This Side of the Grave (Night Huntress, #5)(23)

“Yes, but it’s been six hundred years since our kind last clashed over such matters,” Bones muttered.

“Really? What happened six hundred years ago?” Timmie asked, echoing the same question that popped into my mind.

Bones’s expression cleared, becoming inscrutable. I knew him well enough to know such a reaction meant he’d just spilled something he hadn’t meant to, though I didn’t know what the big deal was. Six hundred years was a long time. Whatever happened back then should have no bearing on the potential trouble stirring between vampires and ghouls today . . .

Premonition slid a cold path up my spine. The past few days, hearing my mother and uncle parrot the same ill-founded arguments I’d once used had reminded me time and again of when I’d first met Bones. Something teased the edge of my mind from that time. A long-forgotten memory of what Bones said the second night we met, when he thought another vampire sent me after him because he couldn’t believe I was a half-breed.

Suppose I believe you’re the offspring of a human and a vampire. Almost unheard of, but we’ll get back to that . . .

“Bones, whatever happened to the other half-breed? You said half-breeds were almost unheard of, and Gregor mentioned at least one before me, right?”

He let out a slow hiss, something he didn’t do unless he was upset or aroused, and these were not titillating circumstances.

“Kitten, now’s really not the time—”

“My ass,” I cut him off, voice hardening as my suspicions were confirmed. “Talk.”

Timmie cast an interested look between the two of us, but didn’t say anything. Bones ran a hand through his hair in a frustrated way before meeting my gaze.

“Let’s take a drive. Need to bring your mate home anyway.”

So he was being very cautious about being overheard. No way would we drive straight to Timmie’s apartment and drop him off before we explained how we needed his help with the ghouls. I gave a short nod before gesturing to Timmie.

“Come on, our car’s this way.”

“I brought my own,” he began, stopping at the glare Bones threw him. “But I can always come back and get it later,” Timmie lamely finished.

“Wise choice,” Bones commented. “After you, mate.”





Chapter Ten

We were several miles away, cruising down Interstate 70 with Bones’s usual disregard for the speed limit, before he spoke again.

“Once before, in the fourteen hundreds, a woman was widely known to be half vampire. There might have been others in history, but they managed to remain anonymous. She didn’t. Her name was Jeanne d’Arc, but you’ll know her better as Joan of Arc.”

For a second, I thought Bones was kidding, even though he wasn’t the type to pull silly pranks. Then that same stunned part of my brain acknowledged he stared ahead at the road with a deadly serious expression, so this wasn’t a joke.

“Joan of Arc?” I repeated. “Saint Joan? She’s the only other known half-breed?” Talk about a hard act to follow!

“This was before my time, but I’ll repeat the story as Mencheres told it to me. Back in her day, Joan was well-known to humans for her battle skills and religious convictions. To vampires, she was also outed as a half-breed after one saw her actions on the battlefield. Apollyon seized upon her unusual status to sow seeds of rebellion among ghouls in Europe. He claimed Joan could be the most powerful undead creature in the world if her vampire abilities were combined with those of a ghoul, and if so, Joan would unite all vampires against ghouls.”

“In other words, the same shit he’s spouted about me.” My initial surprise vanished under a wash of anger. “I don’t suppose she intended to do any of that, either.”

“Apollyon didn’t have a shred of proof at the time—and none has been found since—but there were still those fearful or gullible enough to be swayed. Ghouls began withdrawing from undead society, attacking Masterless vampires. Then they openly attacked smaller vampire lines, picking off the weakest and less connected first. Rumors began to swirl that they were amassing an army for a full-scale attack on all vampires. A species showdown seemed inevitable, but once Joan was executed by the Church, a truce was negotiated between vampires and ghouls. Apollyon has been relatively quiet since . . . until recently.”

Right, when another half-breed came on the scene for him to use as a scapegoat for his genocidal tendencies. And now the same scenario looked to be happening all over again with the recent attacks on Masterless vampires.

Timmie’s mouth hung open in almost comedic fashion, but I only felt anger coursing through me. “It wasn’t just the Church who made sure Joan was burned at the stake, was it?”

Bones closed his eyes briefly. “No, luv. Even after her death, some of Apollyon’s ghouls were still afraid of her. They dug up her bones and ground them into powder to make certain Joan could never be brought back.”

“And the vampires let her burn,” I said. My voice rose. “She was their sacrificial lamb, her death the price for their truce.”

His gaze was so dark and bottomless that I almost felt swallowed by those brown orbs. “Yes and no. Joan was offered a choice to become a full vampire instead of facing the stake. She chose to die instead.”

The strangest sort of grief snaked through me. Even though Joan had been dead centuries before I was born, a small part of me still felt like I’d lost a friend. She was the only other person who’d known what it was like to live as I had—fitting into neither the human world nor the vampire one. She’d been punished for her unwanted uniqueness like me, too, but even if she’d chosen vampirism over death, Joan’s persecution from Apollyon might not have ended. Not if all half-breeds who changed over ended up as strange as me. I was as much of a full vampire as I was ever going to get, but because of my oddities, the ghoul leader was still trying to use me as kindling for the fires of war.