Page 43 of Blood from the Marrow
Crammed together on bench seats in the small cabin surrounded by windows so they could see while being shielded from the wind, Zuri sat on one side of Marisol and Elena on the other. In front of them, Librada drove, cutting through the calm water of the populated lagoon. As they sped into the darkness, the distant islands were pockets of light and life taunting Zuri.
Zuri resisted the urge to throw her arm around Bambi’s shoulders. To let her fingertips find the nape of Elena’s neck and play with her dark silky hair and bring back the electricity ofher touch. It wasn’t fair how hard her chest ached for her. How agonizing it was to have her so close and yet miles away.
A massive blast of magic cut Zuri’s longing short. Her attention snapped dead ahead. Barely visible, a small mass floated in the dark. The sheer force of magic cloaking it warped the air, creating a shimmering mirage like the wavering reflection of water on asphalt during a brutally hot day.
“What the fuck is this shit?” Zuri asked over the roar of the engine, pulse racing.
“What?” Marisol straightened, looking around but failing to see what Zuri saw. Failing to feel the witch magic concealing their destination.
“Wards would not work because of visiting vampires,” Lib shouted over her shoulder, animated—relatively speaking—by the prospect of educating Zuri. “But it is best if tourists do not stumble upon The Order out of misguided curiosity. It has been concealed by magic much older than any living vampire.”
“I thought it was unusual for witches and vampires to work together.” Marisol didn’t have to explain that she meant the surprise over Baylor and Narine having worked with a coven to nearly kill Elena.
Zuri focused on the point on the horizon where magic bloomed. It was old. Almost like an echo reverberating on a loop. She couldn’t grasp the message blasting over the waves, but it didn’t emit a repulsive sensation like a common guardian ward. Instead, it seemed the magic’s only purpose was to distort the surrounding space.
As they neared, a fog rolled in and the night turned suddenly cold. If that hadn’t been creepy as fuck on its own, wooden poles banded together in twos and threes stood from the water like headless scarecrows.
Librada pulled back the throttle, slowing down to idle speed. “They mark where the channels are safe,” she explained, usingher head to point to the apparent driftwood sticking out of a sandbank impossible to see in the dark.
Impossible to see until your boat ran aground, Zuri guessed. The fog thickened, swallowing light and sound and the breath from her lungs.
“If they do not already know the way”—Lib steered them blindly into a gray wall of thick atmosphere—“it is unlikely someone will risk getting stuck until the tide rises again.”
Closing her eyes, Zuri tried to leave her body. Tried to stop imagining them crashing into something and getting stranded in the unsettling fog until the sun showed up to burn it away. Would it even burn it away? The fog didn’t feel like magic, but it didn’t feel entirely mundane either. It was almost as if someone had coaxed the natural occurrence into sticking around.
Marisol slipped her hand into Zuri’s. Zuri gripped it back hard, unconcerned with looking like a little bitch when it was all she could do not to scream and dive headfirst into the black water and swim all the way back home.
“Wow,” Marisol breathed, and Zuri reflexively opened her eyes.
A monastery rose out of the water ahead of them. Its long, low, faded orange brick buildings converged on a single point. On an illuminated bell tower standing tall and menacing at the center. Hundreds of trees along the edge of the seawall were bright against the fog that circled the island but didn’t touch it.
“I don’t know how they keep people away from this,” Marisol said, attention glued to the bell tower, its white, carved stone a contrast to the brick. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Many believe that the island is haunted by the many humans who suffered from illness and plague after being cast out of society and abandoned here,” Librada explained, steering the boat slowly around a marshy patch and approaching the dock jutting out to greet them.
“Is that true?” Marisol asked, like it broke her heart to think of the freaking Bubonic Plague.
Librada replied with a noncommittal shrug before cutting the engine and leaving the cabin. After they were all off the boat, Lib guided it on a rope into a boathouse like she was hiding the strangest pet dog.
From the moment Zuri stepped onto the creaking wooden dock, she wanted to get the fuck out of there. It wasn’t just the prospect of being on vampire island; it was how wrong it all looked. The buildings were obviously big enough to house hundreds, maybe more, but there wasn’t a single bloodsucker traipsing around.
“This way.” Lib pointed to a break in the trees and they all followed.
Zuri couldn’t stop thinking about cows walking dutifully to the slaughter. Her stomach heaved and she was strangely grateful that she hadn’t eaten anything with a face since she met Bambi.
It shouldn’t have given Zuri any comfort when they moved out of the open and walked along the tree line toward a small stone structure at the edge of one of the brick buildings. She knew how vampire powers worked. Knew that they heard and smelled so much more than humans did. But she couldn’t help breathing a little better once they were covered by the trees.
Two vampires, a witch, and an angel couldn’t exactly pretend to be lost tourists. Would Librada have a perfectly good explanation for why they were skulking around in the dark? Zuri looked at the red-eyed vampire silently leading them. She abandoned the hope that she’d ever used charm to defuse anything. Elena walking behind them, however, could talk her way into or out of anything. The only question was, would she try?
“You’re late, Victor.” A female voice with a British accent joined the sound of water lapping against the retaining wall.
Behind her, Elena stiffened and Zuri reached for her magic. Grabbing Bambi by the wrist, Zuri pulled her back and shielded her with her body.
A figure stepped out from the small stone house, its door already open. In the low light, all Zuri could see was that she was tall with hair that was short or pulled back. But when Elena relaxed, Zuri did too.
Who the fuck is Victor?Zuri had to stop herself from asking aloud.
“I came as quickly as I could,” Lib replied in a voice so warm Zuri couldn’t help but turn her head to look at Elena. To share a what-the-fuck-is-this look.
