Nightshade (36 page)

His gaze stayed on the books, fingers twitching.

“Just leave it, Shay.”

“But—”

“There isn’t anything you can do about it,” I said. “You’ll only get angry. Now close the case.”

He muttered something under his breath, but he closed the bookcase and locked it.

“Do you have another order for me, O great alpha?”

“Don’t be a jerk.” I waved my hand at the floor-to-ceiling books that filled the library. “We have enough work to do without you turning our research sessions into a soap opera.”

“A soap opera?” He stared at me and then darted forward, wrapping his arms around me. I could feel his body shaking.

“Shay?”

It took me another minute to realize he was laughing. A smile pulled at my lips and I began to laugh too. Tears dripped along my cheeks, my belly began to ache, but my smile widened. We lay side by side, the sound of our laughter bouncing off the stone floor and echoing through the immense space of Rowan Estate’s library.

Before Shay, I’d never laughed like this, so giddy and free, my body shaking with joy instead of anger. But even as I let the laughs lift me up, I couldn’t help wondering if the union meant he’d soon be gone and with him the chance of ever feeling this way again.

A STARTLED CLUSTER OF PIGEONS DROPPED
from the eaves above the stained glass windows. At the sudden rustle of wings and ripple of shadows against the colored glass, I jumped up, knocking my chair over.

Shay yawned, stretching. “Calla, you need to stop freaking out every time there’s a noise.”

“I’m just being cautious.” I picked up the chair, waiting for my heart to slow.

“It’s fine for us to be here.” He turned a page. “I’d say my suggestion was brilliant if we’d actually found something useful.”

I scanned the index of
Sign and Symbols in Human Culture.
“It is getting a little frustrating. Not one of the crosses I’ve read about sounds like your tattoo.”

We both looked at the stacks of books strewn up and down the table.
Nothing. We’re finding nothing. This is useless.
Frustrated and exhausted, I folded my arms, letting my forehead rest against them.

“I think we’re back to square one.” Shay slammed a massive art history text shut.

“And where exactly is square one?” I turned to look at him.

“Translating the book.” He pushed the art book aside, pulling
The War of All Against All
back in front of him.

“You’re probably right about the book.” I rolled my head back and forth, working out the kinks in my neck. “But maybe you should skip ahead.”

“Huh?” He was already flipping through the pages.

“Instead of the beginning, look at the end,” I said. “You said the woman sang to you the last lines of the text and then sang ‘Here rests Haldis.’ So, maybe it’s the final section of the book we should read and not the beginning. You said it was the shortest anyway, so at least it will go faster.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” he said, opening the book from its back cover.

I went back to staring at woodcuts of medieval crosses on the page that lay open before me. Shay cleared his throat. I looked up, but his eyes were fixed on the Keeper’s text.

“So there was something I wanted to ask you.”

I frowned at the artificially casual note in his voice. “Yeah?”

“I’ve overheard a lot of talk at school recently about this thing called Blood Moon.” He picked up the Latin dictionary, fiddling with its pages but not really looking at it. “I guess it’s only a few days away now.”

“Yep.”
Don’t go there, Shay. Please. Please.

“What’s it all about?” He leaned back in his chair.

“Oh,” I said with a measure of relief. “Um, let’s see. It’s called the Blood Moon Ball, but everyone just says Blood Moon for short. It’s kind of a weird event, like a Halloween party mashed up with a cotillion. The parents of the human boarders come in for the event before they drag their kids back home for fall break. There’s always a chamber orchestra, lots of booze, and they don’t ID anyone. It’s ridiculous but generally fun. If you’re connected to the school, student or parent, you’re invited. The adults tend to drink a lot, talk about their stock portfolios, and write checks to the school. The students also drink a lot and dance in fancy clothes they’ll never wear again.”

“Why is it called Blood Moon?” he asked.

I flexed my fingers like talons. “Because it’s held on the first full moon after the harvest moon. That moon is called the blood moon.”

He stood up and walked to the window, watching leaves drop like rain. “But why blood?”

“Because the full moon gives the best light for hunting at this time of year.” My limbs twitched at the thought of a hunt. “It’s the time of the Great Hunt. The blood moon is also known as the hunter’s moon. This year it’s on October thirty-first. It’s late for blood moon, but that’s when it will happen.”

He turned to look at me. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just call it a Halloween ball? Or do your masters object to stashes of mini- candy bars?”

My mind stuck on the image of Logan trick-or-treating for a second; I wondered what he would dress as. “No. It’s Samhain, remember. Halloween isn’t the real holiday. The Keepers are suckers for the old ways, their traditions. So it’s the Blood Moon Ball; it always has been.” As soon as I mentioned traditions, my stomach cramped.

“And everyone goes? Not just the humans?” He sounded more nervous now.

I nodded and eyed him warily, suspicious of his changing tone. “It’s a good party. Everyone goes. Blood Moon and prom are pretty much the only events that the entire student body socializes at together. I think they exist only to give the humans some marker of normalcy at our school.”

He drummed out a quick rhythm on the tabletop, and then his words tumbled out. “So, I know it’s
really
short notice, but I hope you’ll forgive me for being a guy and not thinking about this stuff in advance. Would you like to go with me?”

My stomach toppled into my shoes. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of.

“Calla?” I didn’t want to look at him. “Are you going to answer me?”

“I can’t,” I said quietly, glancing at him.

He leaned against the table, his mouth cutting into an unfriendly smile. “Why not?”

“I’ll be with Ren. I’m going to Blood Moon with him, but only for an hour or two. That’s the same night as our union.” I concentrated on the page in front of me. “Just drop it.”

“I can’t take the union seriously, Cal,” he snapped. “You and your wolf prince mated for all eternity because somebody else says it’s the way things have to be. It’s bullshit and you know it. And Ren doesn’t even realize how lucky he is to have you; he’s too busy screwing all the other girls at school.”

“He is not! Would you lay off Ren for once?” I sat up, glaring at him. “You’ve been hanging out with us almost every day and he’s been perfectly respectful, despite what you pulled at Burnout and the puppy eyes you constantly throw at me.”

“Puppy eyes?!” Shay blurted, and lurched to his feet. He shoved his chair aside, slamming books into his backpack.

“Shay.” I wrapped my arms around my waist, feeling sick again.

“At least I know how you really feel about me.” His voice shook as he jerked at the zipper of the bag.

Then I was on my feet, my hand covering his. “Stop, please. That’s not how I—” My voice choked off; I knew that sentence was impossible to complete.

“Not how you what?” He grasped my hand, pulling me close. His other hand cupped my face and his thumb stroked my cheek, sending curls of heat beneath my skin. I pulled back and fled to my chair, shaking my head.

“Please don’t. I can’t.”

I swore as I swept away hot trickling tears from my cheeks. I didn’t know what was wrong with me; I never used to cry and now I was constantly fighting off tears.

“Calla.” When I looked up at him, I saw how horrified he was that I was crying. “God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

We returned to our work in strained silence. Shay put in earbuds, blasting music so loud I heard the scream of guitars from where I sat.

The sky behind the stained glass windows was ink black when Shay abruptly pulled the earbuds out. I looked up at him questioningly.

“The union is the night of Samhain?” he asked. “The same night as the ball?”

“Come on, Shay.” I rubbed my temples. “I really can’t talk about this anymore.”

“No, it’s not about you.” He gestured to the Keeper’s text. “It’s about the date.”

“Yes, the union will happen at Samhain,” I replied with a frown. “October thirty-first.”

The furrow of his brow deepened. “And why is it then?”

“Well, it’s one of the eight Sabbats—the days of power for the Keepers,” I said. “Samhain is one of the strongest Sabbats.”

He tapped his fingers on the pages. “When the veil between the worlds thins. I remember you saying that.”

I nodded and he looked back at his notes; his expression grew worried.

“What is it?”

“It’s kind of ironic. There’s a ritual involving the Scion that is supposed to happen the night of Samhain. I’m not sure what exactly it is, but it seems to be the event that this whole section,
Praenuntiatio volubilis,
is focused on. There’s a word I’m having trouble with; it means ‘gift’ or something similar. The context it’s in is really strange.”

“Gift?” I repeated.

“Or something,” he said, turning back to the dictionary. “Whatever it means, the Scion is connected to your holiday.”

“It’s not really my holiday, Shay, it’s just the day the Keepers picked for the union,” I said. “You’re saying their book describes you being there too?”

“Well, that’s the thing. What I’m reading here doesn’t seem like it’s about a union. I’m not sure what it is,” he said. “A lot about two worlds and darkness. And there are several references to the Scion. It mentions some kind of gathering that has to do with this ‘gift,’ but I’m having trouble making sense of it.”

“So how do we figure out what it means?” I asked.

“Maybe
you
need to dump the search for my tattoo and read more about Samhain, find out what other kinds of rites might take place other than your much-anticipated union.”

“Ren said something interesting about Samhain last week,” I said.

He glanced at me. “So we’re sharing information with Ren now?”

“Not about our . . . project; I’m just trying to find out more about the Sabbat myself,” I replied. I felt like I was going into the ceremony blindfolded and I hated it. “Anyway, he said that it’s a dangerous time. That the spirit world is unpredictable because it’s more powerful when the veil thins.”

“How does Ren know anything about that?” he grumbled.

“Lay off, Shay,” I snapped. “His mother was killed by Searchers during an attack that happened on Samhain. That’s why he knows.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He tapped his pen on the table. “Searchers killed Ren’s mother?”

“Yeah.”

“How old was he?”

“It was on his first birthday,” I said.

“Man, that sucks,” he said. “Though it does explain a lot about him.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, getting up from the table and heading for the stacks. “We should get back to work.”

THE NEXT MORNING SHAY WANDERED INTO
homeroom with a haunted expression on his face. When the bell ending the period rang, I waved Bryn off, heading over to Shay, who remained at his desk and watched me approach.

“Hey, Cal.” Dark shadows lay under his eyes; it looked like he hadn’t slept at all. “Can I convince you to skip your next class?”

“If it’s important,” I replied, fear settling in my bones.

I walked alongside him to the school’s student lounge, which was quiet and empty. He sat down, pulling up another chair next to him. When I sat down, he put his face in his hands and sat silently for a moment.