16. Chapter 16

16

Chapter 16

Rowan

" Y ou look like hell."

"God, Poppy, go away!" I groan, pulling a pillow over my head.

"Pillow's not gonna help that, Ro. Not unless you're planning to wear it all day."

"Gee, thanks," I mutter, pushing myself up. I don't know how I managed to get back to sleep, but I did. Tossing and turning fitfully until, eventually, the sun woke me up. Now, I'm feeling hollow-eyed and exhausted as I go over it all yet again.

What do I do?

I sit cross-legged in the middle of my bed, staring out of the window, ignoring the antics of my annoying familiar. My fingers stray to that spot on my throat. When they reach it, I frown, probing a little.

What on earth?

Clambering up, I lean over my dressing table and examine my neck in the mirror.

"It's gone!" Relief floods me. At least…I think it does.

Of course it does!

"What's gone?" Poppy hops onto the dressing table beside me.

"I… Nothing." I peer at the smooth, unmarred skin where I could have sworn there'd been a vampire bite just a few hours ago. Poppy peers, too, looking perplexed. There's no sign of it. Not even a hint of pink.

Oh, thank God!

It was part of the dream. Had to have been. Although, was it really? Did I really wake up from a dream within a dream and convince myself that I'd had sex with a vampire and let him bite me?

Asked him, Rowan. You asked him to do it, remember?

I fight back a groan as another flood of memories washes over me. Firm lips against my skin, strong hands moving over my body, and—

Stop it!

"You're acting strange. More strange, I mean." Poppy is staring at me. "Wanna talk about it?"

She's right. I have to speak to someone. This is too much to handle alone. But who can I trust with something so bizarre? So dangerous? Certainly not a freaking squirrel. But then who?

Kara?

My brilliant little sister's face flashes into my mind; she's always so composed and capable. But no, I can't burden her with this. She'd either think I've lost my mind or worse, she'd believe me and get tangled up in this mess.

Mom and Dad?

I almost laugh out loud at the thought. I know they'll never admit it, but they're already disappointed enough in my magical shortcomings. Telling them I'm somehow psychically linked to a vampire? That would be the final nail in the coffin of their expectations.

Not Mom or Dad or Kara or Poppy… Who else is left?

Gran!

The thought comes suddenly, and with it, a sense of calm. If anyone would understand, it's her. Gran's always been the one to listen without judgment, to offer wisdom without lecturing.

But what if she thinks I'm crazy? Or worse, what if I drag her into some sort of disaster? The memory of the vampire attack at Mia's vigil is still fresh.

"Are you going to let me in on the secret?" Poppy persists. I shake my head, then sink onto the edge of my bed, burying my face in my hands.

"I need to figure some things out," I say, my voice muffled by my palms. The weight of this secret is crushing me. I need help, guidance, anything to make sense of what's happening.

"I can help." The squirrel hops onto the bed beside me.

"Poppy, all of your advice involves acorns or nuts."

"Pretty appropriate, don't you think?" Her beady eyes twinkle when I glare at her. "Coz you're nuts. Get it?"

"Heaven help me!" Taking a deep breath, I stand up. Gran, it is. She's seen more in her lifetime than most of us can imagine. If anyone can help me navigate this nightmare, it's her.

I grab my purse and car keys and head for the door, my determination building with every step. By the time I reach the front door of my grandmother's home, I'm feeling much better.

It doesn't last long.

"Rowan?" Gran's eyes are sharp as she opens the front door. "What's wrong, darling?" she asks before I've even opened my mouth to speak.

I respond by immediately disintegrating into tears. "Oh, Gran!" I choke.

"Come in, sweetheart." She guides me inside, shutting the door behind us. "Can't have you out there weeping on my doorstep, can we?"

I sniffle, feeling pathetic all over again as she leads me through the house to her kitchen. I feel myself settle again, surrounded by the familiar sounds and fragrances. The kettle is soon boiling, and herbs scent the air.

Within minutes, I'm seated at Gran's kitchen island, cradling a steaming mug of chamomile tea. The modern stainless-steel appliances contrast with bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling and jars of mysterious ingredients lining the shelves. The scent of rosemary and sage mingles with the tea's soothing aroma.

Gran rests against the counter, elegant as ever, in a cream lounge suit and oversized jewelry that jangles as she moves. Her eyes fix on me. "Now, tell me what's troubling you, darling."

I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. "I think I have some kind of psychic connection with someone," I speak quickly, stumbling over the words, half afraid I'll lose my nerve before I can finish.

Her eyebrows furrow, but she remains silent, waiting for me to continue.

"It's…it's a vampire," I whisper huskily.

Gran's eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't interrupt.

"I can hear his thoughts sometimes, and he can hear mine. We've even…we've even met in person." I look down at my mug, studiously avoiding her gaze.

"Oh my…" She exhales a long breath. I wait for her to tell me what a fool I am, but she doesn't. "And you say he can hear your thoughts? Has he…has he tried to influence you in any way?"

"No," I say quickly. "At least, I don't think so. It's more like…we just stumble into each other's minds sometimes."

After a moment of silence, Gran speaks. "This vampire, do you know who he is?"

I shake my head. "Not really. I only know his name is Darick. He seems…old. Ancient, even."

"Darick." Gran's expression grows troubled. "One of the ancients. Oh dear."

"Is…is that bad?" I gnaw on my lip.

"It's not good, Rowan." She rubs her forehead, which is smooth and unlined beneath her platinum hair. My grandmother has always been a beautiful woman, and I think she will remain one until the day her magic decides to take her to the stars. At 77, it doesn't look like that's going to happen anytime soon. Thank God.

"Not good?" I press.

"Okay, it's bad." Gran's chest heaves. "Lord Darick Drake. Leader of the Sanguinistas. He's powerful, darling. Ruthless, hard. Not someone you'd want in your world. He has to be…at least a thousand years old."

A thousand years? Talk about the ultimate age gap!

What are you thinking, Rowan? This isn't some sort of romance novel.

And who even mentioned romance?

"I'm in shit, aren't I?" I say.

"Well, that depends." My grandmother taps a silvery fingernail against her bottom lip. "The older ones are unpredictable. Politically motivated."

"He doesn't seem political." Although I guess I'm not one to judge. "Just a bit of an asshole, really." Not to mention a bastard bloodsucker.

Gran is still thinking. "How far does this thing go? Can you lock him out?"

"I've tried. I think I can sometimes. But not always." My breath shudders as I suck it in. "He was there when we had the meeting, Gran. And I'm so…so worried that he might have heard us planning Mia's vigil." My voice is tormented.

Gran's shoulders sag a little, but there's no disappointment in her expression. Only concern.

"Don't let yourself think that way, Rowan. He may not have heard anything of importance. I'm sure that attack had nothing to do with you." But even though she tries to reassure me as she voices my fears, I can't fight down the feeling of being responsible. "So you've heard his voice. And you met him?"

"Just once. Nothing happened." Liar. "He wanted to find a way to cut the connection. I did, too."

"I wish you hadn't put yourself in danger like that, darling." Gran exhales a sigh. "You should have come to me…but that's in the past. I'm guessing it didn't work."

I shake my head. "We couldn't figure out what's going on." I should tell her about the kiss.

No. I can't even think about it.

"There's more to this, isn't there?" Nothing gets by my grandmother.

"Yes, when I'm asleep he—"

"Asleep?" my gran says sharply. "He comes to you in your sleep?"

I nod slowly. "I… I had a dream, Gran. But not just a dream. It felt real, and I think…" I don't know what to think, so I stop.

"What happened in your dream?"

I feel my cheeks flush and look away. "It was…intense. Vivid. And when I woke up, it's like…like it might have been real."

"What makes you think that?" Gran's eyes are astute.

"I had… There was a-a bite mark on my…my neck, Gran." I stumble over the words, touching my throat as I speak. She sucks in a breath, moving swiftly to my side. "It's not there anymore. I could have just imagined it," I add, lifting my hair. "But still…there was…"

"It was there," she whispers, her fingers smooth and warm as they trace a spot on my skin. "Fuck."

I swallow hard. My grandmother never curses.

"How did it go away? Was it some sort of supernatural healing?" I ask.

"He met you in the dream realm. What happens there can be real if the circumstances are right. But it seldom translates into our earthly plane." Gran's tone has grown contemplative. "We need help with this. And I know just the person." She reaches for my arm, determination on her features. "We need to go to her. We need to go right now."