Page 59 of Bloodgrove

“Albatross.” Will’s tongue felt too large inside his mouth, the dream making it difficult to find words. “You kept your promise.” After the ball, he had found a scattering of tiny cuts across his body, but not once had he lost control of himself.

With effort, he pushed himself upright in bed, his back sinking against the headboard. The faces carved into the canopy posts watched the scene unfold.

A claw settled on Will’s chest and slowly drew down the blanket. Had it not been a dream, Will would have blushed when the monster found him naked beneath it. At some point, he had accepted the madness and climbed into bed unclothed, shivering with excitement and revulsion, knowing the god would come through the open curtains.

So he had no right to complain when the webbed paw, tipped with long nails, closed possessively around his waist and pulled him closer. He stared up into the skull’s empty eye sockets.

A dark, thick tongue slithered forth and flicked across his torso. He almost heard the monster purr, but within the vastness of its existence, the sound became thunder, like waves breaking against the shore.

“What do you want tonight, my beloved?” the god whispered. The weight of its second paw sank into the mattress, making Will slide closer to the Albatross.

“What do you know about the Red King?”

The Albatross recoiled and withdrew from the bed. Its long body hovered above him, its tail lashing across the floor. In its displeasure, the supernatural being suddenly seemed almost human.

Will bit his lower lip. He had not expected such a reaction. Carefully, he reached toward the beak and sensed the monster’s uncertainty. How could a single name wound a creature like the Albatross?

The moment his fingers touched the worn, bone-white surface, the god went still. Only slowly did the tongue emerge again, coiling around his arm like a snake. Still so frighteningly human, it sought his touch, and Will relaxed. Here, in this place between dream and time, between night and reality, he lost his shame.

“Are you one of his imprisoned creatures?” Will whispered.

“This curse is his, and his prison alone. He loved once, but jealousy consumes everything. It is a disease that corrupts all that is good, weds itself to greed, and feeds and feeds until nothing remains.”

Albatross’s paw slipped beneath Will and lifted his hips as the tongue continued its journey over his body, licking the thin cut along his side.

“Beauty,” the Albatross murmured. “Womb of my longing.”

“Can the curse be broken?” The words left his lips almost as a gasp while the Albatross continued its exploration.

“Hmm… You wish to save him?” Now nothing remained of the creature’s almost human, yearning touch. The god became bolder and held him more firmly.

“No. I want to help my friends, and everything is connected to the king.”

“I have a plan, my beloved.” Surrendering himself to the Albatross was like placing his trust into an oversized cat—indifferent to Will’s feelings, yet curious to discover what reaction it could draw from him.

The tongue found Will’s most intimate place and entered him without hesitation. He whimpered, his fingers clawing into the sheets, but the Albatross held him fast. He was nothing but a doll in the god’s game.

“Help me,” he managed.

“Perhaps. But it is for you to find the answer, just as you once freed me.”

Will wanted to ask what the Albatross meant, but then the monster pressed deeper and found the place that stripped away his reason.

Chapter 32

Frost crackled in the air of the season of cotton-candy skies and violet sunsets. Will looked beyond the immense fence toward the black gables of the houses descending to the sea. Bloodgrove seemed harsh beside the innocent beauty of the November twilight. Down here between the buildings, darkness was gathering, and the twelve vampire hunters crowded closely around a gap in the fence. Two of the iron bars concealed a mechanism that allowed them to be removed.

Saint appeared entirely unconcerned as he checked every knife, chain, and piece of armor once over. A muzzle dangled from his belt beside a collar fitted with long, inward-pointing spikes. Unlike most of the other vampire hunters, he was not here to kill but to capture. Yet he was not the only one. Another rough-looking man and his two companions carried the equipment of vampire traders, and Will shuddered with disgust. That man sold them as slaves for dungeons like the one beneath the full-moon ball, or as sacrifices in rituals of the sort Elodie and Mr. Arcos performed. Not that they were much better. Not that Saint was a saint when it came to his experiments.

“Last chance to turn back,” Saint said as the first hunters slipped through the opening.

Will shook his head, his hand tightening around the hilt of the rapier at his side. Elodie had guests tonight. She would not miss him. No one had noticed that he had helped himself to her collection of revolvers and swords or strapped on her throat and forearm guards.

“Then let’s go.” Grinning, the redhead climbed through the hole in the fence. Will went last, and behind him, a man on the outside replaced the bars. The mechanism locked with deadly finality.

“Good hunting!” called a woman at the front.

The others answered in chorus, and soon the group scattered.