A Shade of Vampire 28: A Touch of Truth (15 page)

My father’s eyes widened. “So it does…” he breathed.

A dozen questions flooded my mind. Did a Bloodless antidote really exist? Was it Georgina who had discovered it? Why was she having to fight to educate people about it? For heaven’s sake, millions of the IBSI’s resources were invested every year just in keeping the Bloodless away from human settlements. If there was a cure, they should be the first to leap on it.

Why would the IBSI want to keep it such a secret?

“Antidote,” my grandfather Derek repeated, a profound expression on his face. “I wonder what that could be?”

Everyone looked at each other blankly.

“Whatever it is,” I said, “the IBSI are hell-bent on stifling information about it. And Georgina… Lawrence’s mother. Somehow she discovered it… and she was on the run somewhere.”

“Before she got conveniently killed in an accident,” Shayla finished. I looked up to see the witch standing in the doorway of the hospital room. I hadn’t even noticed her arrive.

“Yes,” I breathed.

I just knew that she had been fleeing from Atticus. But would he really have killed his own wife? I supposed it would’ve been easy enough for him to have her assassinated and then make the whole thing look like an accident.

And what of Lawrence? What exactly did Atticus have planned for him?

“Well, I just witnessed firsthand that the IBSI have uses for the Bloodless,” my father said. “Whatever the exact uses are, it seems clear that they want to keep the Bloodless alive and thriving.”

That would certainly explain why Atticus did not want copies of Georgina’s files lying about, even if they were encrypted. Some non-IBSI tech-savvy geek might have been able to crack them.

And did those files really contain information, like, actual details about the cure? There had certainly been enough files on that thumb drive.

So, Georgina.
I continued to mull it over. It seemed like she had started—or been trying to start—some kind of underground movement to try to spread this knowledge. Wherever she had planned to go with Lawrence after she left Atticus, it must have been somewhere she thought was safe, where she believed she could further her mission… or maybe it had been solely out of fear of her husband.

Another thing was clear at least: Whoever Georgina had been, she obviously couldn’t have agreed with her husband’s way of doing things. And then somehow he must have found out about her activities or intentions…

I clutched my blanket closer, feeling unnerved.

How deep do these lies go?
For all I knew, we might have still only touched the very tip of the iceberg of the IBSI’s deception.

“Oh, my. Th-That’s Lawrence!” my mother exclaimed suddenly beside me. “On national news!”

She was staring at the television screen, playing noiselessly in the background.

My eyes bulged.

Filling the frame of the news channel was a young man who looked unmistakably like Lawrence Conway. He was…
standing
. Standing on a platform in some kind of small, bare, stark white room, wearing just a pair of boxer shorts. He no longer looked pale or sickly. His handsome face, stoic and still shaven like the last time I’d seen him, had a healthy complexion to it, almost a glow. And his dusty blond hair, which had been trimmed shorter, looked thicker, healthier.

The platform he was standing on swiveled, showcasing his body like he was some kind of specimen… which, I realized, he was.

He was tall, just like I’d suspected he would be if he’d been able to stand upright. And his build was bulkier, his muscles toned—also as I had believed they must’ve been.

I jolted from the bed so hard that I tripped on my own feet and smacked my knee against one of the low bedside tables.

“Grace!” several voices admonished me at once in concern, but I lifted myself up before they could do anything and staggered forward to the mantelpiece, which held the remote. I grabbed it and turned up the volume.

“… momentous milestone for the IBSI,” the voiceover of a female newscaster was announcing. “The drug is yet to be named and it is still being trialed, but we have been lucky enough to gain a first glimpse of the results.”

I moved up closer to the screen, where I could take in Lawrence in more detail. As the platform swiveled round so that he was facing the camera directly, I gazed into his tawny brown eyes. Brown eyes that seemed faded, distant. As though he was not quite present.

I suddenly felt a twinge in my chest. A deep, throbbing ache. I was taken aback by how strong it was.

Lawrence.

What have they done to you?

“The test subject,” the newscaster went on, “whose name has been withheld for privacy reasons, successfully completed the procedure. According to our IBSI correspondent, the young man has developed combat abilities that have surprised even the organization itself. We were not able to procure exact details but no doubt they will be disclosed in the coming months, as more trials are carried out. On questioning, the IBSI confirmed that there is currently no estimate when—or if—the drug will be available to the public, but discussions are certainly underway. We hope that we will be able to provide demonstrations of the test subject’s abilities in the coming weeks at the IBSI’s discretion. But for now, this breakthrough serves to demonstrate IBSI’s continued commitment to protecting our borders, and reducing the loss of lives of the courageous young men and women who fight to keep us safe at night.”

Lawrence disappeared from the screen. It felt like somebody had just switched off a light. Hollowness pooled in the pit of my stomach.

What are you now, Lawrence?

I was still reeling from the shock of seeing him again. The last time I’d laid eyes on him, he’d been a frail, fragile thing, incapable of even supporting his own weight. Now, here he was, the absolute polar opposite. Exuding strength and prowess, he stood tall and, frankly, downright intimidating. I’d always known that he had the build of a fighter, but whatever procedure he had recently undergone had taken him to levels even my imagination had never reached.

As much as it relieved me to see that he was still alive, and that not only had he regained use of his limbs, he was healthy and possessing such newfound strength, his expression had just seemed so… far away. Lost. He looked like a totally different person.

As the news switched to covering a merfolk incident off the coast of Florida, we gazed at each other, stunned.

“What did they do to him exactly?” my mother said quietly.

My legs felt weak. I staggered backward. The backs of my legs touching the bed frame, I dropped down on the mattress among my blankets.

“God knows—” I began to murmur… then I choked.

My speech was cut short by a sudden tremor running through my body. It felt like it erupted from within the very core of me and sent vibrations throughout my limbs. Losing control, I found myself slamming backward on the mattress and shaking like I was undergoing some kind of fit.

I was barely aware of the faces crowding around me, the hands trying to steady me. All I could do was lie there as tremors rolled through me in waves.

And then I experienced another sensation: coldness. Deep in the marrow of my bones. As iciness consumed me, rendering me practically breathless, a truth was forced to the forefront of my mind that I’d fought to push back ever since my encounter with the Bloodless in the sewage tunnel.

I’d felt cold non-stop since then.

Though I’d had plenty of excuses to feel cold—the weather, the lack of sufficient clothing, the conditions I’d been traveling in—the truth remained: I’d been cold. And even now, although I’d convinced myself I felt warmer after my shower, the reality was I’d been clutching at blankets ever since entering this room.

I realized why I’d been averse to Corrine’s in-depth examination of me. My subconscious had feared what she might find.

Two hands moved to my forehead now. My mother’s and father’s.

Then the tremors relinquished as suddenly as they had started. But the coldness remained.

Winded, I sat bolt upright, gazing around the room in a panic. My family’s voices were a blur as doubt and fear paralyzed my brain.

Maybe I was turning into a Bloodless after all.

Maybe Maura was right: half of me was still human. The process was just delayed because of my fae blood.

Delayed but not counteracted.

Oh, God…

How much time do I have left?

M
y journey to
visit the chieftains of the packs who lived nearest to our lair went more smoothly than I could have hoped for. Although their behavior was often perfunctory, each of them welcomed me and my Blackhall companions into their homes, and were more than agreeable to sit and talk. We discussed how we might form strategic alliances and help each other in the future, should there ever be a need to defend ourselves again from outside threats. I extended our resources for their use, should they ever need them, and they did the same for us.

The journey soon became almost… tiresome. It felt all too easy. And I had been hoping that traveling would take my mind off Victoria, but if anything, it only made me think of her more. It made me dream of the days we had spent roaming the woods together during our journey to Rock Hall, and it was déjà vu to spend the night up in the trees, where we had once slept together.

When our tour came to an end, I advised my companions to go ahead and return without me. I wanted to hang back for a while, since it was a particularly beautiful night. The sky was completely clear, revealing a galaxy of glittering stars. The other wolves had wanted to continue moving throughout the night but I… wanted to take a breather, and have some time with my own thoughts. On this night that so reminded me of the night I had first kissed my love.

My love.
It was still hard to believe that was what Victoria had become for me. Ever since learning of my betrothal to Rona, I had come to believe that I would never experience such a miracle as love. I would either have to keep running forever and avoiding my marriage to Rona—remain celibate, or “single,” as Victoria had referred to it—or be forced into a loveless marriage.

But now I had Victoria. My beautiful human girl.

After my comrades parted ways with me and disappeared into the trees to continue on their journey, I transformed into my humanoid form and swung up the nearest tree. I scaled higher and higher up the mighty trunk until my head emerged above the ocean of swaying leaves and I had full view of the spectacular sky.

I propped myself up on one of the thick branches and sat down, my back against the trunk, in a spot where my vision of the sky would not be impaired.

My nostalgia was stronger than ever up here. I closed my eyes, recalling the way Victoria’s crystal-blue irises had reflected the starlight. I remembered her smile and the way she had looked afraid when I’d brought her into the treetops for the first time. Oh, how I wished that she was here with me now. What I wouldn’t give to feel her weight on my lap, hold her in my arms… watch as she slowly fell asleep.

I let out a deep sigh and leaned my head back against the trunk. I opened my eyes again and gazed upward.

Love
. It was such a strange thing, how it could be both bliss and agony at the same time.

My eyes glazed over as I continued to lose myself in thoughts of my lover, wondering what she was doing right now, back in her island of eternal night. Whether she was thinking of me, too…

Then a streak of black caught my attention, directly above me. Normally such a thing would have barely caused me to pause. I would pass it off as a bird or something… but this streak of black had been large. Very large. It had raced across the sky so quickly it was a blur, and hurtled down toward a tree about a quarter of a mile away.

Could that have been a meteor?
I had never witnessed meteors strike The Woodlands, but I had heard of such occurrences from other wolves.

Perhaps it was a meteor… A fallen star… A messenger from Victoria, reminding me that she loves me…

I fell back into my dreamy thoughts until I spotted it again. The same black streak, much closer to me this time. It streaked right across my vision and hurtled to my right. I stood up now, balancing on the branch and narrowing my eyes as I tried to make out what, exactly, it was.

And then I noticed something very strange indeed. The figure of a wolf. A black wolf? A huge black wolf. It looked at least twice my size.

What in the world…

Although my heart was pounding from the surprise, I couldn’t help but move closer. As I moved from my tree to the next, the giant wolf drew closer to me, too, until we were both only twelve feet apart, staring at each other.

She was female—and the largest wolf I’d ever seen in my life. Far larger than I’d ever thought even existed. She had bright gray eyes… eyes that were bizarrely like mine.

As I breathed in to catch her scent, I experienced the strangest feeling.
Familiarity
. Like I knew that smell. Like I had scented it before. It was a feeling so deep inside of me that despite all logic telling me that it was impossible, my brain simply couldn’t argue with it. I
felt
it. Somehow, somewhere, I had scented this wolf before.

She and I remained rooted to our spots, staring at each other for several moments. When she made no move to approach closer to me, I called out in a hoarse voice, “Who are you?”

I thought that I had either misheard her, or gone insane, when she replied, “I’m your mother, Bastien.”

I had no words for about a minute. I just continued gaping at her. “What?” I stammered.

At this, she ventured closer until she had reached the branch directly opposite me—only five feet away. Her scent was almost overwhelming at this proximity. Especially since the evening breeze was blowing in our direction.

“You are my child. My long-lost son,” she replied, in an unsteady voice. “Bastien Mortclaw is your real name. And I am Sendira Mortclaw.”

“I… Y-You are mistaken,” I choked. “I am Bastien Blackhall, and my mother is dead.”

She moved closer still until she was sharing my branch. “Your mother was not who you thought she was,” she replied softly. “She was a substitute for me.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You are mistaken.”

At this she cocked her head to one side. She looked almost wounded. “Do you not recognize me, son?”

I faltered. I couldn’t deny it.

“But… But…”

Before I could continue with my stuttering, she suddenly morphed, and the next thing I knew, standing before me was a fully-clothed woman. Alarm rippled through me as I realized that she possessed the same power that I did—a power that I had not witnessed anybody else in The Woodlands ever possessing. The ability to turn at will, switch between man and wolf, be it night or day.

But what kind of magic was this— that she could appear fully clothed?

She was normal-sized in her humanoid form—not enlarged like she had been in her wolf form. And her appearance… I could see myself in her. Her curly black hair. Her gray eyes. She… she looked just like my mother ought to look. She looked more like my mother than my… other mother ever had.

“This is some kind of witchery,” I breathed, backing away. “This
can’t
be.”

“My dearest,” she said, her voice pained as she approached me. Her hands touched mine. “I can explain everything to you. Absolutely everything. If you will just hear me out…”

Here this woman was, holding my hands. She was not an apparition. She was real. How could I not hear her out?

“Come with me, and you will understand all the secrets of your past.”

She shifted back into her giant wolf form and then lowered her head, gesturing that I climb onto her back. I hesitated for a moment, but again, how could I refuse?

I pulled myself on top of her back and then, without warning, she launched into the sky and flew at a speed that rivaled a dragon’s—nay, a witch’s.

I must have fallen asleep on that branch.

This can’t be real.

This can’t be.

She soared over the woods and headed toward the shore. She carried me several miles across the ocean until a cluster of rocks came into view. Here, she touched down. I had no idea why she wanted to talk to me here, but my mind was far too crowded with other questions to give it much thought.

I climbed off her back, my legs unsteady. She assumed her human form again and gestured that the two of us sit down on a rock.

We did. I couldn’t stop staring at her face.

Then she began a story. A story that began at my birth. A story that involved kidnapping and “black witches”. She said that when I was very young, still an infant, the black witches had taken all of the Mortclaw pack hostage due to their being the strongest, finest tribe in all The Woodlands. The Mortclaws had been taken away from The Woodlands and kept in solitude on an island, where the black witches had carried out all sorts of strange rituals on them. But they had managed to get me back to safety, via a kindly servant of the black witches who took pity on me and smuggled me out. I had been placed with a surrogate family back in my homeland and, even when the Mortclaws were freed from the black witches after the latter’s demise, my parents had still not sought me out, for they had not wished to disturb me.

“Th-Then why are you here now?” I couldn’t help but ask.

She drew in a breath. “I came across your substitute aunt, Brucella. We had been passing by The Trunchlands when I spotted her and her family. She informed me of your substitute parents’ and siblings’ deaths. I-I decided that now was the time to finally make myself known to you.”

“Brucella?” I asked.

“Yes,” she explained. “Your father and I were, uh, hunting by the ogres’ island, and we happened to pass the Northstones on the shore.”

My mind felt like it had been blown into a thousand pieces.

My whole life has been a lie. My parents, my siblings…

My gut twisted.

A part of me still wanted to deny it all. But as crazy as everything sounded, I just couldn’t help but believe her words now. My instincts had confirmed that this woman was my mother practically from the very moment I laid eyes on her, and now it was simply a question of my brain accepting it.

“And… my father? And do I have siblings?”

“You have no siblings, my beloved,” she said, squeezing my hand gently. “But you have a father. A father who loves and misses you very much.”

“Where is he?”

“We, um, decided that I ought to visit you alone at first, to see how you took to… everything I’ve told you. You understand?”

“Yes,” I murmured, in a daze. “W-Why are you still so big? Why do you still have these strange powers?”

She shrugged wearily. “You are right that it is strange. We should have lost them when the black witches met with their demise… It remains a mystery to us why we still have the powers they bestowed upon us.”

I fell into a stunned silence, everything she had just told me still sinking into my brain. I felt like I was bursting at the seams as I struggled to hold it all in at once. I could not find words again for a while… But as the minutes passed, there was something nagging me at the back of my mind. A nagging that wouldn’t go away, despite my mother’s explanation.

Brucella
. She was the cause of my mother’s seeking me out. Although I supposed it made sense that Brucella had made her way to the ogres’ kingdom in search of me, it didn’t sit right with me that she was the reason for my mother’s sudden appearance. Even though I supposed that my foster parents’ demise would’ve come up naturally enough in conversation between my so-called aunt and my mother, I had become so averse to Brucella that simply hearing her name put me in a suspicious mood. She did nothing without some expectation of return. Some hidden agenda… Would she really have sent my mother to me out of the goodness of her heart?

Still, it was my mother sitting in front of me.
My mother.
I should not let Brucella get in the way of that.

But then, as my mother slipped in a question, I couldn’t help but prickle again: “I hear that you have a newfound mate?”

“Did Brucella tell you that?” I shot back, a little more tensely than I had intended.

She looked taken aback. “Why, yes. She told me a number of things.”

“Who did she say my mate was?” I asked, assuming that she would have been boastful and presumptuous enough to still be telling people that it was Rona.

“A-A human girl named Victoria,” my mother replied.

My mouth dried out.

That
really
did not sit right with me.

I couldn’t imagine Brucella saying such a thing. Admitting defeat already? Would she have? Might I have just tired her out by now? Or maybe Brucella had already found somebody for Rona, a replacement husband…

Whatever the case, I instinctively felt cagey when it came to talking about Victoria. I simply nodded and said, “Yes.”

My mother paused, wetting her lower lip. “W-Would you care to describe her to me?”

I hesitated. “She’s… she’s very beautiful.”

“Is she here with you in The Woodlands?”

I shook my head. “She’s not here.”

At this, my mother stopped asking questions about Victoria. She looked strangely tense.

We lapsed into silence again, falling back into just staring at each other again. There was a part of her that appeared to be just as disbelieving to see me as I was to see her.

“Well, Bastien,” she said, rising slowly to her feet. “Perhaps we ought not make this first meeting too long. I-I understand you have a lot to think about and absorb now. I should probably return.”

“Return where?” I asked.

“To Father,” she replied. “We live… across the ocean.”

I rose to my feet beside her. “Then I would like you to return me to The Woodlands,” I replied.

“Of course.” She moved forward tentatively and cupped my face in her hands. She leaned up to kiss me on both cheeks.

My mother.
This really was my mother.

She reassumed her wolf form. I climbed onto her back, and she transported me back to The Woodlands with her bizarre, supernatural speed. She set me down in a clearing in the woods near Blackhall territory.

“I will come back to you soon, Bastien. I promise… I know where you live.” She cast me a lingering glance.

I nodded at her, though somehow, I wasn’t sure how to reply.

I watched as she launched into the sky again and streaked away. And I remained standing and staring at the spot where she had disappeared.