Page 35 of Between Bloode and Death (Between the Shadows #5)

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FOUR

When Val returned to the house with Mormo, she found Onvyr, Rolf, and Khent waiting.

To her astonishment, Khent stopped listening to whatever Rolf was saying, walked right up to her, and stared down into her eyes. His flared blood-red. He tilted her head, looked her over as if unsure of her state of health, then leaned down to inhale her scent.

“Wh-what?”

The others stared, Rolf’s brows raised.

Mormo watched with amusement. “She’s fine, Khent. Unharmed and worried about you, oddly enough.”

Khent grunted.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

He didn’t answer.

Rolf cleared his throat. “You see, the thing is, the necromancer is tricky. I can see why Val wanted our help to kill him.”

“Tell me what happened.” Mormo glared.

“Why are you looking at me?”

Khent scowled at the blond vampire and explained, sounding angry and frustrated, “Vladimir of the Void is more powerful than one would expect, even working for Nergal. He tapped into magic no human ever has.” He glanced at Val before adding, “It didn’t feel as if it came from Nergal either. This is something darker.”

“Divine?” Mormo asked.

“I don’t think so. But not demonic either. I’m still trying to work through it. But I can tell you it’s nothing I’ve ever encountered before.”

“Just what we don’t need. But you have the staff?”

Onvyr handed it over to Mormo. “I tried to fight back, but he had a bunch of undead magir and animals on my island. He killed so many. Even ones that weren’t fierce, from the more peaceful side of the island.”

The dark elf had shiny eyes, and Val realized he looked ready to cry.

The big, tough warrior loved his creatures, and that knowledge made her feel for him. Rolf and Khent didn’t seem upset by the news.

Empathizing, she moved to pat Onvyr on the shoulder and ignored his flinch.

“Thanks, Val.” He gave her a tremulous smile before leaving the room.

She tried not to feel hurt. He had experienced loss. But that flinch had been fear of her. Of a necromancer. Not surprising, considering what he’d just gone through with Vladimir.

Except every time she thought she started to fit in, she’d be reminded she didn’t.

She tuned out much of the chatter, trying to focus on the real reason she’d come here. Not to be a vampire’s plaything, no matter how great the sex was. Or how much she was coming to care for the stern reaper, which made no sense when she studied her feelings. She didn’t even really know the guy.

Their common purpose had fooled her into thinking they might have more in common. That they might even become friends.

Fucking and friendship didn’t have to intertwine. She’d been lucky enough to have that with Talon once. That didn’t mean—

“Valentine. You are unwell?”

She blinked up at Khent, unnerved to find him in her personal space. When she tried to push him back a pace, he took hold of her arm. He didn’t flinch or step back.

That settled her, oddly enough. “Um, sorry. It’s been an ordeal. They rifled through all my things. I can’t tell you what they took.”

“I know.” Khent frowned. “Mormo told us this.”

“Oh.” She blushed, having spaced out over stupid hurt feelings. “Right. So what’s up with you guys?” She sensed something off about him and Rolf.

Looking harder at the pair, she reached out and traced a film of shadow that clung to them both. “What is this?”

“What’s what?” Khent peered at himself and Rolf. “I see nothing but an idiotic draugr and his superior.”

“Suck it, reaper.” Rolf stuck up his middle finger.

Mormo swore and tossed the staff. “It’s fake.” He joined Val in studying Khent and Rolf. “Ah, I see it.” He glanced at Val. “How curious you do as well. That second sight isn’t something humans can reach.”

She shrugged. “It’s something I’ve always been able to see.”

Mormo seemed intrigued but said nothing more, moving back to study the vampires.

“Wait,” Rolf said. “What do you mean the staff is fake? Does that mean we fought Vladimir for nothing? Not that I’m complaining, but he put up a pretty good fight for it.”

“No. I’m saying that this staff is powerless.”

“Not possible.” Khent went to pick it up and crushed it in his fist, breaking the staff in two. His expression darkened. “Mormo, the staff at Belyy Zamok was real. This is not.”

“Wait a minute. They pulled a switch?” Rolf nodded, looking impressed. “Wow. I didn’t even catch that.”

“Had to be when they were fighting Onvyr.” Khent grimaced.

Val sensed more they weren’t saying, but she couldn’t take her gaze from the weird dimness creeping over Khent. She didn’t like it.

“I don’t like this,” Mormo said, and she wondered if he could read minds as well.

“Which this?” she asked. “The staff being a fake or this residue that doesn’t belong?”

“Both. And the fact Morpheus fucked us over.”

The three of them stared at him, she and Khent with dismay, Rolf with delight.

The weirdo started laughing.

“It’s not funny,” Mormo snapped. He latched onto Rolf’s and Khent’s arms.

“Hey.” Rolf tugged his arm.

“Release me,” Khent insisted.

Mormo’s eyes turned a deep red, and Val took a healthy step back. His eyes then shifted into a burnished gold, and the shimmer extended down his arms, suddenly covered in symbols she couldn’t understand, ending in hands on fire, the gold boiling into the vampires.

Burning off the residue.

“Khent, let him,” she said when Khent looked ready to tear Mormo’s head off.

Rolf looked from her to Mormo and stopped fighting as well.

In seconds, the magician stepped back, and the shine and symbols faded.

“You took it away,” Khent accused.

“You’re welcome?” Mormo ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “That took more effort than I’d expected.”

“What was it? I had hoped to study it.” Khent turned his hand over. He glanced at Val. “Do you still see it?”

She shook her head. “No, but I’m glad it’s gone. It didn’t belong here.” As she said it, she knew it to be true.

“Where did it belong?” Mormo asked.

“I don’t know. But not here. It’s not of this realm.” She frowned. “I don’t know how I know that. But I do.”

“Huh. Wonder if that’s kind of like you calling yourself Imy-Mut, Khent,” Rolf said.

“What?” Mormo’s eyes narrowed. “Explain that.”

Khent shrugged and tried to act like he didn’t care, but she sensed his unease.

“Imy-Mut.” Mormo searched Khent’s expression. “It means ‘Champion’ or ‘Keeper of the Dead,’ though ‘mut’ has also sometimes been mistaken for ‘mother.’ In this context, as a reaper referring to himself as that, I’d suggest it leans toward death.”

She frowned. “Is this connected to your wings?”

Mormo whipped his head to her. “Why would you ask that?”

She shrugged. “It seems like a fit.”

“I need to talk to Hecate.”

“What about Morpheus?” Rolf asked. “Do we kill him or what?”

“Not yet.” Mormo’s dark look made Val take a step closer to Khent.

The magician vanished.

“I hate it when he does that,” Rolf muttered.

Onvyr returned to the living room carrying a backpack, wearing a change of clothes. “I need to go check on my island. A few survived. They need me.”

Rolf surprised her by being kind. “That’s a good idea. Let me get you a few potions you might need.” He escorted the dark fae down the hall.

Leaving Val and Khent alone.

They studied each other.

“You are well?” Khent asked.

“Better than you, I think. What happened with Vladimir? You met him face to face, right? What did you think?”

He sighed. “I think this is a conversation best held in private. Come with me.”

To her pleased surprise, he led her to his laboratory in the basement. They didn’t pass anyone, the house feeling empty yet not. Something was off about the area outside his lab, as if the energy she felt didn’t match the emptiness she saw.

Inside his lab, he closed the door, considered her, then said, “I’ll be right back.”

He left, and she looked around, fascinated with his equipment and subjects.

He had a host of dead creatures in stasis.

A lot like the garage where she housed her dead magir, soldiers in her coming war with Vladimir.

Khent had a vault against the wall for cold storage, much like a coroner’s office or mortuary.

As she looked at the various specimens labeled in jars, she felt a familiar presence and glanced down.

The little salamander sat at her feet, waiting for acknowledgment. As soon as she saw him, she smiled, and he clambered up her body to rest on her shoulder, tucking into the crook of her neck, blanketed by her hair.

“Don’t set my hair on fire the way you did Rolf.”

He chirped. She hoped that meant “okay.”

Studying Khent’s lab, she noticed a pattern.

Everything had its place, his sense of organization akin to hers.

She could see herself working in the place, pleased with his sense of order.

There, a tray for instruments kept no doubt sharp.

Another area for mixing potions, a clean sink where beakers and bowls had been washed and now dried on a rack.

The library of books by the far wall looked extensive, and she found several in other languages, all magical tomes welcoming her to read. Attuned to death magic, she was about to reach for one when Khent returned.

He settled a tray of food and some bottled drinks on a counter with two stools, away from his experimental station. “You must eat.”

She blinked. “You brought me food?”

He frowned. “Eat.”

How…sweet. She joined him, noting his goblet of blood but feeling no disgust toward it. Val had long since stopped judging the way anyone lived. As long as they didn’t hurt others, she didn’t mind.

“Um, where does the blood come from?”

“Hecate provides for us. I don’t much care as long as it’s not goblin or druid.”

“No to druids?”

“They’re too earthy.” He moved her plate closer, folding the napkin into a triangle then setting her utensils out for her. “I brought you several drinks, not sure which you’d prefer with your meal.”

Soda, grape juice, chocolate milk, and water. All her favorite flavors, and the water had exactly three ice cubes, the way she drank it.

The food looked delicious and smelled even better—steak, fries, and salad along with a cheesecake for dessert. Before she could ask how he knew what she liked, he shoved a fork of steak into her mouth.

She chewed, staring at him.

He didn’t seem bothered at all to be feeding a mere human.

So she didn’t question him, letting the intimate meal continue until she had nothing left but dessert. He’d fed her with such care and attention, she’d been helpless to do anything but obey his soft commands to chew and swallow.

“You can finish?”

She nodded, not wanting to break the spell by saying something that would cause him to turn icy once more. Not that he’d been too cold, but this kindness mattered. So sweet yet bizarre.

Unless he was under a spell.

Concerned, she immediately put her hand over his forehead, aware he tensed but didn’t shrug free. After a moment, she pulled her hand away. “No spells. Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re being nice to me.” She frowned, saw him studying her oddly, and barked, “What?” She waited for the other shoe to drop. A harsh word. A sarcastic comeback. Some reason he was treating her like a person who couldn’t take care of herself. Some “lesser being” comment.

His eyes crinkled. Genuine laughter followed.

And she had to check herself to make sure she wasn’t under some spell, because the more she fought against liking the reaper, the more she succumbed to feeling more than she should for the vampire flirting with death. And her.