Page 53 of Feathers From the Sky

“Well, since you seem to give away my blood freely anyway, you can drink if you want.” I screech when he pulls me down on top of him, and I recognize how stupid it was to offer myself to him. He doesn’t even wince as my knee crashes into his side, the still healing wounds susceptible to my touch.

“The fuck are you talking about?” His fangs are out, and they’re an inch away from my wrist. The same wrist that had been used all night long.

“You told them they could feed from me.” Whispering is the only way to get the words out without my anger over the violation turning into tears.

He takes my wrist, spinning it as he looks at it. He snarls as he notices where my skin has faint scarring from the recently healed wounds.

“Fucking sloppy. They were supposed to swear…” Focusing on me, he trails off and lets go of my wrist. Awkwardly pushing myself off him, my heart aches from the knowledge he clearly knew what was happening. A small, stupid part of me had hoped he had nothing to do with it. “Emile has more blood sworns than I do, and it could jeopardize where I stand with the coven. I’m using your blood to help rectify that.”

“What does that even mean?” He’s still looking at my wrist, and I cross my arms as he licks his lips.

“We take oaths by drinking the blood of another vampire. I’m sworn to my father, and because of it, he can order me to do his bidding. Think about it. Emile having a lot more vampires who have to do what he says is a danger to me and my place here. Once my dad Slumbers, if Emile has more than me, it won’t matter that my father chose me to inherit the coven.”

He sits up, and I perch on the bed beside him. He leans forward, holding his head in his hands. For someone using me for my blood, he doesn’t seem too thrilled about it.

“I’ll do it.”

“What?” Still holding his head in his hands, he takes a moment to look at me. His brow furrows. “No shit, you’ll do it,” he says.

“I’ll do it without putting up a fight. Most of the vampires today were gentle. I’ll willingly give my blood—no fighting or anything. No need to force me into it.”

“And what do you want for that, Gwyn?” he asks, but I can tell by the faint smile he wears that I’ve surprised him enough that he’s actually considering it.

“Keep me alive until you take over, and then let me free once you do,” I say, and the lines around his eyes crinkle as he smiles lazily. He stands, and I notice him sway on his feet, but he walks over to the door and puts his leather jacket back on.

“That could take decades, Gwyn. You could be eighty years old before my father decides to Slumber. I’m no miracle worker. Your hunter lifespan doesn’t allow for that.”

“Aside from natural causes, keep me from dying, and I’ll give my blood to anyone who wants it. No fight, no fuss.”

Hand on the doorknob, he stares at me. When he tilts his head to the side, a quizzical expression on his face, I know he’s agreed to it whether or not he says it out loud.

18

ROMAN

It’s too goddamn soonfor me to be here, but I’m running out of time. I don’t know how long I have, even though Margot is listening to the police scanner from the comfort of her bed. They only had two cops stationed at the crime scene, and it was simple to send them off for a break. An already hungry belly at lunch time is quick to trust someone suggesting a restaurant nearly an hour away. It’s just a matter of time until dispatch or someone at the station catches on, so I work quickly.

Charlie’s house is a fucking disaster. Covered in dust and packed to the brim, it’s a doomsday prepper’s wet dream. There’s an entire room devoted to canned goods with no organization whatsoever. Towering cans of assorted meats and beans block the blacked-out window, and the dust floating down over it in the beam of my flashlight makes me wonder how long some of the shit has been there. He must have slept on the worn out recliner in the living room, an outline of a body on the cushions clear. Though he paid for electricity and his usage was regular, not a single light switch in the main level of the house is operative. When I find the contents of his basement, I understand what the money was paying for.

Computer monitors line the wall, a surveillance system to rival Margot’s taking up the entire one-room basement. It explains the usage and exactly how he knew we were here last night. One monitor is blinking, and some sort of coded message appears on the screen in red text.

“The wind is blowing and that vicious shark is hungry,” I read to Margot on the phone. “Know what the fuck that means?” The rest of the monitors show camera footage of the surrounding woods, and there’s even one of the main road. He knew we were coming for a while if he was paying attention.

“Sounds like a failsafe. He probably has to type in a code or something or it will all lock down. Don’t fuck with it. I’ll get out there as soon as I’m able.” The television is quiet in the background, and I hear the sound of her blankets ruffling. I’m still sore as hell, but Margot is much worse off than me. It took far longer for our friend Nico to pull out the silver pellets embedded in her skin, and her healing time as a made vampire is longer than mine, anyway.

“It’s like he barely even lived here. Everything is dusty as hell.”

“You find anything at all?”

I trudge upstairs, satisfied I can leave the basement in Margot’s capable hands. “Nope. Not in the house, anyway. I found the keys to his old Chevy, though, so I’m going to check that out. Anything on that translation?”

Not bothering to lock the door behind me, I let it slam shut as I go out to the truck parked behind the cabin.

“I have a couple people working on it, but they seem to think it’s going to take them months to decode it.”

I swear, shoving the key into the driver’s side door. I’d given Margot a copy of the coded letter and told her I’d consider Gwyn’s offer if the woman had something for me by the time I got back. Her cooperation is the only thing she has to barter with, so I don’t blame her for trying, but I almost certainly can’t agree to it. I don’t think my father will allow her to live that long. I’d have to convince him of her death, put someone else’s heart in a box, and douse it in her blood. Then I’d have to hide her. This plan assumes he won’t order me to do it with words I can’t circumvent.

The fact I dislike the idea of killing her after everything her family has done to mine should be enough to make me keep my distance from her. But I need her to help me figure this shit out so I can—what? Put Remy to rest? Not without a fucking body. And even then, what good will it do? It won’t bring my brother back.

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