MIDNIGHT HUNT: Book 3 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles (5 page)

Chapter Four

Monika jerked when Thomas touched her shoulder.

He chuckled. “Did you not hear me enter?” Meandering to the table, he took off his satchel, then set it down and faced her. “How did you fare?”

She blew at the page, on which she had just finished writing, trying to dry the ink. “Well, I’ve transcribed a number of entries, but don’t see anything close to a cure…yet. However, I did skip ahead and find a recipe she’d perfected, which is a ward against a werewolf.” She handed him a scrap of parchment.

Thomas skimmed his eyes over the piece of paper. “Too tired and distraught to write a full entry,” he read aloud. “But I’ve refined the recipe to these ingredients: wolfsbane is the element of water; agrimony is air; betony is fire; fumitory is earth. The herbs and the elements are an effective ward, and even prevent the werewolf from transforming, thereby making the wearer of the charm safe.” He grinned wide, excitement brightening his eyes. “At last! So I might be able to wear such a charm to keep the curse at bay?”

Monika shook her head. “Read on.”

His smile faded and he regarded the note once more. “But they will kill the one who is cursed.” Thomas sat, shoulders slumping, and continued to read. “I will resume my studies on the morrow. So mote it be. —KK” He tossed the paper onto the table and rubbed his face. “Well, at least it’s progress.”

“I would caution you to avoid using that recipe until I learn how she came to this conclusion and what had her so distraught. Of course the wolfsbane should be avoided, but it does sound promising. I’m at the beginning of her studies, where she started using well-known remedies. So far, none of those proved to have any merit.”

“What did she mean, ‘Wolfsbane is the element of water’?”

“All life comes from four elements—water, fire, earth and air. And everything in our world embodies one or more of those elements. She believed if she used herbs that contained all four elements, she would bring about balance. She speculated the curse was actually a disruption of a person’s natural harmony, thereby creating a supernatural being.”

Thomas nodded. “I see. How difficult is it to gather those herbs for the ward?”

“Not too difficult. Some are actually in my garden. Why?”

“I’d like you to bring them on your next visit. I’ll pay you for them, of course.”

“As I said, I wouldn’t recommend doing anything with that recipe until we know more.”

He smiled. “Thank you for your concern.” He glanced out the window. “It’s getting late, so I won’t keep you any longer. You’ve done very well, Monika.” Reaching into his satchel, he produced a small leather pouch and retrieved two gleaming coins. Thomas rose from the chair and grabbed her hand, pressing the coins into her palm.

She gasped. “These are gold.”

“And there’s more where this came from.”

She gawked at the small fortune in her hand before she shoved it toward him. “Herr Carr, I cannot—”

“Please…Thomas. I insist. May I call you Monika?”

She frowned. “No you may not,
Herr Carr
. This is far too much money for the amount of work I did here today. This sizable sum and your insistence to keep behaving inappropriately toward me has me questioning your intentions.”

“Monika—”

She glared at him.

“
Fräulein Konrads
,” he amended, raising his hands in surrender. “No one has done what you’ve done for me thus far. I am merely showing you my gratitude.”

“I want to be very clear about our arrangement. I make no guarantees. I don’t want you coming after me for your money, or worse, if I cannot accomplish your goal. Please keep in mind, there may not be a cure…and you have to accept that inevitability.”

He chuckled. “I understand, but I have complete faith in you.”

She pursed her lips. “And I am not part of the arrangement.” She tried to give him back the coins.

He crossed his arms and smiled. “I will not take those back. They are yours and you have earned them.”

“But—”

“Are you trying to insult me?” His brow furrowed.

“Of course not, but—”

“Then it’s settled.” Thomas strolled back to the table and tucked his pouch into the satchel.

She sighed and dropped the coins into the purse at her waist. Monika gathered her basket and the pile of papers, including the parchment on the table. She gazed at the book, aching to wrap it in her arms.

“Thank you for all you’ve done today. I look forward to your return on the morrow.”

She nodded and dragged her eyes away from the tome. “Good day to you, Herr Carr,” she whispered. Monika left the inn and stood outside, waiting for Herr Schmidt. However, the more she thought about the text she’d translated, the more excited she became. Too fidgety to wait for the farmer, she strolled down High Street, through Vollstadt’s townsfolk milling about on their daily business, and headed back to Kostbar at a brisk pace.

Monika finally had her mother’s book. Everything else of her parents had burned in the fire. This was a precious piece of not just her mother, but generations of her family. Absolutely irreplaceable. Many of the pages had been handed down as far back as her great-great grandparents. When her father had created the wooden binding, her mother had organized and transferred all the pages from the family journals into this one tome.
What a treasure! And I’ll have the cure!
Almost an hour later, Monika returned home, exhausted but inspired by today’s developments.

Grabbing a few of the fresh vegetables Herr Schmidt had given her, she set them aside for the soup pot already at the hearth and stored the rest in the small root cellar dug in the corner of the room.

She chopped a quarter of the cabbage, a carrot, a turnip and a leek, plopped them into the soup pot and stirred. Sprinkling in a few more herbs, she covered the iron pot and swung it back over the hearth, where she coaxed the fire with a wave of her hands, keeping the flames modest but warm enough for the brew to simmer.

The door rattled from a knocking visitor. Monika swung it wide to reveal a grumbling Edda. “Behave yourselves, boys!” She released an exasperated sigh as her three boys filed into the cottage with dirty faces, skinned knees and elbows, and arguing over who had won their wrestling match. Edda put her covered basket on the floor by the threshold. “Peter, sit!”

The twelve-year-old did as his mother commanded and clamped his lips tight.

Edda grabbed Michael and Wolfgang—seven and nine respectively—by the scruff of their necks and shoved each of them into chairs…and Wolfgang smacked Michael across the table. “Enough, Wolf!” Their mother pinched each of their necks and silenced them. Shaking her head, she turned to Monika and donned a broad smile. “Good day, dear.”

Monika chuckled and fetched some ointment—which Edda’s husband Helmut used frequently for burns—and knelt before each of the boys to clean their scrapes and dab on the liniment. Since the boys couldn’t sit still for anything longer than a few minutes, Edda shooed the three of them out of the cottage to go back home. She picked up her basket from the floor and handed Monika two loaves of warm barley bread as payment. “Fresh from the oven and made with love,” the older woman said with a wink.

Monika hugged her neighbor. She peeked out the door at the boys skipping across the platz, smacking each other and running around in circles, and chuckled. “Would you like a slice with some honey and butter?” she asked as she held up a loaf. “Irma and I just churned some yesterday. I thought you might like to indulge.”

“Don’t mind if I do!” Edda pulled up a chair. “I see a certain twinkle in your eyes, girl. What has you so cheerful?”

Monika brought a wooden slab to the table, on which she placed the loaf, then positioned two small, round trenchers before her and her friend. With a serious calm belying the overwhelming joy in her breast, she said, “After ten long years…I’ve finally found it.”

Her friend’s mouth popped open. “Your mother’s book?”

Monika smiled and bit her bottom lip.

“How wonderful! Pray, let me see?” Her eyes darted about the cottage.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have it as of yet.” Monika fetched a long knife from the chopping block and the crock of butter from the shelf before she returned to slice the bread. “But I hope to have it in my possession within just a few days.” She placed individual slices onto the trenchers.

“Are you sure it’s her book?”

Monika clenched her fists. “I had it in my hands.”

“It
didn’t
perish in the fire. You were right all along!” Edda sat back and grinned. “So where is it? Why can’t you get it now?”

Edda rose and brought the honey pot and wand to the table. Monika frowned and sat to butter the bread. “I was summoned to Vollstadt by a man who said he needed a healer.”

Edda’s brow increasingly furrowed as Monika retold Thomas’s story of being captured and escaping with the book. “He sounds like a crafty blackguard. You mind him, now.”

Monika rolled her eyes heavenward. “Oh, you can be certain of that. He’s attractive, no doubt, but I certainly won’t let that interfere with what I’m feeling here...” She tapped the center of her chest, indicating her heart.

“Are you going to resume your mother’s work, then?”

“You know I will.”
Gods, please let me accomplish what my mother could not. There’s finally hope.
“I can’t wait to tell Oma when she returns from helping Papa.”

“Helping him? What happened?” Edda picked up the wand and drizzled honey onto another slice she’d buttered.

“I’m not sure. Oma said she was going to Nordenham for some kind of farming accident, but she isn’t usually so upset over tending to others. She was wandering around the cottage in the middle of the night before she left.”

“Ah, yes, she does have the knowin’ about such things close to home, doesn’t she?”

Monika nodded and swallowed the lump forming in her throat, the worst coming to mind. She still didn’t know how badly he had been wounded, how all of this was because of the curse. “I told her I knew it was Papa. She was just trying to save me from being worried, I’m sure.” She sighed. “I hope the answers I need are in Mama’s book.” Her eyes welled with tears. “If I can develop a cure, Papa can finally be well again.”

“This curse has plagued your family for a long time.” Edda stood and hugged Monika. “I best tend to my boys.” She framed Monika’s face with her warm palms. “I’m glad you finally found it, love.”

“Thank you.” She hugged Edda, who then grabbed her basket and waved goodbye before strolling across the platz. Monika closed the door and smiled. She snatched her harvesting gloves and grabbed an empty basket to slip off into the woods and gather the wolfsbane. Luckily, the other three herbs were already growing in their back garden.

The stalks of the yellow bell-like flower wasn’t easy to find in the lower regions by the sea. It usually thrived in the more mountainous areas, but a diligent seeker could be rewarded with persistence, and Monika was nothing if not persistent.

At least two hours later, she dragged herself back into the cottage and settled in for a soothing cup of chamomile tea sweetened with honey. She couldn’t help but steal a few more spoonfuls of her favorite golden nectar before she put it away. After savoring her cup of tea, she undressed and washed the sweat from her body in a standing tub of warm water with a soft cloth and lavender. Naked, touching her body and calmed by the effects of the chamomile, Monika allowed her thoughts to drift toward her Scottish dream lover.

* * * * *

Broderick awoke with a rock-hard erection and his mind swimming with erotic images of Davina.
God’s blood!
Gripping his turgid shaft, he closed his eyes and lost himself in the sorely missed lovemaking with his wife, fisting himself and pumping his hips. He could almost taste her from the dream, licking the sweet nectar between her legs, the scent of lavender and her musky essence. Drag and thrust, he pumped his rigid cock, his ballocks hitching as his climax rumbled through his legs and torso. Shuddering and laying in bed, he panted and clenched his jaw. Eighty years without companionship was enough to test the resolve of any man, but the love and devotion he had for his wife did much to help him remain faithful to her memory. Self-gratification had been an adequate way to satisfy any sexual cravings he experienced over the decades. He honestly had not needed anyone else and had no desire to bed another woman.
No one will ever touch my soul the way you do, Blossom.
But now…

The need to bury himself in her soft, wet heat surged through his body in a way he’d not felt since she was alive and in his arms. What in blazes was happening?

Broderick swung his legs over the side of his bed and rested his head in his hands. An oil lamp burned very low by the door to his cabin, glowing with just enough light for his immortal eyes. He stood and stretched, working out the last of the lethargy from his daytime repose, and sauntered over to his chest of drawers. Though his success as a merchant could produce an impressive wardrobe of the latest fashions, he was uninterested in pursuing such garments. They would advertise his wealth and draw too much attention. As one stalking victims for sustenance, he needed to maintain a low profile. He wore simple, form-fitting knee breeches, covered by tall brown bucket boots, which reached just above his knees. After slipping a white linen shirt with full sleeves over his head, he shrugged on a sleeveless doublet and buttoned it down the front. He fasted a belt around his hips and positioned his sporran just over his groin. The baldric holding his sword, nestled at his hip, and his wide-brimmed hat completed the ensemble. Blowing out the lamp, he exited and secured his cabin.