Broken Heart 09 Only Lycans Need Apply(50)

Information floated into my head . . . her name was Larsa, and she was a vampire . . . and she was the daughter of Shamhat.

“The demon Lilith killed my mother,” Larsa explained to the room of people. Obviously I had arrived in the middle of a conversation. “The Ancients learned a harsh lesson the day Shamhat died. All of her line died when she did. Because of the bonding magic, all of their mates died, too.”

“Shamhat was the eighth vampire line. Vampires with earth magic,” said Larsa. “They’re very sensual creatures, in tune with creation. With life. Ironic, in a way, since we’re undead. But you know how it was. Ruadan sought out others who had supernatural abilities. It’s no coincidence that all the Ancients have specific gifts.”

“Why?” The question came from a lithe brunette. Her name floated into my mind: Phoebe.

“Eight vampire Families had existed once,” said Larsa. “And Lilith had effectively wiped out one-eighth of the vampire population by killing its founder.

“Ruadan always had the goal of bettering the world. Even then, belief in magic was dying out, giving way to science and cynics. He wanted to preserve as much as possible, to pass it along to the world when it was needed.”

“Patsy saved the vampire lines because she was the queen of all,” mused Phoebe. She sent a questioning glance to Larsa. “If Patsy dies . . . we all die?”

“Probably,” said Larsa. “Unless there comes a time when that burden is lifted from her.”

“I missed the connection with Amahté,” Phoebe said. “And the sorta-dead thing for Shamhat.”

“Amahté was powerful,” said Larsa. “Even before he was Turned. He could leave his body and travel into the Underworld. That ability, and being an Ancient, gave him the power to retrieve Shamhat’s soul. But her body needed some serious healage. So everyone believed she’d died. And he went to ground with her. To protect her.”

“Isn’t three thousand years long enough to heal grievous injuries?” asked Phoebe.

“Yep,” said Larsa.

I found myself being pulled toward Phoebe. Into her thoughts. She was thinking about the Consortium . . . about when the vampires came to Broken Heart. There had been talk about an archaeological dig in the Sudan. At the time, we’d been told the Consortium was looking for the source of the Taint. The disease had flared up now and then throughout undead history, but the modern-day version had taken them by surprise.

“They were looking for Amahté,” she said. “In the Sudan.”

“Nobody knows where they are. And the Consortium aren’t the only ones looking.”

“I’m from the Family Shamhat,” said Larsa. “I was the last. Lilith hacked off my mother’s head and nearly severed mine.” She fingered the scar on her neck, one that had never completely healed because she shouldn’t have survived it. “When Amahté pulled back her soul and returned her life, however feeble, it revived me. But none of the others. At least, none that I’ve ever been able to find.” She shrugged. “It took a long time to heal. By the time I was recovered enough to dig out from my grave, more than a hundred years had passed. Everyone believed me dead, and I let them think so. Until my mother is found and awakened, I am the last of my Family line.”

I guess that was the extent of the information that needed to be conveyed, because I found myself being yanked out of the vision and tossed into the darkness.

• • •

When I awoke, I was sagging against the wall, being held up by Drake, whose arms were wrapped around my waist. My hand was still clamped in the hole, and my blood still draining. I felt dizzy, and a little nauseated. I didn’t know if I should feel relieved or disappointed that I hadn’t been wrapped around Drake again.

I was leaning toward disappointed.

And feeling like crap.

Then my hand was released, and I dragged my arm out of the hole.

“Ow,” I muttered.

Drake lowered me to the ground and cursed softly as he removed his entire shirt and wrapped it around my mangled hand.

“These locks are demanding too much blood from you,” he said.

“We have no choice but to move forward.”

“Ja,” he said. It was a short, angry burst of a word. He finished securing the shirt and leaned back to study my face. “You are pale.”

“I feel light-headed.” I used my uninjured arm to grab water from one of the side pockets of my pants. Drake gently took it from me and twisted off the cap. When he gave me the bottle, I drained half of it. He put the lid back on and then tucked it back into the pocket for me.