Page 30 of Vampire's Hearth

She finally returned my smile with a chuckle. “I think there might be a way we can locate the Cure using the lineage. But it would be much more comfortable inside.”

I attempted to stifle the tingle running through my chest, afraid to hope, but thankful she was returning to the house.

Aurora

Mac picked up my bag, his movements deliberate and precise. He held his hand toward me in a silent invitation. I accepted, feeling the warmth of his touch as he helped me rise. With my crutches in hand, I followed him up the steps before hobbling to the front door. The wide front porch creaked beneath our feet as we crossed into the house.

“How did you even know I was leaving?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“I was swimming and experienced an unusual sensation—an almost fainting spell.” He glanced at me as he dropped my bag onto a hall tree.

Concern laced my voice as I lurched closer. “That’s awful.”

His shoulders twitched as a small smile played at the corners of his lips. “I am a vampire; I would have survived.”

His smile caused my knee to feel weaker than it already was. “True,” I said, watching him, wondering if deep down I had always known of his human half and that was the part I was drawn to—wanted to know.

“It was not just physical,” he continued, his voice thoughtful. “It was a vision—a premonition of you leaving the house precisely as you were. Something compelled me to get dressed and go to the drive.”

My brow furrowed. “Has this happened before?”

Mac pressed his lips together, shaking his head as though he was taking the time to skim through his long life. “It happens rarely, always near water and with events of extreme consequence.”

“Any water?”

He smiled. “For most of my life, it’s been natural water. Indoor plumbing is a relatively recent invention.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I said, the corners of my mouth curling. “But why would a vampire have premonitions?”

His blue eyes narrowed. “Could it be related to my human half? Perhaps there’s a connection to witchcraft, as I always suspected?”

The question lingered as Mac pulled the lineage from my bag and led me into the parlor, allowing me to go before him with the chivalry of a time gone by. I sat on the antique pink settee lined with a dark wood that matched the paneling around the room and leaned the crutches against the seat next to me. Mac’s eyes flitted to them blocking the seat next to me, and his face fell a bit before he set the lineage on the coffee table and walked to another seat. Did he want to sit with me? Moving the crutches now would be much too noticeable.

“I can’t tell you if you have witch blood,” I admitted, my gaze drifting through the front windows. “But your logic doesn’t make sense. You have to be living to tap into your ancestral craft, but you’re not—technically—I think.” I struggled to wrap my head around his revelation and the idea that he had never succumbed to death.

Mac looked at the floor. The old leather armchair he sat in creaked as he leaned back, his fingers absently tracing the intricate patterns on the worn armrest. “I am neither completely alive nor completely dead. It seems impossible for me to understand, and there’s no one left to ask.”

I nodded. “What about your parents?” I asked, keeping my words soft and measured, not wanting to invite myself into a potentially turbulent relationship.

He brought his gaze to mine. “My parents disappeared over a hundred years ago. Occasionally, though not often enough, I hear from them,” Mac said, his voice laced with a mixture of longing and resignation. “I can’t even tell you with certainty where they are right now.”

My heart ached for him, and I sighed. Here was a man who had a family and longed for them to be with him, and I threatened to pull away what he saw as the one hope he had. My eyes fell on the lineage, an unbroken family line, a family like the O’Cillians. Even though the stories exposed them as ruthless monsters, they had been together for a thousand years, beside each other, navigating their immortal lives. Everything I was denied for even a fraction of the time. “I wonder if my aunt would know anything?”

He raised his eyebrow, that slight smirk on his lips again. “You think the High Priestess Regent would share the answer if she even knew?”

“It was a thought.” I shrugged as an uneasy silence settled over us before I took a deep breath. “What if we tried to coax a premonition to reveal what will happen?”

He shrugged before folding his hands. “It’s not something I’ve ever been able to control, no matter how much I have wished for it.”

“Probably because you don’t know where it comes from,” I reasoned, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, careful to keep the pressure off my injured foot. “Without knowing, the gift will simply appear when most needed.”

Mac nodded, and I could see the gears turning in his mind. “That seems logical.” He drew in a sharp breath, the sound of the air rushing through his lips. “Enough about me. How do we proceed with all of this—finding the Cure?” He gestured at the table.

“If we’re doing this my way...” I removed the pendulum from my neck, picked up the lineage from the table between us, and laced the chain through the leather strap, holding the book closed.

“How will that help?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“This isn’t the only thing I need,” I explained, a hint of a smile curving my mouth as my heart fluttered. “I also need a map of the world.”

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