Poison Fruit (22 page)

He closed his eyes in frustration. “I’m just trying to do what’s right for my clan.”

“I know.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of his bathrobe, balling them into fists. “I get it—I do. I just wasn’t expecting to be slapped in the face with it the first thing this morning. So if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll skip breakfast. Just give me a minute to get my things and I’m out of here.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, I turned and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. I changed into yesterday’s clothes, belted
dauda-dagr
around my waist, and shoved my pajamas and toothbrush into my overnight bag. My dramatic exit was somewhat spoiled by the fact that I had to hunt around for the hex charm, but I finally found it under the couch in the living room where it had rolled after Cody had hurled it.

Cody stood before the front door; not exactly blocking it, but not making it easy to pass, either. “Daisy, look. We can talk about this.”

“We
have
talked about it.” I pushed past him, reaching for the doorknob. “There’s nothing left to say.”

Halfway down the walk to his driveway, I changed my mind. Cody looked at me in wary surprise as I reentered the house.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” I said to him. “Jen said something last week that made me think. Maybe you and I can’t have kids, but it’s not like there aren’t thousands of couples struggling with the exact same problem. You don’t just ditch someone because they might have fertility issues. And hell, we don’t even know for sure, do we? Maybe there are medical solutions that didn’t exist years ago. Outside of paranormal romance novels, I’m guessing there aren’t any case studies on hell-spawn/werewolf cross-breeding. What if we
could
have kids, just not werewolf kids? I’m not even saying I want kids,” I added. “I mean, at least not right now. But interracial couples deal with that kind of thing all the time. Do you think Sinclair would have broken things off with me because of the possibility that our babies might have looked more like their white mom than their black dad?”

Cody winced. “That’s a low blow, Daise. Race in humans is mostly an artificial construct. Humans are all the same under their skin. We’re
not
. And if we don’t mate within our race, it
will
vanish.”

“Tell me, is that a big problem in this day and age?” I gestured toward his laptop in the other room. “When you can use the lycanthropic version of Match.com to set up a transcontinental mixer?”

His jaw tightened. “It’s a problem if we
don’t
, Daisy.”

“All of you, sure,” I agreed. “But we’re not talking about the entire werewolf community. We’re just talking about you and me, Cody. Or is there an epidemic of werewolves developing feelings for someone their clan would consider an unsuitable mate? Because there aren’t a lot of other hell-spawns running around and I seem to remember you telling me relationships with humans don’t even count.”

Cody drew a sharp breath, nostrils flaring. “It’s not just the survival of the race! Do I have to say it? There’s a huge part of my life, of who I
am
, that you could never, ever share. That’s not fair to either of us.”

“Yeah, Jen said something about that, too,” I murmured. “What if you were a marathon runner and I was in a wheelchair? Would that be a deal breaker?”

He snarled, eyes flashing green. “It’s not the same thing!” Cody
thumped one fist on his bare chest, his upper lip curling back from his teeth. “I am me, and so is the wolf. The other day in the woods, you
blamed the wolf for keeping us apart. You don’t understand. The wolf
is
me. And no matter how well you think you know the man, you can never know the wolf.”

I held my ground. “How can you be sure? Has your wolf-self ever tried to connect with a human? What about Kevin Costner in
Dances with Wolves
? What about that guy in the documentary who lived with grizzly bears?”

“Ah, God, Daisy!” Cody let out a ragged gasp of despairing laughter. “
Dances with Wolves
was a work of pure fiction. And that guy in the documentary? The grizzly bears
killed
him.”

Crap. I hadn’t actually watched the documentary; I just remembered seeing it on a shelf at the library.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Bad examples. My point is that it’s possible that our problems aren’t insurmountable. Maybe they are. Maybe your clan is right. But we’ll never know, because we never tried.”

Cody sighed. “Daisy, I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but clan lore has the wisdom of centuries of experience on its side, passed down from generation to generation. I’m just trying to spare us both a world of hurt.”

“Yeah?” I said. “And how’s that working out for you so far?”

“Not so good,” he admitted.

“Me either.” I settled the strap of my overnight bag on my shoulder. “All right, I’m going. I’ve said my piece. At least the citizens of Pemkowet can sleep easier at night,” I added. “Good work, partner.”

Cody gazed at me with profound regret, but he didn’t try to stop me from leaving. “You, too.”

This time, I didn’t turn back.

Twenty-two

T
hings settled down in the aftermath of the Night Hag attacks. There were a few more false reports, but those tapered off quickly. People in Pemkowet placed a lot of trust in Chief Bryant. If he said the Night Hag was gone for good, that was a promise you could take to the bank.

Of course, there was no guarantee that another Night Hag might decide Pemkowet looked like a nice place for a getaway, but I was hoping that Gruoch’s negative testimonial would help dissuade others. And I actually had a reasonably civilized meeting with Stacey Brooks in her capacity as the PVB’s recently appointed head of online promotion regarding tweaking the wording on the website so it didn’t constitute an open invitation to all and sundry, especially predatory members of the eldritch community.

I left Stacey mulling over new taglines like “There are no strangers in Pemkowet, only friends we haven’t met yet.” Cheesy, yes; safer, definitely.

Needless to say, I returned Sinclair’s hex charm to him for disabling the same day I left Cody’s place. Whatever he did to undo it worked. I didn’t have the nightmare in all its immediate visceral sense of reality again.

But it hung over me.

Whatever I did, wherever I went, the memory of that nightmare hung over me like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over my thoughts.

Stefan called me from Poland the day after I dealt with the Night Hag, asking delicately if all was well. I should have known he’d have sensed my terror, though I hadn’t been sure how well our one-way
emotional bond held up with an ocean between us. Apparently, just fine. I gave him a brief rundown on the whole Night Hag affair without going into the particulars of my nightmare.

“You did well to bind her,” Stefan said to me, his faint Eastern European accent more pronounced than usual. “I am glad the situation is resolved.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Me, too. How about you? How’s your . . . situation?”

“I believe the matter is settled,” he said. “I will remain a while longer to be certain.” Stefan hesitated. “You may recall that I spoke of the possibility of asking a favor of you upon my return.”

Actually, I’d totally forgotten. “Of course.”

“I fear it will come to pass.” He sounded somber. “And I wish you to know in advance that I do not ask it lightly.”

“Stefan, I don’t think you do
anything
lightly,” I said. “You’ve done me plenty of favors. Of course I’d be happy to do you one in return.”

“Do not be so swift to make assurances you may not wish to keep,” he said. “Not until you know what I ask of you.”

I sighed. “Oh, for God’s sake! Enough with the cryptic eldritch crap. Can’t you just tell me?”

“Forgive me.” There was a hint of amusement in his tone. “It was not my intention to subject you to
cryptic eldritch crap
. But it is a grave thing I mean to ask of you in your role as Hel’s liaison, Daisy.” Any trace of levity vanished. “And it is a matter best discussed in person. I merely wished to forewarn you.”

“Okay,” I said, doing my best to conceal a rising sense of apprehension. “Consider me forewarned.”

Stefan laughed softly; a tired laugh but a genuine one. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

I found myself flushing. “Yours, too. I miss you.” Oh, crap. Had I really said that? Yes, I had. Did I mean it? Yeah, actually, I think I did. “Do you have any idea when you’ll be back?”

“Next week, perhaps.” He paused again. “May I ask if your circumstances have changed since we parted?”

“My circumstances . . . oh.” Duh. If Stefan had felt my terror, he’d
felt the rush of unbridled lust that followed it. My face got hotter. “No, that was just an, um, heat-of-battle kind of thing.”

“Then I look forward to resuming our . . . conversation,” he said. “Your existence in this world gladdens my heart, Daisy.”

Whoa.

“Thanks,” I said, feeling awkward, but sincere. “I really needed to hear something like that right about now. But you probably knew that, didn’t you?”

He gave another soft laugh. “Perhaps. But that does not render the sentiment any less true. Take care.”

“You, too.”

So that was the situation with Stefan—infuriatingly cryptic, disturbingly intimate, distinctly apprehension-making, yet definitely intriguing.

Then there was the Cody situation, or the Cody nonsituation. I wasn’t going out of my way to avoid him, but I was just as glad that our paths didn’t cross in the days following the Night Hag incident. Maybe it wasn’t fair of me to feel betrayed by his correspondence with Stephanie the werewolf in Seattle—if I had a Stefan in my life, he ought to be entitled to a Stephanie—but I couldn’t help the way I felt. And somehow it was worse knowing Cody
did
have feelings for me—just not strong enough feelings to override his loyalty to his clan.

Maybe that was as it should be, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I talked it out with Jen. It’s not like there was anything she could do about it, but she gave me plenty of sympathy and a hearty “You go, girl,” for having said my piece to Cody, which is all I wanted anyway. Well, that and the dish on her situation with Lee, about which she was a lot less forthcoming. The only reason I knew she was going to Thanksgiving dinner at his mother’s house was because she turned down an invitation to join me at Mom’s.

“It’s not like it’s a big deal,” Jen said dismissively. “I’m just helping out because of his mom’s arthritis.”

“First Sinclair, now you,” I said. “Okay, tell me this. Are you going as Lee’s date or as his mom’s helper?”

“I don’t know.” Jen made a face. “A little of both, maybe. His mom’s
weird about having people over, but she’s comfortable with me since I helped take care of her when Lee’s arm was broken. And it’s a good excuse to get out of dinner with my family.”

“Let me put it this way,” I said. “Are you getting paid for being there?”

“No.”

“Then it’s a date.” We were sprawled at opposite ends of the couch in Sinclair’s living room while he was working at the nursery. I nudged her with one foot. “Talk about weird—why are
you
being so weird about this?”

“Oh, God.” Heaving a sigh, Jen let her head flop back on the armrest. “Because it
is
weird, Daise. There’s a part of me that thinks, am I really doing this? Am I really dating
Skeletor
?”

“You can’t—”

“I know, I know.” She propped herself on her elbows and lifted her head. “High school was a long time ago. But the thing is, there’s another part of me that wonders if I’m good enough for Lee.” Jen’s gaze was uncertain and vulnerable. “I mean, Lee’s a big deal in the gaming industry. He’s a fucking
genius
, Daisy. And I clean houses for a living.”

“Jen—”

“He’s only here in Pemkowet to take care of his mom,” she continued. “While I was living with my parents, he built a whole life out in Seattle. Hell, maybe he knows Cody’s werewolf girlfriend! Lee’s been to gaming expos all over the world. Do you know the farthest place I’ve ever been from home?”

“Chicago,” I murmured.

“Chicago!” Jen echoed me. “I don’t even have a passport. I don’t
even know how you
get
a passport. Do you know what I
do
know? How to get rid of stubborn toilet bowl stains! And I just—”

“Jennifer Mary Cassopolis!” I pointed at her. “Stop it. Stop it right now. Do you
like
Lee?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “I think I do.”

“Okay,” I said. “Then that’s really all that matters, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Jen asked.

I shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s easy. But hell, at least you’re both the same species.” I softened my voice. “Lee likes you, Jen. He likes you a lot. And okay, maybe he’s overcompensating a little with the gym and the protein shakes, but you know what? You guys have a lot in common. Whatever life he built for himself in Seattle, he gave it up to take care of his mom, just like you put your life on hold to stay at home and make sure Brandon was safe.”

For the record, Brandon was Jen’s little brother; only twelve years old, a change-of-life baby. Until recently, Jen had continued living at home to protect him from their abusive father. If you’re wondering what changed, that would be the miraculous transformation of Bethany Cassopolis from a whiny, clingy blood-slut to a badass vampire bitch who threatened to drink her father dry if he ever laid a hand on his wife or children again. So far, it had proved an effective threat.

“That’s true,” Jen agreed.

“You’re a good friend,” I said firmly. “You’re my
best
friend, Jen. You’re smart, funny, gorgeous, and loyal as hell. I’m glad you like Lee. I like him, too. But do not for one instant even begin to think that you’re not good enough for him. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good.” I rearranged myself on my end of the couch. “So that’s settled. Let’s get to the juicy stuff. Any fooling around? Have you at least kissed?”