A Meet of Tribes (A Shade of Vampire #45)(33)

“Neither did my father,” Draven replied, clenching his jaw. “I never saw her here. I never met Hansa until the other day, which leads me to believe that this happened right before my father died. Before that full moon by which he’d promised he’d introduce us.”

“I’m sorry, man,” I said slowly, reminded of his loss and suddenly feeling like a bit of a jerk.

“That must be what Hansa referred to yesterday morning,” the Druid concluded. “If my father and Hansa each had a swamp witches’ book, then finding them is imperative. I’ll need to speak to your sister again,” he said to Anjani, then shifted his focus back on me. “What was the third vision about?”

I looked down at the Daughter, her temple pressed into my arm. Her violet eyes wandered around the basement, occasionally settling on me.

“I made it all the way back to what seemed like the very beginning of Eritopia,” I answered. “I stood on top of Mount Agrith at dusk. There was a pool of water at the very top of the mountain, where its peak split in two. The eggs were never dropped on Agrith. They were pushed out by the water. They came from deep inside Eritopia,” I explained.

“Did you see them?” the Daughter asked me.

Draven tilted his head.

“Yes,” I told her. “I watched the eggs as they were pushed onto a ledge. They hatched, one by one, seven of them. They stood up, and they seemed to listen to everything around them, as if they understood the language of nature itself. They are deeply connected to Eritopia somehow. I know it in my heart, and I’m not sure how to explain that.”

A moment passed before Draven shared his conclusion with us.

“If they were created by Eritopia, then they must suffer when Eritopia suffers. There must be some kind of primordial connection between the Daughters and this world. This could be useful to us in the long run, especially if Azazel continues to burn and destroy everything,” he said. “I’m starting to think that the Daughters were a reaction to something, a particular event of that era. And the appearance of this last Daughter also seems auspicious. Just as Azazel’s reign of death and terror begins to spread, Mounth Agrith gives birth to another Daughter. I can see the connection.”

“I’m sorry I cannot be of more help,” the Daughter mumbled, looking up at me. “I don’t remember anything, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to know.”

I pulled her closer, my arm around her shoulders in a reassuring gesture.

“And speaking of strange connections, you and the Daughter seem to be linked,” said the Druid.

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” I asked him, then looked at the Daughter.

“This is the second time I’ve seen something strange between the two of you. First, when she awakened from her shell. And now earlier, when you succumbed to the spiced rose mixture. As soon as you passed out, so did she. As soon as you woke up, so did she.”

I blinked several times, trying to make sense of his statement. Serena looked at me and nodded.

“She fell flat on her face like a pancake.” Jovi grinned.

The Daughter grumbled something in his direction.

Jovi’s face dropped. “I’m sorry.”

The Daughter and I looked at each other, as if trying to find that hidden connection. I felt equal parts torrid attraction and crippling fear, as usual. I wanted to hold her close to my body and taste her lips, but at the same time I was aware that she had the power to kill me, or anyone else, with a single touch. I didn’t sense much else, and I felt too weak to attempt a mind-meld with her. I wasn’t even sure it would work. Or if she’d allow it.

“Whatever is going on between the two of you, you both need to be aware of it and pay attention,” Draven advised. “You could be connected in more ways than one.”

I couldn’t help but wonder what that meant. I felt myself sinking into the electrifying violet of her eyes. Was there really a connection of sorts? An invisible chord linking our bodies and souls? A string tying her heart to mine?

The latter felt like a probability, since my pulse raced every single time she looked at me. My body burned each time she smiled. My skin tickled wherever she touched me, sending billions of microscopic electrical currents through my muscles. We were bonded in more ways than one, and I had yet to ascertain whether that would be my salvation or my doom.





Vita





I wished it had only been a dream.

I slowly peeled my eyes open and sat up, my muscles gradually abandoning their relaxed state. Tension crept up through my back, stiffening inch after inch of flesh. I took a deep breath as I came fully into consciousness. One by one, the visions I’d had while I was sleeping started unraveling in my head, prompting me to search for Draven in the basement room.

Before I could call out to him, I looked down and saw black runes fluttering across my skin—hundreds of them in diagonal lines over my arms and chest. Heat expanded from my throat into my chest, and I screamed.

I was horrified by the prospect of becoming a full-fledged Oracle—barren, blind, and covered in thousands of tattoos. The reality of my condition came crashing down on me at the sight of those symbols. I wasn’t ready or willing to go through such changes.

I was swiftly wrapped in a pair of strong arms and held tightly as I struggled to scratch the runes off my skin. Bijarki’s hands held my wrists, preventing me from harming myself in my fit of panic, while Anjani feverishly jotted down what symbols she saw on me.