Broken Heart 06 Come Hell or High Water (6 page)

"Phoebe?" The ragged voice dragged me down, down, down, into a terrible, exhausting heaviness. "Please,
m'aingeal
. Open your eyes."

"Can't." I felt weighed down, like a pallet of bricks pressed on me. Pain radiated from the back of my skull, down my spine, to every nerve ending. My lungs felt wet. I coughed, and rust-colored liquid dribbled from my mouth. Blood.

A wet cloth pressed against my lips and the ick was wiped away.

"Did I fall under a wheat thresher?" I asked. Gah. Even my throat hurt.

"Worse," he said. "You'll be okay, lass."

"Liar." I tried to work up a good bout of righteous anger, but I was too tired. I should be thoroughly pissed at Connor. He was the reason I was married to a demon. And the reason Lilith's pet beat the crap outta me.

"I hate you," I said without much venom. "A lot."

"I know, and I deserve every ounce of it." He stroked my hair.

My eyes fluttered open. I was lying on a very comfortable bed, my head cushioned by the fluffiest pillows ever. The covers were whisper-soft, and felt good on my sensitized skin. I felt like I'd been dipped in acid and thrown into a wood chipper. Connor sat on the edge of the mattress and hovered over me, looking so relieved I wondered just how badly I was hurt.

"Where am I?"

"Somewhere safe."

I didn't have much choice except to believe him. We were mated, after all, and aside from the obvious reason to keep me alive, I was an important pawn in whatever game he was playing with Lilith.

"Why do I still feel like shit?" What happened to my super-duper healing mojo? Every part of me throbbed in pain, from my toes to my eyeballs. I felt as if I were gonna throw up.

"The demon bit you."

I focused on Connor's concerned gaze. Concerned, my ass. He was a faker. "I was there, remember?"

"When you're well, lass, I'll teach you to fight."

A demon teaching a demon hunter? Riiiight.

"I can kick your butt." I lifted my hand to poke him in the chest, but I missed. My vision blurred. I felt woozy - like I'd been doing tequila shooters all night. "I was the only Family Durga vampire in Broken Heart. But... but...
but
I got trained all over the place. And, you know, Durga showed me a few things before she went all superevil and got banned."

"She dinnae show you enough. Fightin' demons is a far greater challenge than stavin' off other kinds of enemies."

"I got moves." I put up my fists and rolled them. Then I giggled. "Dude. I feel weird."

He grimaced.

"I need blood," I said. "If I take a pint, maybe two, I'll heal faster."

Connor shook his head. "It won't stay in your stomach long enough to be absorbed."

His words burrowed through my queasy, fuzzy sickness. "So, I can't eat? How am I supposed to heal? I can't just... loll around."

Connor looked away. When he returned his gaze to mine, his expression was blank. "There are things you dinnae know, lass."

"Tell me about it." I frowned. "Lilith said I would be dead in a day or two." Panic wobbled. Or maybe it was nausea. "What's wrong with me?"

"The Taint," he said.

I went utterly still as cold horror swept through me. "No. No!"

"Do you know why the Taint is the only disease that affects vampires? The first infection started when a demon bit a vampire. And the vampire passed it along to others, and, as diseases do, it mutated. It became something else. Something terrible."

"I really am going to die."

"No. You won't." He stroked my shoulder as though the motion could also wipe away my fear. "I want you to rest," he said. "Let me take care of you."

Oh, he sounded so sincere. Like he wanted to help because he had actual feelings for me. It galled me that he'd seduced me so easily, that I fell for him. Even through my fury beat the soft pulse of knowledge that I wanted him. If he hadn't betrayed me, I would still be his.

I had the Taint.

Lilith's freaking demon had given me the disease.

My body felt shivery and achy, and my head throbbed as if it were about ready to explode.

The Taint.
I couldn't wrap my brain around it. Was it true? Would Connor lie to me? I was obviously sick; why tell me it was the worst thing ever for a vampire?

"Why didn't the Consortium know? Why did royal lycan blood offer a cure?"

"I dinnae know. Ah, lass. Knowledge is lost," said Connor. "And sometimes it's found again." He sighed. "You an' your friends live in a bubble. All you ken about the paranormal world is what you're told. Have any of you traveled elsewhere since your Turnings?"

Honestly I couldn't think of one Turn-blood who'd ever permanently left Broken Heart after the Consortium took over. I drove my son to Tulsa for his visits with his daddy, but it was straight there and straight back.

"It's hard to protect the supernatural secret," said Connor. "Especially with those new to our world. It's why humans have so many myths and legends. Humans are verra creative, but if they met a real werewolf or demon, they'd shit their pants. We survive because the humans dinnae believe we're real."

"You think the Consortium keeps us caged because they're afraid we'll spill the beans?" I snorted a laugh. Pain lanced me.
Ouch.
"That's stupid."

"Believe what you like, lass."

Agony rolled over me, as sudden and awful as tripping and falling on a land mine. My body seized. Then I leaned over the side of the mattress and puked. Blood and black sludge splattered the pretty floral carpeting.

Connor held my hair away from my face and made soothing noises. He took a wet cloth and wiped my face. I let him do it because I didn't have the energy to tell him to fuck off.

I felt like I'd gotten onto a crazy merry-go-round. Everything was spinning, and it was getting unbearably hot. Uh-oh. Passing out was imminent.

"You willna die."

It was a promise I hoped he kept.

I faded in and out. I felt like my insides had turned into ice even though sweat beaded my upper lip. My entire body quaked, caught in an endless cycle of hot and cold. My teeth clattered together. I felt like mean little elves were marching under my skin and tearing at me with tiny, sharp claws. God. I bet somewhere in parakind there were psycho elves who did that kind of shit. What bastards.

At one point, a few minutes or years later, I swam through the murk of unconsciousness and opened my eyes. They felt tight and crusty.

Hovering above me was a scaly green creature with black eyes. It wore a tattered gray robe with a hood drawn over its head.

A yellowed claw traced my forehead.

I yelped.

"Ssshhh," said Connor. He popped into view on the other side of the lizard thing. "Nera is here to help."

"My saliva produces an antitoxin," rasped a feminine voice. "Without it, you will not survive the night."

"You want me to drink your spit?" I coughed. My gaze went to Connor. "Why not some Freon or battery acid?"

I didn't know who the lizard lady was, or why Connor could find her, but not someone in Broken Heart, or how I could possibly trust him. I guessed if he wanted to, he could just let me die. Then again, keeping me alive meant keeping himself alive. However, demons were true immortals. How could the vampire binding curse affect him?

Ow.
My head really hurt.

Connor stroked my face with trembling fingers. "Stay strong, lass."

"I'm dying?"

The look in his eyes was pure fear. My useless heart dropped into my stomach and convulsed. "Okay," I whispered. "I'll do it."

Nera cocked her head at Connor. "You agree to the bargain?"

"What bargain?" I asked. My throat felt swollen and hot. Darkness crimped the edges of my vision, and I knew I was gonna pass out. Again. Stupid demon's poison.

Nera's lipless mouth stretched into a mocking grin. "No demon helps another without a bargain. You know this, hunter."

"You called a demon?" I accused Connor. "And you bartered?"

" ' Tis the only way to save you, lass." He looked at Nera. "I agree."

She picked up a chipped ceramic bowl. Connor held out his forearm and she slashed his flesh with her talon. He didn't even flinch. Black blood poured into the bowl. When it was half-full, she nodded, and Connor grabbed a cloth and pressed it against his wound.

Nera made a disgusting hacking sound and a noxious liquid spewed from her mouth into the bowl. She mixed it all up with the same claw she'd used to hack Connor 's arm.

When she lifted the bowl to my lips, I managed to drink.

I craved the blood so much that getting the concoction down wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. The texture was like that of egg drop soup.

"Excellent," said Nera. Her gaze flicked to Connor. "I will give you time to get her settled. Then you must come to me and fulfill the bargain."

"Aye," said Connor.

Nera rose and turned, gliding into the darkness.

"C-c-cold." The chill leaked from my pores. It drove away the heat - all of it, until I felt like a Phoebe Popsicle.

Connor crawled onto the bed with me. I should've protested, bein' a girl of principles an' all.

But I was too cold, too tired to work up the protest.

Connor's heat soaked me as he gathered me close. I pressed against him, and his strength and his warmth and his kindness weaved around me.

I'd be furious with Connor tomorrow.

With my check pressed against his chest, and the reassuring sound of his heartbeat in my ear, I fell asleep.

I
t's raining
.

I'm standing on the back porch, watching the silvery water pummel the backyard. People are in the house drinking iced tea and speaking in low tones about death. About my mother. These people went to Momma's memorial service, came to the wake to eat casseroles and Jell-O and pies, and want to tell me how sorry they are.

Aunt Alice joins me. She's thin and pale, her graying hair pulled into a bun. Her black dress is wrinkled, as though she slept in it. Mine is black, too, and I know I will never wear it again.

I don't want anything around that invokes the memory of this day.

My aunt says nothing. We watch the water sluice down the sloping hill with its patchy grass. The fence clangs as the wind pushes through its rusted links.
It's so empty,
I think.
There should be flowers. And a swing.

"You should take her. The urn with... her ashes," I say. "She was on her way home. She should" - I swallow the knot in my throat - "finish the journey."

"Her home was with you, Phoebe."

"Take her." I meet my aunt's sad gaze and lean down to kiss her papery cheek. "Please."

She nods, then slips back inside, and the murmurs recede, then strengthen, like waves lapping a deserted beach.

The door opens again and it's Jackson. We went to high school together, and I remember the way he used to flirt with me.

He puts his arm around me. "I'm sorry, Phoebe."

I turn my face into his shoulder and weep.

It's raining.

I'm staring out the kitchen window, my hands in the sink water idle against the plate I'm washing. It's midafternoon but it's overcast, thick gray clouds belching out torrents of water and cracking the sky with sound and with light.