Halfway Bitten (18 page)

“I—well, I’ll be damned.” She was right, and I was stumped by her observation. “Gran?” I asked, loading the word with uncertainty. It was unthinkable that there wasn’t a single sheriff or state officer among that throng. Something was seriously off with the entire scene.

Gran closed her eyes in thought. When they opened, resolve mingled with curiosity as she said, “I think that the ringmaster might be more than a simple showman.”

Collette’s eyes flashed with anger. “You’re just now discovering this? I was
forced
to come here. My clan is gone. My lands, unprotected. I am one of many enduring this fate, and no matter how grotesque you judge me to be, when vampires are removed, chaos will reign. I say to you again, we vampires have been summoned with the intent that we will bend a knee to an unseen power. And that is a path to chaos.”

My face heated at Collette’s audacity, but a quelling look from Gran made me take a breath and uncurl my fingers. Stars above, but I hated dealing with smug undead, even when they happened to be right. “I’ll grant that some of your worries are correct. But what about evidence? We cannot move on people who might be innocent pawns of your desire for power.”

“My desire?” Collette sputtered. Her indignation was sort of fun to watch. I could get used to seeing a vampire brought up short; they were always so damned shifty. “What about this, witch?” She brandished a small, innocuous-looking necklace, consisting of a leather thong and a shark’s tooth no bigger than the end of my thumb. It was clasped to the necklace with a simple loop of the leather, looking primitive and druidic.

“May I see?” Gran reached out, taking the necklace from Collette’s cool fingers. After a moment of quiet contemplation, she handed it to me. “Look at the side of the tooth, Carlie. Use your
vision
.” The emphasis told me to let my witch senses play about the small tooth; whatever was to be seen was invisible to human eyes.

My witchmark spiked painfully. “Ohh . . .” I began, putting a hand quickly to my neck. There, on the side of the tooth, was an inscription. A glyph, really, since it was only a single symbol. The infinity sign glowed softly under my vision; a figure eight lazily on its side, pulsing with a soft, poisonous light that fell between garnet and black. I looked sharply at Gran, who nodded. She’d seen it too. It was a magical mark, intended only for beings who knew the Everafter. There was latent power within it, but I couldn’t be certain what for, other than to say it was almost certainly related to the same things that
always
concern vampires: status and ownership.

“Who gave this to you?” I asked Collette, handing the necklace back with some relief. There was an uneasy air about the thing, and I was glad to be rid of it. She slipped it over her head before answering in a tone of frustration and diluted fear.

“It wasn’t a
gift
. It’s a brand. A claim. It was presented to my assistant when he left our home. During the day.” Collette added this last detail by way of explaining that daylight was not her friend. I knew some vampires were perfectly capable of surviving weak sunlight, but that didn’t mean it was without cost. Her ability to discern the purpose of the necklace revealed that, at the very least, Collette was several decades old. Vampires aren’t created with natural magical senses, they ease into them as they become less human over time. She stiffened, lifting her nose to the air like a wolf. When Wulfric did it, the gesture was primal and exciting. When Collette repeated the gesture, my skin crawled. I guess I’m biased, but then again, Wulfric’s human half fairly reeked of nobility. His big hands were kind, not fearsome, and he lacked the oily angles of every vampire I’ve met. She ceased her creepy sniffing and turned back to us. “I must go, there are too many undead out tonight. It isn’t safe.”

I stifled a laugh. “Safe for whom?” The notion of her being afraid seemed fanciful at best. She was a
killer
.

She took a step toward the darkened area along the lake where the circus lights wouldn’t reach. “I’m in an RV at the campground, number sixteen.”

“An RV? You?” I hooted. “Kinda low rent for someone of your lineage, isn’t it?”

“I own a vintage Airstream with a fully restored interior, if you must know,” Collette began, heatedly.

I began to laugh even harder.

“What are you on about, witch?” Her anger was spectacular, if controlled.

When Gran shot me a meaningful glance, I wiped my eyes and waved at Collette. “You don’t
look
like a hipster. A vintage RV. And a vampire. I’ve seen it all now.” I was loading another verbal dart when I realized she wasn’t responding to me.

Collette faltered as a nervous series of blinks transformed her face into a more human apparition. She was scared. “I’m alone, Carlie. My clan is dead, and I’ve been given a magical summons to swear my fealty to an unknown power. That doesn’t mean that every other clan wouldn’t like me gone. Stormont lands are held in high esteem, and—I am alone.” With that, she nodded at Gran, favored me with a dismissive glare, and vanished into the night.

Great. A vampire with feels. So much for gloating.

“She stinks of fear.” Wulfric’s voice drifted to us from somewhere in the dark, causing me to twitch a bit.

Gran merely smiled, which led me to believe she had a
lot
of explaining to do about her overall powers. The night had been educational if nothing else, and I regarded her with side eyes before leaning in to kiss Wulfric as he bent to me. He’d moved without sound; a rather neat trick that was either creepy or useful, depending on whose side he was on.

“Hello, Gran,” Wulfric said, his voice light. He’d taken her offer to call her by the familiar, and she wore it well. So did he, since they both smiled at each other in the darkness, a companionable aura settling on us as we turned to walk toward Main Street.

“You were listening the entire time, I presume?” Gran asked. I could hear the approval in her voice. She loved a good skulking as much as anyone.

“Yes, and that vampire is not merely frightened, she is dangerous. Her fear has transcended the possibility of random violence. She is prepared to swear allegiance to
something
much stronger than her own abilities. Or someone,” he added as a clarification. We weren’t necessarily dealing with someone from the Everafter, it was just mighty likely. I twined my fingers through his, kissing his knuckles as we walked. In short order, the conversation became a rapid-fire question and answer session in which it was determined that the clowns, those poor guys, were most likely being held against their will.

“They have a trailer—two in fact. Those mobile homes you are so fond of for camping.” Wulfric snorted, his disdain for amateur outdoor enthusiasts overcoming his need to remain on topic. I laughed at his disgust, thinking that a man who’d sailed to the Americas in dragonships a millennia ago might regard camping as glorified playacting. In context, he was right. “They’re not vampires, but they aren’t human, either.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“After their performance, they removed the makeup. They don’t look well. And there is a pervasive aura of fear so thick that it made their living space feel like a slaughterhouse,” he stated, drawing from his own history as a Viking. Fear and violence were two things that a warrior of his age would know intimately. He let a thoughtful breath pass his lips, adding, “The ringmaster visited them, unaware that I was watching. His behavior is inhuman, of that I am certain. He castigated each person in turn, and I knew his bearing. He is a . . . a master, a punisher. His role is to cow them and force their hand into something, and judging by their reek and body language, the process is nearly complete.”

“Person?” I asked. That was a specific term, and it couldn’t be accidental. Wulfric hailed from a time when inaccurate speech could get you killed. He chose his words carefully.

“Indeed, they were people. One of them was a woman.” We fell into a short silence, considering that fact.

Our conversation expanded into a complex discussion of motivations, plans, and conclusions. We walked Gran to her house and said our goodnights, only to have her leave us with one thought. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask Brendan’s opinion on these new beings. They’re old. They’ve got history behind them, and people like that have a story that might be written down.” With that, she smiled, closed her door, and left us standing next to each other in the sudden stillness.

We made our way to my own home with a tired wariness brought on by the realities of our situation. There were enemies among us, and they were capable of bringing powerful vampires to heel. Power among denizens of the Everafter is directly related to time; that’s why Wulfric, despite being a hybrid, is such a force to be reckoned with.

My house welcomed us, as did Gus. I went about my evening routine, thinking slightly ahead to the mundane pleasure of cooking at the diner, then let my thoughts focus on Wulfric. He stood in my kitchen, a look that braided joy and lust on his face, and it came to me that I didn’t want him to go back to the woods. Not tonight, and probably not ever. Despite our differences, we fit. He was loyal, noble, kind, and above all else, he belonged.
We
belonged, like a team, and the passion between us transcended the possibility that I was wrong about this man who had literally come in from the cold to be with me.

“We should talk, Carlie.” Wulfric lobbed those four words like a hand grenade made of ice.

I froze in place, my breath catching in the back of my throat. A wave of dizziness knocked me sideways for an instant. But I don’t get seasick, and my legs returned to me as I took a breath so deep it hurt my ribs. I regarded him with a level gaze, mustering my courage into a stream of thoughts that my lips would make real. “If you say those words again, I’m going to punch you, and then I’m going to cry. I think you should listen to me, Wulfric.” I was all in, and I wouldn’t let my emotional momentum fade. It was too important. I knew love. I am loved. I wanted to tell this former stranger that his quiet laughter and warmth were the first thing I thought about with every breaking day. I shook the dice in my hand and let them go to clatter against the walls of chance and luck.

“I love you.” My voice was steady, but my heart was muttering in a dance of wary hope. I did. I loved him, and I was going to let it be known. “I’ve lived two decades without you just fine, and you a hundred without me, but I want you, because I love you, and I don’t want the sun to rise again without you hearing it from me.”

He stood with the stillness of a pond at dusk, nothing moving on its surface, but his eyes revealed the motion of his heart and all that he felt in that moment. He lifted one hand, and I went to him. He didn’t even kiss me; we just sort of leaned together like the old stones of a church; perfectly fitted, content, but warmed from within rather than the sun. We could make our own light.

“I have wanted to say that. Do you know, I have only said those words once before?” His voice was muffled, lips moving in my hair.

“When?” I asked, looking up at him. His eyes were travelling somewhen just then.

Without looking down, he smiled. “My mother. She was a sour woman, bereft of warmth, but I loved her.”

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t understand what he felt, but I could sense the tension in the expanse of his chest as the memory came back, unwelcome and hurtful.

Looking down, he dropped a light kiss on my lips, setting my body ringing with a swirl of heat and sorrow. “I love you, and I fear you.”

“You shouldn’t. I know why, but it isn’t fear.” I knew the difference. I understood his confusion.

“Carlie. I am a thousand years old. And, the reality is half of me isn’t human. I cannot think you have yet to notice this?” he said, but his words were light, the tone playfully mocking.

I nodded, admitting the facts of his argument. And then I plunged on anyway, because those were the very reasons that Wulfric was man enough to be mine.

“You might say those qualities sealed the deal, but I’ll explain it to you anyway. I’m a witch, with a beating heart that isn’t entirely my own. It belongs to my family, and my lands, and now, to you, if you’ll have it. We have mountains between us, but a clear path should we decide that we’re worth it. I’ve decided. Have you?” My cheeks burned with uncertainty. If this was love, no wonder everyone went nuts. I felt naked before him, and not in the good way.

His face tumbled with decisions, then he reached for me and lifted me up to twine my legs around him with a satisfaction that felt like going home. I held his broad jaw in my small hands, looking into eyes that weren’t really black—they were layered, like ice under coal, and in that moment they glittered with a heat that sent my own desire careening upward like a storm. I kissed him, hard, and he responded with a low hum of thrill that made me croon into his lips as the steps creaked under our weight.

Up. He was taking me up, with each second of our kiss, and every sure step toward my room. I remember the feel of my pillow, and then the warmth of our bed. His hands were gentle in ways I couldn’t be. I knew there would be details, but those were for later. For now, it was only us in a union past the first time I’d said the words.

“I love you.” Simple, languid, but true. His words—those words, returned to me tenfold, and then took me and lifted me into his arms again, where I could look down at the angles of his face gone soft with our love.

I soared with him and knew there and then; it isn’t falling. It’s flying.