Halfway Bitten (7 page)

I said nothing. Even in the starlight, my thoughts were easy to read.

“I am not a beast. I was once a king, you know. I’ve watched my land and people be ground into dust over the centuries, and now I’m forced to beg for my bloodgift as would a filthy pauper.” His knuckles cracked as he rolled his fists into angry knots. “From three hundred proud vampires to— to me. And now I am summoned like a dog for the right to feed myself.”

“Bloodgift? What is that, Philip?” I asked. The term was new, and ominous.

The vampire did something so human I had a moment of vertigo. He spat on the ground while cursing in a liquid tongue I didn’t recognize. “It is—when my clan began to wane, we were forced to seek permission to hunt. Our own territories were being stolen from us all over again. You
cannot
imagine the violation of such a thing, witch. It is inhuman to endure such slavery.”

I stared at him, a smile spreading on my face at the stupidity of his words. “You mean like, I don’t know, being fed upon without permission? By some bloodsucking undead who regards you as glorified cattle? That kind of
slavery
, Philip?” I said, my tone acid. If he thought I was a sympathetic ear for his clan’s fall, he wasn’t just wrong, he was delusional. I found myself wondering if vampires could go crazy. I know that sleeping all day leaves me irritable and on edge. Plus, vampires don’t really eat, and they’re terrible at social situations. I mean, who wants to go for centuries without the possibility of a waffle or a lunch date? Not me.

Philip grew dangerously still, and I let a spell build to critical mass, ready for his attack. It didn’t arrive because the vampire demonstrated a mastery of his anger I wouldn’t have thought possible. Generally, vampires of great age have deteriorated into one of two permanent states—the first being a kind of sage in which their mastery over their appetites is nearly complete. You can tell that type; they have an aura of calm around that isn’t really evil, just reeking of age and experience. Those, I can tolerate. I think.

The second kind is far more dangerous. They’re well on their slide into some kind of barely-controlled animal state in which their bodies have become little more than a skin covering for a coiling mass of hunger. They kill without thought, or even malice, really, because the echoes of the human they used to be are lost to the punishing drum beat of their need for blood. Philip struck me as neither, so I wasn’t sorry about needling him to the point of violence. I was curious about what lay under his veneer of humanity, and in my own way, cut him to see what he was made of. His reaction was most welcome, despite me being in close proximity to a vampire of his age.

Simply put, I was right and he knew it. Indulging him in some fantasy about his status as a victim was almost comical. I thought about how many unwilling necks he’d pierced during the years of his eternal hunt and felt myself stiffen once again, the anger at such wanton disregard for life giving me a stinging rush of anger.

After a long moment, he sighed. It was a bitter sound, and it seemed quite human.

“I will never be used to my status as a relic,” he began.

That got my attention. In my experience, vampires are usually so in love with their own power, they think the sun rises and sets on them. If they can tolerate sunlight, that is, which is a neat trick that more than a few of them have mastered. But back to their status as epic narcissists—you don’t think they all dressed that way simply because they love vintage opera costumes, do you? No, they’re arrogant, prideful, and powerful enough to be disconnected from their own mortality by an endless thirst for blood and dominance.

I tilted my head at Philip and pressed him on his appearance. “Let me explain why I’m so unimpressed with your arrival. I got a note indicating that there are vampires keeping prisoners on
my
family land. Do you know what that means?”

“I can surmise. I assume that’s a violation of your coven’s policy?” he said. There was no hint of avoidance in his answer.

“That’s one way to put it. Keeping someone as living food is cause for summary justice on the part of my family. But it doesn’t end there, Philip. Are you aware of retroactive magic?” I asked him. When he shrugged, I explained, “Witches are like badgers. We’re most powerful in our own dens. Think of these mountains as my den,” I said, waving grandly, “and my familial magic is intensified by the location of it when cast. So my spells can be shaped to act like bloodhounds. They don’t just destroy the being who commits a crime against our people, the magic actually becomes a metaphysical force that will seek out the
entire
source of this affront. Oh, it’s true that a really skilled caster might interrupt some of the effects, but over time my spell will worry at their defenses until it finds a crack. Then, anyone or anything associated with the abuse of unnatural power in our lands will be killed. No warning. No gradual erosion of their powers. Just instantaneous death—or true death, in the case of your kind—and there is little that can be done about it. So when you tell me that you
are
the Tidewater Clan, I have to say that I’m not entirely saddened by that, because some other clan is keeping humans as cattle. On my. Family. Lands. Do you see what you’ve walked into,
Philip
?” I was standing close enough to him that I watched his eyes widen at the threat in my voice.

“I keep no humans, nor have I ever. I spent my mortal years as a kind of slave myself, and would not visit such a thing upon others.” He raised a hand as a kind of vow.

I laughed in his face. “Do you think you’re the first vampire to tell me that you’re
different
? You’re right about one thing: purebloods are slaves, but only to their lust. If you don’t have human blood in your veins, you can’t beat this thing, Philip. It owns you. But you already know that, don’t you? So why are you trying to convince me that you’re one of the good ones? I have a blood-smeared note telling me that there are people in danger right this second. Do you propose to help me free them?”

“I don’t even know where these supposed prisoners are,” he protested.

I tapped a finger against my temple. “Then think. You’re a vampire who has come to my town for some purpose that you still haven’t revealed. So how about if you answer that, because vamps run together, like worgs or ghouls. You’re never solo.”

“I am.” He stood, arms crossed.

I conceded his point for the moment. “Yes, but you’re meeting someone, aren’t you? Why?” My fingers twitched. I wanted to send a ray of sun into this guy, and soon, unless he gave up the whole mystery-man routine. I hate chit chat, unless it’s at the diner.

“I thought I was. I’m here to plead for the right to move freely. I was told that clan leaders would pass through here, and if I wished to press my case, I could do so. Here. On your lands. So, yes. I lost control and scared the girl, but I am a transient. I will not stay. You have my word,” Philip said.

“Who are the leaders?” I asked. I had my suspicions.

“There are two. I have met neither, but they are only recently come to power. They’ve killed every mobile vampire on the eastern seaboard of the country and into Canada.”

At that, my brows shot up. That was a serious power grab.

He nodded at my reaction. “Exactly. The only vampires who are still in power are in major cities, where their soldiers protect them. But as you know, my kind are restless. We move about, and that is why so many undead are missing, leaving great chaos behind them. I know you may find this distasteful, but a steady hand, even if it is undead, will control crime in an area. You see the problem with such a vacuum.” Philip shrugged in hopes that I did see the nature of power. When local crime lords were removed, there was a flurry of violence to fill their position. If the control had been in the hands of a vampire, it meant the ensuing struggle would be even more horrific. Vampires can kill
far
more people than simple thugs. They’re built for it.

I considered Philip for a moment, then pointed south. “You’ll hunt elsewhere. And allow me to offer you a compromise for your moment of weakness.”

He looked warily into my eyes. Good. He should be worried, no matter how many years he’d been preying on humans. The McEwans aren’t sheep, and we don’t brook the presence of wolves. I considered my words before speaking, lest there be any wiggle room. Vamps can be crafty; sort of like lawyers with fangs, although vamps don’t charge three hundred bucks an hour. On second thought, maybe vamps weren’t
totally
bad. I shook my head and focused on the bloodsucker in front of me, leaving thoughts of law firms behind.

“Find the identity of the new clan leaders. You have two days,” I said, my voice casual.

He ran his tongue over the points of his fangs, and I saw him reconsider attacking me. “If I cannot discover these people, what happens?”

I smiled, then looked off into the east. A delicate bloom was rising in the thin clouds that hung in the twilight sky. “My Gran says I have a rather sunny disposition. Don’t make me show you.” Pointing a finger at him, I discharged an invisible gun. At his grave nod, I cut my eyes, indicating he was free to go, but in truth, neither of us were certain of victory if it came to a fight then and there.

He knew my thoughts, but chose the better part of valor. With a bow, he turned and walked away, his feet leaving a deep green trail across the silvered dew of the lawn. And for what felt like the first time in memory, I exhaled.

I went straight to work, feeling a bit bedraggled but determined. Over the next two hours, I let the coffee pot be my spirit animal, and when breakfast reached the peak, I was not only in fine form, but reasonably cheerful. Stars and sun, bless the magic contained within the humble coffee bean.

Cooking is something that only occupies part of my mind, letting the remainder of my thoughts travel overland to chase down flimsy ideas that always seemed to lead me back to Alex. Something about the young man told me he was the tie that bound everything together. There was an event just over the horizon, and the weird circus, dead girl, and roaming undead were woven tightly in a means that I couldn’t see—yet. Alex would help me unravel all of this unsavory activity that left my teeth humming with magical energy. I could feel the potential for great harm, and my witchmark left no doubt as to what our familial opinion was of such an occurrence. The tingle of readiness in my mark was as noticeable as my caffeine buzz.

I walked out of the diner resolved to find Alex, bring him to my Gran, and debrief him to the best of our abilities in the least-invasive way possible. We hadn’t quite reached the whole dungeon and executioner’s hood stage, but that didn’t mean that gentle persuasion wouldn’t be just as effective. My Gran’s eyes peering inquisitively over the edge of a teacup can make most people sing like canaries. She has the gift of letting you know she senses you aren’t telling her what she wants to hear. This inquisition arrives with the lift of one single, arched brow. It’s an art form perfected by teachers, suspicious witches, and small town judges.

I thought of Alex and his quiet, hesitant energy, and smiled. There was something about him that made me feel protective, even upbeat—the exact opposite of what his sister brought out in me.

I detest Anna. I don’t like the way she sits. Or stands. Or talks or eats. And although I’ve never seen her sleep, I’m pretty sure I’d hate that too. I get mad—I mean, who doesn’t? Even the patron saint of keeping your mouth shut would find being around Anna reason enough to fire off an insult or two. Or three. The thing about it is that I really like cats, so it can’t be the whole dual nature as a shifter panther, or some other animal quality that sets my teeth on edge. If she was a centipede or a badger, I could see me having that tingling feeling of distrust, but she isn’t. She’s a big, beautiful cat, lithe and exotic, and I can’t stand it.

Have you ever gotten caught up in your thoughts and snapped out of it to find you’re someplace completely unexpected? Well, I have, and I came to, so to speak, standing a few yards away from the rock where I’d seen both Alex and Anna. Neither of them were there, but as I turned, shaking my head at my loss of emotional control, Alex walked out from a copse of bedraggled alders with a shy smile on his face.

Once again, like a drug, his presence lifted me into a kind of cheer that was almost instantaneous. I wondered about that, but found myself returning his smile.

“Hey,” I said. “I guess I needed to talk to you.” Looking around, I took in the scene for the third time. It was still pretty. The mountains don’t change much.

“What about?” He was reasonably open, his gaze even and neutral.

“Well, it’s sort of a long story. Walk with me to my Gran’s?” I asked.

“Why?” he asked, then raised a hand in apology. “Sorry. I mean, why your Gran?”

“I thought we might have tea, and I can ask you a few questions about what you’ve seen out here while running. You have been shifting, right?” I looked at him for confirmation. The musk of his other shape still clung to him; if he lied, I would know it.

He awarded me the barest of shrugs. “It’s a nice place. Yeah, mostly I’m running free out here.” He cut his eyes at the breadth of the forest. “What do you want to know?”

I started walking toward town in hopes he would follow. He did. We fell into a sort of amble down the path, each step easy as the gentle slope took us lower on the winding hillside. There were more birds protesting our movement than I could imagine. The usual suspects were crying at us: jays, blackbirds, and their rowdy friends, but even a dove flapped its wings indignantly at us as we passed by, the chittering call of its distress adding to the general mayhem. It seemed that the scent of a shifter was unwelcome in this neck of the woods.

“I met a vampire,” I began.

That put a hitch in his giddyup. He faltered, then caught himself after turning to me in surprise. “You mean another one?”

“Other than Wulfric? Yeah. This one’s a pureblood. He scared a girl in town and I had to hang around to have a chat with him.” I could feel the slow burn of exhaustion cresting on me like a wave. I yawned, thought about my bed, and went on, “Says he’s in town because he lost his hunting rights, and that he’s the last of his clan. Ever heard of something like that?” I carefully avoided asking Alex if he’d seen the vampire during his travels. I’d let Gran do the serious questioning.

Alex thought about it. I could tell he’d covered some serious ground, because sifting his memories of the woods took a few seconds. “I’ve seen signs, but nothing in person. I know there are undead here.” He frowned, a delicate pull at the fine skin of his brow. “They aren’t hunting, if that’s what you’re wondering. I would smell it,” Alex said, confirming my suspicions about some of his abilities as a shifter.

“Don’t you smell the undead, too?” I asked. If Alex had such a good sniffer, I didn’t know how he could avoid smelling something that hadn’t drawn a true breath for four centuries.

“They’re more of a hole in things than a scent. Wherever they go, there’s a—it’s like things are cleansed by cold, and there’s this low level of mustiness. They are more nothing than something, unless it’s a ghoul. I can smell them a mile away,” he said, grinning. Ghouls smelled like a dumpster fire behind a seafood restaurant. They were
gross
.

“I offed a ghoul last year. I seriously considered letting it eat me just so I wouldn’t have to smell the damned thing. It had some words left, too. Kept growling about me paying for my pizza and not leaving a tip. Somewhere east of here is a pizza shop missing a really pissed off delivery driver,” I said, but my smile wilted. The guy had been human, once. And now he was a place of ashes in the moss behind my house. I hoped his spirit was at rest.

“Why do you want me to answer the same stuff at your Gran’s? Is she a witch, too?” Alex wasn’t dumb, just forlorn and adorable.

“Yes, and she’s better at detecting lies,” I said simply. “It kept me honest through high school.” I smiled to take some sting from the planned interrogation.

“What do you think I might lie about?” His eyes were calculating, but he still managed to seem a little bit sleepy.

“Whether or not you know a four-hundred-year-old vampire who came to town for some terrible reason. Oh, and who killed Edward, and the girl one town over. Also, I’d kind of like to know what Anna’s long game is with Amelia. I want my boyfriend to be happy, and with your sister dangling her daughter like bait it’s hard for him to find peace.” Color flushed my cheeks at that admission. Okay, I got mad again. Sorry, it’s that Anna is so
smug
all the time.

“That’s a lot of info. I can tell you what I know, but Anna is going to be a problem,” he admitted.

“Why?” Problem was such a vague, ugly term. It could mean almost anything; none of which was good, unless it was referring to having three waffles and two hands, but that’s why we stack them. See? I solve problems.

“She’s just . . . Anna. She never tells anyone stuff. She likes being on her own, and even though she calls us a pack, it’s more like her doing whatever she wants, and me sort of tagging along. Always been like that,” he said, and there was a wealth of frustration in his muted tone.

“Fair enough. What do you want, Alex?” I asked.

The silence was almost total. I could hear him breathing next to me as our shoes thumped along on the dry path. After a period of several minutes, I prompted him with the same question again.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice lost in wonder. “No one ever cared enough to ask.”

The bitterness of that statement was crushing. I thought about the casual way I assume my family or friends will be around, asking me or telling me about what is happening in my life. I cooled at the possibility of being alone and realized some of what Alex must feel. For about the millionth time, I missed Wulfric, felt a pang for Gus, and wondered if I should call my folks in New Mexico. The total time of this emotional feelcoaster was less than a second. Then I thought of Gran, brightened, and took Alex’s hand in mine.

“You might not even know what you know, but I would like you to talk to Gran. Someone died, Alex. We can’t have that on our lands, and it’s just wrong. You understand?” I shook his arm lightly via our linked hands, noticing that his fingers made mine feel like tinned sausages. I can’t stand a man with better hands than mine, and don’t get me started on his eyelashes. They curved to the sky and each silky lash made me twitch a little with jealousy.

He grinned, and this time it was free of any tension. “Okay, Carlie. Let’s go meet your Gran, and we can talk. But I have to tell you, I don’t like tea.”

I nodded gravely. Who knew what to expect from the palate of a shifter. His sister ate like a human garbage disposal. I guess someone in the family deserved a discerning set of taste buds, so I smiled, pointed toward Gran’s, and wondered why there were so many unknown things happening in my town.

I sensed I would not wonder for long.