Page 57 of Blood & Bedlam

“Hecate and Hermes have assumed your care,” Claire explains.

“Are they here? I have some questions for Hecate.” But the minute I speak, tension ramps around the room. “What?” I ask, and Juliette rubs her hands together as they all exchange weary glances.

“I’m afraid that there were some … issues with your resurrection. The God of Death himself came to claim you, and, well … let’s just say that he’s not happy about being robbed his soul. We will have to address what that all means soon, but they’ve agreed to hold off on the conversation until you’re stronger.” Fleur is diplomatic in her words.

Dread sluices down my spine.

“Easy. We’ll save that for another day,” Vlad comforts me.

“What if they take me back?” I whisper, and my words are met with several low growls echoing from the vampyrs gathered around me.

“That’s not happening. Ever,” Claire warns, her voice low and protective. She exchanges a telling look with Cami, who nods her head once, jaw set.

The high tension is broken by a grumbling from inside my stomach, aching and protesting in its hunger. It’s downright comical, the confused looks on their faces, and then Juliette bursts into a fit of giggles, clamping her hands over her lips to try and contain it, but it’s no use.

I turn bright red and shrug. “Human, remember? Who does a witch have to hex to get a bowl of gumbo around here?” I ask sheepishly.

They move then, fussing around the room, opening the curtains wider, airing out the room as Juliette disappears downstairs to find me some food. Claire transforms effortlessly into the animal shift of her orange tabby, and pads over, curling around my feet, purring contentedly. Fleur talks about Council drama that Vlad looks like he could care less about, distracting us from heavier topics when she mentions the outbreak of what I think is a shifter STD that’s wreaking havoc in the 3rd Ward. Each in their own way, they take care of me, anticipating needs, offering comfort and acts of service.

It hits me then, that after two lifetimes, I finally know what it means to have a family.

Vladimir

CHAPTER 31A WEEK LATER

The wooden doorframe bites into my shoulder as I push my whole weight against it, doing everything I can to give Hecate and Hermes space to work on Reine. Hermes has his fingers pressed against the sides of her neck, turning it gently, but I see her wince, feel her discomfort as bolts of pain shoot through our Bond.

I want to rip his fucking hands off for touching her in the first place. She’s mine, and it doesn’t matter that he’s claimed by another, consort to Hecate. He’s touching her … but the knowledge that his movements are causing pain? It’s nearly unbearable to keep my feet planted. Hecate’s hands move over Reine, red sigils swirling in the air as she does what looks like a diagnostic for the fourth time this week.

Every day, they do this, and every day, it’s still the most baffling thing. She isn’t healing, despite how much of my blood runs in her veins, despite her own magic surging through her body. My eyes lock on hers, on the glassy irises, as she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out, knowing it breaks me to see her like this. I work my jaw, and manage to give her a small, encouraging smile that she returns, but the look Hecate and Hermes share over her head gains my full attention. It’s full of apprehension, and when Hecate shakes her head, Hermes’s jaw ticks.

With a sigh, he releases the sides of her neck and sits back, breaking all contact of their bodies. The rage in my chest relents just a fraction at the distance.

“I think we need to bring in outside help. I know we said we’d keep Thanatos at bay, but he’s a death god. He may have some insight as to what’s happening.” Hermes sighs.

“Okay,” she relents, and I move, unable to take the distance a second longer. Hecate and Hermes back away from her, and when I sit down, I pull her body close, offering comfort. She’s freezing despite the heat baking Louisiana, so I rub circles over her arms, pushing my own warmth into her skin.

“I can call him now,” Hermes offers, pulling his phone from his pocket. He hesitates just a moment, fingers stalling over the buttons, and shoots me one last side glance. In my arms, Reine shakes, but I trace the bruises purpling over her arms from a fall she took earlier, coming down the stairs. Dark circles are prominent under her eyes, and I feel helpless.

“Do it.” I nod. His fingers fly over the buttons, then he turns, stepping out of my study to call Death to my door.

The quiet is grating against me, every ragged breath from Reine’s lungs nails on a chalkboard. Breathing alone takes herculean effort, and I haven’t slept since we got her back, too afraid she’ll stop breathing in her sleep. Again. I shake out the panic that the memory from a few nights ago evokes. The thudding of her heart slows, like the blood it’s pumping is too thick.

Hecate bends down and snatches up her bag before digging around and producing a book. The cover is an unnatural color, the material … unique. It takes me a moment to cut past the smell of tanning to realize it’s made of flesh, something my mortal senses never picked up. I recall it as the book Hecate used to perform the ritual that changed the course of my life forever. I wrinkle my nose, but beside me, Reine’s body stiffens. Hecate approaches and takes a seat on the small chaise, offering the book to her.

“I’m glad you found it,” Reine says, curling her fingers around the tome. There is magic radiating from the book itself and, on the cover, the sigil Reine scrawled all over the margins of her sketchbook.

“How did you know that I would?” Cate asks curiously, crossing her legs to lean in. Reine smiles and looks away, lost in a memory.

“I had a seer. We grew up together. Her name was Elisabeta, and she was g-good to me. She followed me to Wallachia, and we both fell in love with the people there. She saved me, twice. Once when she forced herself to have a vision that saw you finding it, and then again when she used her own magic to steal the Alchemy Index.” Her fingers trace over the spine, the cover, the sigils branded into it. “Alessandro killed her. The night they came to claim your seat. Tore her apart.” The pain in her voice is visceral, a deep wound freshly sliced open. I press a kiss to the side of her temple. She startles back to the present, offering me a weak smile.

“I felt magic in the library, faint but … demanding. Then I saw the sigil and I knew that whatever was in here was important,” Cate says, and Reine swipes at her cheeks.

“She foresaw you helping him. I tried to buy time for you to get there, and they were at the gate, so I hid it with the Founding Spell, and prayed to the Fates it would work.” Reine’s voice gets softer as she picks at a loose thread on her shirt. “When I soul tied to Vlad, I knew it would weaken Alessandro, but I didn’t know it would tear through our coven.”

Curiosity eats at me, hearing her talk about a soul tie. She’s been too weak to get into most of this, not to mention traumatized, struggling with the merging of two lifetimes, two identities, so I’ve been holding back. But now …

“I’ve never heard of a soul tie before. What does it mean?”