Page 43

We slipped out of the Temple of the True through a side door, into the brisk night. In the distance where the battle with the vampires and explosion had taken place, shouting and whistling drifted into the air.

We headed the opposite direction, weaving our way through alleyways and crossroads with our hoods pulled low. We never stopped, never looked back, and managed to get to the outskirts of Nuhav near the walls without any run-ins with the Bronzes.

Despite his recent wounds, Garroway had bounce in his step.

He had gone from a croaking, dry husk on death’s door to a sharp-eyed hawk in an amazingly short span of time.

In the few hours it took us to get to the gate that led up the mountain pass to Olhav, his mottled flesh had smoothed over and the burns and cuts had morphed into harmless divots.

He was healing faster than I thought possible. His clothes were still tattered rags but the pale skin beneath was hale. If I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. He moved like it, too, with the wincing, laboring gait vanishing within an hour.

There truly is something special about my blood, I thought as we cautiously neared the gate-tower. I didn’t yet know what to make of it. I wanted answers. It had to explain why others were after me, so desperate to steal me. They knew more about my unique powers than I did.

We didn’t dally with trying to find a good spot in the wall to climb over. Instead, Garroway marched us up to the gate to the nosy vampire we’d avoided when coming into Nuhav. Our eyes scanned the ramparts of the wall to make sure no ambush was laid out.

Once we were certain none was forthcoming, we approached the guardsman. Under his hood, the tall bloodsucker seemed surprised to see us. He obviously hadn’t seen us go into the city.

“Sneakier than a shadow at night, Garroway Kuffich,” said the guard with a terse, familiar tone, giving him a once over. “And looking worse for wear, too.”

“Any Bronzes come by here looking for me?”

The guard frowned. “They wouldn’t have passed through if they had. Why?”

“No reason.”

The frown deepened. “I’ve heard whisperings of a commotion in the south district. Something about an explosion.”

“Oh? I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

They paused, staring at each other from beneath their hoods. I felt they both knew the other was lying. I stayed behind Garroway with my head bowed.

Garroway clapped the guard on the shoulder. “Do let me know what the excitement’s all about when you find out, eh?”

We were three steps past the gate when the guard called out. “Who is the human girl?”

Garroway stiffened. I stayed facing the road, while he turned. “Treat for Master Ashfen.”

The guard said nothing for a moment. Anxiety rode my flesh. We’re doing nothing wrong, we’re doing nothing wrong, we’re doing—

“Your master has a fine eye,” the guard answered.

“The finest.”

As Garro turned away, he muttered under his breath, “Prick.” Then we were marching up the steep incline that would lead us to the welcoming embrace and safety of Olhav.

If anyone had told me I’d one day consider Olhav “safe” and “welcoming” in comparison to Nuhav . . . I would have called them a gods-touched madman.

We entered the safehouse on the southwest end of the city just as the sky was beginning to turn gray and cloudy with the coming dawn.

“Glad we didn’t linger any longer than we had to in that temple,” Garroway said, peeking up at the sky before pushing into the sparse dwelling.

“We almost did,” I pointed out with a knowing, playful tone to my voice.

He pulled his hood away and ran a hand over his shiny pate. “All the better for pragmatism and logic to win over.”

I sat on the edge of the cot, bone-tired. “You don’t strike me as the pragmatic, logical type, Garro.”

His smile widened. Mischief danced in his red eyes. Those eyes sparkled with intensity that wasn’t there before he’d fed on me. “You’ve known me so briefly yet know me so well already, lass. Get some sleep. You can barely keep your eyes open.”

“And you?” I cocked my head curiously, kicking my feet. There was still some latent ardor lingering in me, and it was difficult to hide. I needed some . . . physical activity to put the events of the evening to bed.

We fought two fullblooded vampires and lived to tell the tale, for True’s sake.

Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

Garro gave me one of his customary tilted smiles and said, “I daresay I’m wearier than even you. I’m the one who went boom, after all.”

I chuckled and nodded, dipping my chin to look at the ground. My shoulders slumped. Deep in my heart, I knew the sensual moment from before had passed. Once we left the confinces of the temple I’d lost any chance at frolicking with Garroway Kuffich. At least for now.

Probably for the best. I hardly know the dhampir.

Garroway stepped in front of me. My heart skipped a beat when his shadow cast over me. With my head still bowed, a soft kiss pressed against my forehead.

I inhaled sharply and looked up.

Garroway was already walking up the stairs to the other bedroom. “Fair morning, little honey badger. It’s my hope you carry me through my dreams, just as you carried me through Nuhav.”

His words melted into me. The grayskin seemed poetic at times, unlike any man I’d met before.

My heart kept ringing in my ears for the next thirty seconds. I watched his swaggering gait as he ascended the steps, until he was gone. My thighs reflexively squeezed together against a sudden thrum deep in my belly, and I chewed the inside of my cheek.

You sly bastard, you.

When I finally went horizontal with a sigh, laying my head down, I was out within minutes. Despite the adrenaline from the evening’s activities, once my fight-or-flight crashed, I crashed even harder. My sleep was restful and deep, dreamless.

The same couldn’t be said for my roguish, charming half-vampire. During the morning, a yell woke me. At first I couldn’t be sure if it had come from my dreams. Then the muffled cry happened again, directly above me, and I knew Garroway was having nightmares.

I winced at the painful sounds. Hopefully those aren’t the dreams of me he was talking about.

A stray line of sunlight cut into the dwelling from the single window. I closed my eyes . . . and finally had dreams of my own as I drifted back to sleep.

The sunflower in the window, swishing to and fro from the breezy, wintry morning.

The rain turning into spilled blood that splattered the sunflower’s petals and transformed the beautiful flower into a grotesque mockery of itself.

My eyes in the reflection of the window, redder than they’d ever been before—

My eyes tore open and I sat up with a start.

Sunlight no longer slanted into the dwelling. It was dark save the light of two candles in the room. I had slept another handful of hours after being woken by Garroway’s day-screams.

Garroway sat on the chest where the clay pots had resided. His arms were crossed and he leaned back against the wall, eyes downcast. A shadow from the nearest candle flickered against the lower half of his face, giving him a fierce expression.

“Morning,” I croaked, screwing up my features. “Erm . . . evening.”

His smile was short and clipped, lacking the liveliness I was used to.

My brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and rubbed my eyes of sleep. “I heard your nightmares—daymares?—this afternoon.”

“Yes. That was unexpected. I haven’t had actual dreams in, well, decades. It’s not something vampires are accustomed to having.”

“That’s odd.” I didn’t know what else to say or why he was telling me this. We had grown rather close in a short amount of time, for him to be telling me about the everyday customs of vampires. They don’t dream?

“Quite odd, lass.” His head rolled back on his shoulders. “In my dream, bizarre things took place. I was speaking with my master. Then his voice receded and . . . crackled? Like it was fizzling away. Before long, I couldn’t hear Skar at all.”

“Even stranger. I’m sorry, Garro. That sounds trying.”

“The next moment,” he continued, ignoring my apology, “I was staring out from the eyes of a damned rodent. A field mouse, I believe, scampering across a bloody pasture. At the sound of a screech, I looked up as an owl wrapped its talons around me and everything went black.” His face lowered, confusion in his eyes.

“What do you make of that, little honey badger?”

I shrugged. “No idea. Are you implying my blood had something to do with your sleep terrors?”

“I’m implying nothing,” he snapped. “Only wondering.” He didn’t seem as spirited as the evening before, and it made me sad. I liked that Garroway. This one seemed frustrated. I would’ve probably been frustrated too if I’d had confusing dreams for the first time in decades.

The grayskin stood from the chest, cracking his knuckles. His skin looked completely fine and he wore a fresh tunic. It was amazing, his wiry muscles clean from any wounds or burns. He pulled at his chin, deep in contemplation. “Perhaps they were premonitions.”

I said nothing.

He shrugged the thought aside, blinking back to the present. “Regardless, Master Ashfen will be returning soon, and I have some questions for you, Sephania.”

My muscles tightened. An inquisition? Now? I was starving. “How do you know Skartovius is returning soon?”

“I am his bloodthrall. Our minds speak to each other. Though I am a bit alarmed to say his thought-speech seemed further away and distant than I am used to.” Creases formed in his brow as he made a connection and muttered, “Not unlike my dream . . .”

It was prudent to try and take his mind off whatever existential thing he was dealing with.

Garroway being able to communicate with Skartovius via his mind astonished me.

It sounded like magic, and it explained some eerie connections between these two—like how Skar had known where to find us that first evening.

I wanted to know more about it; about their bond in general. “If you are his bloodthrall, you were . . . born from him?” I asked quietly.

He shook his head gently after pacing for a few moments.

When he sat on the chair at the table, he sat the wrong way, using the seatback as an armrest so he could rest his chin on his forearms. “No. My being a half-vampire has nothing to do with Skartovius Ashfen, lass. Dhampir are born, not turned, but the vampire and human who made me are dead. Master took me in when I was a young ruffian wandering the streets.”

My brow lifted at his tragic tale. He hardly looks five summers older than me. Yet he said he hasn’t dreamed in decades . Just how old is this man? “So, Skartovius is like a father to you, but not actually one?” I pried.

His smile was soft, curling his full lips. For a moment, the darkness that had clouded his features was gone, and my ploy to distract him had clearly worked as he gained a fond, distant look in his eyes.

“No, Skartovius and I are not like father and son. I have retained a semblance of those sweet, familial emotions from my human side. Noblebloods like Skar don’t share those emotions, as Vall has explained to you in harsher terms.”

I chuckled lowly. “Vallan is a surly one.”

“The strength of our bond is powerful because we both have vampiric blood inside us. That is what makes me a blood thrall. An ordinary thrall is what a human slave to a vampire would be. Obviously, a connection between vampires is stronger than a connection between a vampire and a human.” He paused and scratched at his smooth cheek.

“. . . Which is what makes it alarming when our telepathic bond weakens for any reason, as it did in my dreams and this evening.”

I was completely absorbed in Garroway’s velvety voice, his simple way of talking.

I couldn’t look away from his attractive face—angular and gaunt—as he rambled on.

“That’s fascinating. It’s foolish of me,” I laughed embarrassingly, “but I nearly forgot vampires and half-vampires have histories of their own. Humans are taught you are turned into pure monsters, losing all your humanity and stories. Clearly that’s not the case. ”

“Everyone needs a boogeyman,” he quipped. “Fullbloods are closer to the monsters your people claim they are. I won’t lie to you.”

I swallowed hard. “I remember the shadowgala, the bodies of my Holdmates wrenched open on tables like animal carcasses for the noblebloods to feed on. It was barbaric.”

He winced. “And only a measure of my kin’s ferocity, lass. You have come to a dangerous, dangerous place, harboring with us.”

I angled diagonally on the bed. “Given what happened to us last night with the attack in Nuhav, I daresay I’m somehow safer with you three than I am with my own kind.” I shook my head, finishing with a mutter. “Can’t believe I’m saying that.”

When I glanced up at him, the shadow from before had returned. He wasn’t smiling, and all the softness was gone. “That brings us back to my initial inquiry, Sephania. No more stalling.”

My distraction could only last so long.

I swallowed hard. “What is it, Garro?”

His eyes narrowed. “Before the vampires attacked us, you were telling me something. I’ve shared my history with you. Now it’s your turn.”

It frightened me. The hard twist to his face, the intense scrutiny that brooked no argument. Sweat beaded under my arms and over my brow. I couldn’t help but croak, “What is it you want to ask me?”

“The way you reacted last night when we saw those three lads. What, exactly , did the Diplomats do to you, Sephania?”