Chapter Thirty-One

Clinging to Unlikely Excuses

I stood beneath the pounding, scalding stream of water, showering my best friend’s blood off me. Most of my upper body was covered in it, my hands dried red and crusty. Vanilla steam filled the room, but it couldn’t touch the black ball of rage and grief forming in my gut. The normally soothing scent just made me want to throw up.

Milly Parker, my best friend, the one normal person who accepted me was gone. She was lost to the world as surely as if she were dead, and it was my fault. Nothing I could say or do would change that even a little.

I wanted to cry. Good God, how I wanted to cry. I wanted to curl myself into a dark corner and howl. But I didn’t. I hadn’t cried since I was ten years old.

Dressing mechanically, I gathered all my shower stuff, my incense, and the rest of my belongings and stowed them in my trunk. My clothes were next. I was stuffing them into my duffle when I came across a clingy red t-shirt. I held it in my hands for a few seconds, just rubbing the material with my thumbs. Then, with a sigh, I zipped it into a front pocket.

Not wanting to take too long, I did a quick circuit of the room. When I was sure I had everything I headed downstairs.

Harley was waiting for me with his truck. We’d decided he’d drive me back to my bug after I showered. Didn’t want to get blood all over my civilian car, after all.

We didn’t speak much on the way back. Hours had gone by at the hospital, and I was exhausted. No, it was more than that. I was numb. I had simply reached my limit of feeling for the day. Thankfully Harley’s head wasn’t as far up his ass as usual because he let me be. All I was forced to offer in conversation was short bits of direction.

Only once did Harley try to coax me into something deeper, right as he pulled up along side my car.

“Regan,” he started, but I shook my head.

“Don’t,” I said. “Just don’t.”

He nodded and said nothing else as I hopped out to get my stuff. I grabbed my bags from the back and went up to close my door.

“Thanks, Harley,” I said. “For trying today.”

There was a strange look on his face before he turned back to the wheel. “Don’t mention it.”

I slammed the door shut and headed to my car. The engine of Harley’s truck rumbled as he drove away. I stowed everything in the trunk of my bug, and went around to the driver’s seat. I sat with my hands on the wheel but didn’t start it. I didn’t know where I was going.

Yes, I did. I just wasn’t sure I had it in me. But I knew what I had to do. With a weary exhale too heavy to be a sigh, I started the ignition.

Ball of shiny red fabric in my hands, I waited at Ira’s door. I’m sure he knew I was there, but after I knocked he took his sweet time.

“Regan,” he said, leaning against the door frame cool as you please. “You look like hell.”

In response, I simply raised up the hand with his shirt, and held it out to him. “I brought your shirt back.”

For a long while he didn’t say anything. He just looked down at the shirt, and then back up at me, a frown creasing his chiseled features. Finally he reached out, but instead of taking his shirt he clasped my wrist. The unexpected contact made me look up at him.

“Regan,” he said again, softer this time. “What’s wrong?”

“My, my friend—” I had to stop and take a breath. “My friend’s in a blood coma.”

His eyes went wide. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

Staring into his black eyes, the concern so obvious in them, I felt my own start to sting.

Voice husky, I admitted, “No. No, I’m not.”

Before I knew what was happening, he was stepping down onto the porch and pulling me into his arms. My face went automatically into his neck, breathing in the earnest, deep-winter musk of him. I twisted my hands in his shirt, clinging to him like I would drop if he let go. Maybe I would have. No tears fell, but it was a close thing.

After a moment of this, he stepped slightly back. He cupped my face with his hands and tilted it up to meet his gaze.

“I feel bad about this but I have to ask,” he said, eyes intense. “But whatever you say, I’ll believe you, so, please, tell me the truth.”

“Okay,” I murmured, wondering if he was mojoing me a little bit.

“Is this another scam?” he asked.

I shook my head as much as I could between his larger hands. “No,” I whispered, trying to put whatever sincerity I had into the words.

He stared into my eyes for a moment before nodding. “Then come inside.”

It took me a minute, but I told him everything. I left out most of what Holly and I talked about, but nothing else. I told him about the phone call I got from Milly, my race into town, Harley and my search through the woods, and finally the hellacious drive to the hospital with my best friend bleeding in my arms. What little I remembered from the ICU, I told him that too. He squeezed my hand when I was done.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he said. “So you don’t know who did it?

“Oh, I’m pretty sure,” I said, fixing him with a hard gaze.

He looked away, and I said, “Ira, I need to know. Zo has got to die, her expiration date has officially gone red, and I need to know if you’re going to have a problem with that.”

I stopped, gathering my thoughts before I continued. “I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you, Ira. I know your feelings for me are complicated right now, and so are mine, but believe me when I say I don’t want to do anything to make it worse. But Zo has got to pay for this, and if that’s going to…going to cause a problem with you, then just tell me. So at least I’ll know where I stand.”

“No,” he said, turning back to me. “It won’t cause a problem. I told Zo if she went after you one more time that she was dead to me. Her problems are no longer mine. If you’re going to kill her, I won’t stand in your way.”

Sighing, I nodded. “Thank you.”

“Regan, you have to understand something,” he said. “This won’t be like your other kills. She’s not some fringe outsider, or a rogue. Zo’s a fledging of the Iriy Hills House. That carries certain powers and protections, and one of them is retribution. If anything happens to her the House is honor-bound to find out who’s responsible and see them punished.”

I shrugged. “So I’ll deal with it. I always do.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t think you understand the severity of this. Should the House fail to protect her, it’s a loss of honor. If it fails further to see her killer punished, that’s even more lost face. Houses live and die by their reputation among the vampire community. No vampires will want to join if they don’t think they’ll be protected. The House can’t afford two marks against its honor in the same sitting, they will do whatever it takes to track you down. Primus Rurik will send the enforcers after you, the best warriors we have, and they won’t stop until you’re dead.”

Frustrated, I threw my hands up. “Then what do you want me to do? I can’t just let Zo get away with this.”

There was consideration on Ira’s face. “What do you know about vampire culture?”

“Not much,” I said. “Enough to kill them.”

He rolled his eyes. “Have you ever been inside a House before?”

“No,” I said after a beat. “I’ve been in a coalition of rogues, but not a House. Why?”

“Because,” he said. “I think I can get you in.”