Drake Chronicles: 02 Blood Feud (15 page)

I made sure my blood dripped everywhere, leaving a trail a blind puppy without a sense of smel could fol ow. Damn waste of blood, too. The
Hel-Blar
moved so fast I could barely hear their footsteps. I could hear them skittering though, like insects.

They were real y good at tracking.

So I’d just have to be better at escaping.

I pushed my legs as fast as they would go, until the forest blurred into smears of green and black on either side. The stench of rot hung heavy in the warm air. When I was sure they were wel and truly distracted by my flight, I bent my arm and pressed the inside against my bicep to stop the flow of blood.

The cut was already tingling warmly, which meant it was healing.

I didn’t want to leave a trail anymore though; it was time to get the hel out of here.

I slowed down slightly, in the interest of precision. I tossed the bottle aside, making sure it rol ed in the undergrowth, spil ing its bloody contents. Then I went in the opposite direction. I zigzagged a little until I was sure I was out of sight of any of my pursuers and then scrambled up an oak tree. I swung into the next tree and the next before finding a large enough branch to stand on with some confidence. I peered down into the shadowy green, searching for blue-tinted skin and needle teeth.

There were at least three
Hel-Blar
moving through the tal ferns. Acorns and twigs crunched under their feet. They weren’t trying to be quiet anymore. Their teeth flashed. One of them stopped, sniffed the air in a surprisingly delicate way.

“He’s here.”

I tightened my grip on my sword and shifted slightly. I could probably leap down and land right on his head if I timed it right.

Instead, he gurgled and turned to ash. A stake dropped into the grass where he’d been standing. His companion whirled and also crumpled. Isabeau pushed through the bushes, stopped under my tree. She looked up at me, her face unreadable.

“Don’t do that again.”

CHAPTER 13

LOGAN

I’d never seen so many dogs in my entire life.

Even though I hadn’t known what to expect, this stil wasn’t it.

There were several cave entrances, the main one guarded by two Hounds with Rottweilers. The Rottweilers were happier to see me than the Hounds. They hissed at me but they bowed their heads to Isabeau with respect.

Inside was a wide opening leading to the back and several more doorways carved into the rock on either side. Some of these were barred with black iron gates, the kind you find in old wine caves in Europe.

“Private homes,” Isabeau explained, her tone clipped. Her brow was furrowed with worry. She hurried down the main hal , down a few steps and then out onto a narrow rock ledge.

It was beautiful.

Everyone spoke of the reclusive Hounds as if they lived in holes and burrows in the ground, like badgers. But this main cavern was straight out of a Lord of the Rings movie set and it fit the name they cal ed themselves, Cwn Mamau. Lit torches and fires kept the damp away and caught the amethyst and quartz imbedded in the wal s, flickering like lightning bugs in a jar. Red ocher paintings of dogs and people with antlers and raised hands leaped in the torchlight. On our right, a waterfal fel like glass down into a pool of milky blue water. There were at least two dozen dogs, who al lifted their heads at our approach. We took the uneven stairs, which carved into a meandering trail. Isabeau practical y leaped the last few steps, running to a woman lying on a bed of furs by the underground pond.

“Kala,” she cried.

Kala was the infamous Hound shamanka who was rumored to have witch dogs and magical powers. She was also the closest thing Isabeau had to a queen, or a mother. Possibly both. The old woman had long white hair twisted into braids and dreadlocks and hung with beads made of bone carved into roses and skul s. She had blue tattoos in bold spiral patterns reaching from her left temple al the way down her arm and across her col arbone. Her eyes were so pale they were nearly colorless. There was blood on her teeth when she smiled.

“Isabeau.”

Hounds floated toward us out of the fissures and nooks like moths converging on a flame. I kept my hand on my borrowed sword, but I didn’t unsheathe it. I tried one of my most charming smiles.

Nothing.

I shifted so I wouldn’t knock Isabeau off her feet if I needed to fight.

“Is this your young man?” Kala whispered hoarsely. Isabeau flicked me a glance.

flicked me a glance.

“This is Logan Drake,” she said. “Logan, this is Kala.”

“Nice to meet you.” My training was such that I could bow and keep a grip on my weapon at the same time.

Kala cackled. There was no other word for it.

“Told you the bones never lie,” she said. I could have sworn Isabeau blushed. Magda looked at her sharply, then at me.

“What?” I asked.

“This is hardly the time,” Isabeau murmured. “And it’s not like that.”

I didn’t know what she was talking about but I very much doubted I would agree with her.

Isabeau smoothed a braid off Kala’s cheek. “Where are you hurt? What’s been done?”

Kala patted her arm. “I’l be fine. I’ve had blood and my ankle has already reset itself. You didn’t have to come back.”

“Yes, I did,” Isabeau replied fiercely. “Who did this to you?

Host?”

She sighed. “Yes. I went out to gather more mushrooms for the sacred tea and they ambushed me.”

If she needed mushroom tea, I nearly said, she could have bought some from anyone wandering the al eys in Violet Hil at night, and some of the farmsteads as wel . Violet Hil was nothing if not a progressive hippie town.

“Did you go alone?” Isabeau frowned. “You know you should take someone with you. Kala, you’re no good in a fight.” I was surprised to hear that. I’d assume the leader of such a ferocious tribe would be deadly with every weapon imaginable.

“Just because I’m a vampire doesn’t mean I’m a warrior,” Kala said to me. She clearly had other talents, like mind reading.

“Did you recognize any of them?” Magda asked.

Kala tried to sit up, settling instead against the back of a huge black dog of indeterminate breed. “No, there were a few of them. Their auras were strange and it distracted me. Dogs ran them off before I could get a good look. Hel o, old boy,” she added when Charlemagne licked the side of her face. “They could have staked me. They chose not to.”

Isabeau sat back on her heels. “
Merde
.” She met my eyes grimly. I had to fight the urge to put my hand on her shoulder for comfort. She’d probably break my arm if I tried. Damned if that didn’t make me like her even more. I was total y screwed. “If they didn’t want to kil Kala, then they meant to create a distraction.”

“And to get us out of the royal caves and in the path of that
Hel-Blar
trap.”

“I don’t like being yanked about like a marionette,” Isabeau said darkly.

“I didn’t think you would,” I said dryly.

She rose to her feet. “Are you sure you’re al right?” Isabeau asked Kala.

Kala nodded. “I’l be fine.”

“Then I have to go and think,” she said, mostly to herself, before stalking off, Charlemagne at her side as always.

Magda went to fol ow her but Kala stopped her. “Leave her be,” she said, but she was looking at me.

“You stink of cow,” Kala murmured to us. “What on earth have you been doing?”

“We were caught in a trap,” Magda said bitterly. She raised her voice, turning to glare at me. “By his people.” Hounds al turned to me, baring their teeth. I was pitiful y aware of my single set of fangs. I narrowed my eyes at Magda.

I’d been raised to be nice to girls on principle but I stil real y wanted to kick her. I felt sure Byron or Shel ey would have wanted to also.

“We didn’t set the damn trap,” I snapped. “Why would I go waltzing to a death trap if I knew it was there?”

“You weren’t meant to be there at al ,” she said. “Your family could have set it without you knowing it.”

“The Drakes didn’t send the
Hel-Blar
after you.” I seethed, my temper prickling. “We’ve treated you with every courtesy. I’m the one who was marked by some creepy-ass Hound spel .” It was funny how sharp silence could be, like a needle scraping against your skin.

Kala pushed herself up so she was sitting against a large rock painted with triple spirals.

“What mark, boy?”

“The dog paw,” I told her. I was beginning to feel real concern.

I hadn’t had much time to think about it with the
Hel-Blar
attack and I kind of assumed it was just a scare tactic. I kept forgetting that this magic stuff might actual y work.

Not a pleasant realization, actual y.

“Do you have it on you?” Kala asked. Her eyes glittered, like ice breaking on a pond in spring.

“No.”

“That wil make it harder to break, but not impossible. Are you sure it was meant for you?”

“Isabeau said it had her mark on it.”

“Are you accusing Isabeau?” Magda asked, incensed. “Do you see what royal loyalty is worth,” she spat.

“I never accused Isabeau,” I ground out. “I didn’t even know it was her mark until she told me.”

But she was already swinging her fist at me and it nearly col ided. Disgusted surprise slowed my reflexes. She clipped my ear and I swung back and around. I didn’t punch her, as punching girls, even crazy ones, wasn’t cool. But I did trip her and I felt damn good about it.

“What the hel is your problem now?” I yel ed at her.

“Isabeau is too good for you!” she yel ed back. “And you’l take her away from us to live in your stupid royal house.” I was too stunned to duck the next blow. I barely felt it.

“I’m taking Isabeau home?” I echoed. “She forgot to tel me that part.”

“Just like she forgot to tel
me
the bones said she’d find her mate in the royal family.” She tried to snap my kneecap with her foot but I shoved her away.

“You’re nuts,” I told her. I couldn’t deny I was intrigued though, couldn’t deny I liked the idea of Isabeau promising herself to me and me to her. Even though I knew she was too prickly and independent to love me just because her shamanka told her to.

Stil .

“Wil you read the bones for me?” I asked Kala, ducking an empty urn Magda threw at my head. It broke into pieces against the wal . One of the dogs chased the shards, hoping for a treat.

Kala wheezed a laugh.

“Come here, boy.” She pul ed a handful of painted bones out of a pouch at her belt. They looked like a cross between rune stones and spirals. I couldn’t decipher them at al . She handed them to me. “Shake them in your cupped hands and then toss them on the ground between these two crystals.” She thunked down two crystals.

“Kala, you’re not wel ,” Magda protested. “The royal pain can wait.”

She had a point, much as I hated to admit it.

Kala only waved that away. “Throw!” she barked at me. I threw mostly out of reflex, the sharp whip of her voice startling me. Why were al the old ladies I knew so damn scary?

The bones tumbled and scattered on the dusty ground.

To Kala apparently they told a story. Some of the other Hounds edged closer, craning their heads for a better look.

There were murmurs, a gasp. Magda scowled as if I’d just kicked a puppy. Kala nodded smugly.

“You see now? You al see. This is the boy.” I didn’t see anything at al .

“You’l run with the dogs,” she assured me, as if that was helpful. Then she coughed, bloody spittle on her lips.

“Leave her alone now,” Magda snapped at me, gathering the

“Leave her alone now,” Magda snapped at me, gathering the stones up for Kala and turning her back to block me.

CHAPTER 14

LOGAN

I found Isabeau sitting on a rocky outcrop under the stars and a stunted pine tree. I climbed up toward her, dislodging pebbles under my boots. There was a behemoth sitting on her left, al fur and immensity.

“What the hel is that?” I asked.

“It’s a dog,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“Isabeau, that’s not a dog, that’s a moose.” She half smiled. “He’s an English mastiff. His name is Ox-Eye.”