The drive to Carac’s home had been a mad dash, their travels ending just after they passed the city limits. They tore along the drive and then they carried Griffin’s limp body into the large home. The men settled her vamp on a couch in a library and then retreated.
At some point they introduced themselves as men who worked with Griffin, but she didn’t pay much attention beyond Brom.
Brom who seemed to know how to fix her vampire.
Hers.
Wren was stuck with him for the rest of her life, his freaking “Fire”, whatever that meant. She wasn’t about to lose him now.
“Wren?” Brom knelt beside her, giving her his entire focus.
She stroked Griffin’s hand, cradling it in hers. Did he feel colder than before? Was he getting worse? They’d said…
“Wren? Carac needs to feed him now. Can you let him go?”
Wren curled her lip, exposing her canine as if she had fangs to bear.
“I know, but you need to let him help Griffin. He’s old, yes? Do you know who Letholdus is? His name is Carac now.”
Letholdus…
“From the First Crusades, Wren. He was the first Christian knight to enter Jerusalem.”
Griffin’s hand twitched in hers. Was he waking up?
Brom kept badgering her. “He’s very, very old now. He’s very powerful. Your blood ensured Griffin’s survival, but Carac can wake him, Wren.”
That got her attention. “I can’t do that? He can?”
The vampire nodded and she placed Griffin’s hand back on the sofa and rose from her seat.
“Okay. Yeah. Okay.” Her body shook, tremors stealing her control.
Brom wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her away, yet she fought his hold. She couldn’t leave him. Not…he was hers and…
“Easy. Let Carac help and then you can touch him again.”
Wren twined her fingers together, fists pressed against her chest as she watched the older vampire take her seat. With efficient movements, he sliced his wrist and pressed it against Griffin’s mouth. Her vamp responded instantly, hands suddenly mobile and gripping Carac’s wrist, holding the man in place as he drank.
Griffin’s Adam’s apple moved with every swallow, more and more blood traveling down his throat.
Just as quickly as he’d become active, his eyes sprung open, the irises no longer ice-blue, but deep red. Suddenly, those eyes dimmed, lost their fierce hue and they drifted closed. Those hands that had held Carac so tight went slack and slid from the older vampire’s arm.
“You said…”
Carac lapped at his wound, sealing it, before turning to Wren. “He’s simply sleeping. The venom has worked hard to ravage his body. Let him rest and soon he’ll wake fully.”
Wren studied his face, stared at him and watched when his eyes didn’t shift to indicate a lie, no twitch of muscles to deny his statement. Then again, he’d had centuries to perfect deception.
“I vow it, Wren.” Carac rose from his seat. “Come with me now. I need to explain a few things and you need to tell me about what happened today. Simond will sit with Griffin.”
With a last glance at Griffin, she allowed Carac to lead her away. “Wouldn’t Brom be better to…”
Carac grasped her hand and tugged her from the room, grip gentle as he led her into the hallway and then into another space filled with couches and a large screen TV. Apparently even vamp boys enjoyed their toys.
When he released her, Wren settled on the couch, Carac quick to follow.
“What happened today?” His voice was soft, gentle, and she ignored the arrival of Brom and Liam. Then a few others drifted in and she knew they also worked with Griffin. But they hadn’t come to rescue him, so names escaped her.
Wren recounted the day: the visit from the pixie king, Hyde Pinxton. Griffin’s arrival and then dashing to his home only to be attacked by the king and one other. What had seemed so involved, took mere moments to explain.
The men were quiet before Brom broke the silence. “Griffin’s home is still warded against Others?”
She nodded. “That’s what he said.”
Quiet.
“Did the king give anything to you? What exactly did he say before he disappeared?”
She thought back over his visit to both her office and home, wracking her brain for the details. “He gave me a business card. Shiny with little swirls on it. Does that matter?”
“It might. Do you still have it?”
Wren shook her head. “No, it was in my purse and that’s still at Griffin’s.”
“Will send someone for it. What about the rest?”
“Just that the death of Griffin’s ‘sweet Fire’ was his plan, but Griffin’s death would work just as well and he wanted Griffin to say ‘hello’ to his Sovereign.”