Authors: Gina Whitney
Blood Ties
Blood Tie
s
Copyright © 2013 Gina Whitney
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced (except for inclusion in reviews), disseminated or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or in any information storage and retrieval system, or the Internet/World Wide Web without written permission from the author or publisher.
Follow Gina Whitney on Twitter @ginamwhitney and on Facebook.
Book design by: Arbor Books, Inc.
Blood Tie
s
Gina Whitney
1. Title 2. Author 3. Fiction/Romance/Paranormal
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013907362
ISBN 13: 978-0-615-80593-1
To my two wonderful boys,
PJ and Drew, who believed in me even when I didn’t.
(Even though they thought I was turning into an
emo
chick.)
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
A
very special thank you to Joel at Arbor Books for his wicked editing skills and insightful thoughts, and patience with my endless questions and deluded thoughts.
I want to send an enormous thank you to Terry for her magic fingers and creativity. Love you master Yoda!
To Jessica, for an awesome cover. You’re kick-ass!
My thanks also to Aunt Sue and Alice (bff ), who were thrusted into my preternatural world of fiction daily. You gave me an ear, a smile, a good talking to, and sometimes a “huh?”
My deepest gratitude to my little sister Laura, who painlessly listened to my vampire/witchy jargon. Although you had your hands full with Payton, you found the time to listen; for that I’m grateful, sis, and love you dearly.
A heartfelt thank you to my doll Eileen, for putting up with me, pushing me, and encouraging me with megawatt enthusiasm. You’re awesome!
To Rafael (who insisted on being listed), thank you for your enthusiasm, support, love, and sheer awesomeness that knows no bounds. I needed a push, and you kicked my butt. Man you’re all sorts of fantastical!
Finally to my around-the-way team, Kenny and Geri, for your libations and countless invites to get me out of the house. I love you guys! When I started to rant about my book, you always encouraged me with smiles, hugs, and friendship. For that I’m eternally grateful. (Even though you shot each other looks like, “What a nutbag!”)
Last but not least, to all my terrific friends who always have my back: love you all!
Chapter One
Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
—Edgar Allan Poe
T
he four witches watched the birth, anxious to see if the baby was a monster.
It was more like a brutal assault than a delivery. Ilan Valois lost her delicate elegance as she squatted, splayed legs pulled back as far as she could take them. She bore down with a pain so great, it choked out the primal scream lodged at the back of her throat. It was as if the baby knew what awaited her and was fighting to stay within the safe confines of the womb.
Despite it being mid-winter, Ilan’s searing body heat fogged off her skin. Every spasm caused her to lurch forward, leaving vapor footprints on the linoleum. Her pelvis cracked, unhinging from her hipbones. Her moist, pink flesh ripped to accommodate the gross mass of the descending child, bloody chunks preceding it.
Ilan saw that Addison Bolingbroke was keeping her distance, craning her neck to see what would pop out. Even though Addison had killed many times, seeing new life brought forth— especially this obscene life—was difficult for her to stomach. Despite her own agony, Ilan felt sorry that Addison had been drawn into this dreadful situation. She took no offense when Addison said to her, “You never should have conceived this child. It’s an abomination.”
“It’s a baby,” Evelyn Valois said to Addison while acting as midwife. Evelyn’s attire looked like a kaleidoscope that had exploded. It consisted of items she had picked up during her world travels, like the scarf made out of aso oke fabric that held together the oversized bun on top of her head. She unfurled the scarf and wiped Ilan’s soaking brow with it.
Evelyn then pushed her blue-sided Nulady glasses—worn for no particular visual impairment—off the tip of her nose. This action partially obscured Ilan’s view of her eyes, making it difficult for her to discern Evelyn’s emotions. However, the high pitch of Evelyn’s apprehensive voice exposed her true feelings. Ilan understood Evelyn’s concern; it was still a mystery as to whether Ilan had conceived their savior, a beast, or an ordinary child.
Ilan gave a final, concentrated push. Her perineum ripped open, and the hefty baby fell into Evelyn’s hands, completely engulfed in the amniotic sac. Ilan stayed balanced on her heels just long enough for Evelyn to take the bloody mass to the bed, and then she collapsed to the floor. Addison snapped out of her dumbfounded state and rushed to Ilan. She picked her up and carried her to the bed, next to the moving sac.
Evelyn took a large hunting knife and poked through the tough, transparent sac. Its tawny fluid gushed out as Evelyn reached in with her eyes closed, not sure of what she’d pull out. Her hands retracted and she held a baby—a big baby, but not a fiend.
“She’s beautiful,” Evelyn said, putting the girl to Ilan’s engorged, aching nipple.
The marble statue of a woman cradled her child in her cold arms. The infant’s screams prompted Ilan’s letdown reflex, and her breasts secreted sweet-tasting blood instead of milk. The voracious baby latched on with vigor, its bare gums almost chewing the nipple as it fed.
Ilan winced as Evelyn repaired her injuries with a taperpoint needle and synthetic sutures bought from a pet-supply store.
Ilan had tasked James Bolingbroke with finding the witches a suitable hideout. After months on the run and the impending delivery of the baby, they’d had to make due. The bulk of their magical abilities had gone into cloaking Ilan. Her pregnant body had been a lighthouse emitting rays of energy to predatory witches. Her unrivaled power had been siphoned off to her baby, and she could hardly muster enough to protect herself.
The cabin James had chosen was isolated, claustrophobic, and musty. However, Ilan didn’t mind its constant silence; it made her feel at peace. Despite this she was not pleased with its vulnerability to attack.
She watched James as he kept vigilant guard at the window, scanning the black woods for any sign of Catherine. The incandescence of his cerulean eyes against the moonlight almost made him look demonic. This juxtaposed his fresh-faced, wholesome looks despite the fact that he was hundreds of years old.
In the window’s reflection, Ilan could see James looking at his brother, Adrian. She regretted that her decision to have the baby had created an even bigger rift between the already feuding brothers. She tried to ignore their back-and-forth banter, but their voices carried all too well through the hollow room.
Ilan’s sweat saturated the springy mattress, and she requested a towel. James, refusing to leave his post, ordered Adrian to get one for her. Ilan was disturbed by Adrian’s casual reaction to the situation as he dropped a washcloth on her. He then put his hand to his chin with cool detachment as he watched Ilan, her body still convulsing from the birth.
Ilan rested with the baby tucked into the pit of her arm. The others slept also, except James, who had been alerted by a rustling in the woods. He opened the door just a crack, sensing the air. His skin blushed as his blood vessels dilated with a fight-or-flight response. He closed the door with an inhuman, accelerated motion and awakened the others.
“They’re almost here,” he said.
All were alert as if they had been awake the entire time; however, Ilan was still groggy and incapacitated from childbirth. James reached for the baby, but Ilan stopped him from taking her.
“Ilan, let me have her. I promise I will guard her with my life,” James said with his arms outstretched.
Ilan shoved his hands away and said, “I’m not letting go of my child.”
James raised his hand to the window, psychogenically assessing fluctuations in the atmosphere. He said, “There’re too many of them. We won’t survive trapped in this house.”
Adrian perked up. “So we go outside to slaughter? You know we don’t have the power to fight them.”