Page 11 of A Heart Of Bitter Poison
“This shouldn’t be,” she says, looking up at Cole across the center console of the sedan. “She had a full thermos. This at least should have healed.”
“Which one did she drink?”
Ediye turns toward me and sees me watching. She hides her worry behind the flash of a kind smile as she reaches for the empty thermos. “The red one.”
“Give her the other, the blood should be much stronger.”
Ediye nods and unscrews the cap, pouring it into the stainless-steel lid. The same cinnamon and cardamom scent wafts toward me on robust notes of a richer blood. It smells sweeter, like it’s been stirred with honeysuckle. Something pleasant, not thick and cloying.
“Sit up, babe. Drink this,” Ediye says as she passes me the cup. I bring it to my lips, taking a long draft.
One swallow is all it takes to know.
It tingles like the fizz of champagne. I feel the effervescence hum in my throat. It passes over the burn of my lost voice and slips behind the wall of my chest.
It is time and history. Power and loss, rage and longing.
I draw the cup away from my lips and hold out my hand for the thermos as though I want more. Ediye passes it to me as I grip the little mug between my knees. She watches as I unscrew the top.
I press the button for the window and empty the contents onto the road.
Ediye protests but I don’t listen, not even when tears flood my eyes and my vision turns to red. I throw the thermos onto the road and then the cup, then close the window. With a final, menacing glare at Cole, I curl back down on the seat, turning away from them.
“What the fuck?” Ediye whispers.
“It’shisblood,” Cole says, his voice quiet. Ediye blows out a long, steady breath. I press my eyes closed as I feel the weight of her hand rest on my hip.
There’s no more conversation in the car.
CHAPTER5
Idon’t sleep, though I try. It isn’t long anyway before the car slows and turns to the left, then another left, and then crunches down a gravel driveway. I pull myself up and look toward a small, unassuming farmhouse flanked by colorful flowers and tall hedges. The door opens and Eryx appears, his wide grin illuminated by the patio lights framing the covered porch.
The car grinds to a halt and Cole is out the door without even turning off the engine. He bounds onto the porch and wraps Eryx in a tight embrace. When they pull apart, Cole’s palms press to Eryx’s face before their lips meet in an impassioned kiss.
“An angel and a demon in love. I can’t imagine truer magic than that,” Ediye says as she reaches over and turns the ignition off. She glances back at me and I nod with a faint smile. A fleeting pang of jealousy washes through my veins as I watch them part to smile warmly at one another. My heart feels raw in the shadow of such joy.
Let’s go, I sign, grabbing the blanket to clutch it around my shoulders. I’m hoping it’ll hide the worst of my bloody shirt and my bruised arms for Eryx.
“Lu! I’m so happy to see you. And Ediye, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Cole told me about you,” Eryx says as he lets go of Cole’s arms and walks toward Ediye, the sharpened feathers of his wings scraping the stone walkway as they drag in his wake. He pulls Ediye into an embrace and she huffs a laugh at his enthusiastic greeting. Eryx lets her go and walks toward me but I take a step back and he stops short of touching me. His eyes flow over my face and I give a slight shake of my head. His throat bobs in a thick swallow. I’m so beyond gross, stained with blood and marred with bruises. Making Eryx pass out the first time we met by drinking Ashen’s blood was fun, but I’m not really in the mood for a sequel. More than anything, though, he just looks sad. Desperately sad. For me.
“Come inside,” he says, putting on a warm smile and gesturing toward the house. “You can get cleaned up and rest for a while.”
Cole grabs the bags from the car as Eryx leads us inside the house. There’s nothing remarkable about the space, it’s just comfortable and inviting but a little dated and bland. Cream colored leather sofas take up a little too much space in a small living room, pictures of flower arrangements and landscapes hang from the walls. We follow Eryx past the kitchen and up a narrow set of stairs that leads to the bedrooms. Ediye and I are each given a room with a bathroom between us, and Eryx and Cole have the master suite across from us. When our bags have been deposited where they belong, Ediye heads for the shower as the rest of us regroup in the kitchen.
“Here,” Cole says, offering me another thermos that’s been waiting on the counter as Eryx starts gathering ingredients to make Ediye an omelet. “It might be a little cooler now, but I can warm it if you need.”
I hesitate to take it and dart a wary look toward the black canister in his hand.
“It’s human blood, but flavored.” Cole pushes the thermos toward me.
I swallow as I take the thermos and draw it to my chest, not breaking my gaze from Cole’s. I nod.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you about the other thermos back in the car. About who it belonged to.”
A film of tears coats my eyes and I look away, nodding once more. I drift toward the kitchen island and heave myself onto a stool. For a while I just look at the thermos, unmoving. I run my finger over my warped reflection on the polished surface, thinking about all the times I’ve suffered. Injuries after battles, losses of loved ones, the agony I endured when I burned at the stake. Despite all those horrible moments, I’ve been thinking that this time feels like the worst of them all.
At first, I wasn’t sure why. But now I know the reason. Before, there had always been something to hope for. There were more battles to win. There were loved ones to avenge. There was the knowledge my plan had worked, that I would heal from the burns to grasp a chance at another life. This time, I don’t feel hopeful for anything. I don’t even feel like myself. No voice. No miraculous healing power. No respite from my memories of trauma and loss. It’s just more hiding, even more than before. It’s more loneliness. My life feels like a monument of loss. It’s just suffering for the sake of suffering.
