Hunger Embraced (The Hunger Series) (13 page)

“Yes.” She continued to mess with her hair. Tiny white flowers appeared, nestled into the plaits when she finished. “You must be Blooded. It is your duty, and your most sacred gift.”

My cover-up turned a sickly shade of yellow between my fingers, and I shook my head. “It’s no gift. More like a curse. What has it ever brought me but pain and self-loathing?” Tears spilled over my cheeks and dripped onto my legs.

“Often the strongest of us all are forged in fires that would shatter lesser creatures. I have long admired humanity’s ability to continue forward in even the most unforgiving circumstances.” She leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “Did you not just meet Daniel because of your gift?”

“He doesn’t want me. Not really.” I didn’t deserve him even if he did.

“No, he believes he cannot have you. There is a difference. And perhaps, in an earlier time that would have been true.” Macha unclenched my fingers from the edge of my sundress and smooth the crumpled fabric. “But you, from the moment of your conception, were different from you predecessors. Stubborn, strong, and powerful. You have always refused to follow along as a blind sheep behind a man. I find those admirable qualities.”

I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand and glanced for a second at her face. She smiled, but the fierceness in her eyes reminded me of the warrior woman. I blanched. I really didn’t want to see that. What if her personality changed with the skin she wore and she decided to behead me so I would stop irritating her with my argumentative nature and crying jags?

I opened my mouth to ask a question and she held up her right hand. “I will tell you no more. There are those that would consider it cheating. You have everything you need already. Everything and everyone.”

She stood and shook the sand from her skirt. “Did you know I was once Queen of Ireland? Some fools tried to remove me from the throne, so I made them my slaves. This was one of my favorite dresses then.”

I remained on the ground, trying to find traction in the mud she’d just thrown into my brain. Queen of Ireland?

“Thank y—”

She disappeared. The grit of the sand on my skin faded, and my dress winked out of existence. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, the six-inch tapers I’d lit guttered, reduced to wax nubs. I fell over when I tried to stand, my legs all numb and tingly from sitting on the floor. I banged my heels against the floor and rubbed my legs until they began to feel normal. After closing my circle I put my robe on. When I passed by the front door on the way to the kitchen for some post-spelling sugar enhancement, I noticed something dark on the carpet.

The dark substance appeared almost black. Hours had passed while I had my little headspace freak-out with the goddess. I switched on the living room lamp on my way for a closer look. In the bright light, I could see a thick pool of something that had run under the door and gathered into a nasty, brownish-red, congealed mess. Gross. Perhaps my psycho neighbor Ted wanted to get back at me for having Daniel in the apartment the other day. I grabbed the roll of paper towels, cleanser, and a sponge from the kitchen.

I opened the door to see what he had spilled near the door and jumped back with a scream.

A severed head and a pair of hands sat in the hall on a piece of plastic sheeting. It had to be the worst surprise gift I’d ever received.

Chapter Eight

I fell on my ass trying to get away from the thing and crab-scrabbled backward until my back hit the couch. I couldn’t focus on anything but the head with its shock of dark red hair and stubble. At least the eyes were closed so it couldn’t look back at me. The popular haircut, longer on the top and shaved close on the sides, maintained its artful tousle. He must have used great products.

A scream bubbled up again, but I clamped my lips against it. Irrational anger with the woman/goddess/imaginary figment from my vision boiled over. She had seemed so real. She should have taken a moment to warn me about this instead of dicking with her hair.
I forced a few deep breaths, then stood up and tiptoed over to the door.

I crept to the left of the drying blood and leaned against the doorjamb to peek out into the hall. All the doors remained closed.

I didn’t think I could call the cops, which would start a whole line of shit I didn’t need. The head looked familiar. This belonged to the vampire I’d fed a few weeks ago. The one who’d cried and wouldn’t leave.

I ran to the kitchen and snatched my cell phone. Anna had called while I meditated. It was 2:00 a.m. Shit. No calling her now, head or no head. I called Daniel to ask what I should do, but it rang through to voicemail, and I hung up before I could leave an incriminating message.

Priorities. Get the head out of doorway and get rid of the evidence. Then worry about T.T.B. Going to jail wouldn’t help him, and if he’d gotten into trouble, we’d be doubly screwed if I ended up locked up.

I snapped a picture of the nasty tableau while trying not to throw up and ran back to the kitchen for some of those damned self-replicating plastic bags. I put a bag over each hand and grabbed a third to put the…stuff in.

I took a deep calming breath, put on the slippers I’d stolen from Daniel, and headed to the door again. The hands disappeared into the bag with a foot nudge and minimal smearing on my tan slippers, but the head refused to cooperate. It rolled to the side, mouth hanging open. I tried to grip it by the hair, but the plastic made it almost impossible. I dropped the head twice, the carpet squishing on impact, and blood splattered my shins.

“You were a pain in the ass the first time you were here too. Criminey, Red, give me a break.” I reached down, stuck my fingers in the open mouth, and hooked them behind the lower front teeth. I held the head as far from my body as possible and inverted the bag over it the way I’d seen dog walkers do when picking up poop.

I deposited my macabre treasures in the kitchen sink. After snagging the plastic sheeting, I attacked the congealing blood with a scrub brush. Whoever left this for me needed therapy. The way it had been assembled reminded me of an offering. If it was from Macha, the head was a sick “embrace your true nature” nudge.

The smell finally overwhelmed me. I barely made it to the bathroom before all my Chinese was out of my stomach. I sat there for a few minutes covered in goose bumps until I could get to my feet and head back out to my task.

After cleaning the mess up as well as I could, I took a shower and changed into a semi-clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Then I gathered up all the dirty laundry from my bedroom floor and stuffed it on top of the bloody bathrobe and slippers to go to the Laundromat.

I tried to call Daniel once more and didn’t get an answer. Unease flickered in my stomach. He could take care of himself. He read minds and moved super fast. Had muscles on top of muscles. No reason to panic. I stuffed my phone in my pocket in case he called me back and left to do the laundry.

The Laundromat was only a few doors down from Lane’s place, so once I had all my stuff sudsing up, I wandered out the door and down the street. A closed sign hung on her door. Not unusual considering it was four in the morning, but I’d seen her have it open in the middle of the night before.

A plastic bag hung from the doorknob, and I started when I realized the attached envelope bore my name. I removed it from the knob and wandered back down the street. The hard plastic chair in front of my commandeered machines dug into my butt while I watched the soap bubbles and clothes swirl around for a few minutes. “Screw it.” I ripped the envelope open. It held a piece of paper with a scrawl that looked decidedly left-handed marching across the page.

M—Take whatever you think you need with you to the court; you’re going to need it. Make sure you hide the blade or they’ll take it. Blessed be! Lane

I turned the page over in exasperation, hoping there might be something that explained better. Instead I wound up with another note.

Dryer #7, dear.

A small smiley face dominated the space below the words. I swore and called her a few choice names. Names I had to take back after digging in the bottom of the bag.

I plucked a key ring I hadn’t seen in seven years from the plastic and clutched it so tight the keys left dents in my palms. I’d bought the key ring at one of those accessories stores in the mall on summer vacation. A pair of sparkly flip-flops dangling from a short chain on a ring. The ring held three keys. Two I recognized; they were the keys to the house I had lived in and my father’s mansion. The third I had never seen before. It was large and heavy looking—very old fashioned.

I stared at the bag, wondering why no one had taken it from the doorknob. The longer I stared at it, the more I realized it glowed. She’d spelled the bag. The glow emanating from it was a reflection of her aura, a piece left behind. The deep, happy green made me think of the smell of dirt in the spring and growing things.

I stuffed the keys into my pocket and stood, looking for the dryer. It was on the top far right corner with an “Out of Order” note stuck on it. The Laundromat was empty except for me, yet I still proceeded with caution. Sweat gathered on my palms. I wiped them on the front of my jeans. After exhaling, I eased the door open and ducked to the side, expecting…something to happen.

Nothing. My curiosity propelled me to look into the metal interior. A huge knife rested in the bottom of the dryer, the handle toward me. I picked it up and stuffed it under the front of my shirt, trying to hide it from the video cameras mounted in the corners. When I sat back down in the chair in front of the washer, I took it out, grateful to have it away from my skin. The metal felt oily and pulsated.

It looked like something Crocodile Dundee would have, huge and curved with a thick handle. Markings—runes or a dead language maybe—were etched into the metal down both sides. I didn’t recognize any of the dark carvings, but they must be important. The pulsations in the metal grew and thrummed up my hand when I traced one with my finger. Fear turned my stomach to ice, and I wrapped it up and hid it in the bottom of the laundry bag.

I checked my phone once more. Still nothing. Tomorrow Jerk-off expected me to show at the address from his fancy linen business card. Not doing it. Not going. I’d leave for another state if I had to. No way he’d touch me again. No one ordered me around like some kind of servant.

The dryers spun around, and my thoughts chased each other in endless circles. I had to figure out how to beat them all at this game. The deity from my vision had said I had everything I needed, and if I had not botched the ceremony, I would be in control now. But gods and goddesses wanted fealty and worshippers. She had an agenda and may even have had a hand in the gift left on my doorstep from persons unknown. So she said I didn’t have to be with Adrian, but I didn’t want to be beholden to her either.

There wasn’t any love lost with my parents, but I needed to know what happened to them. If they were trapped and I could help them, I needed to do that.

Which meant I had to find Daniel. He was chivalrous, good-looking, intelligent, sex wrapped around a dark chocolate fudge, gooey center—a life with him teased my desire for a place to belong, a home and family where I fit in. But he was hiding something too. He had to be.

More than anything, I wanted to be in control of my Hunger. If that happened, I could run my life better. I might have to play the other people in my life off each other to get it, but I’d do it. If I controlled my magic, accepted my role as one of the Chosen, I’d be a hell of a lot more powerful. I’d have leverage. I needed leverage.

Who and what did I have? Daniel I could trust—to a point—but he might be in some kind of peril. Lane was AWOL. Hell, the only things I had right now were a good stash of candy, spelling supplies, a big ass knife, and some keys. I didn’t think the head counted unless I wanted to play a sick version of kickball.

Two of the keys belonged to my father’s houses, and I didn’t know what to do with the big, old iron one except guard it under any circumstance. Lane had gone through the trouble to spell the bag they’d been in and had hidden the knife, even warned me in the note.

I ran my finger over the surface of my cell phone and watched the timer on the dryer, letting my thoughts tumble until they formed an amalgam that might be a plausible plan.

* * *

The buzz of energy at the edge of my awareness as I left with my clean laundry meant only one thing: Mr. Darkly Handsome Spanky Pants must have missed me, because he was close by. I stopped and turned around, intent on heading in the other direction. The sensation didn’t grow, so I hoped he hadn’t noticed me. I bounced on the balls of my feet for five steps before he fell into pace beside me. Busted.

Confidant that he needed me enough to not hurt me helped calm the sick roiling in my stomach. I couldn’t bring fertility back to the vampires if I was dead. He’d make damn sure I was alive. Of course, there are different versions of living, and some of them really sucked. No way I’d let him get cozy without a fight.

I stopped at the corner and turned back toward my building. He undoubtedly knew where I lived. The set of his shoulders and face screamed with tension. I could play silent treatment just as well as the next guy, and I kept myself under control until we walked into the building. When we arrived outside my door, I looked over at him in silent challenge.

He raised a brow in return. I didn’t comment, so he stared into my eyes without speaking until I switched the laundry bag from one shoulder to the other.

Adrian raked his gaze from my head to my feet and sighed. “I came only to offer you two things: a place at my side in my court, and the life of your lover. He will not escape the one who has him now without assistance.” He plucked a stray hair from my shoulder and let it drop to the floor. “While your appearance lacks sophistication, I do think that with some grooming and etiquette lessons we can make a reasonable match. I do not care what trysts you have or lovers besides me. But you will come and take your place as my betrothed and later my wife.”