Page 22 of Veiled Yearning

I Never Knew

CHIARA

I feel sick.

Nausea keeps breaking over me in waves.

My body feels disconnected, like I’m controlling it through a thick haze.

All I want to do is hide. I want to be back in my cabin, curled under my favorite knit blanket, re-reading Harry Potter for the twentieth time.

I don’t want to be here, in this stranger’s car, my clothes covered in blood.

I’m cold all over, shivering, even though the heat is cranked up high.

Gavril keeps sneaking quick glances over at me while he drives, his brows drawn down with worry. He’s asked me if I’m okay at least a half-dozen times since we got back on the road, but I haven’t been able to do more than nod.

He doesn’t believe me, and after catching a glimpse of myself in the broken visor mirror, I can hardly blame him. I look like death warmed over—my face ghostly white, eyes sunken and shadowed, blood splattered all across my chest and neck.

I can’t stop seeing it. The van coming at us, huge and menacing. The other car smashing into us; Gavril’s door crumpling. Spinning out of control, seeing the trees and the inevitability of what was about to happen.

And then the men. Coming after me, just like the last time. Threatening me. Hurting me.

My memories keep flip-flopping between the time they took me in Portland and now.

A small noise rises in my throat, a low, keening sound. It’s the terror trying to get out.

I bite down on my lip, hard enough to fill my mouth with blood, just to make it stop. Gavril has enough to worry about—getting us to his house in Manchester, watching for any other Custodians coming after us—I don’t want to give him another thing to worry about.

Gavril glances over at me again. His eyes are a steely gray. “We’re about thirty minutes out. So it won’t be much longer.”

That’s one thing I’m actually relieved about. As soon as we saw the last of the dead Custodians disintegrate—that’s going to be an interesting scene, when the police find two wrecked cars, but no sign of any victims—Gavril said, “There’s no way we’re spending the next eight hours on the road. We’re going to my house. It’s safe, outside the Veil, as far as I know, and you can add extra shields to it.”

I don’t think I’ll feel safe there either, at least not until I spend a few hours imbuing the house with shielding energy. Even then, I’m not sure. But it’s better than driving for hours in this banged-up car that still carries the odor of the Custodian who stabbed me.

Yeah. That’s pretty awful, too. The man who grabbed me, choked me, stuck his dagger in my stomach and twisted it until all I felt was agony—I’m in his car, because ours was damaged too badly.

Walter. That was his name. Walter, who had the ability to stun; to fling huge Gavril to the ground like it was nothing.

We found out all their names, courtesy of Erik, the one Custodian Gavril kept alive long enough to interrogate. While I kept Erik blinded—using his own ability against him—Gavril dragged the truth out of him.

That was horrible, too, but I know why it had to happen. We needed to know how the Custodians found us, given that both Gavril and I are wearing shielding talismans. I’m confident in my ability to make them—no one should have been able to find us.

But apparently the Custodians have a Seer, and he had a vision of us traveling through that area, detailed enough to know the make of car we’d be driving. So all they had to do was get to the right spot and wait to spot Gavril’s green SUV.

I never thought about shielding Gavril’s car. In all my planning, that part never occurred to me. And I feel so stupid about it. I could have ended up back in captivity, Gavril could have died, all because I didn’t think about the car.

It’s another thing to feel awful about on top of everything else.

Almost being taken. The pain. The fear. Watching Gavril get hurt trying to protect me. And the borrowing—taking?—of the Custodian’s abilities.

Using latent energy is fairly easy. It’s just out there, waiting. But to draw the energy from another person? To take it into myself, hold it, and send it back out as a weapon?

I feel dirty. Like a thief. People, vampire or otherwise, shouldn’t be able to do that. It’s too much power. It’s too close to what Nicolas does.

Another whimper slips out, and I’m ashamed of my weakness. I remember Jules at my rescue, when the tables turned and one of my captors grabbed her. She didn’t just let him take her; she fought back. She didn’t let her fear control her, like I’ve been doing.

“Chiara.” Gavril’s voice is gentle, but urgent, pulling me out of my memories. “I’m sorry. I know you’re hurting. I know this is awful. But we can’t stop now. We need to get to my house.”

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