Page 70 of Curses & Keys
Gatlin leans forward. “The humans are dedicated. None of them talked. Even when we killed their fellow soldiers in front of them. They were fanatical in their defense of human rights and the need to get rid of all supernaturals.”
“Which means they don’t know they’re working for the vampires,” I state with a frown. “Compulsion. Erased memories. Easy to do on one person. On that scale, it would take a pureblood.” When they both appear confused, I explain. “As you know, most vampires are sired, and their abilities are diluted accordingly. Purebloods are born vampire and have no such restrictions.”
“Like you,” Gatlin says with a grim smile. “That’s why you can compel so easily.”
“Correct,” I reply. “Although that doesn’t help us. There are quite a few purebloods in this world, and most of them have the ability to compel.”
“But on that scale?” Jamison asks, tilting his head. “Did Nolan keep track of everyone’s abilities?”
“Probably,” I reluctantly admit. “But to get access, I would have to enter the bid for his council seat. Life or death matches where winner takes all.”
“That’s not happening,” Gatlin says firmly, looking at Jamison, who nods in agreement. “Maybe I can get back in to see the prisoners. Work the vampire angle. When is the guard change at the hospital?”
I glance at my watch. “Midnight. That gives you at least four hours.”
“You going to be okay here?” he asks gruffly. “Weapons are stashed in the safe. There are some basics in the pantry for Jamison.”
I wave a hand. “Go. Call me if you hear anything.”
Once he’s gone, I turn toward Jamison. “I need to tell you something.” He turns toward me, and I take in a deep breath. “In the field, you were dying. My blood saved you.”
Jamison blinks. “Will there be repercussions? Effects?”
I lift a shoulder. “I’m not sure. I’ve never given my blood to a mage. Only a human. Humans often heal faster and pick up slight changes like better eyesight and more strength after receiving vampire blood.”
“Thank you,” he replies in a serious tone. “I’ve got too much to live for to die.”
There’s a curious expression on his face I’ve never seen. “You’re not mad? What if there are repercussions?”
“Then we’ll find out together,” he says with a shrug. “Got any ideas about how we can locate them?”
“Besides what I’m already doing?” I ask with a sigh. “Maybe. Something Gatlin said gave me an idea.”
36
PHAEDRA
My cheeks are stiff with dried tears when I wake, and my body is completely entangled with Hawthorne’s. I must have turned to him for comfort. Last night’s dreams and nightmares took a harsh toll on me, the past and present colliding in a storm of memories and fears. Guilt from the past. And the present. Worry. Last time, I lost my sister. Who will I lose this time?
Stuck in limbo for the last week, the minutes and hours ticking by have driven me crazy. My mind continues to go round and round, trying to figure out what the gods could possibly want from me.
Lying in bed won’t solve anything. I glance out the glass patio doors and realize the sun is rising. Time to get up. Unentangling my legs from his, I shift, preparing to move and realize his hand is on my arm. Rising to my elbow so I can stare at him, I wait, breath held, for his eyes to open. My heart beats fast, but the seconds pass by slowly. A minute. Two.
“Hawthorne, can you hear me?” I ask, praying for the hundredth time to hear the rich timbre of his voice. “Did my tears and cries wake you?”
His smooth expression remains unchanged, and I close my eyes as my hopes are crushed. Again. I bend down and kiss him, then ease myself out of bed.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I tell him, my voice breaking as the sobs build in my throat. “Then we’ll head outside.”
Unable to look at him, I walk away, taking refuge in the shower where I can let go and he won’t hear me. At least, I think he hears me. Maybe he doesn’t, but the healer told me to talk to him, so she must believe it too. Weary from worry, I lean my forehead against the cool tile and let the tears fall.
After the council’s broadcasts, I reached out to some contacts to see if they could find some answers for me. I need to know if they’re alive. I glance at my watch. That was eleven hours ago, and I’ve received no texts. A heavy sigh escapes my lips.
Determined not to drown in my own pity, I finish my shower and head to the kitchen for something to eat. I grab some toast and peanut butter. While I’m munching, my eyes drift to the empty tonic bottle on the counter. Should I call the healer and get some more? It couldn’t hurt, right? Then, I could ask her how long is too long. I’ve given it a week.
I pick up the phone and realize it’s one a.m. in North Carolina. Too early. Charlie’s cranky enough without waking him. I’ll wait. Besides, it’s time to get Hawthorne up and outside for his “therapy.”
Minutes later, I’m wheeling him into the backyard. Clouds obscure most of the sun this morning, but the cooler breeze brushing against his skin has the same effect. I leave him there and grab my laptop from the couch.
