Branded (12 page)

Crap. None of this made any sense.

Fiona rested a hand on my arm. Again I could sense the blood pulsing through her. A bitter tasting saliva rolled over my tongue. I wondered if it was filled with some kind of vampire enzyme made for processing blood. A stupid thought. Vampirism didn’t work that way. There was nothing sciencey about the undead. They were an affront to biology and physics.

But apparently my frightened mind wanted to attribute some understandable aspect to what was happening to me.

It took every effort not to pull away from Fiona’s touch. I didn’t want her to think she repulsed me, when it was
me
who repulsed me.

“We’ll figure this out,” she said, “together.”

Uh-oh. That was the rub, wasn’t it. Because no matter who Fiona was, shifter or mortal, didn’t matter. She couldn’t help me with this. I’d be irresponsible to let her. Whatever I was involved with was clearly dangerous. I did not want to put her at risk.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I said.

“Ah, I sense a
but
coming.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt. I’m pretty damn fond of you. And it’s been a decade since I met a woman I can actually relate to. I’d like to see this go somewhere.”

“You can’t see it go anywhere if you shut me out.”

“I don’t want to shut you out. I just…don’t want you around to get hurt while I untie this ugly knot I’m in.”

“I want to help.”

“I know. That is awesome. You have no idea how nice it is just to be here with you.”
Except for the whole feeling your blood thing
. “Which is why I don’t want you involved. I want to have that official second date. One without an arrow wound or vampire infection.”

She took her hand off my arm. I felt both relief and sadness.

She snapped her book shut. “Okay,” she said. “At least let me drive you to your friend’s.”

“Yeah. That would be great.”

She stood, went over to the bookcase and returned the book to its spot. She turned to me. “Do I need to carry you?”

Again, I saw her in my mind’s eye shifting. A shiver ran through me. Knowing what I did now, I had little doubt she could carry me if it came to that. “I doubt your neighbors would feel comfortable seeing me riding a tigress out the door.”

“They’d get over it.”

I smiled. “How about you just help me stand up. I’m going to have to walk on my own eventually. Might as well get used to using my feet again.”

She came over, helped me up, then we shuffled out to her car together. The whole time I could feel her heartbeat thrumming against me. Having so much of her body in contact with me made it impossible to ignore. And every time I looked at her neck, my mouth filled with that bitter spit.

This Toft Kitchens dude better know how to fix me, damn it.

Chapter Eighteen

I had Fiona drop me off outside, explaining to her that until I knew I could trust Sly, it was better they not meet. I hated to think that way about a guy who had been friends with my family longer than I’d been alive. He had become a sort of surrogate father after my parents’ accident. Still, I didn’t have any idea who else could have shared info with the Ministry about my condition.

The bell rang when I shuffled through the door. I had managed to cross the sidewalk from the curb outside, but pushing the door open took all the energy I had left. I realized my weakened state wasn’t just from the arrow wound. I had drained myself on so many levels. The infection was exactly that—a magical illness. And it was taking its toll on all parts of me.

I stumbled sideways and knocked into a magazine rack loaded with titles like
American Weed
and
Ganja Weekly
. I had no idea so many periodicals could be devoted to the simple art of getting high on hash.

“Whoa, dude, are you all right?”

I squinted toward the drawling voice. The big kid was behind the counter again, looking at me like I had three heads and a tail. He looked a little pale, too. And here he was judging me?

I waved a hand. “Fine. Where’s Sly?”

The kid didn’t look like he believed me, but he didn’t argue. He rushed into the back without another word.

I shuffled forward and nearly ended up flat on my face in the middle of the smoke shop. Would have, had Sly not rushed out and caught me by the arm. He didn’t ask questions, just guided me into the back, waving off the kid who stood there with his mouth hanging open. When Sly had me in the back, he swung the door shut and turned the lock.

Weird. Why had he done that?

He helped me limp to a chair by his bench o’ alchemy and plopped me down in it. The wooden frame creaked against my sudden weight. Sly stepped back and gave me a once over, sighed, and shook his head. Still, without speaking, he moved to his bench and got to work mixing something up.

I stared at him, feeling numb, like my whole body had been shot with Novocain. It was weird. All this over an arrow in my shoulder? That didn’t seem right. I thought I was healing.

“When were you shot?” Sly asked.

I furled my brow. At least, I think I did. I couldn’t feel my face. “How did you know about—”

He spat air and threw me a dirty glare. “Don’t insult me.”

I didn’t know why he was so pissed at me. After all, he was the one who had given me up to the Ministry. Or not. Hell, I didn’t know what to think, and at the moment, thinking felt too damn hard.

“How did you—”

“Shut up.” He vigorously stirred something as yellow as mustard, but the consistency of water, in a wide-mouthed mason jar, the kind of thing you might store some of Grandpa’s moonshine in. At least, that’s how I imagined such a container would look.

Oooh, boy. Time to bring my brain back to the moment.

“Sly,” I said and hesitated, waiting for him to shut me down again. He muttered something under his breath, but kept stirring as if I hadn’t said anything.

“There’s a contract out on me.”

He paused. The little glass stirring stick he held made a last, forlorn clink against the side of the jar. “You haven’t turned yet.”

I didn’t like the way he said that. His
yet
carried a heavy sense of inevitability.

“No,” I said. “I haven’t turned. And nobody knew I had been infected besides the vamps…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to come out and baldly accuse him. I took the coward’s way and merely insinuated.

I might as well have made it bold, though. He scowled at me, his expression as dour as Maggie Smith in her most dour of roles. “You’ve got balls.”

“What am I supposed to think?”

“You’re supposed to come up with some other explanation rather than assume one of your closest friends would sell you out so easily.”

I sighed. Out went all my remaining energy with it. Suddenly, the room grew very cold. My vision turned dark and blurry. The floor tipped sideways and I felt as though I was about to slip off the edge of the earth and into infinity.

Next thing I realized, I was flat on my back with Sly at my side looking down at me and slapping my face.

“Wake up you son of a bitch.”

I mumbled what was supposed to be,
I am
, and came out as
maaaaamy
.

At least he stopped smacking my cheek. He tucked a hand behind my head and lifted me up a bit. “Drink this,” he said and pressed the lip of the mason jar against my mouth. The concoction smelled like cat vomit. My stomach lurched.

“Don’t be such a priss. Drink it before you die.”

That sounded like a good reason to drink. Couldn’t go on another date with Fiona if I were dead. Or, in this case, undead. That date wouldn’t end very well.

I held my breath to block out the potion’s stink and chugged away like a college freshman with a beer.

The fluid felt twice as thick in my stomach as it had going down my throat, as if it somehow gained mass when it mixed with my stomach juices. For the second time, I nearly threw up. I bit the side of my tongue to keep my bile down.

With a little less care than I would have preferred, Sly let my head drop back to the hard tiled floor.

I lay there a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of my gut gurgling like a wet engine. A twitch of pain, like indigestion, tweaked my insides. Then another tweak. Then a hot stabbing pain that made me twist onto by side and double over. I cried out as the pain speared me again and again. It felt like something alive with sharp claws was trying to rip its way out of my stomach.

Sly bent down at my side again and grabbed my arm. “Breathe. Just breath through it.”

What the hell was this? Lamaze class?

I clenched my teeth and growled.

Sly kept a hard grip on my arm as if he thought I might shoot off the floor and through the ceiling. Who knew? Maybe whatever he had fed me could do that. Magic was a many splendored thing.

I don’t know how long I thrashed about on the floor. By the time the pain subsided, tears streaked my face and I had snot running out of my nose and dripping to the floor in long strings. Sly eased his grip on my arm, but remained at my side.

“Easy,” he said. “That’s it.”

“I’m not a horse,” I grumbled.

“No,” he said. “But you are an ass. Why didn’t you come to me right away?”

“I was…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to share anything about Fiona yet. Not until I was certain I could trust him. Maybe not even then. Sly had tried to play matchmaker with me before. If he caught wind of my date with Fiona, me might start making wedding plans before the second date. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“You were poisoned, Sebastian.”

I stared at him, speechless. That little bitch had hit me with a poisoned arrow? Why? Vampires were immune to poisons, unless you counted garlic. Even that wasn’t life threatening. But she got the contract because I was supposed to have turned into a vamp. Poison was overkill. Unless she had believed me that the Ministry was mistaken about my current condition.

“Bitch,” I said.

“Anda, right?”

I nodded. I tried to sit up and the room spun like I’d had a few too many margaritas mixed with cheap tequila. Sly supported me so I wouldn’t flop down and crack my skull open on the floor. Yeah, suddenly he cared.

“Tell me everything.”

I told him what I could without including Fiona in any of it. I could tell
he
could tell I was leaving something out. Especially since it was obvious someone had helped patch me up. Not even magic could make me limber enough to bandage the back of my own shoulder.

He didn’t press. Apparently, he trusted me enough not to. Which left me feeling a little guilty about
not
trusting him.

While I told him my story, I slowly started feeling more like myself. I realized that the pain from my wound had faded to an annoyance. And my gut had simmered down. Eventually, once I finished my tale, I could stand on my own.

“You are damn lucky,” Sly said. He leaned back against his bench and folded his arms across his chest. “That poison damn near killed you, and you
know
what would have happened next.”

“I know.”

“It’s a miracle it didn’t happen anyway, considering your weakened state.”

“Probably would have,” I said, “if I hadn’t had this.” I drew my father’s watch out of my pocket and let it dangle from its chain in front of me.

Sly’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“How did you get that? I thought your dad wasn’t found with anything on him.”

“He didn’t have it on him. He left it behind, locked in a chest in the basement.”

Sly’s mouth formed a small “O” and he whistled softly. “That’s some powerful stuff you have there.”

I sighed and sat down in the wooden chair. I cupped the watch in my hands. I could still feel some energy coming from it, but barely. “Unfortunately, I think I’ve about drained it.”

Sly gave me an incredulous look. “Are you serious?”

I didn’t answer. My silence told him enough.

“You didn’t go to see Kitchens last night then?”

“I was a bit distracted.”

“You need to. More than ever. You can’t hold out like this much longer. Maybe not even until dusk.” He pulled his sleeve back and checked a gold wrist watch. He chewed on his lower lip. “Few more hours.”

I appreciated his concern, but he still hadn’t fully answered my main question.

“How did the Ministry know?” I asked.

Sly curled his lip. He looked like he wanted to spit on me. I felt bad, but it was a legitimate question and he seemed to realize that. He frowned and looked down at the floor. “I didn’t tell a soul. I swear.”

“Okay,” I said. “That’s all I needed to hear.” Like that, I felt a weight lift off of me. I trusted Sly. I really did. He gave me his word and I had accepted that. Honestly, I was surprised it had been that easy. But also relieved. I didn’t have too many people in my life I did trust to any degree. I would have hated any lingering suspicion on my part.

Sly glanced up at me. “Really? That’s it?”

“You gave me your word. I accept that. As long as you can accept I had to ask.”

“Yes. Good.” He wiped a hand across his brow and straightened his posture. “But who did then?”

I held up my hands. “Only people who know about it are you and the vamps.”

Sly thought for a moment. “Could have been the vamps. They meant to turn you. But you got away. Maybe they called it in, figuring the Ministry would send a hunter to finish the job. They kill you, you turn…”

“Maybe. But if they really want me as a vampire so badly, that’s a risky plan. Nothing says the hunter couldn’t kill me a second time once they realized their mistake.”

Sly snorted. “Mistake. Or miss stake. Get it?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not feeling very punny at the moment, Sly.”

“Sorry, right. Okay.”

He still had half a smile on his face, though.

“Now that you’re finished snickering at my plight…”

“I never snicker.”

“…answer me this. Why the hell do the vamps want me so badly?”

Sly pressed his lips together and hummed. “I guess you would make a hell of an ally. Sorcerer vampire. That’s heavy-duty shit.”

“Then why now? And what made them think they could get away with it? How many sorcerers do you know who’ve been turned historically?”