Cranberry Blood Page 3

  I moved my sword so I could reach it easily, just as he walked back in with a small package in his left hand.

  “What is it?” I stared at the strange parcel as he sat down in front of me.

  “Well, if you open it, you’ll see.” He handed it to me.

  I couldn’t help but scowl at him. Why would my grandmother leave a package for me in the hands of a complete stranger? Well, a complete stranger to me.

  I’d lived with her my entire life—after my father died, she and my mother had gone to Southern Ireland, where we moved in with my great uncle and aunt. I had been a baby at the time—then my Gran and me, together, had moved back here to London when I was nineteen. Why hadn’t she said anything about any of this? Lord knew, she had many opportunities to mention it; thirteen years’ worth of opportunities.

  My hands shook as I opened the package, reaching inside to pull out a small, white envelope, and a plastic wallet containing a disc. I must have looked confused.

  “It’s a DVD,” Brendan said.

  “How thoughtful.”

  “Your grandmother recorded her message. She said that way, you’d know I am telling you the truth.”

  I stared at the silver disc. The knots in my gut were doubling. What could she possibly have had to say that she couldn’t have told me over the last thirteen years?

  I placed the DVD and envelope on the table and stood.

  “Okay.” I walked over to the fridge and pulled out another bottle of juice. “Let’s pretend for a minute that I do believe you. My Gran asked you to come and watch over me?”

  “Protect you.”

  “Why?”

  “Watch the DVD.”

  “Why now? After she’s been—” I popped the lid. “—gone for over a month. Why show up now?” I knocked back half the bottle.

  “I have actually been around for a while.” He leaned an elbow on the breakfast bar and picked a piece of toast from the plate.

  “A while?”

  “Yeah. I got here four days before Sofia died.” His focus stayed on the plate.

  Jesus Christ! My Gran knew when she was going to die. But, of course she did. She knew everything about her life.... How the hell did she deal with shit like that?

  I knocked back the rest of the bottle, thankful that the throbbing in my temples had started to fade. I felt dirty, like the grime of the last few days still stuck to me; Carlson’s drool, the dirt from the streets of London. Sweat still dampened my scalp; the rest had dried on my skin like a second layer. My thirst was nowhere near gone, but more than anything, I just wanted to throw up. “So where have you been, exactly?”

  “Around.”

  “Around?”

  He looked up; his gaze pinned me to the spot. “I have been keeping an eye on you.”

  A shiver ran down my spine.

  I’ve got Vampires watching me, and now a Shifter, as well. Great.

  “So you’ve been spying on me for the last, what, six weeks?”

  “Not spying. Just watching over you.”

  I placed the bottle in the sink and got another one from the fridge. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would she send you? I’m a Slayer. This is my life. This is what I do. I was trained from the age of—” I stopped.

  “Eight, by any chance?”

  “Why do I need to be protected all of a sudden?” I growled. Ha. How the hell could I say that? I had been protected my entire life; cut off from all forms of normality. I leaned against the refrigerator and drank my fourth bottle.

  “I don’t know, kid. All I know is that whatever you want to know, the answers are probably on that DVD.”

  “You’re not doing very well with the whole convincing me not to kill you just because you say you knew my Gran routine.”

  “I don’t need to convince you. You either believe me, or you don’t. It makes no difference to me. I’m here and I’m staying until I have done what I am supposed to do.”

  “Which would be?”

  “Watching your back.”

  “My back doesn’t need watching”

  “So bleeding to death on a deserted street in the middle of London was your plan, the other night?”

  “Maybe.” Jesus, I sound like a child.

  “Well, that went really well for you. I think you would have succeeded.” He laughed harshly, pulling both his arms behind his back and stretching. The material of his shirt tightened, bringing my focus to a small shape that rested between his firm pecs. “Were you never taught not to stare?”

  “So how long are you going to be here?” I walked over to the sink and placed the empty bottle with the others.

  “For as long as I am needed.”

  “You’re not needed.” My rebuff sounded firm as I turned to him.

  His mouth formed a straight line. “I will be.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “If you go and watch the DVD, you might find out.”

  “Jesus! You’re infuriating.” I growled, suddenly aware that I had not been stabbing and kicking his ass out of my house like I’d planned to when I first walked into the kitchen.

  “I do try.” He bowed to mock me.

  “I will kill you if you are lying about any of this.” I folded my arms and gave him my stern look.

  “I’m not.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “But I’m staying, kid; whether you like it or not. Okay?”

  No. Not okay. “I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?”

  “Not really.”

  “If you push me, trick me, or try to hurt me, Shifter, I will fill your gut with as much silver as I own and that’s a promise.” The more silver I pushed into him, the more damage I could cause the smug bastard. I had a lot of silver, and the urge to stab him felt oh so strong.

  An unexpected smile emerged.

  “I will try my best to behave.” He stood and picked up the DVD. “I hope you have that out of your system and are feeling a little better. It’s time you watch this.”

  Every muscle in my body tensed as he walked over to me.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, kid.”

  “I wouldn’t let you.” I flexed my hands and glanced at my sword, which still lay on the breakfast bar.

  “Your grandmother did say I might have to tie you to a chair if you didn’t watch this, though.” He folded his arms.

  “Just try it.”

  His eyes searched my face, the smile tugging at the left corner of his lips. “Is that a dare?”

  “It isn’t.”

  “I know you might not feel ready to watch this—”

  “Don’t.” I shook my head. “Don’t start all the sympathy bullshit. The pep talk. Don’t go on like you know me or like you give a shit. The only reason you are still breathin’ is because you killed Carlson and you saved my life, but I mean it, if you—”

  “Piss you off, I go bye bye.” He nodded. “I got that.”

  “I hope you did.”

  He stepped toward me; I didn’t realize I had backed away until my heel hit the cupboard behind me.

  “People die. It hurts. Yeah, I don’t know you, but I do know how sad you were when your grandmother died. You were close. You have no parents. You’re all alone. Life’s shit. If being all I’m Miss Tough Girl helps you get by, then fine, but do yourself a favour and stop threatening me. You don’t scare me, and more to the point, if you really wanted to hurt me, you would have done it by now.”

  My right fist flew into his face; I clamped my teeth as the shock of the impact shot down my arm.

  Brendan backed away, rotating his head in a full circle. I heard his muscles popping.

  “Good. Now you have that urge out of your system.”

  I froze at the sight of his eyes flooding with gold. What the hell? Freaky mood-changing Shifter eyes.

  “I’m sorry you don’t like the fact that I’m here, kid, but as I have already said, I couldn’t care less. I won’t be going anywhere. So, you are just going to have to play nicely. I’m
here to help you, and soon, you will realize that. And you will be thankful.”

  My fist automatically flew toward his face again, but this time, it got caught in his left hand. I bit down on my lip as he grasped my fist tightly in his own.

  “This has been too much information for one morning and I do apologize, but that is how things are now, Heather. You can punch me all you want, but it will only cause you to break your wrist, eventually.” He let go of my hand and backed off.

  “Get. The hell. Out of my house!” I growled, flexing my fingers.

  “No.” He turned and walked toward the dining room.

  “I don’t want you in my house.” I took a few steps closer to the breakfast bar.

  “Tough.”

  “I never asked for you to be here.” I grabbed my sword. “I don’t need you to be here.”

  “Deal with it.”

  Who the hell does he think he is? The overwhelming urge to run and shove my entire sword into his back electrified my arms. I squeezed the hilt. Could I get to him before he had time to react?

  “I’m going to your living room and I am going to put this DVD in the player,” he said, turning as he reached the dining room archway. “Then I am going to come back in here and finish reading my newspaper. I will keep pressing play on this thing until you have watched it.” He looked at my sword and grinned. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

  “Well, you’re not me.”

  He looked at the disc in his right hand. “I promised Sofia I would make you watch it. She told me you would be stubborn and the biggest pain in the arse, but she also told me that you would watch because you know it’s the right thing to do...especially because she wants you to. So if I have to tie you to a chair—” he looked up at me, the gold vanishing from his eyes, “—I will. And believe me, Tough Girl, I will enjoy every second of it.”

  He winked, then walked into the living room.

  Chapter Two

  Brendan did as he said he would; he set up the DVD and returned to the kitchen.

  I heard her voice from the stairs on the way up to the bathroom.

  Remembering Carlson’s tongue sweeping over every inch of my face, neck, and chest, along with the distinct memory of his fangs as he offered me the change, made me feel dirtier. I could still see his black blood slithering down his pale skin and dripping onto my jacket.... I needed a shower before I could do anything else. I needed to scrub every memory of that night from my flesh.

  I locked the bathroom door, pulled off my clothes, and threw them into the wash basket. I gently pulled the bandage off my waist and inspected the wound. Brendan had cleaned it perfectly; the marks had almost healed, but then, that was one kick of being an Infected. I healed quicker than a normal human did. Lucky for me that Carlson’s nasty talons missed anything vital.

  I climbed into the shower cubicle and hit the power button. The water hit my skin, bathing my body in delicious heat. I grabbed my tube of coconut body wash and scrubbed at my warmed flesh, working the soap into a thick lather. The hot water caressed my skin, washing away the remaining dirt of that night and carrying it down the drain. I worked strawberry shampoo into my hair, wanting nothing more than to enjoy my shower, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t relax with a stranger in my house, or hearing the DVD below. Hearing the familiar voice echoing up the stairs.

  We’d lived together a long time, yet, she couldn’t find one minute to say everything that she had to say. She never told me there was a DVD message or that she knew an Alpha. She knew a Shifter would show up when she died, because she had told him to come—and she couldn’t find one minute to say to me, “By the way, Heather, when I die, a life-size, shape-shifting Ken doll will be showing up to rescue you and then he will be staying in the house for a while. Oh, and he is a cocky sod. Just so you know.”

  Why? Why send a Shifter? And why the hell leave me a message when she could have just told me while she was alive?

  I pressed my forehead to the cold, black tiles and watched the shampoo suds dance down the drain.

  Seeing the damn DVD would be the only way I would get answers to any of these questions. I took a deep breath and switched off the shower. The smell of strawberries and coconut danced in the mist of the room, drowning out the scent of Brendan and my blood.

  I hurried across the hall to my room, trying to ignore my Gran’s voice floating up the stairs. I locked the door behind me and sat down at my vanity table. Picking up the hairdryer, I began to dry my hair. The woman in the mirror looked tired, with bruises under the eyes, hair a dull yellow, skin pasty. A few days of dehydration and six weeks of broken sleep unfortunately did that to me. My skin looked a little better than it had when I first woke up, but my dark blue eyes still looked black.

  I felt sick, knowing how close I came to being one of them. Knowing that all it would take was a few drops of Vampire blood to slide down my throat and I would be one of them.

  Bile coated my tongue. I gulped it away.

  I blamed Carlson. If not for him, I wouldn’t be what I am. If not for Carlson, my mother would still be alive. My chest tightened. The bastard had wanted to change me; now he was finally gone and he was never coming back, thanks to Ken Doll. And, if it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead, too.

  I took a deep breath and stared at my reflection.

  I didn’t have to like this situation and I definitely didn’t have to like the Shifter, but he saved my life, and if my Gran trusted his Alpha and the Pack, well, maybe I could try to be civil to him; try being the key word.

  I threw on a pair of jeans, a purple top, and left down my long golden curls. I walked across the hall into the bathroom to pick up my shredded clothes from that night. A huge crimson patch stained the left side of my dark blue T-shirt. I inspected my jeans, following a long dark stain that ran down the left leg.

  Jesus, I must have been a mess. The thought alone made my stomach flip.

  I threw my top and jeans into the waste-bin, then re-packed the first aid kit before putting the tin back inside the bathroom cupboard.

  He can clean me up, but he can’t clean up some blood-soaked clothes and a first aid kit? Men.

  Thoughts about Brendan undressing me flickered through my mind.... A shudder ran through me. He was so lucky I hadn’t been awake; otherwise, that scar across his left eye would have had a new friend across the right eye.

  I left my leather boots near the sink, grabbed the wash basket and the waste-bin, and made my way downstairs.

  “Heather, I’m so sorry.”

  My blood ran cold as my grandmother’s voice filtered from the DVD.

  I forced myself to walk into the kitchen, ignoring the Shifter who still sat at my breakfast bar reading his damn paper. I threw the contents of the wash basket into the washing machine, poured in some laundry powder, hit the power button, then opened the pantry door and searched for a box of matches.

  “Got any rope in there?” Brendan asked.

  “Go to hell.” I grabbed the matches from the top shelf.

  I stepped out of the pantry and walked straight past him, trying not to notice the grin that curled at the corner of his mouth. I went into the dining area, unlocked the double doors, and walked outside to the barbeque, where the contents of the waste-bin ended up onto the grill. I picked up the can of BBQ fluid that sat beneath the grill and poured half of it onto my clothes, then lit three matches, threw them on the pile, and watched as the remains of my hellish night of stupidity turned into ashes.

  I’d almost died. I walked into a damn trap, all because I wanted to kill Carlson. I hadn’t checked my surroundings. I hadn’t listened to my senses until it was too late. I had made it too easy for them. How could I have been so stupid? I had almost let myself get killed.

  The small ball in my chest swelled, causing me to take a couple of deep breaths.

  I wanted to scream, to call out to my Gran for help...but I could only hear Gran’s voice talking to me on the fucking television.

  “Jesus.” I wiped a
few stray tears from my cheek. Why the hell am I crying?

  I covered the grill and took one last deep breath, forcing the ball lodged in my breast to shrink. The last thing I needed to do was to give Mister High and Mighty the satisfaction of seeing me like this.

  No doubt he would bang on his big ole’ monkey chest and start with some macho bullshit: “Poor little Slayer, all on her own and missing her grandmother. That is why I am here. Brendan, the Ken Doll Shifter, to the rescue!”

  * * * * *

  I found myself sitting cross-legged directly in front of the TV, with no idea what the hell to expect, but at the sight of my Gran flooding the screen, my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach and a few more silent tears crawled down my cheek.

  “Hello, my bonny lass.”

  Her soft Scottish accent filled my ears. She smiled faintly at the camera. She looked so young. Her hair was a shoulder-length wave of dark chestnut instead of the short, faded brown crop that I knew so well. Her skin seemed to have a nice healthy glow, but the feature I recognized the most was her warm hazel eyes that looked directly at me. My mother’s eyes.

  “This was my idea, the recorded message, and yet, I find myself speechless. I suppose I should start with the obvious.” She forced a smile. “The only way you are watching this is if I am dead and you have decided to stay in London, instead of going back to Ireland.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not going back.”

  “The choice is yours, but all I can say is, I am sorry you’re on your own. Knowing this day was coming so long before it arrived wasn’t easy, and I am sorry I have left you, my darling.”

  I wiped the tears that tickled my cheeks and tried to keep my focus on my Gran.

  “Now, the charming man who is hanging around is Brendan. You won’t kill him; at least, I hope you won’t.” She laughed lightly.

  “I haven’t yet, but I wouldn’t leave it off the agenda,” I said quietly.

  “I’m sorry you have to meet each other like this. Waking up one morning and finding him in the house, but he saved your life, didn’t he?”

  “You already know he did.” A sigh escaped me.