Night Veil (Page 17)

There, he led me to a hollow in the tree, where he dropped the rabbit and began to feed. I could feel his ravenous hunger, and my own rose up. I stared at my prey—now dead and glassy-eyed—and suddenly it seemed a beautiful feast. As I held it with my claws and began to rip into it with my beak, the hunger grew and the taste of blood and meat raced down my throat as I swallowed strips of meat. We fed in silence, and all felt right with the world.

I ate for a while, then stopped, satiated. As I gazed at the horned owl, I knew he was more than he seemed. No regular owl would let me share his nest without wanting to mate. But he seemed to cut off my questions too quickly. A sneaking suspicion began to form in the back of my mind, but I didn’t want to say anything prematurely. Maybe I just didn’t want to be disappointed. I decided to let the matter drop for now.

I should get home. I have to get ready for the vampires’ party tonight.

You should be wary of vampires, Cicely. They are dangerous, far more predatory than our own kind. Owlfolk love the hunt. Vampires revel in it. His words carried an air of disapproval behind them.

I take it you don’t like them?

Vampires are parasites. Ultimate hunters, but parasites nonetheless. And they are unnatural to the world. No, I don’t like them. Look at what they did to the Vampiric Fae. Myst did not start out the madwoman she’s become.

You sound like you knew her before she was turned.

Again, silence. I did not press. I will be careful.

Good, we cannot afford to lose you. Not to the vampires. Not to the Shadow Hunters. And then he hopped out on the bough near his nest. You should go now before the snow gets too thick for you to fly in. Warning: The rabbit may not settle well once you return to your two-legged form. Be prepared—the results won’t be pretty, but you don’t have time to wait for regurgitation.

That sounds delightful. But thank you, for everything. I hopped out behind him onto the branch and sprang off, soaring toward the house and the open window in my bedroom. As I landed on the sill, then hopped to the floor, I let out a soft shriek and let go of my winged form, and within seconds I was sprawling forward on the floor.

I always came out of the transformation shivering and icy cold. As I lay there for a moment, gathering my wits about me, my stomach began to churn and I scrambled for the bed, pulling myself to my feet. I staggered slightly, still dazed, but there wasn’t time to grab my robe as my stomach lurched again. I rushed out into the hallway, naked, and ran into the bathroom across the hall, slamming the door as my gag reflex lost it. I barely had time to lean over the toilet when the rabbit came spilling out, bits of fur attached.

As I heaved up what would have become my first owl pellet, I felt a perverse sense of pride, as if I’d just been initiated into a secret society. Finally done—and realizing I’d eaten far less of the poor decapitated bunny than I’d thought while in owl form—I flushed the mess and slid down on the floor.

The owl didn’t like vampires, that much was certain, and I sensed a slight empathy for Myst in his words. Which told me . . . not much, since Myst hated owls and he was always warning me against her. But it did bring up questions: Had he known her before she was turned? If so, then whoever he was, he was several thousand years old, which would make sense if he was Cambyra Fae.

And thinking about that brought up a sudden thought—I was part Fae, as well as half magic-born. Being magic-born, I’d have a life span longer than most of the yummanii—or humans—but since I was half Cambyra Fae, was I going to live for a thousand years or more?

Wishing I could talk to Lainule, I brushed my teeth and swished mouthwash around in my mouth, then filled the tub with vanilla-scented bubble bath and slid into the embracing warmth. So much to think about, but in the forefront, the image of Lannan danced in my head, with Crawl sneaking behind him like a spider, desperately gaunt and dangerous. A sense of dread overcame me as I tried to wash away the fear of Lannan’s hands on my body.

Chapter 10

As we were dressing, Rhiannon and I remained quiet, letting the stereo do the talking for us. “Around the Bend” by The Asteroids Galaxy Tour was playing, and I head-bopped to the beat as I thought about my flight with the owl, and how each time, I went further into the life and didn’t want to come back. Though I loved Grieve and my cousin and friends, everything seemed so dark that it would have just been simpler to fly off to a distant wood, to live out my life on the wing.

But that’s what your mother did. She ran away from her life, ran away from her fears. Though she ran from her powers, retreating into one facet of your life would be akin to the same thing.

Ulean danced in tune to the music, the air sweeping this way and that. Though I couldn’t see her from this plane, I could feel her. And I knew what she looked like—a pale being, sparkling with light, the currents of the slipstream like a wild head of hair that moved as she moved. Even her gender was a misnomer—I assigned it to her because she reminded me of a woman, but Elementals had no real gender like people.

My mother was afraid of her powers, not her life. Don’t lie to me—or yourself. Your mother was afraid of everything. Do you really want to follow in her footsteps? If you retreated into owl form and stayed, you’d be turning your back on every challenge coming your way. And you’d be leaving Grieve behind forever.

I hate it when you’re right. Frowning, I slid into the tight dress I’d bought at Slither, tugging it down to hug my body and curves. As I smoothed it over my belly, my wolf let out a low moan and I could feel him—awake and in pain.

Grieve . . . where are you? What’s going on?

But all I could see was my prince’s face, tormented, as a wave of pain slid over my back, and then another and another. The stinging blows raced through my body and I sank to the floor, curling into a ball, whimpering. The hail seemed never-ending and Grieve let out a howl, my wolf echoing back to him. And then Rhiannon was shaking me out of the haze of pain.

“Cicely! Cicely, come out of it—come back to us.”

As I opened my eyes, I saw that I was surrounded by Kaylin, Chatter, and Leo. Rhiannon gathered me into her arms and I screamed as a white-hot lance raced across my skin.

“What? Your back!” She leaned me forward and I heard the men murmur.

“What about my back? Other than it hurts like a son of a bitch.” All I could think of was that Grieve had taken one hell of a beating and I’d tuned in to it. The thought of him out there, lost to Myst and her beatings, made me queasy.

“Your back is covered with raised welts. Like you’ve been whipped.”

They helped me up and to a mirror, where I looked over my shoulder to see the red thin weals crisscrossing my skin.

“Fuck. Oh motherfucking son of a bitch.” I stared at the oozing cuts even as Leo raced downstairs. “Grieve was being beaten—I felt his pain. I didn’t realize . . .”

“You took on his pain for yourself. Cicely, this bond you have with him—it could be terribly dangerous. What if Myst decides to kill him?” Kaylin took my chin in his hand, forcing me to stare into his eyes. “We have to break the connection.”

“No! Grieve is mine . . . he’s mine . . . she can’t have him!” I burst into tears as I folded into Rhiannon’s arms. She held me quietly.

“Shush . . . we’ll figure something out. We’ll find a way . . .”

I knew she didn’t believe it, but hearing her say it made me feel a little better. Leo returned with a jar of salve in hand, and as he smoothed the ointment over my back, the sting and pain began to recede. After a few moments, it vanished.

“There, it all soaked into your skin. I don’t think we can bandage them—the marks cover your back, but I also don’t think that it’s going to leave marks. They’re fading a little already. I think because these were sympathetic magic, they’ll disappear a lot quicker than actual lacerations would.” He let out a long breath. “I hate to sound pushy, but we’ve got to get moving. Geoffrey and his crew don’t brook lateness, and Lannan will use any excuse he can to get to you. You don’t need that right now.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump that had risen in my throat. Rhiannon helped me up and gently helped me adjust the dress. I winced, but at least the fact that it was backless kept it from brushing against the welts. I hoped Lannan wouldn’t notice and ask questions. I’d wear a shawl, and hopefully that would cover the marks until they faded.

Heartsick, wondering how Grieve was, I applied my makeup and then slid into stiletto black patent leather ankle boots. Brass padlocks ornamented the side zippers, and I slowly clicked them into place. Then I added a red chunky bracelet and necklace. If I wore silver to a vampire soiree, I’d be asking for trouble.

When I was finished, I slid a black shawl laced with sparkling red threads around my shoulders and picked up my clutch. A look in the mirror told me too much—I washed up pretty good. Which normally would make me feel wonderful, but in this case, I knew Lannan would be there, watching and waiting. As I headed for the door, I tried to push him out of my mind, but the vampire was there, and he wouldn’t let go.

Geoffrey’s mansion was sparkling as we pulled up in the limo he’d sent for us. The crowd overflowed, out the main doors, a scintillating Who’s Who of the bite-me set. As Rhiannon, Leo, and I walked through the crowd, I felt like a walking invitation to an all-you-can-drink party.

Rhia wore a blue ankle-length cocktail dress, sparkly with sequins and about twenty years too old for her. I had to get her to stop plundering Heather’s wardrobe. The two were nearly the same size—tall and willowy—but Aunt Heather had dressed sedately and Rhia looked older than she was in Heather’s clothing.

Leo was the surprise of the night. He was wearing a pinstripe zoot suit, with the matching white-and-black shoes. And it looked good on him. He grinned at me as he caught my eye.

“Geoffrey said I need to break out of my style rut. I decided to take his advice, especially since he pays the bills.” He touched the brim of his felt hat and winked at me.

“Geoffrey calls the shots, doesn’t he?” I eyed Leo cautiously, thinking that for a magic-born healer, he really enjoyed working for the vampires.

Leo’s smile disappeared. “Geoffrey pays both our salaries. I think it would be best to shelve this conversation for a more suitable time.” He wrapped his arm around Rhiannon and waved to one of the guards, who motioned us through without even searching our purses.

The mansion was a glitter of sparkling lights. Though Geoffrey and his kin didn’t usually celebrate holidays as the living did, he’d still taken advantage of the season and a giant tree filled one corner, glistening with a thousand lights.

The swirl of vampires filled the hall and I noticed that one of the bigger rooms was closed off. No doubt their playhouse—the vamps had a predilection for orgies, and having been witness at one, I had no desire to join another.

I glanced around, looking for Regina or Geoffrey. The foyer was filled with bodies, all incredibly seductive regardless of shape or size. Sensuality came with being a vampire. It was an innate ability, like drinking blood or fading into shadows or—for some ancient vamps—turning into a bat or wolf or spider.

The music swirled around us. Buffalo Springfield, Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Nirvana . . . I closed my eyes, swaying slowly to the beat. The heavy scents of perfume drifting around us clouded my senses, and the smell of musk in the air was intoxicating. Ulean couldn’t come with us—the vampires didn’t like Elementals, and so there was no one to wash away the lingering smell of sex that permeated the room.

And then, at my elbow, Regina appeared. Her gold hair was swept up into a chignon, adorned with a black-and-red lace comb covered with Swarovski crystals. She was wearing a jacquard bustier in crimson and a black chiffon pair of lounging pajama pants, with five-inch stiletto sandals.

She coiled herself around me, her fangs showing slightly as she smiled. “You look lovely, Cicely. I’m sure my brother will appreciate the effort.”

“I didn’t do it for him. I don’t give a fuck what your brother thinks about my looks.” I couldn’t stop myself. I was worried about Grieve and my back hurt like hell. Well, that was a lie. I did care what Lannan thought about me. I just didn’t want him to like the way I looked, though I knew that was too much to hope for. “I was ordered to dress, and I did. Simple as that. I’d rather be in my jeans and a comfortable sweater.” Or one of Rhiannon’s gypsy skirts and a tank top, I thought.

She shook her head. “We need to have a private talk. Now.” Grabbing me by the elbow, she threaded through the room with me in tow. Leo and Rhiannon watched us go, but Leo was smart enough not to attempt a follow-and-rescue.

Regina dragged me into a small room off the main foyer and slammed the door. I glanced around and realized that what I’d thought was a smallish parlor was actually a huge bathroom. Must be for the bloodwhores, since vampires didn’t need to use the bathroom, unless it was to wash off the blood.

She slammed me against the wall and I gasped—all vampires are strong, but Regina was stronger than most. My back sent a shiver of pain through me and I moaned as she leaned in, all too much like Lannan, and slowly reached out with her tongue, licking gently along my cheek.

“You are delicious. Lannan is right. You’re a sweet treat on a tiring night, a gumdrop or sugar cube to a man who’s hungry. Why, I bet that even your blood . . .” She reached out and, with the sharp fingernail of her index finger, cut me with just enough force to leave a thin red mark. As a weal of blood rose up, she lightly traced it with her tongue. “As I imagined. Your blood is sweet, too. My brother calls you his ambrosia. He says you’re ripe . . .”