The Soother (18 page)

“Please … ”

“What do you need?” He’d give her the stars if he could. She only had to ask.

“Please … ” her voice faded into the faintest of whispers. “So … cold.”

For the first time, he damned his chilled skin. Krystoff lifted Calliope into his arms and laid her next to the fire. Her once-flawless skin now mirrored the contusions under her eyes, mottled and grey.

“Calliope?” he called, doing his best to keep his voice calm. “Angel? Are you okay?”

She didn’t respond. The rise and fall of her chest had slowed to virtually nothing. All calm disappearing like melting snow, Krystoff gripped her by the shoulders and shook her as his heart dropped to his feet. Her body hung limply in his hands. Panic edged its way into his mind. He shoved it away, swallowed the urge to bellow.
Think, think, think
. Had she finally worked herself to death? It couldn’t be. Yet, nothing else made sense.

He summoned his shadows, held her hand while they slithered over her body like starving snakes. They would give her a boost of energy and she would be fine. She had to be fine. Anything less was unacceptable. Krystoff swore he heard the shadows moan. They quickly fell away as if they knew they couldn’t help.

Maybe they couldn’t, but he sure as hell could.

With a guttural roar, Krystoff sank his fangs into her neck. The first taste of her sweet blood turned him into an addict. His cheeks hollowed out as he pulled, drank, taking in her essence, letting it slide down his throat in a stream of ecstasy. She tasted of ambrosia. She tasted like no other. She tasted like she belonged to him and him alone. His mind told him to stop, to not take too much. The shadows begged him to take it all. He fought, pushing his mind through the euphoric miasma until his thoughts were somewhat clear.

She’d hate him for this. He had no choice. If he didn’t consume her blood first, he couldn’t help her. Breathless, heart banging against his ribs, Krystoff jerked away and flashed to the rear of the cave. His back slammed into the wall, sending shards of rocks tumbling to the ground. Chest heaving, he watched as two twin trails of blood ran down her beautiful neck, dripping onto the hardened earth like scarlet tears. He had to close the wounds or she’d lose too much blood. He flashed back to Calliope and pulled her lifeless form onto his lap. He rocked her, smoothed her hair. Pressing a kiss to each small tear, he sealed the bite marks, though only time would completely remove the proof of his transgression.

“I must do this, angel. I must.” Krystoff bit down hard on his lip with both fangs. They throbbed for more of Calliope. More of her blood. He ignored the cravings, beseeched the gods to eliminate the urge. Cradling her face in his trembling hands, Krystoff pressed his mouth to hers. He used his thumb to part her pale lips, ensuring his blood would find the right path.

Only after he was certain he’d given her enough, did he ease back. Now came the waiting. Surely this would work. It had to. As long as Calliope lived, he didn’t care what she thought of him. He’d relish her scorn if that meant she was breathing again.

She didn’t stir. Every muscle tense, Krystoff slowly leaned forward and put his ear to her chest. He didn’t dare breathe for fear he would miss something. Finally, after what seemed like twenty lifetimes, relief flooded his senses, nearly choking him as his heart became lodged in his throat. Calliope had a pulse. Faint, yes. Didn’t matter. In time it would grow stronger and so would she.

All of Krystoff’s protective instincts kicked in when a gasp had him turning to the mouth of the cave. At the same time, he shifted to shield Calliope’s body.

“You bit her?” Isabelle accused.

In his haste to save Calliope, he’d called the shadows to him, leaving them completely exposed. “You don’t understand.” Neither did he. He kept his hand over Calliope’s heart, focusing on the unsteady thump beneath her ribcage.

“You bit her? Seriously? You bit her?” Each word was slathered in a layer of distrust and betrayal.

“Enough!” Krystoff conjured clothing for himself and a blanket for Calliope. “She was dying. I had to do something.”

Eyes narrowed, Isabelle said, “Calliope wasn’t dying, genius. When she wakes up, you’re gonna be in big — ”

“What do you mean she wasn’t dying? Her heart stopped.” He shoved a hand through his hair.

“No it didn’t. She’s a soother. Her body went into recovery mode. Even a baby witch would have known that.”

“I’m not a witch.” She
was
dying. Damn it, her heart had stopped.

“Clearly. I can’t believe you bit her. Is she gonna be a vamp now? I don’t think she’d want to drink blood.” Isabelle moved toward Calliope.

He blocked her path. “No, Isabelle. Calliope will not be a vampire.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.

“As sure as you were that she was dying?”

What the hell have I done?
Krystoff no longer needed to find his soul. As soon as Calliope woke up, she was going to murder him.

Calliope jerked awake on a gasp, jack-knifing into a sitting position. Fear and suspicion swam in her blood as her fingers flew to her neck, tenderly searching for the evidence that her disturbing dream had been real. Two slightly raised bumps just below her ear screamed violation. Hands shaking, she shoved off the ground and quickly bent to retrieve the fallen blanket. She stepped away from the fire and wrapped the cover around her body, tucking a corner between her breasts to keep it secure. Violated and nude. How freakin’ perfect.

Staring into the flames as if the flickering fire held all the answers, she took stock of her condition as her blood pressure skyrocketed to the moon. The mild ache between her legs had been invited and enjoyable, the pain in her neck had been forbidden and … didn’t matter. The worst pain was in her heart. The shattered pieces shredded her insides until she felt raw. How could Krystoff have fed from her when he knew how opposed she was to it? She’d confided in him, told him things no one else knew. And where did that leave her? Very possibly in need of a blood transfusion, that was where.

Except Calliope didn’t feel weak. In fact, she was more rejuvenated than ever. Normally, after her body came out of recovery mode, it took her a day or so to sweep away the cobwebs. Not this time. She’d only been awake a few minutes and already she felt like she could take on the world. Anger formed a tight knot in the pit of her stomach, igniting the fractured pieces of her heart until they burned to ash, forever tainting her blood. All of this could have been avoided if only she hadn’t worked herself so hard. If only she hadn’t saved his sorry ass.

Assuming her magickal sparks would remain hidden inside the cave, she waggled her fingers to conjure a blue tee and leggings, then slipped on a pair of black leather boots. Using the side of her boot, she covered the fire with dirt, then hurried out of the cavern and ran smack-dab into Isabelle and Tia.

Tia stifled a scream and clasped Calliope’s arm to steady her. “We were just coming to check on you,” she said.

Isabelle scrutinized Calliope from head to toe and back again with wide blue eyes. “You look okay. Actually, you look amazing. Good. That’s really good. I was so worried about you. Are you feeling okay? I mean you must be because you’re practically glowing. Like seriously lit up. It’s kinda radiant, really. Like totally model-esque. Hawt. I think I’m jealous.”

Calliope didn’t have time for idle chitchat, one-sided as it was. If her suspicions were true, someone was about to die a very long and horrible death. She might even use the blood mugger’s own staff to accomplish the deed. “Where is he?”

“Who?” Tia and Isabelle answered in unison.

Though they’d made a decent attempt at innocence, Calliope knew well and good both Isabelle and Tia knew exactly to whom she was referring to.

“The violating leech, that’s who. Now move aside.” Calliope stepped right. They moved left, preventing her exit. She tried left, but purposeful shifting instantly blocked that path. “What gives? Are you on my side or his?”

“Both.” Again with the unity.

What was up with that? “Excuse me? It doesn’t work that way.” Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to her that Isabelle and Tia may not have known about what went down between her and Krystoff in the cave. Correction: Krystoff and an unwilling — not to mention unaware and unresponsive — participant. However, their constant effort to keep their gazes away from her neck told her everything she needed to know. She just wondered how many others knew. So incredibly embarrassing. Calliope conjured a scarf and looped it around her neck.

Isabelle blushed, looked at the ground. “He feels really bad, Calli. He thought — ”

Calliope shouldered right between the two witches. She wasn’t ready to label them traitors, but she was definitely peeved they were defending Krystoff. They’d only known him for a couple of days. They’d known her their entire lives.
Sting, sting, sting, goes the jealousy bee.
“What he thought makes no difference at all.”

“Calliope … ”

She whirled, swiped angry tears from her cheeks. “No, Tia. Don’t defend him. He took my blood without permission. He had no right.”

“So … what? You’re going to find him and punish him?” Tia questioned? “I think you’ll find he’s already punished himself enough.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Both of you. There is no punishment, save permanent eviction, that will ever be enough retribution for what he’s done.”

Isabelle’s jaw fell open. Her lip quivered. “Who are you?”

I have no idea
. “I’m Calliope the Soother. And it’s about time I took control of my own life.” She left them stuttering and headed off in pursuit of Krystoff. As she wove through the trees, branches tore at her clothes, pricked at her skin as if they were alive and trying to keep her from reaching Krystoff. Determined to escape the forest’s efforts, Calliope paid no heed to the cuts the branches inflicted. Her mind was too busy concocting scenario after scenario, each one ending very badly for the back-stabbing, vein-robbing, half-breed, staff-toting, heartbreaking jerk. Her energy-infused steps covered distance far faster than she was accustomed to. Power surged, driving her feet, propelling her forward until she nearly catapulted herself through the air.
Oh, Mother Goddess
. Calliope skidded to a stop, more tears clinging precariously to her lashes. She was different. Changed. Krystoff hadn’t just fed from her. He’d given her his blood, too. He’d augmented her and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. She’d been right all along. Her blood was tainted, spoiled. She’d been infected and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Calliope?”

She swiveled on her heel, fists up, ready to take down anyone who tried to block her revenge-ridden path. When she realized it was her mother, Calliope sank to her knees in an anguished heap. Her lashes could no longer keep the tears at bay. She covered her face with both hands. The bastard had broken the dam and her heart. “Oh, Mama. I’m not Calliope anymore.”

Ambra crouched beside her, tugged affectionately on Calliope’s scarf and picked leaves out of her hair. “Sure you are. You’ll always be Calliope.”

Calliope rubbed her nose. “See? That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Nonsense,” Ambra cooed. “Tell me what happened and we’ll figure this out together.”

That concept was as foreign to Calliope as seeing a wood nymph residing in New York City. How could she begin to tell Ambra what had transpired between Krystoff and her when they hadn’t held a real conversation in more years than she dare tried to count? Normally, she went to Bevva with her problems. Her sister had a way of spinning a catastrophe into a party. She’d love to hear Bevva’s solution for this calamity. But Bevva wasn’t here. Her suddenly-coherent-for-no-apparent-reason mother was.

As if sensing her thoughts, Ambra said, “The past is the past. I can’t change it and neither can you. We must look to the future.”

Ambra rubbed Calliope’s back in a circular motion, stopping every now and then to brush away what Calliope only assumed was bark and leaves. She had a feeling that if the trees could have held her back, they, too, would have tried to keep her from getting to Krystoff. But she’d been too fast. Too determined.

“Even if that future is bleak?” she asked, staring up at her mother, waiting, hoping for some enlightenment.

Ambra smiled. “Is it? We all have choices to make, Calliope Brennan. Every day we wake up and make choices. You and you alone can decide the approach you will take. I made my decisions and I have to live with them and try to atone.” She gripped Calliope’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “I imagine this has something to do with Krystoff?”

Calliope jutted out her chin. “It has everything to do with him,” she spat.

“Would you care to elaborate? I understand if this is a private matter, but I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

“I appreciate that. And one day I might take you up on it, but right now I have to find him so I can kill him.” Not literally, though the thought had crossed her mind more than once. Continuous effort went into talking herself off that particular ledge. The old Calliope would never have entertained thoughts of murder. That Calliope wasn’t around anymore.

“Mmm. Then I’ll let you be on your way.” Ambra stepped aside.

Calliope blinked. “Really? Just like that? I say I’m going to kill someone and you don’t try to stop me?”

Ambra quirked a brow. “Calliope, you never listened to me as a child so I highly doubt you’ll listen to me now. If you’re angry enough to
kill
him, he must have done something unforgivable. But if I may offer a piece of advice?”

Everyone had advice these days. Calliope was tired of talk. She wanted action. However, Ambra warranted respect. “Go ahead.”

“Make it swift. I do like that chap and would hate to see him suffer.” Ambra retreated into the woods. “You better hurry. The clouds are lifting. We’ll need to leave soon,” she called over her shoulder.

Calliope stared after her mother. Yes, this was indeed a calamity. One she was about to execute.

• • •