Blood and Kisses (20 page)
When she’d arrived, she’d found he had spread a plaid woolen blanket on the grass. A wicker picnic basket anchored one corner. He gave her flowers, daisies, and Queen Anne’s lace, probably taken from a nearby field, and brought out a bottle of cheap red wine. The bleachers backed up to a small wooded area and it felt as if they were the only people in the world.
She smiled a bit as she remembered how awkward he had been as he had opened the wine, and how terrible that first swallow had been. They’d passed the bottle back and forth. Many swigs later, Peter began to kiss her, his lips wet and sour with wine. Suddenly, Billy Lasher and five other boys burst laughing from the trees. They pounded Peter on the back, congratulating him on getting close enough to kiss the phantom.
He’d acted as if she weren’t even there. “Yeah, I had to get drunk to do it, but I did it. Where’s my money?” Billy handed Peter a twenty-dollar bill.
Feeling as though she’d been punched in the stomach, she’d stumbled into the woods, away from their scornful eyes and threw up. To this day, she didn’t know how she’d gotten home.
She’d cried so much that evening, she’d had no tears left for the night of the ball. She’d watched, dry-eyed, out the window, as other boys and girls in the neighborhood, dressed in crisp tuxedos and floating gowns, had posed for pictures on their front lawns, gotten into their shiny cars or limousines and left for the ball. Her dress hung abandoned in her closet, still in its plastic bag, tags intact.
For years she’d wondered why her sixth sense had failed her that day, but maybe she’d simply wanted to be loved so much, wanted to belong so badly, she’d ignored the warning signs.
She took a deep breath. “I don’t know why we’re having this conversation.”
She pulled away and turned her back.
The only mystery left was why Gideon hadn’t broken off their kiss sooner. She supposed it was his nature. Vampires were reputed to be intensely sensual. No doubt, it could have been anyone.
Stop it! You are what you are. Live with it!
The snap as she closed her book seemed unusually loud to her ears, but all Gideon said was, “It’s sunset. Let’s go.”
Thalia stumbled a bit in Gideon’s arms as she found her feet. They stood in the hazy disk of light beneath one of the few working streetlights in the area.
He’d teleported them a few blocks over from the derelict house she’d followed the rogue to after he and Gideon had fought. The procedure had entailed being way too close to him. She pulled out of his embrace and drew a deep breath. “Wow, that was amazing.”
“Unfortunately, it takes a lot out of me. After you show me what you’ve found, I’ll have to feed.”
Thalia concealed a shiver. His words evoked an image of his dark head bending over the pale neck of a woman. She closed her eyes against the sharp pang of envy she felt for the unknown woman and forced her attention back to the immediate concern. She started forward, only to have Gideon drag her back into the deep shadow of a tall hedge. “The police have staked out the place.” He indicated a small silver car with a jerk of his head. “We can’t just walk in.”
“Sorry. I’m not used to being a fugitive.” Thalia uttered the last word of an invisibility spell, covering them both. “Come on.”
Once inside, they made their way upstairs. Thalia choked on the putrid stench. She held a hand to her nose and tried to breathe through her mouth. Dim light filtered in through the boarded up windows from the streetlights outside, but it was difficult to see. An illumination spell or a flashlight would be seen from the street. Her eyes grew accustomed to the inadequate light and she could make out black marks spattered on the light-colored wall. She forced down the lump in her throat. “Is it...?”
Gideon’s eyes glowed red in his shadowed face as he nodded. “Blood? Yes.”
“Why would a vampire waste all that blood?”
Gideon circled the room. It was clear he was having no problem seeing. “Maybe it’s a game to him. He staged this crime scene to draw the police.”
“Where were Cole and Poole attacked?”
At the top of the wobbly stairs leading to the black hole that was the cellar, Gideon scented the musty air. He could detect every molecule of aroma in the room. He sorted past the revolting smell of rancid blood floating down from upstairs, the odor of the people who had passed through the room, familiar and unfamiliar, the myriad scents that composed the reek of an abandoned house, rotten garbage, fly dirt, mildew. He identified urine, drugs, and fast food, as well. There had been squatters in the house at one point. “He’s gone. The only woman here before us was Cole.” Unless she’d stayed shifted the entire time she was here, which he doubted, Inanna wasn’t the rogue.
He ventured down the stairs. Somehow Thalia’s small hand had become lodged in his. It felt good, right. He should pull his hand away, but couldn’t seem to find the will power. He could see well, but Thalia shuffled along behind him, feeling her way. “There are no windows. I think we can risk a light.”
Thalia muttered a few words and light flared. She moved forward to examine their surroundings and dropped his hand. His hand felt more than empty; it felt cold. The chill seemed to travel up his hand to his arm and invade his chest, centering in his heart. He longed to have her hand again.
He rubbed his palm against his chest to dispel the feeling and swept the cellar with his keen gaze. “There’s nothing here.” Disappointment pressed against his chest. He’d hoped to find some clue that would lead him to his mysterious enemy. Being close to Thalia day after day, smelling her unique fragrance, feeling the heat of her body, and yet being unable to make love to her was constant torture.
“We’ll have to go back to watching the B.B. and C., but it’s not going to be easy to dodge the police.” As Thalia walked back over to the stairs, her cell phone rang.
“Hello.”
He recognized Mina Shaw’s mature voice on the other end.
“Thalia. I’ve called a meeting. The council requests your attendance.” Her tone implied it wasn’t a request at all. He couldn’t see Thalia’s face. Her back stiffened.
Distress seemed to pour off her in waves, but her voice was steady as she answered tersely, “I’ll be there.”
Thalia was too nervous to ask how Mina had rented a hall on such short notice, or at such a late hour. The building was little more then a huge room with a cement floor and a small kitchen. It didn’t look like a gallows, but the decisions made that night could spell the end of her life as she knew it.
Gideon placed a hand at her back, lending her his strength. She smoothed her features. She wouldn’t give them the pleasure of seeing her nerves.
He’d fed before they came. Feeling another confrontation with the rogue was imminent, he’d found several energetic youths playing basketball under the lights at a nearby park and gorged himself on their potent young blood, making sure to take just enough to leave them dazed, but otherwise healthy.
Thalia eyed her wristwatch. Almost midnight—the witching hour. She’d never felt its approach so acutely.
The thirteen-member council occupied seats behind a long laminate table at one end of the vast room. Metal folding chairs had been set up auditorium style in front of the table. The seats filled rapidly; most of the witch community was present. Thalia had been offered a seat to one side of the table, but the butterflies dog-fighting in her stomach wouldn’t let her sit.
Refreshments were available, and Thalia could see people drinking punch and could hear the occasional burst of laughter. She felt like a guest at her own wake. Voices blended together, bounced off the high metal ceiling and formed a low hum, reminding Thalia of flies buzzing over a rotting corpse, further enhancing the sensation.
Mina clapped her hands for attention like an elementary school librarian, which oddly enough was what she’d been for thirty years, and a hush fell over the room. Heath stood. He paced in front of the crowd like a lawyer addressing a jury. Drops of perspiration adorned his bald head.
Why was
he
so nervous?
He glanced back at Mina before beginning to speak. “Those of you who attended the preliminary discussion at my house know why we’re here.” He gestured toward Thalia who struggled to keep her expression composed while her stomach twisted and her throat constricted.
Anger seethed beneath the hurt and fear. How dare they question her ability to be the Champion? Who were they to decide she was unfit for the job she’d been born to perform? “Some of us have had doubts as to the ability of our Champion to protect us from what is coming.”
Two-thirds of the room erupted into excited speech, and the noise rolled through the crowd like a shock wave. Some people leaped to their feet. A crack of thunder sounded directly overhead, ricocheting off the cement block walls of the hall. All sound ceased and every eye turned back to the head table. Mina stood, arms raised, palms out, the vigor of her stance belying her age, which Thalia knew to be past eighty. “If you’re all finished?”
Sheepish looks were exchanged. Those who had gotten to their feet sat.
“Continue, Heath.”
“Thank you. As I was saying, we’ve always known that Thalia lacks the strength of her predecessors, but until now, her powers have always been enough. The omens are clear, however. A great evil is coming and our Champion may not be powerful enough to protect us. We believe it is time to throw tradition aside and choose a new Champion.”
Once more, the crowd burst into agitated discussion covering Thalia’s gasp as Heath’s words pierced her chest like a dagger, making it difficult to breathe. This was everything she’d feared and worse. For a moment she wished she could just disappear. She had the skill. But there was no running from this fight. She had to stay and see it through.
The noise of the deliberations increased in intensity with every second until Thalia thought she would have to shout to be heard over the clamor. Before she could try, Gideon took over.
“Enough!” His voice resonated through the building, and the crowd fell silent. “I know Thalia has helped many in this room. Your ingratitude disgusts me.” It was true, but she didn’t know how he knew that. Perhaps Spirit had told him.
“You’re not a member of our community, Damek.” Heath attempted to regain control of the gathering. “You have no right to interfere.”
“Thalia approached me and asked for my assistance with apprehending the vampire who has been preying on mortals in this area.”
“An example of poor judgment, if I ever heard one. The Champion should be able to handle anything on her own,” Heath sneered.
“That’s ridiculous. It is my responsibility to enforce vampire law in this country. Her actions were entirely correct.”
A mottled mixture of red and purple rose up Heath’s thick neck and stained his cheeks. He spoke through teeth gritted with rage. “Be that as it may. The fact remains that many of us have questions as to Thalia’s suitability to serve as the Champion.”
“Many of us, or you? I don’t know what the usual procedure is for solving problems in the witch community, but in the rest of the world holding secret meetings to discuss an individual is considered rude to say the least.” It didn’t seem that Heath’s face could get any redder, but it did. His face looked like an overripe cherry tomato. A vein in his forehead became so distended Thalia feared it might pop. A soft murmur rippled through the crowd. People shifted in their seats. They were uncomfortable.
Good.
Heath turned to the assemblage. “Don’t listen to him. He’s using vampire trickery to influence you.”
Gideon smiled, teeth white in his handsome face, a leopard toying with his prey. “Come now, Gordon. Witches aren’t susceptible to suggestion, you know that.”
Thalia cleared her throat. She was touched by Gideon’s defense, but it was time to stand up for herself. Grief had weakened her, made her vulnerable, but she was more than capable of solving her own problems. “Heath, I would appreciate the opportunity to address your concerns.”
Heath blew out a long gust of air and rocked back on his heels. He waved, as if dismissing her before she’d even begun. “As you wish.”
Gideon’s hand fell away as she moved forward to take the floor. She could still feel the imprint of it on her skin, a reminder that she wasn’t alone, at least for now.
Thalia took a deep breath and prayed her voice wouldn’t break. She gathered every shred of composure she possessed around her like a suit of armor. “I don’t understand this sudden call for a new Champion. Nothing’s changed. I have always been up to every task set before me. There is no reason to suppose that that won’t continue.”
Heath opened his mouth to interject. She held out a firm hand to deter him. He subsided into silence with an audible huff.
“We have omens, we have prophecies, we have speculation, but the only concrete thing we have is one rogue vampire killing our friends and family.” Her gaze swept the crowd. These were people she’d known all her life. Karla Gibson, unabashedly gray hair held back by a garish green headband, met her eyes, giving her the thumbs up. She had a daughter who was a petty. A few others nodded in support, but still more looked away. “Jay.” She zeroed in on a tall, twenty-some mage, with curly dark hair and a ruddy complexion. “When you were cursed, who did you come to?”
“You,” he muttered, looking as if he’d like to be somewhere else. Understandable when she considered the aforementioned curse, cast by a witch he’d dumped, had involved boils on a very private part of his body.
“And did I solve your problem?”
He nodded reluctantly. “Yes.”
A petite Japanese-American witch crossed her arms, drawing Thalia’s attention. “What about you, Hiroko? Who banished the evil spirit that came with that vase your grandmother sent you?”
Heath stepped forward, the vein in his head pulsing. “No one is denying you can manage the average day-to-day duties of the Champion, but it’s been whispered that you’re forced to conserve your magic on a daily basis in order to have enough to meet the demands of your position. That you are so drained after doing magic, you can barely walk.”