Read Online 2. Darkness in the Blood Master copy MS 5 by Vicki Keire - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vicki Keire
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right?”
He bowed his head. “I’m a Nephilim descendent like you, yes. This,” he indicated his face, his arm. “It’s not important right now.”
“Of course it is.” How very male, to ignore obvious injuries. “We’ve got a gigantic first aid kit in the bathroom. Ethan hurts himself all the time. It will just take a second.”
He shook his head. “It wouldn’t do any good.”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of peroxide,” I teased.
“No. I’d very much appreciate some medical attention, actually, because this,” he shoved his bleeding bicep in my face. It was really a deep cut, right across a circular tattooed symbol inscribed with strange markings. The blood turned my stomach. “Hurts like hell. Could probably use a few stitches. But since I’m not really here, and my physical body is asleep and bleeding in a place I wouldn’t take you in a million years, we’ll just have to deal with it.” He spun on his heel back to the record player, but not before I’d seen a mixture of rage and hurt and frustration on his face. “Don’t worry. If I bleed on your precious furniture, it won’t be there when you wake up.”
“I didn’t mean…” I began, and then clamped my mouth shut. Just what the hell did I mean, anyway? Tension and anger radiated off him like heat shimmers over the highway in summer. It was like having a wild animal in my living room.
And yet, he had saved my life. His blood spoke to mine. And he was hurting.
I tried again. “I’m sorry you’re hurt. I don’t care what you bleed on. I wasn’t sure if you were real, if what happened the other night was real.” I slipped up beside him, watching the record spin. I tried to ignore his steadily bleeding arm. The jagged slash had begun to coagulate around the edges. Maybe it would heal on its own soon. I hoped so.
“It was real. And you were very lucky.” He relaxed a little as I drew near. Strange. It was the exact opposite of what I’d expected. I thought he would lash out like any wounded wild thing. Instead, I was the skittish one. “I love this band,” he said. “No one listens to records anymore. You have good taste.”
“They’re almost all Logan’s.” At his frown, I added, “My brother. He’s almost solely responsible for my musical education. Ethan and mine’s too. Ethan hasn’t been hu… uh, here… very long.”
His head snapped up. Stars flashed in his dark eyes. “Ethan. The one who made you Shadow-sick.”
As Mark Utley’s voice reached its whispery end, I reached around him and flipped the record over. “He meant well.” I started the B-side. Then, to distract him but also because I was interested, I asked, “Where are you, that you wouldn’t take me in a million years?”
The wild thing was back again; he looked at me with the desperation of a caged animal. “The Twilight Kingdom,” he said. My blood roared again when I accidentally brushed against him, as if the Shadows wanted to break out. “You were there.”
I remembered the endless expanse of twilit sky. I knew of two other worlds that brushed up against this one now. I wondered how many more I would come to know in my lifetime. “Why are you here?” I hugged myself, suddenly cold. “In my living room? Instead of that other place?”
“To find out if it was possible. If I could come here on my own without him finding out.” He smiled into the darkness, at something I couldn’t see. “So that next time we’ll make better use of our time.”
“Next time? What next time?” Did he have a head injury too? “And who is he?”
This boy with gifted blood dropped to his heels. “Someone very unpleasant. Someone I hope you never have to meet.” Abigail streaked through the darkness and butted against his knee. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to petting her as if he was the one being stroked. I sighed heavily. Like it or not, Abigail had become our supernatural barometer. If it was weird and she liked it, it was
He bowed his head. “I’m a Nephilim descendent like you, yes. This,” he indicated his face, his arm. “It’s not important right now.”
“Of course it is.” How very male, to ignore obvious injuries. “We’ve got a gigantic first aid kit in the bathroom. Ethan hurts himself all the time. It will just take a second.”
He shook his head. “It wouldn’t do any good.”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of peroxide,” I teased.
“No. I’d very much appreciate some medical attention, actually, because this,” he shoved his bleeding bicep in my face. It was really a deep cut, right across a circular tattooed symbol inscribed with strange markings. The blood turned my stomach. “Hurts like hell. Could probably use a few stitches. But since I’m not really here, and my physical body is asleep and bleeding in a place I wouldn’t take you in a million years, we’ll just have to deal with it.” He spun on his heel back to the record player, but not before I’d seen a mixture of rage and hurt and frustration on his face. “Don’t worry. If I bleed on your precious furniture, it won’t be there when you wake up.”
“I didn’t mean…” I began, and then clamped my mouth shut. Just what the hell did I mean, anyway? Tension and anger radiated off him like heat shimmers over the highway in summer. It was like having a wild animal in my living room.
And yet, he had saved my life. His blood spoke to mine. And he was hurting.
I tried again. “I’m sorry you’re hurt. I don’t care what you bleed on. I wasn’t sure if you were real, if what happened the other night was real.” I slipped up beside him, watching the record spin. I tried to ignore his steadily bleeding arm. The jagged slash had begun to coagulate around the edges. Maybe it would heal on its own soon. I hoped so.
“It was real. And you were very lucky.” He relaxed a little as I drew near. Strange. It was the exact opposite of what I’d expected. I thought he would lash out like any wounded wild thing. Instead, I was the skittish one. “I love this band,” he said. “No one listens to records anymore. You have good taste.”
“They’re almost all Logan’s.” At his frown, I added, “My brother. He’s almost solely responsible for my musical education. Ethan and mine’s too. Ethan hasn’t been hu… uh, here… very long.”
His head snapped up. Stars flashed in his dark eyes. “Ethan. The one who made you Shadow-sick.”
As Mark Utley’s voice reached its whispery end, I reached around him and flipped the record over. “He meant well.” I started the B-side. Then, to distract him but also because I was interested, I asked, “Where are you, that you wouldn’t take me in a million years?”
The wild thing was back again; he looked at me with the desperation of a caged animal. “The Twilight Kingdom,” he said. My blood roared again when I accidentally brushed against him, as if the Shadows wanted to break out. “You were there.”
I remembered the endless expanse of twilit sky. I knew of two other worlds that brushed up against this one now. I wondered how many more I would come to know in my lifetime. “Why are you here?” I hugged myself, suddenly cold. “In my living room? Instead of that other place?”
“To find out if it was possible. If I could come here on my own without him finding out.” He smiled into the darkness, at something I couldn’t see. “So that next time we’ll make better use of our time.”
“Next time? What next time?” Did he have a head injury too? “And who is he?”
This boy with gifted blood dropped to his heels. “Someone very unpleasant. Someone I hope you never have to meet.” Abigail streaked through the darkness and butted against his knee. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to petting her as if he was the one being stroked. I sighed heavily. Like it or not, Abigail had become our supernatural barometer. If it was weird and she liked it, it was
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