MIDNIGHT HUNT: Book 3 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles Page 9

  He marched away from her cottage and, once out of the village, he dashed up the road to Vollstadt, slowing down when he reached the edge of town. Arriving back at his ship, he smiled at Paddy and Rob on the main deck, laughing and playing their instruments. Paddy blew into his flute and Rob stroked his violin, the two obviously drunk.

  “I thought I gave Andrew orders for you lads to go into town and do this.” Broderick hopped onto deck as they craned their necks toward him.

  Rob noticed the jug in Broderick’s hand. “Have you brought some real drink on board, Cap’n?”

  “Aye, all they have is beer in this village,” Paddy protested.

  Broderick chuckled. “Nay, ’tis not spirits, but you lads are welcome to a cask of Scotch in the hold.”

  “Are ye sure?” Rob asked, but still rose as if to ready to fetch the barrel once the word was given. “We only have two left.”

  Rick nodded. “Aye, go ahead.”

  “Hoo!” Rob trotted to the hatch and threw it open.

  Broderick turned to Paddy. “I have a strange request for you.”

  He crossed his arms and his brows rose, creating several creases up his forehead. “And that’s unusual for you?”

  Chuckling, Broderick handed Paddy the jug. “Get some kind of a brush and paint this on the rails and around our doors and windows of the ship. And don’t let it touch your skin while it’s wet. Use gloves or it will burn you.”

  Rob hoisted the cask onto the deck and climbed out of the hatch. “So what’s actually in the jug, Cap’n?”

  “It’s an infusion of wolfsbane.”

  The two men regarded Broderick with question in their eyes.

  “It’s to ward against werewolves,” he explained.

  “Och! Werewolves?” Rob frowned. “I’ve heard horrible stories of them beasties. I’m glad you’re on our side.”

  “A werewolf’d be no match for the likes of you, Cap’n.” Paddy winked. “But I’ll get this painted around the ship as you say.”

  “Good. And if there’s any left, just leave it in my cabin.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  Though Broderick had fed for the night, The Hunger had resurfaced when he smelled Monika’s blood, standing so close to her. He decided he’d go for another feeding. “Be ready for anything, lads.”

  Rob patted his silver blades on his belt. “I already know silver will hurt a werewolf.”

  “Good to know!” Paddy said and ensured his blade was at his hip.

  Broderick bid them good night and strode back into the village. Wandering Vollstadt for a while, he eventually came upon and entered The Copper Kettle—the small tavern where he’d met Malloren. Filling the doorway, he assessed the company. Familiar faces, especially the innkeeper’s, glared at him and the room fell silent.

  A fairly attractive woman, sitting atop the lap of one of the patrons, was the only one who wore a welcoming expression. Her straight blonde hair streamed over her thin shoulders and she grinned, showing a decent set of teeth. When she tried to rise, the man under her grabbed her hips and pulled her back onto his lap. She frowned and shoved the side of his head. “Oy, now! I goes wit’ who I wants.” Standing, she ambled over to Broderick and said, more for his ears than the rest of the room, “And Aggie wants ’im.”

  The beefy innkeeper stomped to the center of the room and raised his fist, but Broderick cast him a warning glance. The man closed his mouth and dropped his arm to his side.

  “Come on, love.” She linked her arm with Broderick’s and urged him out the door. “Saves your strength for me. You’ll needs it.”

  His intentions were to go into the tavern and wait for someone to leave so he could follow them down a dark street for his feeding. However, the woman on his arm might prove to satisfy another craving and help him discover the root of his yearnings. “Did you have somewhere in mind?”

  “Anywhere ya likes, dearie.”

  As they ventured farther into the village, he spotted a larger inn bustling with activity, a sign with a red stag hung over the double-wide door. “How about the inn?”

  “I’ll gives ya a royal beddin’ in there!” She winked and tapped him playfully on the arm.

  Broderick’s size often commanded attention, so he did his best to lay low and navigate his way through the crowd with little incident. “Do you have a room available?” he asked the tall, thin man behind the bar.

  The innkeeper assessed Broderick with a critical eye, taking in Aggie as well, and nodded. “I do.”

  Broderick tossed several silver coins onto the bar. Aggie ogled the currency. The innkeeper snatched them and dropped them onto a scale, the other brass dish already containing weights. “One more coin and that’ll do it.”

  Rick tossed the coin onto the bar and the innkeeper stashed the money in the purse at his waist.

  “This way.” The lanky man led them to the staircase at the back of the tavern, guided them down a hall and opened a door to the left. After he nodded to Broderick, he headed back down to the tavern.

  Let us find out the truth. Broderick stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

  Chapter Six

  Aggie walked around the inn room, a wide smile on her face and eyes a-glitter. She sat on the bed, easing her bottom onto the mattress, and let out a long sigh. “I’ll sleeps like the dead tonight.” She cast a smoldering gaze at Broderick. “Especially after I gives you a good tumble.” Crooking a finger, she beckoned him to come closer.

  Broderick hesitated. His face flushed and his heart hammered in his ears. Bedding wenches and taking their blood was a common practice for him, but that was before he met Davina. The thought of his wife wrenched his chest and he gasped for breath.

  “Oy! You ain’t havin’ second thoughts, are ya? A big, handsome man like you?” She sauntered over to him and slid her hands over his tightening chest. “Aggie’ll take care o’ ya. Don’t you fret yourself about nothin’.” She grabbed his groin and rubbed.

  Broderick seized her wrist and pulled her hand away. “Sorry, Aggie. That’s not happening tonight. But I’ll be sure to take care of you.” His mouth watered. The familiar pain sliced across his gums as his fangs extended.

  Aggie’s jaw dropped open. Sweet merciful God!

  Broderick persuaded her with peace and calmed the terror that flowed to the surface, her fear ebbing back like the tide. “Everything’s going to be fine and you’ll forget what happened here tonight.”

  She nodded and attempted a smile.

  Broderick bent forward and kissed Aggie. He slanted his mouth over hers and she responded with skill and passion. Though the scent of her blood aroused The Hunger, the kiss did nothing for his soul, nor his body. He pulled her into his arms and pressed the length of her against him. She moaned. He cringed. Working his mouth along her jaw and neck, he licked her throat and pierced her flesh, savoring the sweetness of her blood…but nothing more. She near collapsed in his arms as if drunk.

  Aggie was a slight woman, so Broderick pulled back from feeding sooner than he would have with other victims. It wouldn’t take draining much blood to harm her. He pierced his thumb with his fang and smeared the healing blood onto her wound, which vanished. Sweeping her limp form into his arms, he carried her to the bed.

  “You enjoy that nice soft bed, Aggie.”

  She smiled up at him with a hooded gaze. He pressed his palm to her forehead and she closed her eyes and slept. Broderick wiped the experience from her mind. She would only remember coming into the room, their kiss and a small stack of silver coins would be waiting for her on the small bedside table.

  Crossing his arms, he strolled to the window and gazed at the full moon through the diamond-shaped leaded panes, the glowing façade wavering through the glass. He had some of his answers. Not just any physical contact would do. His yearning was for Monika and not just for sexual gratification. There was no denying her eyes and mannerisms were hauntingly like Davina’s. But her soul being reborn into another body? The very i
dea went against everything he had ever known growing up as a boy, going to church, the entire purpose of a Vamsyrian—to trap the soul so it couldn’t ascend to heaven. None of it made sense.

  And the fact that Malloren Rune was here, that Monika and her family knew about Vamsyrians and they had the incantation to protect their home…it all screamed of manipulation from a certain prophetess. If she’d ever fed from Davina—not only did the thought cause his fists and jaw to clench, but he couldn’t imagine how she had done so without him knowing—she would have Davina’s memories and would have been able to “give” those memories to Monika. Was Malloren manipulating Monika’s dreams? Was she capable of doing so? Was she capable of giving Broderick dreams? She was a Vamsyrian and bound by the restrictions of day and night, so how could that be achieved? And to what purpose, except to fulfill this asinine prophecy? And yet it was possible for Malloren to sneak up on him without a single sign. Was she was capable of other things beyond his reckoning?

  Yet Edda Schmied had possibly seen him and Monika kissing and he hadn’t heard a mere mortal. Both times—Malloren’s approach and Edda’s—he was deeply invested in Davina…if Monika was indeed Davina incarnated.

  Broderick sighed, exasperated, and raked his finger through his hair. He braced his hands on the window frame and bowed his head, squeezing his eyes tight. “Blossom, I don’t want to betray our love. Is it coincidence she has your eyes? Am I so desperate to be with you that any semblance of who you are is my undoing?” He gazed at the moon, tears dragging down his face. “I miss you. She smells like you. Tastes like you. Kisses like you. Yet she is so unlike you.”

  He shook his head and swiped the tears from his face. One thing was for certain, he wouldn’t make any commitments about Monika until he was sure she was indeed Davina.

  Aggie sighed and turned over in the bed, drawing Broderick away from his thoughts. He folded the coverlet over her prone figure and left the room. Outside the door, he looked around to be sure no one would witness his “disappearance” and, when all was clear, he dashed down the hall, leapt over the railing of the stairs and spirited through an oblivious crowd to the road outdoors and back to his ship.

  * * * * *

  Monika hefted the bucket from the well and poured the water into the four potted pitchers she’d set on the stone ledge. The task was routine and allowed her mind to drift through the haze of pleasant thoughts about Broderick and his roguish smile the adorable dimple on his cheek. A miracle. It cannot be coincidence. I know you sent him to me in response to my request, Lord and Lady. He is the voice I’ve heard in my dreams. The sensuous lover with a Scottish accent. Heat rushed to her face. She was a virgin, so could not know for certain the ways of making love, but everything she’d experienced in her dreams seemed real. Surely, that was how it was done and it almost seemed she had already experienced the act. The joys from such an amorous act definitely made her eager to discover the possibilities!

  “And just what has you in such a state?”

  Monika emerged from her hazy thoughts and chuckled at Irma, who stood with brows raised over curious eyes and her hands cradling her pregnant belly. “You are carrying him lower.” She knelt and rubbed her palms over her friend’s abdomen. “Oma was right, you’ll deliver any day now.”

  Irma shoed Monika away. “Don’t change the subject. You had that faraway look.” The young woman, not yet twenty, leaned on the edge of the well. “I heard about the handsome, giant stranger who came into town last night. Edda said he was seeking a healer.”

  “Did she now?” Monika grinned and picked up her pitchers, whirling to head back to her cottage. She giggled when Irma waddled after her. Always the gossip, she wouldn’t be able to resist prying information from Monika.

  “You cannot leave me thus!” Irma tried to grab the two pitchers Monika had grasped by the handles in her right hand, but Monika pulled them away. Pouting, Irma followed her into the cottage.

  Monika chuckled. “There is naught to tell, my curious friend.”

  “Oh, is that so? Then why was he seeking a healer?” Irma closed the door behind them and eased into a chair.

  Monika set the pitchers on the table.

  “Edda said he wasn’t ill…far from it! Searching for an herb he couldn’t find himself. Did he perchance find it on your person when he bestowed this heavenly kiss Edda described?”

  Monika placed her hands upon her hips and pursed her lips. “Edda’s tongue does wag!” She sighed. Telling Irma how Broderick sought wolfsbane would bring forth unpleasant memories…and Monika did not want to remind anyone of the last encounter with werewolves—particularly Irma. The death of her husband’s mother—killed by a werewolf—still held a dark cloud over their little village, especially in the aftermath of other attacks. Because Monika’s father always disappeared during the cycle of the moon and no further incidents had happened, she believed her neighbors either chose to ignore his condition or didn’t know. However, if she didn’t give Irma a juicy morsel of information, the girl would persist in fishing for tidbits. Though Monika would make Irma work for it so she’d leave satisfied. “He is a merchant, looking to settle in the area.”

  Irma tapped her fingers on the table. “Yes?”

  Monika poured a pitcher of water into the barrel in the corner by the hearth. “He deals in fine art and antiquities.”

  Irma slapped her hand on the table. “Monika!”

  She chuckled. “He also deals in common-good trades, some of which will be herbs.”

  “Which herbs?” Irma leaned forward—as much as her condition would allow.

  Monika poured two more pitchers into her barrel. “We haven’t discussed them yet.”

  Irma crossed her arms and sat back in the chair. “What are you not telling me?”

  She whirled around to her childhood friend and placed a hand upon her chest. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I know you, Monika.” She wagged a scolding finger. “There is something you’re holding back.”

  Monika pursed her lips and placed her hands on her hips, then sighed. “Oh, very well, but I know how you’ll react. You’re already jumping to conclusions.”

  Her friend gripped the edge of the table, her eyes filled with anticipation.

  “He wanted to know how to repel an unwanted lover,” she lied.

  “For certain?” Irma fluttered her fingers with rapt attention. “An unwanted lover! That means he will be looking for another lover.”

  “Perhaps, but we did not discuss such matters.” Monika joined Irma at the table.

  “So when will he be back to see you?”

  Monika smiled. “Sunset this eve.”

  Gleeful giggles poured from Irma and she clapped her hands. “Someone finally has the attention of our Monika!”

  Monika rolled her eyes, chuckling. “Oh, bother, Irma. I knew you would do this.”

  “I have never seen you in such a state. No man has ever caught your attention before, and it hasn’t been for lack of trying. You have a slew of broken hearts in your wake.”

  “I have no such thing!” She crossed her arms and pouted. “Need I remind you, no one is courting me?”

  “Of course they aren’t because you have turned down all your suitors. You cannot court without one, birdie.” Irma pushed her belly forward as she rose from her chair, a satisfied grin on her face. “I am looking forward to seeing how this develops.” She kissed Monika’s cheek, and rubbed her belly as she waddled out the door, waving over her shoulder. “Tschüsse!”

  “Goodbye,” she responded in kind. That worked out better than expected. Tongues would certainly wag for the day, though. She shook her head and smirked, then broke her fast with bread, cheese and small beer. “Now, let us see if we can decipher what you were doing, Mama.”

  Monika fetched the parchment with the recipe for the werewolf ward and frowned. The distressing line of the parchment was, “Too tired and distraught to write a full entry.” What had her mother endured before writing that pa
ssage?

  She pushed her grief aside and focused on the ingredients. Wolfsbane was known for two things: killing wolves and a ward against werewolves. But she wasn’t entirely familiar with the properties of the other herbs as it pertained to magickal uses. Most of her remedies were for health reasons.

  Monika plodded into the bedroom near the back entrance, which led into their small rear herb garden. She searched the shelves of the short bookcase by the door. Fingering the worn spines of the precious tomes handed down for several generations, Monika found the book she sought.

  She leaned the book into the sunlight streaming through the open shutters and flipped carefully through the yellowed pages, finding the entry for agrimony. “Protection and breaking hexes,” she read. “Used to banish evil and not only breaks a hex, but sends it back to the hexer.” Thumbing through the pages to fumitory, she read, “Exorcism. Used to exorcise evil spirits.” The entry for wood betony read, “Purification. Burned, grown or worn for purification and protection. It is written in the Herbarium Apuleii Platonici the plant protects the wearer’s soul as well as the body.” Just to be thorough, she read the entry on wolfsbane. “Protection. Poisonous. Used not only to ward off werewolves, but also taken by werewolves to cure their condition.” She closed the book and replaced it with a frown. “Then why isn’t the wolfsbane alone enough?”

  The words in her mother’s closing comments seemed to flutter and pulse with intention as she reread the passage. “The herbs and the elements are an effective ward…” Katrina seemed to have all bases covered by bringing the four elements into the spell.

  Monika sighed and folded the parchment, replacing it in her pouch. Why didn’t it work, Mama?

  A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Swinging it open, she smiled at her visitor. “Hallo, Gretchen! How does your grandfather fair?” She embraced the red-haired youth and ushered her inside.