Thicker Than Blood (Marchwood Vampire Series #2)

Thicker Than

Blood

Book Two

Marchwood
Vampire Series

Shalini Boland

*

SMASHWORDS
EDITION

Copyright ©
Shalini Boland 2012

*

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the
work of

the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual
persons,

living or dead, events, locales or organisations is entirely
coincidental.

*

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This
ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you
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work.

*

http://www.shaliniboland.co.uk

Chapter One

Cappadocia 571 AD

*

The stream tickled her heels. She pointed
her toes and wriggled them under the cool clear water, watching the
red dirt swirl away from her feet. She was pleased with herself for
giving the others the slip. I mean, what would they do? Scold her
possibly … warn her never to go off again. She would say she had
fallen asleep, lost track of time, something or other … She just
needed a few moments alone, that was all.

It was funny how she couldn’t stop smiling.
So this was what it felt like. She had never in her life felt
anything like this before. This was the secret that the women would
not speak about in front of her. But now she knew. She was part of
it now. She didn’t need to eavesdrop anymore.

She shouldn’t have done it. It was wrong and
dangerous and she couldn’t even guess at the trouble she would be
in if anyone found out. But it had felt so right and so …
beautiful. Yes. She had felt very beautiful. She bit her lip to
stop herself from laughing. She glanced over her shoulder, making
sure no one was around. Her thoughts were so loud, she almost
worried someone would hear them.

It was not really such a terrible thing to
have done. They would be married of course and then it wouldn’t
matter. He had assured her that they would wed as soon as they were
able. And then they could be together whenever they liked. But for
now it would have to be kept secret. A stolen moment. Like this,
here, sitting alone on the bank of the stream. A moment in time to
treasure and keep safe.

Aelia narrowed her eyes against the glare of
the sun and looked down at her toes again. She frowned. Something
had brushed up against her foot. Oh! A bird. It was dead and
bloated, its beady eye unseeing. She shuddered and pulled her feet
out of the water. Time to go home before someone missed her.

She slipped her wet feet into her sandals,
stood up and smoothed down her tunic. The sun had not yet dipped
behind the hill, she could relax; she would not yet be missed.
Aelia picked up the water urn and headed back towards the village.
She wished she might catch a glimpse of him this evening, but that
would be a near impossibility. They lived at opposite ends of the
village.

She had grown up with Lysus. He was the
strongest, the funniest and certainly the most handsome boy in the
village. He was older than she, but had recently started to pay her
some attention, which had caused her friends to tease her and some
to cast her envious glances. His father was the village leader, and
so Lysus would be a good catch.

Yesterday, he had sought her out during the
hot afternoon when everyone was asleep. He had dared to sneak into
their courtyard, had jerked his head towards the lane and left as
quickly as he had arrived. She had followed him. She was such a
model daughter that nobody would ever think her capable of doing
something so daring.

And he had been waiting for her, had drawn
her around the side of a house, had stroked her cheek and teased
out a blonde curl of hair from beneath her head-cloth. She had
blushed and tried to brush away his hand, but he grasped her
fingers and put them to his cheek and then to his mouth. His eyes
were gentle, but his grip on her was quite firm, making her grow
weak with some feeling she couldn’t identify.

She supposed the mere act of leaving her
house unaccompanied had given Lysus a signal. He had assumed
something and she had not dissuaded him of those thoughts.

‘
You have grown pretty,
Aelia. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.’

She bowed her head, not knowing what to
say.

‘
Will you walk with me,
away from the village for a while?” He still held her hand and his
eyes twinkled.

‘
I cannot. I will be
missed. I must return to …’

‘
Just for a short while.
We’ll be back before anyone wakes up.’

Aelia had been flattered and nervous and so
let herself be persuaded. She followed him around the back lanes,
terrified and excited, her head-cloth pulled across her face in
case she was recognised. What was she doing? She knew it was
madness, but some unknown force was pushing her on.

She still couldn’t work out how it had
happened. They had been walking and then they had sat and talked
about the heat and about some of her friends in the village. He had
said she was the only one he could think about. That she was
driving him to distraction with her unblemished skin and graceful
hands. That he would give up everything for just a glimpse of her
wrist, her ankle, her neck...

She had become dizzy under his warm gaze and
had raised her hand to her face, letting her sleeve drop to reveal
the honey skin of her arm. He had smiled and bent to kiss the flesh
on her forearm. The rest was a haze of heat and feeling.

Unable to believe it had happened, she had
cried afterwards and he had soothed her with kisses and promises.
They would be married. Her parents would be thrilled at the
match.

Either through her own eyes or those of a
stranger, her childhood had been idyllic. A cocoon of love, warmth,
joy and innocence. Born to a family poor in money but rich in
happiness, Aelia had thrived and blossomed, secure in her skin. Her
village was small and remote with its own customs and traditions;
strong family values, but no tolerance for any other way. Thus,
village life had been blissfully uneventful – until now.

Her father was an artisan, the
village potter, and she was the eldest of four daughters. She
didn’t doubt that her father would be thrilled at the match, as
long as he didn’t guess what had already happened. But
his
parents might not
be so happy. She doubted that
she
was what they had planned for their only
son.

Of all of her friends she was probably the
least likely to have done what she had done. Verina or Licinia -
she could imagine them giving into a boy. She had heard them talk
immodestly on more than a few occasions. But they would never in a
million years believe that she could be so … so wanton. Well she
would never tell them, never tell anyone. It was her and Lysus’
secret; one they would laugh about once they were married.

And now a fingernail of sun slipped behind
the hill as Aelia walked into the village carrying the heavy jug of
water. It was quiet. Something felt different. She glanced around
and strained her ears. There was no chatter, no clacking of pots as
meals were prepared, no children playing outside. The dwellings
were silent and still.

She tiptoed cautiously up the main path and
turned left as the eerie silence followed her. Had everyone fled?
Had some foe attacked their peaceful village? Should she knock on
someone’s door and ask? She walked up to a house, set the jug of
water on the ground and raised her hand to rap on the door, but
then lost her courage and lowered it again. She was too scared to
make a sound in the echoing silence. Her throat felt dry. She
scooped up some water from the urn and drank a few sips. Then wiped
her wet hands on her tunic and resumed her course towards home,
along the silent road. A dog barked twice and a startled bird
cawed. Her heart beat loud in her ears. The sun was halfway behind
the hill now.

Suddenly she made out a murmur of voices. As
she walked, the murmur grew louder. It became a buzz and a hum,
like a chattering crowd. She sensed … fear? No, more like agitation
and anger. The closer she got to home, the louder the noise. A new
seed of worry began to grow in her chest.

Aelia quickened her pace, a pearl of sweat
formed at her breastbone and slid down towards her navel. She
rounded the last corner and saw a gathering of people. It looked as
though half the village was standing outside her house. Shafts of
evening sunlight striped everyone with swirling dust motes. As she
approached, the crowd gradually grew silent and all eyes gazed at
her, but Aelia couldn’t read their expressions. She could still
hear a couple of voices, one of which was the croaky sound of her
father. His normally quiet tones, now raised loud and angry.

What on earth was going on? She tried to
find a face in the crowd, a friend who might smile and tell her
what was happening. But each time she tried to catch someone’s eye,
their gaze fell away to the floor. Her fear was really taking hold
now, squeezing itself around her ribs and numbing her thoughts. As
she walked woodenly towards her house, the crowd parted to let her
through. Whatever had happened, she and her family must be at the
centre of it. Within seconds she was outside her dwelling where she
saw her father arguing with Praetor Garidas the village leader. Her
mother saw her and stumbled over to where she stood.

‘
You stupid, stupid girl!’
her mother shrieked and grabbed hold of her arms, shaking her so
that she dropped the water urn. It shattered and the liquid soaked
quickly into the parched ground. But now her mother was holding her
and sobbing into her shoulder.

Only a thin slice of sun was left sitting on
the top of the rocky hill, its light now a heavy orange glow. Aelia
suddenly realised what was happening. She understood the reason for
the crowd, for the argument between her father and Praetor Garidas
and for her mother’s inconsolable disappointment. Aelia understood
that it was her fault and that her life would never be the same
again.

Chapter Two

Present Day

*

Sitting on her ass on the freezing ice after
having skidded into an inelegant tumble, Madison thought that if
there was ever a perfect moment to remember forever, this was it.
The tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to think of insults
to hurl at the others, who were almost puking with laughter at her,
but she couldn’t get the words out because she couldn’t stop
laughing either.

It had been Leonora’s idea to
come ice skating, because she’d said she and Freddie used to go
skating a lot
before
.

The others had been enthusiastic too, but
Maddy wasn’t keen at all. She’d never ice skated in her life. She’d
never even roller-skated, or bladed or whatever the hell else kind
of skating there was, due to the whole
‘being-in-care-and-then-fostered’ and ‘never-having-any-fun’ thing.
She’d been worried she would look like an idiot. And now, here she
was on her ass, looking like an idiot. But the funny thing was, she
didn’t care, she really didn’t.

Gloucester Cathedral had turned its
cloisters garden into a temporary ice rink for the whole of
November and December. In one of the cloisters, a brass band played
Good King Wenceslas and in another, chestnuts roasted on a brazier.
Right at the centre of the glistening ice floor stood a twenty foot
Christmas tree studded with teeny tiny white lights which echoed
the stars in the inky blue night sky. It was so beautiful here;
like something on a Christmas card. The rink was only small, but it
had been large enough for her to get up enough speed to completely
and utterly embarrass herself.

After nervously skate-walking around the
edge, Madison had finally plucked up enough courage to let go of
Alex’s hand. She had soon found her rhythm, but became
over-confident, flying off with no control smack bang into Miss
Look-at-me-aren’t-I-gorgeous-and-can’t-I-skate-way-better-than-any-of-you-plebs.
The girl had been doing some fancy spinning ballet number until
Maddy had barrelled into her, and grabbed the girl’s waist to
steady herself, like some illegal rugby tackle, sending them both
skidding across the rink and taking out random skaters on their
way. If this was ice-skating, Maddy thought she might be
addicted.