Broken Heart 03 Because Your Vampire Said So (6 page)

“Calm yourself,” said Patrick. His smooth Irish voice slid over me and my panic receded. I vaguely realized he’d used glamour on me, but I didn’t care. “Let’s sit down, Patsy.”

Zombielike, I moved backward, turning and walking to my couch. I sat woodenly, feeling as though my whole world were falling apart. Patrick and Jessica joined me on the couch, but I couldn’t look at them. I couldn’t bear all their sympathy.

“We found Wilson’s backpack,” said Patrick.

“Backpack?” I didn’t understand. Had he decided to go to school?

“It had some clothes, his iPod, and money,” said Jessica.

It took me only a second to figure out the significance of those contents. My useless, dead heart dropped like a stone.

“You mean he was running away?” Horror filled me like acid, burning my insides to a crisp. Anguish forced me to cover my face, to suck in unnecessary breaths. I balled up the pain, tucking it into a corner of my mind so I could take it out later and deal with it.

“So, he’s missing, right?” I asked. “You’re not saying he’s—he’s dead.”

“He’s not dead,” said Patrick. “Darrius was attacked by Andhaka. Darrius is okay, but by the time he escaped, Wil was gone. Damian tracked down the backpack. He lost Wil’s scent in the woods.”

How the hell did a werewolf lose a scent? My son was out there with demons and Wraiths and God knew what else. Why did I let him go out? I should’ve duct taped him to his bed.

“Things are getting too dangerous,” said Jessica. “We’re moving everyone into the compound. “

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not leaving my house. Wil might come back.”

“It’s for the best.” Jessica reached over and grasped my shoulder. “We’ll station a guardian nearby and—”

“No.”

Patrick leaned forward and stared at me. “You will—”

“Don’t you dare try to glamour me again!” Fury raced through me. I felt the heat of that anger pulse in my veins. I rose up on shaky legs and pointed a finger at Patrick. “The Consortium does not run my life!”

Fire shot out of my fingertip. Patrick dodged and the flame hit the lamp shade on the end table. Before I could utter, “Oh, shit,” Patrick had gotten a glass of water from the kitchen. He dumped it on the burning shade.

“How did you do that?” he asked, his eyes wide. “It’s not your Family power.”

“I—I don’t know.” I examined my fingertip. It wasn’t singed or anything. Had touching Magnolia Blossom earlier temporarily transferred her power to me? Ack! I had touched Durga, too, and felt the same fiery power surge. “It’s a fluke, that’s all.”

“Some fluke,” said Jessica. She stared at me, frowning. Then she shook her head. “Patsy,” she pleaded, “moving into the compound really is the safest option.”

“We aren’t ever gonna be safe, for the love of God! All the Ancients are here, Jess. Of course, Koschei is gonna attack us now.” I stared at my friend. My anger gave way to shock. I pointed my finger at Jess and she ducked.

“Don’t do that!” she said. “I don’t want to get fried.”

I shook my finger, then flicked it. “See? It’s out. No more fire.” I turned my gaze to Patrick. “You brought the Ancients here on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Stay here if you like,” said Patrick a little too quickly. “Drake is leading the team searching for Wilson.”

That information made me feel better. At least someone at the Consortium gave a shit about us. I softened toward Patrick. However, Jessica had been chewing on my comment and she turned to her husband. “You’re setting a trap. And you didn’t fucking tell me.”

“I tell you everything.”

“The hell you do!”

I backed away until I was safe in the kitchen. Jess in full rant was something to see, I’ll tell you.

Patrick had been married to her long enough to know when to retreat. He gripped her by the arms, probably to prevent her from whipping out her swords. Gold sparkles showered my living room as they popped out of sight.

I crossed my arms and thought about what to do next. Joining the search for Wilson seemed like the motherly thing to do, but damn it, I couldn’t find him any better than the wolfies. They had all the skills and talents I lacked. The best thing I could do was stick close to the house in case he came back.

Oh, Wilson. Did he dump his stuff and take off? Had someone attacked him and dragged him away? I pressed a hand against my roiling stomach. Please, God, I begged, don’t let anything happen to him.

I didn’t much expect God to be listening, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I just wanted Wilson to be all right.

My mind wouldn’t let go of the last conversation I had with my son. We had that stupid fight and I didn’t tell him I loved him and oh, God, where is he?

My son hated for me to go near his room. I felt like a sneak-thief as I opened the door and stepped inside. It smelled like pot and incense.

I sat on his bed and stared at the posters on his walls. I didn’t recognize any of the bands. Of course, he liked heavy metal stuff, which just sounded like a bunch of yelling and clanging to me. I loved country music, which drove Wilson up the wall.

“Hey, Mom, what do you get when you play country music backward?”

“I don’t know,” I said, grinning.

“You get your truck back, your dog back, your wife back, your beer back… .”

I laughed at the memory. It had been a long time since we’d been that easy with each other. My gaze returned to the posters.

I supposed that pretty much summed up our relationship. He was rock’n’roll and I was country.

Restless and worried, I wandered into the living room and plopped onto the couch. I remembered how many times Sean sat on this very sofa, weeping like a man wanting to repent. Yeah, he wept like a baby and my heart broke for him. For us. For Wilson.

I won’t do it anymore. I’ll go to the meetings, Patsy. I love you. You and Willie are my family. I can’t do this alone. I need you, honey. I need your support. Please.

Tears. Promises. Lies.

Alcoholics were penitent. They meant what they said; at least they did when they said it. They just didn’t have the follow-through. The alcohol was stronger than their willpower, their ability to love themselves or their families, their need to be decent human beings. They forgot important family events, they spent money meant for bills, and they drove cars while intoxicated. They passed out in ditches, in lawn chairs, in recliners. They got put in jail. In out-reach programs. In facilities with doctors and psychiatrists.

I went to meetings, too. I learned that alcoholism was a disease and that Sean didn’t choose to be an alcoholic.

But Sean sure as hell didn’t choose to be sober, either. I learned to focus on myself and my kid. To stop worrying about Sean, to stop pouring alcohol down the sink, to stop putting a pillow under his head when he passed out on the floor.

Sean was always in pain. He always felt sad and guilty and needy. I love you. Give me another chance.

Then the day came when I was all out of second chances. I hoped to God I wouldn’t have to make the same decision with my son. Wilson had already started on the same path as his daddy.

I picked up the remote and turned on the television. Nothing on the TV interested me, but I kept flipping through the channels.

“Hey, I like that Alton Brown,” said Nonna.

I screamed and dropped the remote. My grandmother was sitting right next to me, staring at the Food Network. I wanted to throttle her.

“People are constantly sneaking up on you,” said Dottie, who sat in the chair to the right. “You kinda suck as a vampire.” She cackled at her own joke.

“Wilson’s missing,” I announced.

This news didn’t much ping on their radars. Nonna was mesmerized by Mr. Brown’s take on making homemade ice cream. “Just where the hell have you two been?”

“Around,” said Nonna. “Don’t worry about your boy, Patsy. He’s all right.”

I wanted to believe her, but why should I? Ghosts didn’t necessarily mark the difference between alive and dead. “You two could be more useful. You’re ghosts. You can go anywhere. It’d be easy for you to track him down.”

“Leave it be, child,” chided my grandmother. Her eyes never left the TV. “Now, ssshhh!”

“I can’t stand this,” I said. “I’m going to open up the shop and … and … clean it.”

“There’s no point to doing that,” said Nonna.

Oh, here we go. Nonna had let it be known even before she died that she didn’t appreciate my hairstyling techniques or my business sense.

“Why not?” I scooped up the TV remote, but stopped just short of whapping her ghostly skull. “Because I don’t have many clients? Because I’m not good at my job? Because I shouldn’t touch people’s scalps now that I’m undead?”

“Nope,” said my grandmother, unperturbed by my sarcasm. “You can’t go to the shop because it’s on fire.”

Hua Mu Lan

Translated from the Memoirs of Ruadan

Hua Mu Lan translates loosely to “Magnolia Blossom.”

But Lia was no delicate flower. A skilled warrior with the supernatural ability to wield fire, she was always ready for a fight. In the early days, I found her temperament sexy enough to do a hundred-year binding with her—twice. Over time, her battle-prone attitude became wearisome.

All the same, Lia embraced life with a fierceness I admired.

I traveled for a while after leaving Koschei. One evening, I came upon a battleground in the lands that would later be known as China. Soldiers lay upon the blood-soaked ground like chaffs of wheat cut down and tossed about. As I found a path around the carnage, I heard the soft moans of one dying.

She had taken off her helmet and dragged herself between two large rocks. Given the severity of her wounds, I knew it wouldn’t be too much longer before she died.

With dirt smudging her cheek, her dark eyes alight with determination, she faced me down. The almond shape of her eyes softened the intensity of her obsidian gaze. Energy pulsed around her. Cupping her hands, she created a ball of fire.

I knew then she would be a magnificent vampire.

I made her the offer, warned her of the risks, but she was already an unconventional woman. She had disguised herself as a man to join the army—to protect her ill and aged father from conscription.

As the centuries passed, I always wondered if Lia had made up this story to satisfy those who looked no deeper for her motives. She rarely exhibited the kindness and self-sacrifice so often attributed to the heroine in the “Ballad of Mulan.”

The Turning was successful and after traveling together for a while, Lia claimed she had matters to take care of.

Years passed before I learned that Lia had a young daughter. About the time I tracked down my own sons and Turned them, Lia did the same. Unlike the other Ancients with blood children Turned, she never revealed her daughter’s name or location.

But that was later. Before we went our separate ways, Lia agreed to meet with me and Koschei and take her place among the Council of deamhan fola.

“What?” My stupid vampire senses kicked in about that time. I smelled the smoke and heard the crackling flames even before I burst through the door and jumped over the stairs.

Helpless, I stood in the field between my trailer and my beauty shop, and watched the business my grandparents built go up in flames.

“Where is everyone?” I screamed.

No wolfies. The guardians of vampires and of Broken Heart weren’t around, not anywhere. So much for the extra protection that had been promised.

I stared at the flames, clenching my fists. Had the demon returned to destroy my beauty shop?

Nonna and Dottie stood next to me. I turned to my grandmother. “Who did this?”

“I dunno.” She looked at me. “I never said you weren’t a good hairstylist, honey.”

The dead had different priorities. I had noticed that at moments when it felt like my life was falling apart, neither Nonna nor Dottie seemed to give a ripe shit. This was the business that Nonna and Poppa had built with their own hands, but she wasn’t the least bit upset. And yet, if I had the ability to shed tears, I would have. I fell to my knees and dry-wept.

I didn’t realize how bright the flames were or how my body was reacting to the raging light. My first clue was the pain shimmering up my thighs. I dropped my hands from my face and stared stupidly at the wisps of smoke rising from my arms.

Only then did I realize that my skin was sizzling. Pain throbbed in every part of me that was exposed to the fire.

“Patricia!”

I looked up and saw Gabriel running toward me. He scooped me into his arms and ran toward the forest. Relief cascaded through me. He was all right. I hadn’t realized how worried I’d been. I thought he’d … abandoned me. How stupid to have those kinds of expectations of someone I’d just met.

Every jouncing step brought fresh waves of pain, but I was damned glad to be getting away from the fire. I was gladder to be in the arms of Gabriel.

“My house is over there,” I pointed out as he ran past it. As he hurried toward the protection of the trees, I stared over his shoulder. A ball of fire shot from the sky and engulfed my trailer.

“Shit!” I screamed.

I watched the flames attack my home with greedy red fingers. Then we entered the tree line and I couldn’t see the carnage anymore.

A few minutes later, Gabriel skidded to a stop and laid me on the ground. “I didn’t think I was going to make it in time.”

“In time for what?” I asked vaguely. Away from the fire, my body had stopped smoking. But my skin was raw and blackened. I felt strange, as if I weren’t quite connected to my own body. Everything felt distant. “A fireball blew up my house. Isn’t that weird?”

“Drink from me, Patsy.” He exposed his neck to me. Oh, he looked delicious. I sank my fangs into his carotid artery and drank. I grabbed onto his shirt and moaned, sucking in that yummy blood. I swear my body went up a thousand degrees. I was burning again, but not because of the fire.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. He disengaged my mouth from his neck and sat back to look at me.

“Why do I feel like jumping your bones every time I get within three feet of you?” I asked.

“I have that effect on a lot of women.”

I bopped him on the shoulder. Then I leaned against a tree and closed my eyes, letting the blood do its work. I felt his fingers drift across my cheek. When the pain dissipated and I felt normal again, I opened my eyes and found his face inches from mine. Concern was evident in his golden gaze.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked.

“Someone wants you dead.”

“I’m already dead.” I took a shuddering breath. “Wilson.”

For once, I was grateful for my son’s sneaky ways. If he had been in there when the trailer blew up … oh, God! I tried to stand, but Gabriel pushed me back down.

“I found your son. He’s safe.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded.

“We monitor the guardians’ radio transmissions. Terran heard the call go out.” Regret flickered in his eyes. “I had hoped to find your son before you realized he intended to run away.”

The warm fuzzies attacked me again, but they didn’t just flutter in my belly. They crept up and wedged into my heart. He’d gone to find my son. He hadn’t wanted me to worry. He had tried to take care of me. I didn’t know how to feel about that. I had never been taken care of before. It seemed like I was always the one in charge, carrying the burden of the whole family, making sure everything got done.

Thanks to Gabriel, my son was okay.

Me, on the other hand …

“Why would someone try to off me? I’m a beautician, for God’s sake. I’m nobody.”

“That’s not true.”

I stared at him. My gaze dipped to the cream shirt that so finely molded his muscled chest. “I really want to lick you.”

“I know.” He smiled. He was so gorgeous. I couldn’t believe I was breathing the same air as he was. He seemed otherworldly—I mean more so than most vampires. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair and cup that strong jaw, and press my lips against the pulse beating in his throat.

“All the Broken Heart Turn-bloods have been targeted,” said Gabriel. “Three others were attacked, but luckily escaped. Everyone, except you, has vacated to the compound.”

“I suppose that information came over the airwaves, too?”

He nodded.

“Why would anyone want any of us dead?”

“The Vedere prophecy,” he said softly. “One among you will unite the vampires and lycanthropes. “

“Yeah. Terran seems to think it’s me.”

“It is, Patricia.”

“Gabriel!” Terran’s voice was full of irritation. “Let’s go!” She hurried toward us. “My queen,” she said, dropping to one knee. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

“I’ll let it go this time,” I said drolly. The poor child was delusional if she thought I was some kind of royalty. Hell, they all were.

Her lips quirked, but she stalled the grin. She popped to her feet, glaring at Gabriel. Whatever respect, however misplaced, she had for me didn’t seem to extend to him. She pointed her sword at him. “Can we go, already? Or shall we wait around for another barrage of fire?”

“Terran believes she’s in charge of me,” explained Gabriel as he helped me to my feet.

“Move it!” barked Terran. She waved us forward, and we went. She walked behind us, the sword ready in her hand. I sure wouldn’t mess with her.

I had no idea where we were going. But we weren’t the only ones going there. Nonna and Dottie drifted along right next to us. Dottie was smoking, too. Bitch. She gave Terran the once-over. “Not much you can do about that scar, but she’s got fabulous hair.”

“I always wanted a sword,” said Nonna as she poked her finger through Terran’s blade. “How much do you think it weighs?”

“You didn’t have the strength to pull a slot handle,” I scoffed. “How do you expect to swing around a sword?”

“I can swing it quite well, I assure you.” Terran sounded miffed.

Oh, yeah. I forgot that not everyone knew about my gift. Most people weren’t real thrilled to know that ghosts were hanging around, much less that I could converse with them.

“Remember, Terran? Patricia speaks to the dead,” said Gabriel proudly. Hmm. How had he known that?

“There are ghosts around us?” she asked.

“I’m talking to my grandma.” I glanced over my shoulder. Terran looked way too tense, which made me tense. “She likes your sword.”

“Terrific.”

She’d barely gotten the word out when Gabriel stopped and jerked me behind him.

Then I heard the burning whine of another fireball. I looked up and nearly wet myself.

The fire exploded right in front of us. The trees lit up instantly.

“This way!” screamed Terran. She turned around and went to the left, taking another route to wherever the hell we were going. If I had a heartbeat, it would’ve been pounding furiously. Even so, I felt as scared as I ever had in my life. I still didn’t understand what was happening or why.

I didn’t have much time to think about it. Terran slashed away at the tangled brush, while Gabriel held my hand tightly and kept me close. I smelled the burning trees and heard the crackle of falling branches. Who—or what—was lobbing fire at us?

“Where are we going?” I shouted. Like it mattered. Because anywhere had to be safer than here.

Terran stopped so suddenly, I plowed into her. She didn’t budge. Instead, she leaned down, muttered some pretty-sounding words, and pulled on the ground.

An earth-covered door popped open. “Go, my queen.”

I wasn’t about to argue, so I skittered into the dark hole. I slid down the slimy tunnel until my feet hit a stone floor. I staggered forward, righting myself, and looked around.

I was in a low-lit cave. I couldn’t figure out where the source of light was coming from, but I was glad it wasn’t pitch-black.

Gabriel arrived next, landing on his feet in a much more graceful manner, and then Terran jumped out of the hole. She worked some more juju on the opening and it melted away, leaving only the bumpy rock of the cave wall.

I had seen some seriously weird things since I became a vampire, but even I was impressed with Terran’s magical abilities.

“Keep moving.” Terran charged left, down the dimly lit corridor and once again, we followed her. Our little journey ended when she darted into a large cavern, lit by hundreds of white orbs floating around the ceiling. Huh. I thought only the Family Ruadan could create fairy lights.

In here, it didn’t look much like a cave. The floor was smooth, though the walls still retained their craggy shapes. A large, white marble fountain sat in the center of the room. In the middle was the statue of a woman in a flowing gown. Her hair was swept into an updo and her face held a pensive expression. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place where I’d seen the face.

The woman stood next to a large wolf. One hand was on the head of the animal and the other held a crystal orb. It was from this that water flowed into the surrounding pool.

Around the fountain were various chaises and settees in bold colors. A girl with shockingly pink hair and paper white skin lounged on a yellow couch. She was wearing pajamas the color of her hair. Piled around her and her seat were dusty, thick books. She didn’t look up from perusing the large book open on her lap.

One section seemed to have beds, and another part was filled with all kinds of computers and other gadgets. In the far right corner was a large desk covered by files, loose papers, books, and food debris. There were other people, too, in the shadows and on the sidelines who were waiting, watching.

Pink Hair gave me the once-over, looking none too impressed. “She’s your queen?” she asked, her British accent thick. “Is that your real hair color?”

“Is that yours?” I retorted, turning away from her. “Where’s Wilson?” I asked Gabriel. “You said he was safe.”

“That foul-mouthed brat was yours, was he?” said Pink Hair. She lazily turned another page. “Zipped ‘is mouth up, I did. Put him in the dungeon, too.”

My vampire speed came in real handy. I enjoyed the look of surprise on the girl’s face when she found herself dangling from my hand, my fingers squeezing her throat. Her eyes were pink, too. That kinda freaked me out, but I didn’t let go.

I stared into her pink eyes. “Get. My. Son.”