Page 12 of Blood from the Marrow
Elena waved away the characterization. “Of all the things that could have happened to a teenage girl traveling on her own, the best case scenario befell me.” She was back in her frail body. Lost in a dark maze, the smell of saltwater and damp wood trapped in her nostrils. Blinded by pain and thirst, she’d collapsed. “When I woke up, I was in a small cabin with a woman and her beard of a husband. Later, I’d learn that he was her blood son, andthey played the married role so that her movements weren’t questioned.”
“How much later?” Marisol raised both her brows, misreading her encounter.
Elena shook her head. “Even though I was nearly an adult, Francisca and Rodrigo annoyingly treated me like a child.” She smiled to herself. “I didn’t know they were vampires for another year or so. They claimed to both suffer from a rare sensitivity to light. Not that I cared. It was a small tradeoff to run out and retrieve whatever they wanted during the day. In return, Francisca forged some papers and made me her daughter.”
“So where did the ship end up?” Marisol rubbed her thumb over Elena’s skin in a slow, soothing gesture.
“The very eastern tip of Cuba. They were looking for a new life in a new world too, and a few months after we landed, we made our way to Havana. Within the year, Francisca owned a sugar mill and was building wealth faster than she could spend it.”
“When did you find out she was a vampire?”
“I was nearly eighteen when I arrived home unexpectedly to find Francisca with her fangs in a carpenter’s neck. You can’t imagine how scared I was, but I didn’t run. When she explained the concept of the second life to me, changing diets seemed like a tiny price to pay. She didn’t turn me for another decade.”
“You may have appeared a little impulsive with the whole jumping on a ship without a plan thing,” Marisol joked, her eyes so full of a joy Elena would keep stoked her entire life if she could.
“And that’s exactly the reason she made me wait,” she agreed with a laugh that warmed her marrow. “Francisca was usually so cautious. A very boring trait in a vampire.” She could still see her blonde hair and fair skin and her perennially concerned expression.
“Where is she now?”
All the happy nostalgia that had been coursing through Elena’s chest congealed like a plague. After rushing through the last part of the story, she cleared her throat and got to the end.
“She died turning what would have been my first sister. Neither of them survived the process.” She looked away and tried to stop the emotion from blurring her vision. Tried not to remember her selfish pleas for a blood sister when Rodrigo left for Jamaica. “Turning female children requires significantly more blood. Nearly all of it.”
“Oh, Elena.” Marisol let go of her hand, only to pull her into a crushing embrace. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Your many losses.”
Elena barely absorbed the overwhelming affection, the compassion and concern and empathy so intense it was impossible to breathe with Marisol’s arms around her. The vise around her heart only grew tighter when Marisol leaned away, palm pressed to her chest. The warmth of her skin melted barriers Elena didn’t know existed until they were gone.
Holding her in her gaze, Marisol was that nurse again. The woman standing over her with luminous wings and filling her with the impossible assurance that everything was going to be okay. That she was safe within every meaning of that cavernous single syllable. Elena had never known someone so aggressively kind who was also so fierce.
Zuri had called it from the beginning. Elena had no way to protect herself against someone so earnest. So free from pretense.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Marisol whispered, her hand on Elena’s cheek before kissing her.
Thank you, she thought, but couldn’t bring herself to speak. Couldn’t bring herself to leave the home of Marisol’s embrace.
She’d only just pulled away when Zuri arrived with three shot glasses. Elena’s body was still buzzing, but she did her best to conceal it.
“If this vampire circus is going to continue, I need to be one hundred percent drunker,” Zuri said before putting the trio of shots she was awkwardly holding with both hands in front of Marisol.
“What is it?” Marisol asked Zuri with a smile like she hadn’t just punched a hole through Elena’s sternum.
“Strong,” Zuri replied before handing Elena the second glass.
“I can’t get intoxicated.” Elena furrowed her brow, surprised that Zuri had forgotten her metabolism didn’t allow for drunkenness.
“Yeah, well, we’re all going to taste like vodka, okay?” Zuri lifted her shot before knocking it back in one gulp. She tried and failed to stop her shoulders from shaking.
“There are much better things to taste like,” Elena joked, voice intentionally low and tempting.
Marisol had barely gotten the glass to her mouth when Sofia arrived with a tray full of shots. Elena swallowed the smooth vodka before reaching out and pulling Zuri into her lap.
Zuri passed around the shots again, this time including Sofia and Librada. She tossed a reckless wink at Elena who caught it with her lips between her teeth. “To getting fucked up.”
With a wicked curl in her lip, Marisol held up her second shot and whispered against Zuri’s ear with her eyes on Elena knowing she’d hear. “To getting fucked.” When she leaned back to drink, her eyes were dark and full of filthy promises.
Elena wished farewell to the woman who’d trembled under her touch in Zuri’s bed. With a grin, she welcomed the woman who seemed to realize that everything she wanted was up for the taking.
Chapter Six
