Broken Heart Tails (9 page)

“Ah, yes. Our emotional state changes the composition of our blood. When we’re angry or terrified, it becomes toxic. It’s a defense mechanism.”

“Does heat aggravate your powers?” asked Patsy.

“Libby was nearest to the fireplace the first time it manifested,” pointed out Gabriel. “And the next time, she was dealing with dragon fire.”

Cullen nodded. “Yes. Heat triggers our abilities more quickly. We prefer to live in hot, humid environments for that very reason.”

“Does it work the other way?” asked Stan. “If Libby is calm and happy, can her blood heal the one she’s injured?”

“Yes,” said Cullen, sounding almost pleased. “That is exactly how it works.”

“So we get Libby into her happy place and then transfuse Patrick with her blood?” Patsy seemed less than thrilled with the idea. I didn’t blame her. All we had was Cullen’s word that it would work.

“We’ve tried damned near everything else,” said Patsy. “We really don’t have much to lose.” She looked at me, and I felt the weight of her queenly stare. “Except for Patrick and Jessica.”

* * * * *

Mom, Dad, Cullen, Zane, Stan, and Ralph, apparently my ex-advocate as well as my ex-lover, opted to stay at the diner. Ralph offered to grill veggie burgers for Mom and Dad, and Stan proceeded to grill the aliens about their planet, culture, and science.

I went with Patsy and Gabriel. We drove in the black Jaguar toward the other end of town.

“So,” said Patsy. “You’re an alien.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s so weird.”

“No kidding.”

Coming to grips with my alien heritage took a back seat to fighting my heartbreak. Ralph had barely looked at me, much less tried to kiss me good-bye. He’d made sure he was already on the way to the kitchen before I could even scoot out of the booth.

I just didn’t want to think about it anymore. “Ralph said you had information about the dragon, the real one.”

“Ash tracked it to its cave, but it disappeared. However, she told us that the dragon is a shape-shifting dark mage named Synd. He was magically imprisoned by the Convocation—and no, I don’t know who the hell they are. Anyway, Lia tracked him down, released his scaly hide, and enlisted him to her cause. Or so she thought.

“Ash thinks Synd has bigger, badder plans. She thinks Lia set the fires in Tulsa. She targeted businesses owned by vampires and werewolves. All but the last one. Synd fried the hotel because he was trying to kill the one person who can kill him.”

So Ash had been staying at the hotel. I figured her more a Motel 6 kind of girl.

“Ash isn’t exactly Mother Theresa,” I said.

“She’s an assassin,” said Gabriel. “And the only one of her kind.”

“And what kind is that?” I asked.

“She’s a soul shifter. She absorbs the souls, and the forms, of the people she … er, releases from the bonds of Earth,” said Patsy. She looked at me over her shoulder, her gaze filled with disgust. “The sooner she catches her dragon, the better for us. She has to take a soul every ninety days, no matter what. Believe me, you don’t want to be near her when that shit goes down.”

I had no plans to be near her or the dragon. My life in Tulsa was gone, which was just as well. Since Ralph didn’t seem to want me anymore, it was probably best just to return to PRIS with Mom and Dad. It was a relief, in a way, to go back to my old life. I could stop trying to be normal. Normal was way overrated.

“I hate to go Peter Pan on you,” said Patsy. “But you need to start thinking happy thoughts. Your Patrick’s only chance now.”

“Okay,” I said, sniffling. Tears fell. Ack! This was so not the mindset needed for healing the vampire I’d hurt. “I’m sorry. About everything.”

“Well, now, we haven’t exactly been hospitable … or, in some cases, reasonable.” She paused. “I’m surprised you stayed. I mean, if I’da been in your shoes, I would’ve hot-footed right out of town.”

“I had a reason to stay.”

“Maybe that’s your happy thought, then.”

* * *  *  *

Patrick and his wife lay in their king-sized bed with the thick covers pulled up to their chins. Both were ghastly pale, and it didn’t take a doctor to know that they weren’t doing well.

The sparkly tattooed lady … Brigid, right? Yeah. She held vigil over the two of them. Her smile was warm, even though her eyes held resignation.

“It’s a terrible thing,” she said in her Irish lilt, “to have the power of gods, and not be able to save me own grandson.”

“Libby can,” said Patsy. She nudged me forward. I walked to Patrick and looked down on his waxy, gray face. His hair was black. I wondered if the fairy named Zerina had switched it back.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Freckles falling into the toilet. Okay, that was so much as happy as inappropriately funny. Um … getting my journalism degree. Nope. Cruising the Florida Everglades while Dad played skunk ape calls. Going to Scotland so my parents could try to coax Nessie out of the loch. Watching Ralph cook in the kitchen. Watching Ralph sleep. Feeling Ralph’s hands on my skin, seeing him smile just for me.

Happiness flooded me. Patsy was right. Ralph was my happy thought. Even if we couldn’t be together, or worse, even if he didn’t want me, I couldn’t regret our time together.

I would never regret falling in love with him.

I pressed my wrist against Patrick’s lips, and I thought about Ralph. I thought about what it would be like to meet his sons, to hold their tiny hands as we walked to the park, to read them stories at bedtime, to make cookies with them.

Patrick’s fangs pierced my skin. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I guess my alien DNA kept vampire saliva from healing my wounds. I wondered what else being a freakozoid affected. Yikes. I was losing my happiness, so I thought about Ralph again.

He was so cute. Hard-working. Kind-hearted. He deserved real love. To pursue his dream of being a paramedic. To live in a safe place where he could raise his sons. He deserved sunshine.

Patrick drank and drank and drank.

I felt light-headed and started to sway. 

“That’s enough,” said Brigid. She pulled my wrist from his mouth and laid her hand over the seeping wounds. The tattoos on her hand swirled into symbols I didn’t recognize. My skin tingled.

Alien DNA might not respond to vamp spit, but it couldn’t resist the magic of a goddess.

Brigid led me to a chair and I sat, feeling woozy. I kept my gaze on Patrick’s face. We were all watching and waiting. How long would it take? A few minutes, a few hours, a few days?

Patrick opened his eyes, and the first thing he did was look at his wife. Her eyes opened, too. He kissed her tenderly, and I looked away.

* * *  *  *

We returned to the booth and got settled. A veggie burger, French fries, and orange juice awaited me. I gulped it all down and felt infinitely better. A teeny tiny part of me wanted to believe that Ralph wouldn’t have cooked for me if he didn’t care about me. Then again, he was a nice guy. I couldn’t see him slighting anyone, even if they’d—oh, I don’t know—announced they were an alien.

“It worked. Patrick and Jessica are just fine,” said Patsy, who couldn’t stop grinning. “God, I love a happy ending.”

My eyes caught Ralph’s. It was hard not to look right on him when he sitting directly across from me. His gaze dropped to the table. I guess we weren’t going to have a happy ending.

Mom hugged me. “Okay. It’s time for your birthday surprise. Cullen has brought you compensation.”

Woo. I didn’t want apologies or money or powers or anything. I wanted to be human. I wanted to be with Ralph. And if I couldn’t have him, then I wanted to get the hell out of Broken Heart.

Instead, I looked at Cullen. From his coat pocket, he took out a square box, about six inches all around, carved from a beautiful blue material. It looked about four inches deep.

“On behalf of our people,” he said formally, “I ask for your forgiveness. We want to offer you our appreciation, and thank you for your service.”

Despite my emotional turmoil, I was intrigued. I opened the box. It was filled with shiny coins the size of nickels. I didn’t recognize any of the symbols etched on the alien money.

“Um … thanks.” I handed it to my mother, and she picked up a coin and examined it. “Platinum. My goodness, Liberty, these are worth a fortune.”

“We hope you are pleased,” said Cullen. “There is one thing more.” He lifted Zane’s arm and placed it on the table. He tugged the glove off the man’s left hand.

Tattooed on the center of Zane’s hand was the circle with the two slanted lines. My heart dropped to my toes. I looked up in the empty black gaze of Zane.

“This is your second gift,” said Cullen. “Your mate.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I stared at the familiar tattoo. “W-what does that mark mean?”

“Two souls who become one,” explained Cullen. “After you mate with Zane, you will have the same symbol. It means you have bonded … I believe your word for it is ‘married.’”

“Married?” I squeaked. I couldn’t look at Ralph. My heart tripled its beat as a lead weight settled in my stomach. I had inadvertently committed the one sin Ralph couldn’t forgive: I’d taken away his choice.

“Is this what you want, Zane?” I asked. The man hadn’t said a word all day. Surely, he would have an opinion about taking a wife.

“Oh, he doesn’t talk, dear,” said Mom. “He doesn’t know our language.”

“I have to marry him
and
teach him English?” I sounded panicked and desperate, which was exactly how I felt. I looked at Cullen, but his odd eyes offered no answers. “How do you get divorced? You have to be able to unbond, right?”

Cullen considered my words. “You do not
un
bond. We mate for life.”

A wave of horror washed over me. “Wait a minute. If I don’t bond with Zane then … he never gets to mate?”

“That is so.”

“Cullen, we have a problem. We have a big problem.” I had discarded my coat before I sat down. Crap. My bra was still stuffed in Ralph’s couch. I unbuttoned my shirt enough so I could pull it down and show my mark. “I’ve already bonded.” I swallowed hard. “With Ralph.”

*  *  *  *  *

“Hiiiii,” said the zombie. “Saaaaave yooooou.”

He reached down, grabbed my right ankle, and started dragging me out of the forest. I raised my head to keep from smacking it on the ground, but even with the cushion of my thick coat, I could feel every bump. Rocks jabbed my ass and other thigh.

Ash followed, and even with her strange, jerky gait was going a lot faster than the zombie.

“Hey!” I tried to shake my ankle of his grip, but he would not be deterred. “Hey! Zombie! Please, stop. Or hurry. Either one.”

“Saaaaave yooooou,” he responded. He kept going at the same sedate pace.

Ash reached me in mere seconds. She grabbed my hands, and being much stronger than my dead knight in flaking armor, stalled his progress.

He sorta marched in place.

Ash’s blue lights crawled onto me. I started to burn from the inside. I felt pulled and twisted. My feet went numb first and the numbness climbed into my calves and inched up my thighs.

My vision stayed to gray. I was dying.

“Libby!”

Ralph’s voice. He was okay. But he’d come too late to rescue me. My vision swam, but I recognized his face. He was kneeling next to me. I felt that other people were nearby. On the other side of me, Cullen and Zane.

“What are you doing?” Ralph yelled at Ash. “You’re killing her! Stop!”

“She can’t stop.” This voice was Gabriel’s. “Why did she kill Synd and let his soul go?”

“Maybe she didn’t. There’s gotta be something we can do,” said Patsy.

I think she was the one who made the zombie let go of my foot. In a vague way, I was glad because it was bad enough I was dying. I didn’t want to pass away while a zombie held my leg up in air. I didn’t have much dignity as it was.

No one could touch me, especially not Ralph. I knew he wanted to, and I wished he could. I really wanted him to hold my hand. I wanted to feel loved … one last time.

Then suddenly, I was free.

Without Ash trying to suck the soul out of me, I could breathe again. Ralph helped me sit up then he dragged me into his quaking arms and kissed me.

“God, Libby. I thought I’d lost you.”

“W-what happened?”

Silently, he helped me turn around.

Ash was standing face-to-face with Zane. Her hands gripped his shoulders as the blue worms of light wiggled onto him.