Garden of Thorns

  “Well, I guess we better buckle up for a rocky ride,” Aleah says, stabbing a fork into the pumpkin pie on the counter.

  “And until we get word from Michael that Charles is dead, I think Robert is right. You need to stay here,” Julie says, resting a supportive hand on my arm.

  Defeat sinks in my chest. “Okay.” I nod.

  But when Lexington looks into my eyes, he knows the truth of what I’m feeling.

  I haven’t had to hide in four and a half years. Haven’t had to have vampires protect me against other vampires. I’ve been able to protect myself for this long.

  And here I am again, back to what it was like when I was sixteen. When I was two years old.

  The fragile human, threatened by a set of fangs.

  “We’ll get through this,” Lexington says softly as he reaches out and takes my hand in his. “Just give it time, and I promise you’ll get your normal life back.”

  We don’t even dare let anyone run back to my house to get any of my things. If Charles tracked me down to the House, how likely is it he won’t figure out where my home is?

  So I’m stranded at the House without any of my things. Without my cat. Without my garden. None of my clothes. Nothing familiar or comforting.

  The holiday weekend rolls by. No word from Michael.

  On Tuesday, Lexington, Robert, Eva, and Aleah accompany me to Oleander Apothecary. Charles already knows where that is. I gather some of my things from there, take as much work stuff as I can, and load it into Lexington’s car.

  Just before I’m about to leave, I notice the light for the room downstairs is on. But when we go to check it out, there’s no one there.

  Someone came looking for help, and I was locked up, being watched over.

  Some poor soul is probably going to live out the rest of their days as a vampire when they don’t want to, and I could have helped them if this wasn’t the reality of my life.

  No matter how hard I try to fight it.

  Before we leave the shop, I hang a sign up in the window: Closed until further notice.

  I think of all the customers who come to me on a frequent basis. All the people I help, all those who turn to me when everyone else has failed them.

  And now I have my hands tied.

  Lexington reaches over and takes my hand in his as we drive back to the House. I feel his eyes on me, but I can’t bring myself to look up at him.

  Numbness starts creeping into my chest, and I fully welcome it.

  As a stand-in House, we discuss if we should tell the House of Conrath what has happened. In the end, we decide not to. I know the second Ian hears there’s been face-to-face threats, he’ll be at Charles door, driving a stake through his chest, putting himself in the line of danger.

  And this is what we’re trying to accomplish in this House. We need to figure out how to deal with our own problems. This is the job of a House. We’ll figure out a way to solve this.

  Four days later and we still haven’t heard anything from Michael.

  I won’t say it out loud, but I’m pretty sure he’s dead.

  He’s tough. He’s cunning. He’s loud and confident.

  But despite the fact that it isn’t his fault, that he can’t do anything to change it, he is still only a Bitten. Going up against an enemy that is so much stronger than he is.

  I stand at the window a week after Christmas, staring outside as snow gently falls. It’s nearly dark, but light glows from the street lamps. Cars drive by outside, on their way about their normal, mundane lives.

  I hate them all right now.

  “You hungry?”

  I don’t turn to see Lexington when he walks into the bedroom that used to be Michael’s. I hear him close the door behind him and walk half way across the room.

  “No,” I answer simply.

  A woman walks down the sidewalk, her heavy boots making prints in the slushy snow that sticks to the sidewalk.

  I want nothing more than to trade places with her.

  “Elle, you have to keep eating,” Lexington’s voice comes nearer. I feel the heat of his body against my back, and he places his hands on my upper arms. “I’ve seen you take two bites of every other meal in the past week. I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine,” I say emptily.

  “No, you’re not,” he whispers, his lips brushing my hair over my ear. “You’re shutting down. You’re starving yourself. And this is the Elle I remember as a girl.”

  “I guess we’ll just always be one and the same,” I say, letting my vision glaze over, not seeing anything anymore. “I thought I could change it all. But our destiny always finds us.”

  “Don’t call an enemy destiny,” Lexington says, pulling me around so I face him. I look up in his eyes, not feeling anything. “This is not some grand scheme, Elle. This is a maniac doing something to you that you don’t deserve. Don’t give him cosmic credit.”

  “Maybe it’s just punishment,” I say. “A delayed reaction for my past sins.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lexington asks. He lets his hands slide down, taking mine in his.

  “Six years ago I shot and killed my own mother,” I say, remembering the smell of the rifle. How I struggled to figure out how to load the bullets. The blood that covered my shoes as I walked through a field of slain Bitten. “I didn’t even consider another option when I knew what she’d done. When I learned the truth. I murdered the woman who gave birth to me. There has to be some kind of repercussion for a heinous act like that.”

  “Hey,” he says, his voice growing desperate. He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. “Don’t give up on me. Don’t drown right now. I saw you do it, Elle. I watched you sob, fat, big ol’ tears that rolled down your cheeks when you pulled the trigger. You’re still a human being, Elle. Don’t let that go.”

  But I want to. Emotions are simply too draining for someone like me.

  I’d rather empty out.

  “Please look at me,” Lexington begs. And maybe I’m not empty enough, because the emotion in his voice compels me to do so. “We’re going to make it through this. You’ve lived through a lot of other shit, and you’re going to make it through this, too. And when it’s all over, we’re going to go back to meandering walks through this city, eating at random pizza places, laughing about the stupid things I did back in the sixties.”

  Something in my chest tries to put a smile on my face. But it doesn’t quite have enough energy.

  “Don’t give up,” he says, his eyes brimming with desperation. “I need you, Elle. I love you.”

  And that echoes true. That reaches down in my soul, grabbing onto the drowning woman who’s already slipped under the surface, taking hold of the two fingers that are still barely above water.

  “I love you, too,” I say, and my voice cracks.

  And then my chest cracks.

  All of me fractures.

  I let myself fall into Lexington’s arms, and shatter to pieces.

  “Pretty sure that’s the second time he’s looped our block,” Eva says as she peers out the curtains. I work at the kitchen island, pouring the last of the toxins into the vials. Boxes surround me, brand new supplies, which is frustrating, since I have everything I could possibly need back at the shop. But I can’t go back and get them. The kitchen is a mess, my supplies strewn all over the place.

  But I have to keep myself busy.

  It’s been six more days of lock up and I’m getting stir crazy.

  “It is,” Robert says, twirling a stake in his hand, shifting to the side of the door, looking out into the dim gray evening. “But he never looked at the house.”

  “Doesn’t mean he isn’t casing the place,” Eva says, her eyes following whomever it is outside.

  “Do you really have to do that here?” Aleah asks grumpily as she walks out of her bedroom and takes in the state of the kitchen. “I mean, from what I hear, that stuff will take every single one of us down. Doesn’t it seem kind of rude, making it in f
ront of all of us?”

  “She has to do something,” Duncan counters her. He’s been sitting at the bar this entire time, watching and observing as I combine my ingredients, putting them through different processes. “What if something happens to us somehow? How do you think she’s defended herself for the past few years?”

  “The least you could do is clean up,” Aleah says, still trying to sound annoyed, but losing her steam.

  “I’m almost finished,” I say, corking the vials. I check the needle caps, making sure they’re all in place as they should be.

  “I think we should call Lexington and let him know,” Eva says, still looking out the windows.

  “You know he’s not going to be thinking clearly about if the man is guilty or not, right?” Robert says. He finally seems satisfied the suspicious man is gone, and steps back away from the window. “That’s exactly what he did with the last one.”

  Robert is right. Two days ago, Lexington caught someone trying to sneak onto the fire escape on the second floor. He barreled out the window like a man possessed, eyes red, stake in hand. He had the man pinned to the pavement on the ground outside in two seconds. The very briefest flashes of red shone in his eyes for just half a second before Lexington staked him through the heart.

  He’s on edge. Ready to do anything.

  “Kai or Julie, then,” Eva says, pulling out her phone. She talks quietly into it, describing the man, giving instructions to follow him for a bit and then question him. A quick confirmation, and she hangs up.

  “So, is it the castor bean that is the active ingredient?” Duncan asks while I take all of my tools to the sink, putting the rest of my supplies into a box.

  “Castor beans contain ricin which is deadly, even in small amounts,” I explain as I load the beakers and measuring tools into the dishwasher. “One or two seeds could kill an adult in less than ten seconds. Even just a tiny amount of it can cause severe vomiting, seizures. But no, it’s not the castor beans that are the active ingredient.”

  “Then the white snakeroot?” he asks. He’s been asking a million questions all night.

  “I’ll never tell,” I say, a small smile on my lips as I rinse the saucepan out. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you, right?”

  Duncan laughs, shaking his head. “You’re an interesting person, Elle Ward. I didn’t think people who knew plants and roots like you do still existed. Once upon a time, everyone probably would have called you a pagan or a witch doctor.”

  “I’m okay with that,” I say as I throw in some dish soap and start the washer.

  “So tell me, why Oleander Apothecary?” I turn to face Duncan, who studies me through narrowed eyes. “It looks like an innocent enough flower. Is it just ironic?”

  “Oleanders are seemingly innocuous,” I explain as I place the fresh new batch of toxins in a container. “But every part of the plant is deadly. It contains lethal cardiac glycosides known as oleandrin and nerline. If you ate any part of an oleander plant, it could cause vomiting, erratic pulse, seizures, coma. Even death.”

  Duncan’s eyes widen, but a smile pulls at his lips and he shakes his head.

  “Even just touching the leaves or the sap can cause skin irritation.” I smile as I see the understanding take Duncan over as I explain the surprising truth about oleanders. “The toxins in oleanders are so strong that people can even become sick after eating honey made by bees that visited the flowers.”

  “Then why do so many people grow such a deadly plant for decoration?” Duncan asks with a chuckle.

  “Thankfully it tastes awful, and who really wants to eat part of an oleander?” A smile pulls in one corner of my mouth.

  Duncan laughs out loud, tipping his head back. “Okay, I get it now. Beautiful, seemingly innocent, but deadly when you get down to the root of it. Oleander Apothecary is…the perfect name.”

  The front door opens and Lexington walks in. The moment his eyes lay on me, a brilliant smile pulls on his lips.

  “There’s something I haven’t seen in a while,” he says, locking the door behind him. “Whoever got her to smile, keep doing whatever you’re doing.”

  “Wasn’t really me,” Duncan says, looking back to me. “Just get her talking about toxic plants, something a little dark and sinister. Seems to do the trick.”

  “I will keep that in mind,” Lexington says as he walks up to my side. He presses a kiss to my temple, his hand coming to the small of my back. “Duncan, you’re up.”

  Duncan swivels on his chair. He heads to the stash of weapons by the back door and gears up with stakes, toxins, and even a handgun.

  “Still no word from Michael?” Lexington asks as he looks around the house to those guarding me.

  “Nope,” Aleah says, and the tone of her voice says it. She thinks he’s dead, too.

  Lexington’s lips press into a thin line, and he doesn’t seem to have anything to say about that.

  “Do we all need to consider going after him?” Aleah says. “Besides me and you and Duncan, the House of Allaway doesn’t know the rest of us. We might be able to take him out.”

  “I can’t let you all take a risk like that,” I say, shaking my head. “We have no idea what happened to Michael, I can’t let that happen to anyone else.”

  “I’m just saying, it might be a good long while that you’re stuck here,” she says, raising her eyebrow.

  “I’ll think of something,” I say, stacking the box of toxins on top of the box of supplies and yanking them from the counter with too much force. Glass rattles around inside.

  Without another word to any of them, I head for the stairs and walk up to my temporary bedroom. Lexington’s footsteps follow me and he closes the door behind us. I set the box on the dresser and stand with my hands braced on it.

  “Elle,” he says, walking up behind me.

  “I’m fine,” I cut in. “Really. I’m sick of being here, sick of not knowing anything. But I’m okay. I have to be, because the alternative is to keep feeling like this and I just don’t have the energy for that.”

  “Okay then,” he says, accepting my words without any questioning. It’s not surprised. Not doubtful. Not mocking.

  I turn, sitting on the edge of the dresser, facing Lexington. I reach out, grabbing the lapels of his jacket, my eyes studying his chest. I feel his eyes on me, but I just study his body.

  “I think we could both use a little distraction,” he says quietly, huskiness settling into his voice.

  I pull his jacket back over his shoulders, letting it slide down and drop to the floor. One of his hands comes to the side of my head, his fingers lacing back and into my hair. I pull the cardigan I wear off, the cool winter air hitting my bare shoulders, my camisole thin.

  “We’re going to get to be happy again,” I say as I let my fingers slide along the hem of his shirt. Silently, I let them slip beneath, the tips of my fingers touching warm, hard skin. “Those few days before Christmas, they were just a preview, right?”

  Lexington lowers his face, his lips making contact at the space between my neck and shoulder. His facial hair tickles, sending currents of sparks racing through my blood. “On a tiny, little fraction of what is to come, Elle.”

  I stand, letting my hands rise as I do, running up and over his stomach, up to his chest. With one smooth movement, I raise his shirt over his head, freeing him of it.

  Still, I don’t meet his eyes. I let my own study his chest, the valleys and peaks of his stomach muscles. The jagged scar that cuts across his left breast. The two little freckles under the right one.

  I bring my hands back to his skin, running them smoothly over him. Goosebumps flash over my own as his hands come to either of my sides, skin to skin as he works his thumbs under my top.

  “I want a million more moments like this,” he breathes as he brings his lips to the corner of my mouth. He brushes them over my flesh and my muscles go weak and my head lolls to one side. “Five hundred thousand nights. Five hundred thousand mornings waking up
beside you. Seven million opportunities to hold you.”

  My eyes slide open, finally searching out his. They’re brilliant in intensity, showing me the truth of every confession. My hands slide up from his chest to either side of his neck.

  Slowly, studying his every feature the entire time, I pull his face down to mine. Slowly, I breathe the air he breathes.

  When our lips meet, they’re warm and soft. They mesh together as if they were designed from the beginning of time to belong to one another. My hand slides up, wrapping in his hair, my entire arm curling around his head so he can’t escape. His hands slide down to my hips, gripping them firmly. He pulls my body closer to his and more electrical sparks go off in my veins.

  Bad things happen to us. People do us wrong. Lives are threatened.

  But this life will still be my choice. I will claim every moment. Doing everything I can to still be Elle Ward.

  Fearless.

  Strong.

  And in this moment, right here, I choose to be happy. Wrapped in the arms of an immortal man who fell for a mortal, fragile girl.

  I choose this.

  “It’s really important you measure everything accurately,” I say as Lexington hands me the vitamin A and E. “Any imbalance and this stuff will dry you out or make you really oily.”

  “Got it,” Julie says as she double checks the lanolin. “I just want it exactly like that batch you gave me at Christmas.”

  I offer her a little smile, stirring the oils on the stove, apricot, almond, coconut, and beeswax.

  “What’s this stuff called again?” Lexington asks as he walks back to his laptop which sits at the island. He sits down, tapping away at the keyboard.

  “Perfect Me,” I say as I turn to measure the aloe vera gel.

  “It really is perfect,” Julie says with a smile as she watches the oils begin to thicken. The color turns creamy. “My skin has never looked so amazing.”

  Lexington chuckles and shakes his head, his fingers flying over the computer.

  He’s been putting all of his hacker skills into trying to dig up anything on Charles Allaway. And so far there’s been nothing. Charles has been a ghost lately.