Part 16 (1/2)
Sebastian's jaw flicked, but his eyes stayed locked on Feather like a panther sighting its prey. ”Fine.”
The last bit of the arrow splintered, and Izzy broke the shaft deftly with a quick twist. She nodded for me to grab an arm, and the two of us pulled. Sebastian inched painfully forward. Another heave, and the arrow cleared enough of his heart that he was able to help us by stepping forward the last little bit. He stumbled, and though Izzy and I tried to support him, Sebastian ended up on his knees. Feather rushed to help so fast, I nearly fell on her.
Sebastian wasted no time. His teeth were at her throat before I could suggest to William that he might want to avert his eyes.
Blood, by the way, pulses out of a punctured jugular in hot jets.
Though Sebastian's mouth covered the wound, he couldn't swallow fast enough. The heat of Feather's blood speckledmy face. Izzy screamed. She clawed at the spots where blood clung to her skin, while trying to back away from the quickly spreading viscous ma.s.s at our feet. Some part of my mind reminded me that Mr. Saunders, my tenth grade biology teacher, once told us that a person could bleed to death in something like three minutes if their jugular is slashed. However, having that information didn't help me know what to do. If I pushed Sebastian away, Feather would only bleed faster. It's not like I could put a tourniquet around her neck. I had the sinking realization that Feather was going to die, and that I couldn't do anything to save her.
William stood near my bookshelf, his hands fiddling with the miniature cast-iron statue of Kali I picked up at an estate sale the previous month. He looked sick, stricken.
I looked into his lost, dazed eyes and felt inspired. I'd called a G.o.ddess of destruction once when I'd needed strength; I could call on one of healing to help me now. I shut my eyes and remembered. That night had been much like tonight. Vatican agents and blood. No time to really think, to really prepare. I'd just reached out in desperation for someone, anyone. The world around me evaporated. Time slowed. I felt the coin in my pocket glow red-hot. Astrally, I reached out a hand in desperation. I repeated the words I had that Halloween night, only this time I added a modifier, ”BrightG.o.ddess, help me!”
Someone took my hand in Hers.
I felt something... a presence-the feel of armor on my shoulders, the weight of bronze, and the constant hiss of snakes, of the aegis... ? Then it was gone.
Instead, Lilith's voice said through my lips, ”Stop, child.”
Sebastian looked up, his mouth still pressed to Feather's neck. My hand, of its own volition, slid along her neck until it covered the pulsing tear mark left by Sebastian's teeth. Sebastian looked down in surprise, no doubt as uncertain as I was as to how my hand came between him and his meal. He growled deep in his throat, his eyes narrow with uncontained hatred.
I thought for a moment he would pounce on me next, but he was out the door and gone with the speed only the undead possess. William dropped the statue and sat down hard on the floor.
”Is she dead?” Izzy croaked from where she'd collapsed under the window.
Where it pressed against Feather's flesh, my hand felt tingly with pinp.r.i.c.ks, as though it had fallen asleep.
Lilith answered for me, ”I shall not allow it.”
Feather's eyelids fluttered, and her skin against my palm felt warmer than it had any right to be, considering how much blood she'd lost.
”Can I call an ambulance now?” William wanted to know in a small voice.
Izzy was already dialing the numbers. To us she asked, ”What the h.e.l.l do we tell them?”
”Nothing,” Feather said, her voice surprisingly strong. I wouldn't have thought she'd have vocal cords intact after that nasty bite. ”I'm fine.”
”The h.e.l.l you are,” Izzy said, but she clicked off her cell all the same.
”I could use a little orange juice, though,” she said.
I felt myself blush deeply, remembering how Sebastian had fed me orange juice just this morning. Was OJ some kind of ritual for the bloodletees?
None of us moved to get her any juice, however.
I kept my hand on her throat, though the part of me that was Lilith knew the danger of Feather bleeding to death was past.
Feather's face looked pale in the soft spotlight cast by the floor lamp, which now stood alone in that corner of the room, surrounded by dust. Previously, it had peeked over the edge of the couch, but the couch was still propped against the wall where the Vatican agents had tipped it. Parrish's makes.h.i.+ft curtains blocked out any natural moonlight and made the roomseem uncomfortably close and dark. Izzy's back pressed against the ruined wall, and she hugged her knees close to her chest. Freckles of blood dotted her cheek. Her eyes were riveted to the pool of sticky blackness that spread out in a circle around Feather's head and drowned the blond strands of her hair.
William sat on the floor, his hand resting limply between his outstretched legs. His head was bowed. I thought he might be hyperventilating until I heard him let out a huff of a sigh. ”So,” he said. ”Vampires are real, huh?”
I nodded mutely. What could I say? He'd seen the evidence. h.e.l.l, the evidence was spattered all over three of us, covered parts of the plaster wall, and slowly seeped into the seams of the hardwood floor.
William's eyes stayed focused on the s.p.a.ce between his tennis shoes. ”Can he turn into mist or a wolf or a bat? It's just that a stake through the heart clearly didn't kill him.”
”Crosses don't help, either,” I heard Izzy mutter. ”I was wearing mine.”
”Yeah,” William continued, opening his eyes to look at me. ”So, like, what's real and what's not?”
I wasn't ready for such an existential question. Besides, I didn't know. Sebastian was a different kind of vampire from the others I'd met. For all I knew hecould turn into a bat.
Honestly, since the moment he tore into Feather's throat, I doubted I really knew anything about him at all. The look in his eyes had been so cold, so predatory. This was not the herb gardener who listened to Johnny Cash and sauteed bell peppers for breakfast.
I didn't know this man at all.
”Vampires aren't shape-s.h.i.+fters, generally.” It was Feather who answered. Entwining her fingers under her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, she continued in a psuedo-academic tone. ”That's just physically not possible. Conservation of ma.s.s and all that.”
”Oh. No werewolves, then?” William asked.
”No, not like you're thinking, anyway,” she said with an air of authority, which amused me, since I doubted Feather gave a s.h.i.+t about anything beyond her addiction to the bite. Speaking of which, I removed my hand from her throat cautiously. No blood came spurting out. I wiped my hand on my jeans, leaving a smear of brown-black.
I looked down at the smudge. I had to get some cold water on that before it set.
A tear trickled down my cheek. I pushed it away with my forearm and stood up to fetch the bleach and paper towels.
”What about zombies? Are there zombies?” William was asking as I stepped over Feather to get to the kitchen. I didn't even want to hear her answer to that, so I quickly made my way to the sink and turned the faucets on full blast. I used sweetgra.s.s-scented soap to wash my face and hands.
”Me next.” I nearly jumped at the sound of Izzy's voice.
I handed her the soap and moved out of the way. She gave me a terse grimace. ”Your taste in men leaves a lot to be desired, girl.”
”You're the one who gave me the big thumbs-up the other night.”
”s.h.i.+t,” she said, looking up from the sink with a face full of suds. ”That was the same guy? I didn't recognize him.”
”You're not the only one,” I said.
Izzy finished rinsing and vigorously rubbed her face and neck with the hand towel. She tossed it into the sink and leaned a hip against the counter. ”That sounds serious.”
”He would have killed Feather.”
She nodded. ”Yeah,” she said, her eyes averted, as though she didn't want to think about it. ”I got that.”
”That's not cool, Izzy,” I said. ”I know she offered herself, but he doesn't have to kill to get what he needs.”
”He doesn't?”
”No.”
”Oh,” she said. ”That changes things.”