The Soother (20 page)

The current change of events forced Krystoff to alter his plan. “Do me a favor?” he asked Isabelle.

“Sure,” she said, nodding, but never took her curious gaze off Scout.

It was hard to tell if Isabelle was repulsed or entranced. Krystoff cleared his throat to break the awkward interaction. “Go back to camp and tell Calliope I had to leave. Tell her I’ll be back. I don’t know how long this will take.” It better not take too long. He worried Scout was taking him on a wild goose chase, but the stakes were too high not to see it through. Krystoff squeezed Isabelle’s shoulder and forced her to meet his gaze. “Tell her I’m sorry and that I’ll make it up to her.”
Somehow
.

Isabelle shook her head. “What? No! You can’t go. You have to help us fight.”

Damn it.
He’d been certain leaving was the best course of action. Now he wasn’t so sure. Isabelle’s sparkling blues had him feeling guilty as hell. Krystoff quickly thought it out. If he completely took finding his soul out of the equation, leaving still seemed like the smartest thing to do. Riona wanted him. Actually, she wanted his power, but she couldn’t get that without getting him. At least he assumed that was her line of thinking. That’s what he would do and since technically they were related …

Decision made, he said, “Isabelle, listen to me. You’re all stronger than you think. If you have to fight, just remember what I’ve taught you and you’ll be fine. Instinct is the key. Trust yours. It’s actually better for all of you if I put some distance between us.”

Her eyes grew wide. “I don’t believe that, Krystoff.”

“He’s right,” Scout interjected. “Riona is looking for him. It’s best if she finds him alone.”

Isabelle glared at Scout. “I wasn’t talking to you,” she said, so quietly Krystoff had to strain to hear her words.

Scout didn’t seem to have the same problem. He smiled, exposing a row of perfect white teeth. “Maybe not, little girl. I don’t really care.”

Isabelle charged. Krystoff grabbed her around her waist, swung her around and put himself between the amused nomas and the angry witch.

“I’m not a little girl.”

“Enough,” Krystoff said, scolding both of them. “Just tell Calliope what I said, please. This will all work out. You’ll see.”

“Fine,” Isabelle said. “I’ll do it, but she won’t be happy.”

Krystoff offered a half smile. “Actually, I think she’ll be thrilled.”

Isabelle shrugged. “Yeah. You might be right.” She threw her arms around Krystoff and held tight.

He rubbed a hand over her hair as his heart pitched. It had only taken a few days for this witch to permanently worm her way into his life. She really was one of the great ones and Krystoff was going to miss her. When he got back, he was going to have a serious conversation with Calliope about wanting to offer Isabelle an apprenticeship. Which begged the question, where were Isabelle’s parents? He’d have to get their permission. He’d ask Isabelle himself, but he wasn’t about to in front of Scout. Assuredly, the nomas would find a way to use the information against her. Krystoff would just have to wait to get the answers to his questions. So much to talk to Calliope about. Once he could convince her to talk to him again. He gently pushed Isabelle away. “Go now.”

Fat tears welled in her blue eyes but she didn’t let them fall. Isabelle tossed one more glare toward Scout and took off back toward camp.

“Interesting,” Scout said, watching her jog away. “She’s intriguing. Powerful.”

Krystoff cocked his arm and hammered Scout with a left hook. Scout stumbled but didn’t fall. “Stay away from her, Scout.” Isabelle did possess power. More than her coven had either noticed or given her credit for. As Krystoff well knew, power was the highest commodity and there was nothing beings — human and veiled alike — wouldn’t do to hold it in their hands.

Scout’s face grew as impassive as it had always been before Isabelle had come on the scene. “Hmm … And if I don’t?”

“I’ll spend the rest of my days killing you.” And that was a promise Krystoff intended to keep.

Calliope shrunk back into the cover of darkness as a crying Isabelle zoomed past, her sobs muffled by the collar of her jacket. She wanted to comfort Isabelle, and she would, just not right now. Not when emotions were so high. There was no way to tell how the soothers would react to one another. All she could picture was two overloaded circuits causing more harm than good. A magickal misfire, so to speak.

Though Calliope was still strung tighter than a tweaked violin, at least the fractured pieces of her heart had started to mend when she’d witnessed Krystoff standing protectively between Isabelle and the man he called Scout. Isabelle’s question still burned in Calliope’s mind. What was he? So pale, so strong, so dangerous. Calliope had a sneaking suspicion about that, and if she was right, it didn’t bode well for Isabelle. Hearing Krystoff say he was leaving with Scout was the only reason Calliope hadn’t intervened. But in the future, she’d make sure to keep Isabelle close. Like Krystoff, Calliope would kill Scout if he came anywhere near Isabelle again.

There was something Calliope couldn’t quite figure out. Just how had Isabelle managed to beat her to Krystoff? She was beginning to wonder if Isabelle possessed more than one specialty magick. Not unheard of, but very rare. How else would Isabelle have made it more than halfway down the mountain in record time? She’d whizzed right past Calliope shouting what Calliope now knew was a code word between Isabelle and Krystoff.
Periwinkle?
Odd choice. Whatever worked, she guessed.

Sometime, during the moments between Krystoff asking Isabelle to deliver his message to Calliope and him hugging Isabelle, Calliope had lost her thunder — and her breath — as emotion had clogged her throat. She still didn’t forgive him for biting her and taking her blood, not to mention the fact that he’d then altered her with his blood. But she no longer sought to extract him from her life. What she wanted was a few moments of peace to sort everything out — a few moments without the looming threat of an attack. Chances were, they wouldn’t be able to come to terms. Maybe his excuse — whatever it was — wouldn’t be good enough. Maybe they couldn’t be together. But the man who had brought fat shimmering tears to Isabelle’s eyes all because the young soother didn’t want him to leave, couldn’t be as bad as Calliope had made him out to be. He just had to have a good reason for breaking his promise — though now she couldn’t remember if he’d actually spoken the words or just implied he wouldn’t take without permission. So much for assumptions.

Calliope clamped her lips shut to keep from calling out to Krystoff as he and Scout took off to unknown destinations for unknown reasons. Unknown to her, anyway. Maybe if she’d gotten there a few minutes earlier, she would know where he and Scout were headed — know if he was truly coming back. She wrenched her arm back when she noticed her fingers were tracing his shrinking outline in the air. How freakin’ girly. Krystoff had said it was for her safety, for the safety of her coven. Then why did it feel as though he were doing it to tear out her heart, because it sure as hell was ripping all over again when only seconds before it had begun the healing process. It was one thing for her to tell him to leave, and quite another to see him coming to that decision on his own.

She’d just have to wait until he got back from wherever the hell Scout was taking him. Hopefully, he’d come back alone and leave his friend orbiting around another planet. Calliope blew out a breath and gathered herself. Time to lead her coven off the mountain, and she had every intention of taking them straight back to the village. She could do this. No more running. No more hiding. It was past time to take back what belonged to them. Excitement was overrated. Serenity and normalcy were what she craved.

The wind picked up. Calliope lifted her hand to conjure a jacket before realizing she didn’t feel the sting of the cold air. Ever since Krystoff’s bite, she’d been flushed, and she sure as heck didn’t need the bothersome scarf around her neck. Not for warmth, anyway. Nonetheless, she had no plans to take it off anytime soon. Not until his mark disappeared. She slid her fingers under the scarf. Yep. Still there. What would she do if they ended up being permanent scars? More than likely, she’d tattoo over them with something totally anti-vampire.
Ooo!
A wooden cross, or maybe a clove of garlic.
Nah
. A bright shining sun would totally do the trick with the added benefit of sticking to her astral theme.

Resolved with her decisions, Calliope headed back toward camp, this time avoiding the arms of the trees as if they had the plague. Battle wounds would come soon enough. No need to inflict them upon herself.

The attack came from behind. Calliope was yanked off the ground by her neck. Choking, she grabbed at her scarf. The material tightened around her neck until she could hardly breathe. She wheezed, clawed at the strangling fabric. While both hands frantically grappling to loosen the scarf, she kicked and thrashed at her unseen attacker.

“Put her down.” The woman’s voice was toxic. The bitter edge swept over Calliope like acidic razor blades.

The cold Calliope hadn’t felt before now settled beneath her skin like stinging scorpions. The voice wasn’t one from her coven. None of the witches she knew possessed enough evil to having it dripping from the tongue. Calliope had never felt so tainted and in the need of a scalding shower. Not even when she’d been covered in blood.

Whoever held her captive set her on the ground so hard her bones rattled like a baby’s toy. Bent over and straining to breathe, Calliope ripped the scarf off and sucked in blessed air. The woman slowly stepped into view. Calliope straightened and took in the flowing black skirt and the tight leather corset. Caramel skin and inky hair pinned in a tight chignon made her severe when she could have been beautiful. Some would mistake the woman’s smile for kindness. But the eyes didn’t lie and hers sparkled dangerously.

“So, you’re the bitch who saved my son.”

Riona
. As if she could have been anyone else. Her resemblance to Krystoff was striking. But where he was elegant and devastatingly handsome, Riona was harsh and her looks bordered on fractured rigidity. How to play this? Considering only one idea came to mind, Calliope rolled with Plan A. “Your son? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Riona stepped closer, walked a slow circle around Calliope. She traced a nail down Calliope’s arm, drawing blood. Calliope snatched her arm away. “I don’t know who you are.”
Lie.
“But you need to keep your claws off of me.” Glancing at her arm, she saw the wound seal up.
Um, thank you, Krystoff?
She’d always healed fast, but never like that. She remembered how fast the rabbits had been once he’d given them new life. Forever altered without being given a choice. Just like her.

Snick.
Calliope had been so struck by Riona’s appearance, she’d forgotten about the one who had nearly choked the life out of her.
Snick.
She spun. Shadows swirled around a massive man with long black hair and black eyes that looked like nothing more than bottomless pits. He casually flicked a knife open, closed, open, closed.

“Oh, fantastic.” She rolled her eyes for effect. Deep down, she was torn between rocking the fetal position and bolting. Flashes of the attack on her village skated through her mind. This mega-nasty being was at the forefront of each and every one of them. “You again. If we’re gonna keep running into each other, maybe you could introduce yourself?” But instead of offering her hand, she jammed them into her pockets. No way did she want his skin anywhere near her. Since their last encounter, he’d become darker. Surely, someone as shadowed as him would suck all the life right out of her.

Except she didn’t feel the least bit tired.
Odd
.

Riona laughed. “Oh, allow me. This is Eron, and I wouldn’t get too close if I were you. He’s been very unpredictable lately.”

A look passed between Riona and Eron and it didn’t appear to be all that friendly to Calliope. A power struggle of sorts? Hmm … How to use that? “Hello, Eron. I won’t say it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

His menacing mouth twitched. Too hard to tell if it was an attempt at a smile or a grimace. Calliope looked at Riona. “And you are?”

Her mouth tightened. “Don’t play me for a fool, witch. It’s not in your best interest.” With lightning speed, she reached out and sliced at Calliope’s arm again, then sniffed the air as blood flowed from the wound. A smile crept across her face, so slow it was as if time attempted to stand still. “You know exactly who I am.” She sniffed again, watching Calliope the entire time. “I can smell my son on you.” She lifted a brow. “Or shall I say
in
you?” Tilting her head, she laughed. “Yes, I do believe you and Krystoff got very close. Powerful, isn’t he? Did you enjoy his bite? Do you now crave the taste of blood?”

Dread filled Calliope like a rushing river washing over the shores to flood the land. Her hand itched to cover the bite marks, but there was no point. Riona had already seen them. Krystoff had branded her. She was beginning to wonder if maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Altered equaled different. And different didn’t have to be the end. Riona was wrong, though. Calliope didn’t need to drink blood to survive. She was certain Krystoff hadn’t gone that far. That thought in mind, Calliope stood taller. “You’re right. I do know who you are. I believe around these parts you’re known as Queen Bitch.”

Face twisted in fury, Riona sent her flying with a blast of power. Calliope twisted in the air and landed on her feet, wincing in pain. Queen Bitch packed quite the magickal punch. With not nearly as much effort as she would have thought, Calliope curled her lips into a big come-and-get-me smile. “Don’t like name-calling much, do you?” She gathered her magick and threw it at Riona. Blue waves of heat exploded from her hands, careening through the air, dead set on the target. Eron stepped in the way. The sparks bounced off his chest. Calliope jumped to avoid the boomerang effect.

“Thank you, Eron,” Riona said, pushing him out of the way. “While unnecessary, your chivalry is appreciated.”