long ago. I was back in my own body, back in the real world without castles and dragons anywhere.
I was Solange again.
But Madame Veronique was still trying to kill me.
Chapter 9
Christabel
Tuesday night
I hadn’t had a chance to read an entire novel in weeks.
Whatever the others might say about politics, civil war, and hunters, the real evil here was lack of reading time. If they all read more they might freak out less. And if I was going to live forever I was going to have to start a reading list.
Starting with How to Survive Your Boyfriend’s Family.
Well, not boyfriend exactly. I’d only known him a few weeks. But we were dating . . . when we weren’t running for our lives.
Connor kept pace beside me, alert for sounds that I still couldn’t quite catalogue. After all, it’s not like I’d had much experience with the skittering of beetles under tree bark or an owl fluffing her wings a hundred feet over my head. It was disconcerting but at least it didn’t give me splitting headaches anymore. And I kind of loved that I was only wearing a thin shirt and Aidan’s wampum belt under my army jacket but I wasn’t the least bit cold. I could run faster than any other creature in the forest, even in my heavy combat boots. And even when I had mixed feelings as to where I was running to.
Aidan was the one who’d turned me into a vampire. He’d saved my life by doing so, but he’d been the one to kidnap me and put me in danger in the first place. All because he thought I was Lucy and could give him leverage with the Drakes. The Drakes, who weren’t too bothered with leverage at the moment, since their daughter had just had the mother of all temper tantrums. The temper tantrums I was used to didn’t come with tiaras.
“Your family sure is high maintenance,” I muttered, nearly tripping over a root because the sound of mole digging underneath startled me.
“Didn’t used to be.” Connor flashed me a very brief, slightly sad smile. “Not like this.”
I was an idiot. He’d basically watched his little sister go darkside, as he put it, and it had sent the whole family into a tailspin. I stopped running. “I’m sorry,” I said softly, twining my fingers through his. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, squeezing my hand. “Sure.”
“Are all your brothers as bad a liar as you are?” I asked, stepping closer. I could see the widening of his pupils, and the pale blue fire of his irises. He’d told me my eyes would change too, would go lighter until they looked like amber. I couldn’t imagine they’d be half as beautiful as his. He was gentle and self-deprecating and way tougher than people gave him credit for. And twin or not, he was even hotter than Quinn, in my humble opinion.
I kissed him hard but quick. Making out in the woods wouldn’t make him feel better the way finding a solution to his family’s dilemma would, but for now it was all I could offer.
“You’ll get through this,” I promised him, the same way he’d promised me I’d survive when I was fighting the bloodchange.
“I know.” The dangerous edge he usually kept so hidden, the one that sent all sort of delicious shivers over the backs of my knees, flashed through his usually kind expression. He crowded me back against a tree, moving so quickly it was like a backward dance too fast for human eyes to see. His kiss was considerably darker than mine had been. It made me catch my breath, even though I didn’t breathe anymore. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to that. If I thought about the emptiness in my chest where there should be a heartbeat, I got sweaty and panicky.
“We’re going to get Solange back,” he said, against my mouth. My fangs poked into my bottom lip. “Thanks to you.”
“We don’t know if Aidan will even help us,” I felt the need to point out. “And Saga’s not exactly predictable.”
“You’re our best hope.”
“If you call me Obi-Wan I’m going to kick you.”
He grinned. “Hot. Say Obi-Wan again.”
I laughed, shoving his shoulder. “Shut up.”
The only reason I was their best hope was the same reason I wore Aidan’s wampum belt: he considered me his emissary. I wasn’t just a regular vampire, I was Na-Foir like him. The rest of the vampire world was only just finding out about us. Apparently they’d been hiding for centuries, because the intense blue rivers of our veins made us appear faintly blue all over. As in Hel-Blar blue. And I’d had enough experience with the Hel-Blar to understand the fear. Still, I wasn’t Hel-Blar. I wasn’t that sick gangrene-blue and I didn’t smell like an old swamp. According to Connor, I smelled like cinnamon. That wasn’t exactly enough to convince the others; they either stared at me or went to great lengths to avoid eye contact. Except for Sky, who was more interested in convincing me to let her read one of my poems; Uncle Geoffrey, who wanted to study me; and Lucy, who didn’t seem to notice the stuff other people got all worked up about.
