Poison in the Blood (18 page)

“Let’s focus on sleep this time,” I suggested. “It has been a long day, and there is no sense in taking part in…marital activities if we are both anxious.”

“Thank you, darling,” he said, clearly relieved.

We undressed, and as I lay in his arms I was comforted that he was much warmer to the touch, but slightly disturbed by the fact that it was my blood that had made that temperature change possible. With my head pillowed upon his chest I listened to the slow beat of his heart and drifted into a dream-filled sleep.

Not all of my dreams are prophetic. I do, on occasion, have normal dreams. During my pregnancies I experienced a series of very strange dreams that had nothing at all to do with my magic and a good deal to do with my strange food cravings. This night, however, featured the rare occurrence of two visions.

The first began with Helen, and this time I had no doubt as to her identity. The faerie was submerged in a bath filled with blood. My stomach hitched and threatened to reject the remnants of my dinner, but I concentrated on keeping hold of the vision.

“It isn’t working,” Helen protested in a whine. I can’t imagine how she possibly thought bathing in blood was a viable solution. My chronicler entourage would be horrified by the shocking waste. Of course any sane blood drinker would agree that what the Infernus faeries were up to was utter madness.

Paris came into view and knelt beside the tub, taking Helen’s hand. “We have made remarkable progress. We are so close now. A few more test subjects and we will have the problem solved.”

“But we have been discovered. There is no more time.” Helen burst into sobs, and though I did pity her barren condition, I had no sympathy for her. Not with the number of innocent lives she had sacrificed for her unholy research.

“I will think of something, I promise. Don’t I always come out triumphant?” he asked. She nodded, sniffling, wiping at her nose with blood-soaked hands. “Just trust me, my love. I will take care of everything.”

I shuddered, and the dream changed. I was standing in our library in Yorkshire, frowning down at Michael. He had unbuttoned his collar and bared his throat to me.

“I still do not see how this makes any sense. I won’t receive any sustenance from feeding from you,” I said, exasperated.

Simon sighed from his vantage point to the side, and I tossed a glare in his direction. “The point in this case isn’t sustenance,” he said. “It’s purely meant to be pleasurable for you both.”

“But won’t it weaken him if I drink from him? It seems dangerous to weaken Michael while I gain no benefit other than pleasure. We are capable of pleasuring each other without fangs involved at all. We have been doing it for some time,” I pointed out matter-of-factly.

Simon winced, and I was impressed that I had managed to embarrass him. “I don’t doubt that. However, you and Michael have an eternity to spend together, and considering that you are now both blood drinkers, it is only logical to assume that you will bite him at some point. As such, you should practice this.”

“Must you watch, though?” I asked.

“I have witnessed Michael biting you. How is this different?”

I turned to Michael as I pondered my response. It was difficult to put into words—it simply was different. Perhaps it was that my relationship with Simon was not the same as that of Michael.

Simon sighed again—I must truly be trying his patience. “If you were a newly made chronicler, I would observe all your feeding attempts. Because your situation is quite unique, I feel it is best that both Michael and I observe you, and because he is participating in this bite, he can hardly monitor you.”

“He does have a valid point, darling,” Michael pointed out.

“I know.” I fidgeted with my skirts for a moment, and then gently sat upon Michael’s knee. He turned his head to the side, and I eyed the vein in his throat. Perhaps it was the remnants of my seer’s magic that made it seem so bright against his pale skin, or perhaps it was a newly acquired skill of mine. I sent a furtive, anxious glance toward Simon, and then I leaned closer to my husband.

Michael took one of my hands in his and held it comfortingly. “It’s all right. I love you.”

Reassured, I lowered my mouth to his throat and sank my fangs into his skin.

I bolted awake, still cuddled against Michael, and discovered I was nuzzling his throat. The unique sensation of how it had felt to bite him echoed through my mind, and I propped myself up and peered down at him.

Michael stirred and blinked up at me sleepily. “What’s wrong, Em? I wasn’t snoring, was I?”

“Darling, you hardly breathe. I doubt you’re capable of snoring now,” I informed him. He smiled, and I kissed him. “I have something I need to tell you.”

“Oh?” Michael quirked a drowsy brow.

“I’ve had two dreams now, and I’m confident it will work,” I said in a rush.

“What will?”

“The ritual. The ritual that Simon used on his soul mate. But it didn’t work for her, but I’m certain it will work for me. I have had two dreams now where you and I were immortal together. We could be together always. You wouldn’t have to lose me.”

The last remnants of sleepiness slipped away as my husband eyed me with confusion. “Perhaps you had better start over, and begin by explaining how you know of this ritual.”

Taking a deep breath, I launched into the tale of how I had accidentally eavesdropped on Simon’s memory of losing his wife. Michael seemed appropriately shocked by the idea that Simon had ever been married, much less to his soul mate. I then explained how I had dreamed of us at the strange city and the parade of lighted boats, and of my dream of biting him just now. He listened, his brow increasingly furrowed with studious thought until I finished.

“Darling, there is no proof that your dreams are visions, or that they will be true,” he reminded, ever the soul of sensibility.

“I am certain that they are visions. You and I were meant to be together, and you are immortal, so clearly I must be meant to be as well. How could the higher powers part us?”

“They parted Simon and Genevieve.”

“But she was a witch. Witch magic is completely different from seer magic. And I’m certain there have been advances in spell research since Simon attempted it. And I’ve already had visions to confirm it, so we know it will work.”

Michael stroked my unbound hair. “I won’t risk losing you.”

“There is no risk of that. If we do not do this ritual, you
will
lose me one day. The question is, are you willing to risk keeping me?”

I leaned down and kissed him. I meant it to be a simple kiss to punctuate my question, but he held me close and deepened it until my entire body tingled with lustful anticipation. Michael rolled me beneath him, and I wrapped my arms around him. His torso was bare, and I was comforted that his skin was still as warm as it had been when we fell asleep. As he kissed me it was as though nothing had changed between us. It wasn’t the frenzied hail of kisses that had led to our accidental overindulgence, but the familiar touch of the man I loved. My soul mate.

“I love you,” I murmured as he hiked up the skirt of my nightgown. Certain that lovemaking would occur at some point during the night, or perhaps hopeful that it would, I had already removed my undergarments before getting into bed earlier.

“I love you, too. I love you more than anything else in this world.”

There was such heavy emotion in his gaze, a deep sincerity, and I held him close as his sex entered mine. I gasped, both in pleasure and at the sense of completion that having him inside me triggered. We were soul mates, two halves of one whole, united in the moment of a man making love to his wife.

He trailed kisses to my neck, and I lightly slapped his shoulder. “No biting,” I reminded him.

“No biting,” he promised, his lips against my skin. “I must admit, though, that I am enamored of your neck.”

“Really? You used to be enamored of my breasts,” I teased in reply. Of course after having nursed several children my breasts were no longer in the condition they had once been, so I could hardly blame him for that. Michael chuckled, and distracted me by increasing the pace of his thrusts. There was no change in how amazing he could make me feel with no biting required.

“I am enamored of your breasts. I merely have a newfound appreciation for your neck. Did you enjoy biting me in your dream?” Michael’s voice was low, filled with promises of naughty pleasures, and I shivered with carnal delight.

“It ended before I could truly enjoy it. I suppose there will be only one way to find out,” I said with a wicked smile.

Michael chuckled and ended the discussion by taking me fast and hard until I was overwhelmed with a climax. He repeated the process again and again—his stamina appeared to have quite improved with his change in condition, and I had no arguments. When he finally collapsed in my arms, blissful and completely spent, I stroked his hair and reveled in the rosy glow of our lovemaking. It was a bit strange to think that though he spilled his seed inside me, there was no potential for a child. Not that I was anxious for more at the moment, but there was something sad about it. The ending of an era.

When we settled in for a few more hours of sleep, I dreamed of a new era, hopeful for a time when we would spend eternity together, pale and ageless and in love for centuries to come.

Chapter Fourteen

Michael and I agreed to refrain from asking Simon about the possibility of performing the ritual, and instead to concentrate on the tasks at hand. After all, there was no point in riling Simon if I was killed by Infernus assassins during the trial. The idea that evil faeries might punch through the wards and pop into Josephine’s home at any moment and slay me kept me in a constant state of fear.

We reinforced the wards around the building to keep all faeries out, but I wasn’t confident in their strength. Librarians aren’t adept at creating wards. A sorcerer or a summoner’s aid would have been preferable, but of course we weren’t in close contact with any. I wondered if Justine’s guardian magic would make her an expert at casting wards, and I resolved to ask her at the next opportunity. I had not spoken with her since our meeting with Horatio, and I hoped that things were going well between her and Dr. Bennett.

Finally a note arrived from Justine requesting that I join her at her home, from which we would be traveling to Faerie for the trial. I was pleased that we were given notice, and that I was not transported away at an inopportune moment. I had no idea what sort of attire was appropriate for a faerie trial, so I chose one of my mourning ensembles and hoped for the best. When I arrived at Justine’s I found her dressed in a red and gold gown reminiscent of a British military uniform; it seemed an odd choice for an American. I wondered if she had any ill will toward the crown.

Dr. Bennett met my curious gaze with another negative shake of his head, and I resisted the urge to sigh. What could possibly be the delay? Was he waiting for the end of the trial? Surely Justine would have another case to investigate after that, and another after that. She was a guardian, so I doubted she ever had much free time.

“Are you prepared?” Justine asked.

“Aside from my timepiece, what else do I need?”

“That is the only physical requirement. Are you mentally prepared? You’ll need to be brave,” she replied.

I nodded, holding my head high. “I am prepared. I will not let you down.”

The guardian smiled and then motioned for me to sit. “I have faith in you, Emily. Have things been going well for you at home?”

“Quite well. We have settled into a sort of normalcy. Oh, that reminds me. We have reinforced the wards around the house, but I’m not certain how strong they are. Can you add any additional support? Or suggest someone who can?”

“Yes, of course. I will see to the matter tomorrow, if you wish.”

“Thank you.”

Dr. Bennett cleared his throat. “Have you been feeling well? Any remaining pain in your arm?”

I flexed my fingers, manipulating the once-broken arm and wrist with no pain at all. “No, it feels fine. And no lingering effects from the blood loss, either. You do excellent work.”

“Good, good. Glad to hear it.” He smiled and blushed at my praise, and I found it charming.

We exchanged polite small talk over tea and dainties, each of us trying not to stare at the clock on the mantel as it inexorably ticked down to the time we were to leave. My heart pounded louder with the passing of each second as the hand approached the stroke of seven.

When the first bell chimed, we were blinked out of Miss Dubois’s parlor and into another enormous marble hall. This one was round, with seating that rose in tiers from the floor to nearly the ceiling in row upon row packed with faerie spectators. We stood at the floor level, surrounded by noise and chaos, and I turned to Justine for guidance. She stepped forward and bowed to Horatio, who guided us to seats behind a large wooden desk. To our left was another desk with Infernus faeries seated at it, and to our right the faerie council sat upon three thrones.

From the safety of my seat I continued to examine the audience. Many more Infernus faeries were seated in the rows behind our opposition’s desk, shimmering waves of heat rising from their crowd. The rest of the faeries were a startling array of every sort of element in nature and color of the rainbow. Some wore glittering, shining wings, while others favored fur, whiskers and tails. Claws, fangs, beaks, leaves, branches, flames, icicles—I could watch them for hours and still not be able to list the myriad details on display. It was miraculous that the faeries were so different, yet all one people.