Night Veil

“And addiction it really is.” Leo handed me an afghan and I wrapped it around me and curled up on the sofa, exhausted. “What most people don’t know—and the vampires try to keep under wraps—is that their blood is as strong as heroin. It only takes a few times in a row before you’re hooked. Withdrawal symptoms are bad. If you drink it two or three times over the period of a year, it won’t enthrall you, but two or three times in a week? You’re done for . . . hooked.”

Rhiannon brought me a cup of tea and I sipped it, reveling in the quiet my body felt. Grieve had taken a big bite off the edge of my passion, and the serum Kaylin had brought was doing the rest. I could think again, and remember. Blushing, I shook my head, not wanting to talk about Lannan and drinking his blood anymore and how good he had felt inside me. I didn’t want to face my own reaction to him.

“What I want to know is why they won’t allow Crawl to drink from mortals. You should have heard Lannan when he was ordering Crawl to back away from me. And the Blood Oracle obeyed.”

“I haven’t come across anything in their history regarding that, but then again, it’s a dense book and much has never been found out. Several researchers died in procuring the information contained in The History of the Vampire Nation.” Leo shrugged. “But yes, it’s something we should look into.”

“Do you think it might weaken him somehow?” Rhiannon picked at a cookie, crumbling it on her plate.

“I doubt it,” Kaylin said.

As the others joined in the discussion, my thoughts drifted back to Grieve. I had to get him away from Myst. Lainule and Geoffrey were working on an antidote. If I could get hold of some of it . . . it would be worth a try. Grieve couldn’t go on the way he was. And he couldn’t try to escape until he was free from the infection. But how? Neither Geoffrey nor Lainule would give me a bottle of it if I asked. Of that, I was sure. And Lannan hated Grieve.

But Lannan wants me . . . and he’s going to want me more even now . . . I could offer a trade . . .

I shook away the thought. I didn’t even want to go there.

Don’t. You can’t bargain with him. You already sold yourself in so deep to the vampires that they own your life. Don’t give Lannan a reason to own your body, too. You love Grieve, but it’s too dangerous.

Ulean was right. I could go to Lannan and ask him for the antidote, and he’d fuck me and torment me and turn me into his whore. But would Grieve want me then? Would he want me to save him that way?

No . . . I had to think of something more clever. I had to figure out a way to get hold of the antidote without anybody knowing. I had to save Grieve on my own, because nobody here—or over at Geoffrey’s—was going to help me.

“I’m tired,” I said, a terrible fatigue settling through me. “I need to sleep.”

Kaylin picked me up and carried me upstairs, and I didn’t even care that my afghan slipped. He seemed more reserved than he had before his night-veil woke up, and I wondered how he was doing. But asking would have to wait for morning. Grieve had sated my passion; being with him had given my heart a little boost. The serum had quenched a good share of the fire, and I was left spent.

As Kaylin laid me under the covers and closed my window and made sure the protection wards were affixed to it, I slid into my dreams, and stayed there till morning.

Chapter 13

Next morning, I was torn. My heart urged me to sneak over to Geoffrey’s, to break in and find the antidote. But it would require far more stealth and planning than I could pull off by myself. I had to accept that rescuing Grieve wasn’t going to happen in a day. And killing Myst wasn’t going to happen in a day, either. The blood fever was a mild bed of embers and I was able to ignore it as I rose and dressed, then headed downstairs for breakfast.

Today Peyton would come over and—as hard as it would be—we’d finish up our business fronts and be open for calls. I fretted, but Ulean brushed through my hair and shushed me.

You cannot win wars in a single day. You cannot build plans askew. Give yourself the time to think. Don’t rush out in a half-baked attempt that will only get you killed.

As I poured myself a bowl of corn flakes and added milk and sugar, Rhiannon glanced at me, her expression pained. “How are you doing?”

I paused, considering her question. Memories of Lannan and Crawl crept through my thoughts like earwigs rustling through cornhusks, but I managed to brush them away. The tryst with Grieve had done much to soothe me, at least for a little while. He loved me, not Myst. He hated her. And he wanted to be with me. Those thoughts alone kept me going.

“I need to get ready—Peyton will be over in an hour or so and we’re going to finish tidying up and then open to business this afternoon. Maybe that will keep my mind occupied.” I paused, shaking my head. “I wish we could just leave. Pack up and run. But Lannan would trace me down. You can’t just walk away from a contract with the vampires.”

“Myst would trace you down, too. If what you say is true, then she’s out to hurt you—not just kill you, but actively hurt you.”

I shrugged. “I betrayed her. I betrayed her when she was my mother. Now I understand why she’s out to get me—it’s more than I turned my back on her Court. I was the heir apparent. I turned my back on her in front of everyone. And now you’re in danger. Everyone I love is in danger.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Rhia said softly. I glanced up at her and she was smiling. “I’m here to help you see her die. She took my mother, you know.”

Slowly nodding, I slipped into a chair and spooned my cereal into my mouth. What would Rhia say if she knew I was planning on rescuing Grieve? Would she help me? Leo would be furious and might tell Geoffrey. Kaylin . . . who knew what Kaylin would do? He seemed to have returned to his old self, but I knew that wasn’t true. I could feel his demon, just below the surface. He looked at the world through eyes we recognized, but behind there . . . inside . . . he had changed. And Peyton . . . hmm, what about Peyton?

“What’s going on in there, Cicely? I know something’s up.” Rhiannon sat down beside me, espresso in hand. She handed me a homemade latte and I gratefully sipped at the steaming caffeine. “What are you thinking?”

“I want to tell you something, but I’m afraid you’ll try to stop me.” I shook my head. “Maybe it’s best if you don’t know.”

“We’re family, Cicely. I’ve got your back. It’s something about Grieve, isn’t it? I know you were with him last night and I know that it helped ease your pain. I promise, I won’t say anything to anybody else.” Her eyes were wide as she crossed her heart. “Cross my heart and—”

“Don’t finish the rhyme,” I said softly. “Grieve told me that long ago. Never promise your life away.”

“Then what is it?”

I bit my lip. “If I tell you, you cannot tell Leo or Kaylin. At least not until I give you the okay. It’s important.”

“I promise.”

Taking a deep breath, I let it whistle slowly between my teeth. “I’m planning on how to rescue Grieve. Myst is tormenting him, and unless we sever the connection, I’ll just keep taking on his pain every time she hurts him. And I refuse to break the bond. Grieve and I . . . there is no life without the other. I never used to believe in soul mates or twin souls until . . . until I came home and realized how tightly we are linked.”

“How can you rescue him, though?” And then she stopped. “The antidote . . . you plan on getting hold of the antidote that Geoffrey and Lainule are making and you’re going to give it to Grieve, aren’t you?”

I blinked. Rhiannon was more astute than I’d thought. “Yeah. That’s what I’m thinking. But I have to figure out a way to get into Geoffrey’s house, and then to find the damned thing.”

“That’s not going to be easy. And if Geoffrey finds out, he might take it out on Leo.” At the expression on my face, she hurried to add, “Don’t worry—I’m not going to tell him. But we’ll have to think carefully.”

“We? I’m not asking you to help me, Rhia. It’s going to be dangerous.”

“And our lives aren’t dangerous now? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’ll help you. I wish you could walk away from him, but I understand.” She paused, then slowly added, “You have something with Grieve that I don’t know if I’ll ever have with Leo. I love him dearly, and he loves me. And I’ll be happy to spend the rest of my life with him but . . . but we weren’t destined for each other. I know that in my heart. I always thought there was someone out there waiting for me until he came along and then I . . . I wasn’t sure, anymore. And we grew close and then I fell for him and now . . . we mesh. We aren’t a complete fit, but we mesh.”

“Maybe that’s all we can hope for and anything else is gravy. In my case, painful gravy.” I cupped the latte with my hands, feeling the warmth of the mug seep into my body. A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

Rhiannon motioned for me to stay seated. “I’ll get it.”

She returned with Peyton in tow.

“Sorry I showed up early, but I was just too excited about getting things moving and I figured you’d be up.” She slid into a chair and put her purse on the table, looking dour.

“Are you sure that’s the reason? I mean, it’s fine but you don’t look very happy.”

She shrugged. “I had an argument with my mother and needed to get out of the house.”

“What about?” Anadey and her daughter were both strong willed. It wasn’t hard to imagine them getting into a spat.

“I got a letter.” Peyton let out a long sigh and opened her purse, pulling out a thin envelope. “Mother wasn’t happy about it.” She tossed the letter on the table and shrugged. “It’s from my father.”

“Your father? But I thought he ran off and left you years ago!” I stared at the note and then at Peyton’s face. “This is the first time you’ve heard from him since then, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Yeah. He wants to be a part of my life now. He’s sobered up, been in AA for three years, and he wants to get to know me. He’s got himself a job in Seattle and he’s pulling his life together. I didn’t know he’d been an alcoholic when Mother kicked him out. She never told me.” And then she promptly burst into tears. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know if I want to see him—he left us. He left us high and dry. But now . . . what if he’s changed?”

She leaned forward, resting her face on her hands, crying softly.

Rhiannon scurried around to give her a hug, and I leaped up to get her a glass of water and the tissue box. Peyton fumbled for a Puffs tissue and blew her nose, then looked up, her face red.

“Mother tells me not to trust him. That he’ll just skip out again on me. She won’t allow him in the house and says that if I want to see him, it’s up to me but she doesn’t want to hear about it.” She bit her lip. “I know he hurt her, and left her with a baby and no money. I know what he did was horrible . . .”

“But he’s your father and you want to see him. You want to know if he loves you.” I whipped up a quick latte and slid it in front of her. “Drink this. It’s okay. Rhiannon and I understand. We’ve never even met our fathers. I know the name of mine but nothing more than he’s Cambyra Fae.”

“That’s more than I know. I used to ask Heather about my father when I was little,” Rhia said, sliding into the chair next to Peyton. “She wouldn’t tell me anything. I used to get so mad at her.” She paused, then added, “I’d almost forgotten—I set a fire once when that happened. I didn’t mean to but I was so angry that one day I stomped outside and was sitting on the back porch and my mother’s rosemary bush went up in flames. I know it was my doing because I felt the fire shoot out from my heart. But I hurried to put it out with the hose and she never asked me what happened.”

I glanced at her. “Was this before . . .”

She nodded. “Yeah, before the accident.”

Peyton bit her lip. “I don’t know what to do now. If I contact him, I know my mother will be upset. I think she really hates him. She won’t stop me from seeing him, but she won’t support me, either. He hurt her pretty badly, I guess.”

“Give her a little time; maybe she’ll come around.” I let out a long breath. “Meanwhile, let’s get started early. It will help both of us to keep busy.”

We headed into the back parlor and finished tidying up. Our sign had arrived via UPS the day before and I stared at it—it was ready to set up in front of the house, by the road.

“This makes it real, you know.” I glanced up at her. “Think we should take out an ad?”

She shrugged. “Why not? We don’t have overhead costs in terms of rent since we’re using your house and the mortgage is long paid. I can easily come up with a couple hundred for a spot in the New Forest Times.”

I nodded. “Me, too. Okay, let’s do it. What should we say?”

After about half an hour, we’d pounded out a classified ad to go in the local paper and phoned it in. I handed Peyton a check and she used her credit card to place the order. I picked up the sign and a hammer.

“Let’s go hang our shingles.”

The sign was like one of those FOR SALE signs, but instead of advertising a house for sale, it read, WIND CHARMS—MAGICAL NOTIONS & SPELLS, and below that, MYSTICAL EYE INVESTIGATIONS. I carried it out the front door, Peyton following, and we stopped by the mailbox at the side of the road.