She gave him a look that made him remove his hand, then turned back to Mal. ‘Peace, dark one. I am here to heal, but I cannot do it alone.’
He leaned in. ‘What do you need? Just tell me.’
‘It isn’t what I need. It’s what she needs. Blood. Yours.’ Her eyes were unblinking. ‘Are you willing?’
He straightened. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Your blood can balance the light in her. Your darkness can give her reason to fight. The strength of your blood will heal her wounds and give her a chance to live.’
He took a step toward her. She didn’t move. ‘In English.’
She removed her glasses and cleaned them with the edge of her blouse. ‘Cut yourself. Fill her wounds with your blood. Is that clear enough, blood eater?’
Velimai hissed. Mal backed away, shaking his head. ‘You don’t know what you’re asking.’
She put her glasses back on. ‘Yes, I do.’
Sharing blood with Chrysabelle could change her. She was comarré, she already bore certain characteristics given to her by the presence of vampire saliva in her system. What would blood do to her? He was afraid of the answer.
Creek approached. ‘Are you sure this is safe, Mawmaw?’ Nothing about his demeanor said he thought the old woman’s proposal was a good one. ‘She’s a daughter of light. Putting his blood into her … ’ He scowled.
She sighed. ‘You asked me to help, Thomas. I can only offer what the spirits bring me.’
‘I don’t like it,’ Creek said.
‘You think I do?’ Mal asked.
Rosa Mae walked toward the door. ‘She’s fading, isn’t she? Listen.’
Mal stilled, doing as the woman suggested. Chrysabelle’s pulse was weaker, her heartbeat sluggish. Tired. ‘If this goes poorly, if something happens to her—’
Creek nodded. ‘We both take the blame. We both protect her.’
Mal sighed. Reluctantly, he lifted his wrist to his mouth, tore his fangs across his skin. Blood dripped down his arm. He held it over the first gouge along her spine until the bleeding stopped and he had to open his flesh again. He repeated the process until his blood filled both of the raw grooves in her back.
She shivered as his blood seeped into her body. Her pulse strengthened. The edges of her wounds began to pull together.
‘She will heal,’ Rosa Mae announced.
‘Yes,’ Mal answered. ‘But will she still be herself when she wakes up?’
‘She will be who she is meant to be,’ Rosa Mae said. ‘Take me home, Thomas. Give the blood eater some peace.’
‘I’ll be back,’ Creek said as he escorted her out.
Mal slumped into the chair and settled in to wait for Chrysabelle to wake up. Peace? Not hardly. Never in his life had he had such a bad feeling about something.
He hoped Chrysabelle made it through this unaffected and proved him wrong, but if she didn’t … if he’d turned her … He dropped his head into his hands. She balanced him. Made him feel as close to sane as he’d been in a long while. Turning her into a vampire was unacceptable. There were only so many burdens he could bear.
That was not one of them.
The waning moon shed its pale silver over Aliza’s porch, giving them just enough light to work with.
Evie came out of the house, shutting the sliding door behind her. She’d regained enough strength that their work could go forward. ‘Midnight hour, Ma. At last.’
Aliza smiled. Her daughter was whole again. Her sweet Evie, well and standing beside her. Aliza nodded at her precious child, thankful she held no hard feelings over the length of time it had taken Aliza to free her. ‘So it is.’
‘Did the shifter go through the smoke?’
‘We’ll know soon enough. For now, let’s light the candle and start this new spell.’
Evie struck a match and touched it to the wick, lighting the black anise-scented candle. She placed it in the center of the salt and earth pentagram they’d outlined on the scarred picnic table.
Aliza took the vial of blood from her apron and set it beside a wide strip of willow bark on the table. ‘Hold that flat for me.’
‘I never imagined we’d end up with his blood,’ Evie said, securing the willow at both ends with her fingertips. She twitched, a subtle jerking of her whole body. She’d been doing it since being released. Aliza hoped it would go away. ‘Should be better than Dominic’s, don’t you think?’
‘For sure. Malkolm’s blood holds more dark power.’ And power was exactly what they were after. Had been, ever since the night Evie had turned herself to stone. They’d just never figured it would take them so long to get the blood to make it right. Aliza uncorked the vial and dipped a glass fountain pen into the blood. On the willow bark she wrote the unholy name. ‘This will change everything.’
Evie laughed softly. ‘I want a penthouse in the city.’
‘Child, we will own the city.’ She took the bark and held it over the candle and spoke the simple spell. ‘Ancient spirit, now at rest, heed my call and manifest.’ Slowly, the bark began to burn. Smoke curled off the papery wood until the fire hit the name written in blood. In a flash, the piece flamed brightly, then went to ash in a puff of smoke.
The smoke grew into a cloud, heavy and dense and viciously red. Evie shivered.
‘It’s okay,’ Aliza assured her. ‘The pentagram contains it.’