Moon Child (15 page)

“I can feed them,” Tristan said plainly.

“No,” Ash said quickly, taking her hand back. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh come on—Look, you don’t have to sink fang into me to have a bite.” He lifted his arm to show them. See, already bleeding. Damn, it was starting to ache now.

She licked her lips as she remembered the taste of his blood on them. The taste she sampled in Audric’s home was nothing like the shock of waking up in that dungeon later to find that not only had she lived but that her mouth was full of Tristan’s blood. And Tristan’s blood, it wasn’t right and yet it was still dangerously seductive.

“We don’t want a bloody drop from a traitor,” Desmond said sounding more childish than fierce. “Neither of their lot.” Never mind that he had a taste of Mamoru earlier. The problem was, he liked it too much.

“Look, there’s obviously something wrong with Ash.” He glanced back at her and smiled sloppily. “No offense.”

She shook her head only in an attempt to hide her smirk.

“No!” Desmond snapped, sounding childish still. “Won’t bloody do it. Not a fooking drop.”

Ash dropped her shoulders and lowered her head to rub at the bridge of her nose with the fingers of her working hand. “Men and their pride. Fine,” She looked up again, stance shifting gracefully into something more annoyed. It was enough to put all the men on edge. They knew that attitude all too well. “What do you suggest then? Because Tristan’s right. I cannot tap into my seikonō. Genoveva gave me a spell… I am nothing more than a human right now with a perverse sense of hunger.” And as strong as Desmond was, he was no Earth vampire. There was no way he could move those rocks.

“That’s why I can’t feel you in my blood.”

“You…” Ash put a hand on Tristan’s arm and he looked down at her, focusing on her face. “You can’t feel me?” She couldn’t feel him, but assumed that it was just the spell and that he could still feel her. She truly was all but human. And while her motonō and seikonō were gone, she still saw into Mamoru’s blood like a vampire, what he allowed anyway.

“Not even a little.”

Ash licked her lips slowly to wet them, eyes taking in every small movement as she tried to decipher their hidden thoughts. “I need to find the one who did this to me.”

“You don’t know?” Mamoru asked.

She turned to face him fully and shook her head. “I was out when it was forced on me but I tasted something that might be a signature. It is one I do not know but will recognize it if I taste it again. I do have a few thoughts on who…”

Tristan frowned. Apparently, because of the blood used to quicken most pythia spells, one could actually taste who made it if they had the right palate. Each pythia had their own signature flavor and logo that they liked to stamp everything they created. But if Ash had never sampled the pythia before that stirred the spell than there was little to no chance of finding its owner.

The potion at least explained why she looked human and Tristan couldn’t feel her in his blood for once. He missed the hum of her energy beating against his soul. It was a comfort that he’d grown quickly accustomed to. It was startling to turn around and realize she was so close and not have felt her there.

“So, what then? How the hell are we supposed to get out of here?”

The others all exchanged worried and tired looks. “Um, maybe…” Mamoru started, looking unsure about himself as he grabbed his bag. He fussed around for a moment before pulling out a ball of shiny aluminum. It made a soft clank as it shifted in Mamoru’s hand, the way a can of spray paint sounded.

Ash gasped, taking a step back.

“What is it?” Tristan asked when he noticed Desmond tense too.

“Uh…” Mamoru looked between the vampires. “A pythia spell bomb.”

“A what?” Tristan yelped, stumbling back.

“Not a bomb that blows up pythia,” Mamoru said with a forced laugh and then frowned when the others didn’t even crack a smile. “I had a pythia friend make it for me.”

“An antediluvian?” Ash asked in a breathy whisper.

“Actually no, she’s not.”

Ash’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “A rather skilled child then.”

Mamoru’s smile spoke of a bond deeper than friendship with the pythia. “Yes, she’s very talented.”

Getting a flash of luscious memories, Desmond harrumphed, muttering under his breath something about getting righted with a witch.

“What is it packed with?” Ash asked, ignoring Desmond with practiced ease.

Mamoru looked slightly embarrassed. Spell bombs were a way to exponentially increase the firing power of a regular spell to cover a wide area. The more serious the material of the bomb ball, say glass versus metal versus plastic, the more serious the stuff inside. “Ah, a tempest. It’s all I have on me right now.”

“No,” Ash said, keeping the fear in her voice in check. “Thank you, Mamoru. I think we would all rather live than see that little ball of death go off in these close confines.”

He shrugged and tossed it into the bag carelessly. The man was brave enough to delve into pythia magic and trust it to work for him, but he didn’t respect it nearly enough. That troubled Ash.

“So we’re trapped,” Tristan said to break the silence.

“I fear so,” Ash replied softly.

“Right then,” Desmond suddenly said and started to slosh around in the water as he moved toward the back of the cave. “All we can do right now is sleep our energy back, aye? Rather’d that fooking crazy shit get a full night’s run on us than risk trying tae swim out of here half dead and become full dead.”

Tristan scowled, the words already tasting sour on his tongue before even speaking them. “I agree.”

Ash bit into her lip, exchanging glances with Mamoru. Tristan felt that stab of jealously again. Everyone in this room had been closer to Ash at one point in their lives than he had. He was a big enough man that he could accept that they’d had their own lives before each other but it still nagged Tristan.

“After I have rested and the spell has run its course,” Ash said in a tentative voice, “I should be able to move the blockage enough for us to safely leave.” Too bad she didn’t really believe the spell would run its course. Regardless, she still wished to meet the pythia who could craft such a terrifying spell.

Tristan nodded and put all of his hope into it. He had to believe in her abilities to save them. Desmond harrumphed and crossed his arms, turning away to find someplace to settle in. Tristan made a face at the skeptical vampire before turning his attention to the others.

“Are you okay?” he asked and after a moment, Mamoru jerked to attention, realizing Tristan meant him.

“Anō, yes. I think so.” The place where Ash had bitten him was itchy and red. Sure he healed faster than a human, but not nearly as fast as the vampires. “It’ll heal soon enough.”

Tristan considered him dubiously for a breath and then sighed, turning to Ash. Without a word he scooped her up against him and kissed her. She made a surprised little noise but sunk into him, holding him tightly, almost painfully. The need to open and taste him was almost more than she could bear. To her surprise Tristan pulled back first and she licked her lips, hoping that it wasn’t because she tasted like blood.

“How are you?”

She smiled, meaning it. “You asked me that before.”

“Your hand, does it hurt?”

“No,” she lied with a smile.

He shook his head at her. He knew she was lying to save him the worry. “Anything I can do? We’ve got all night to kill.” Technically there were only five hours of dark left. Despite the fact that the sun couldn’t touch this place, the vampires still would have no choice but to sleep once it rose. It caused them physical pain and forced them under. The younger of them, the ones that fought it went insane. It was in their favor to give into the pull and sleep.

She reached up and cupped his face with almost warm fingers. The flush in her cheeks left long ago as all the blood she took from Mamoru went to making her hand functional again even if not all her fingers would move yet. “When was the last time you slept?”

“What, you telling me I look like shit?”

She laughed, relaxing into him again, nails scratching at his beard stubble. “Yes, you look like shit, my love.”

He laughed in return and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Well, between a concussion and a broken arm, being dicked around for the better part of a day and nearly dying because of that fucking witch, getting buried up to my neck.” He sighed. “I didn’t really have much time to clean up, none less sleep. I did get a short nap on the boat but that was… fuck, forever ago now.”

A brown brow rose as she reached for the bandage Mamoru held out to her. “Witch?
Boat
?”

From across the way, leaning against the wall, putting on his bad boy act, Desmond too seemed to perk up in interest. Tristan did his best to ignore the look. “Yeah, I, Christ, it’s a long story.”

Ash’s mouth screwed up and she motioned to the room around them. “I have the time.”

Tristan laughed and turned away, pulling her along by her hand to find a dry piece of land to sit on. There wasn’t much left. “After I was knocked out,” Tristan said and then grunted as he let himself fall into a sit. “I woke up back at our room with a pythia and elf.”

Ash nodded, lowering to her knees in front of him and started to wrap his arm. The bites were deep but the cold he wasn’t really feeing yet helped slow the flow. He would live, but he needed to have some of the punctures stitched. “Chrysanthe and Silas.”

“You know them?” Mamoru asked with eagerness in his voice as he sat huddled close to the pair.

“I have met Chrysanthe twice, but all I know of Silas is what I have heard.”

“Like?” Mamoru prompted looking worried.

She shook her head. “The only thing of note being that he had been bound by his previous Master, punishment for breaking service with him and that now he has no ties to the earth anymore.”

Mamoru’s eyes widened and he sat back, taking it all in. Even with all he’d told him, Tristan didn’t understand what Ash had just said and he shook his head at Ash to let her know he didn’t.

“Elves live off the energy of the earth and in order to safely draw that energy they use familiars. Due to their…
unfortunate
history, many of the other shinwa tend to make slaves of the elves. Silas was slave to another pythia before Chrysanthe. But they fell in love, Silas and Chrysanthe, and with her help, Silas was freed of his master. As punishment, his old master killed Silas’s familiar and, this is the part I have trouble with, cut Silas’s tie to earth.”

“As in… he can’t draw on that power anymore?” Tristan asked.

“Exactly. Such a thing is unprecedented. It should be impossible, even for a pythia.” Then again, humanizing a vampire was supposed to be impossible too.

“Okay,” Mamoru said softly, “but that power is now in Chrysanthe’s control.” When he noticed the intent eyes on him, he stiffened. “She’s not very good with it. I think Silas is acting as her familiar, but she’s not meant to wield such raw power and can’t direct it properly.”

“She’s a loose cannon,” Tristan chimed in.

“That is impossible,” Ash said, eyes a little wide in shock.

“True none the less.”

“Just who is pulling the strings on this?”

“Ah,” Mamoru said, coming closer. “That is the real question. Tristan and I, we had a bit of an altercation with the couple before we left Crete. Despite what she said, I don’t think they really meant to kill me, just detain Tristan and I. I think the witch is working for someone.”

“Crete.” Ash jerked back, her mouth screwed up as if she bit into something sour. She glanced to Desmond and back. “What in the blazes where you doing on Crete?”

Tristan rolled his eyes. “Like I said, long story.”

“Sleep,” Ash said gently before kissing Tristan on the cheek. “We can talk after you have rested.”

Tristan grunted at her but laid down, pulling her down to lay next to him. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Ash frowned at the seriousness in Tristan’s tone and wondered what someone with say, foresight, might have said to him. 

“There is something greater than you and I at work here, Tristan.”

Hadn't there always been?
Tristan wondered.

“There is more than just a pythia and an elf interfering.”

“Don’t forget Yuki,” Tristan added.

Ash sighed, putting her palm to his cheek. “Genoveva is just a cog in some master plan. I will find who is pulling the strings on all of this and kill them with my own hands if that is what it takes to cease the meddling. Fate will correct its course, but not without its casualties. I do not wish to be one of those casualties because a small group just can’t help themselves.”

Realizing she really meant it, that she’d go that far, Tristan frowned. “I can’t help you kill whoever it is,” he said softly. “Not if they aren’t vampire. Not if they haven’t killed humans.” In fact, he might have to stop her.

Same dark look in Ash’s eyes as the night they killed Malik, she smiled. “No. Nor would I ask you to. It should not be your burden.”

Feeling uneasy, the two men exchanged glances. Tristan was happy for Ash, finally coming to terms with how she felt about those who’d wronged her. He just wondered how much more blood on his hands he could bear before losing his mind. Because every single being Ash killed while they were together was his burden too. There was blood on his hands, and part vampire or not, it didn’t feel good.