Chapter 30

Adam was taking a frightfully long time to gather his herbs, and more than once, Willow found herself tempted to go and check on him. But his stinging comment from earlier held her back. Was that what he thought of her? A bloodsucking creature? She had assumed things had changed between them, that he felt differently toward her. But now she wasn’t sure.

She craned her neck, standing on her tiptoes with hopes to have a single glimpse of him, but he didn’t come. A horrible idea struck her. Had something happened to him?

“Stop worrying,” Zachariah said as he patted the horse’s flank. The horse flicked its tail in annoyance. The animal seemed a little skittish around him, but she attributed it to his experience as a feral vampire. “I’m sure Adam has been through far worse than wandering in the woods alone.”

She sighed and turned her attention forward. “You’re right. But I can’t help but worry.”

“He’s a blood hunter. He can take care of himself.”

Was that bitterness she detected in Zachariah’s voice?

The situation between Adam and Zachariah seemed so fragile that she wasn’t sure how to approach the subject. But Adam wasn’t here… And Zachariah seemed willing to talk. “You don’t like that he’s a blood hunter?”

He kicked a rock on the path, and it shot blisteringly fast through the trees with the strength from his foot. He looked surprised for a moment before his expression was replaced by a frown. “He was never violent growing up. Often enough, the other village boys picked on him because he was different. He was a painter. And he never fought back. I didn’t realize the vampire attack could have completely changed him.”

The vampire attack…

Adam had mentioned it before during a time when she had caught him with his defenses lowered. That event seemed to be the thing that had shaped him into what he was now.

“Will you tell me about it?” she asked hesitantly. “I want to hear about the vampire attack from your perspective.”

He nodded, and his eyes glazed over as he relived those memories. “Adam and I were watching the flock. The village started burning. People began screaming. I wanted to get a closer look, but he pulled me away. I didn’t understand what was happening. He was urgent as he coaxed me away from the field, but I hesitated, and he didn’t realize I wasn’t following him. And that’s when she came at me. A vampire with long black hair, her eyes red. I was terrified. I tried to scramble away. But she bit my neck and started feeding. She was too strong for me.”

“And then what?” she whispered, though she already knew what came next.

“Adam fearlessly jumped on the vampire, clinging on so she couldn’t throw him off. I was in a lot of pain by then and could hardly focus. The venom already started spreading. He had used my knife to stab her through the neck. It stopped her long enough for him to grab an iron pitchfork in a bale of hay and run her through. I don’t remember much else afterward except excruciating pain. He took me to a cave. A dark cave. And he spent most of his time trying to keep me from screaming in agony to prevent the vampires from discovering us.”

She grew thoughtful. Could that be the reason why Adam carried that knife everywhere he went? It had been instrumental in saving Zachariah’s life.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and she meant it. Although she didn’t know every vampire, especially if they lived outside of Ichor Knell, she still took partial responsibility for what happened. “It’s against the law for vampires to kill by attacking villages. I wish you two didn’t have to suffer as you had.”

Silence fell between them before he continued kicking rocks, still seeming amazed at his strength. Finally, he turned his head to look at her. “He’s not quite as angry as I remember him being after the attack. I’m hoping it’s because of you.”

He didn’t say anything more on the subject and she was tempted to push her luck to get more insight into Adam, but she heard heavy footsteps on the path toward them. Her expression brightened at Adam’s approach, but it quickly fell at the tortured look in his eyes. His red-rimmed eyes. Even his nose was red. Had he been…crying?

Her heart swelled with sorrow.

“Adam,” Willow said softly as she touched his shoulder. He wouldn’t look at her. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, stuffing plants in his saddlebag that certainly didn’t look like briarthorn, but she had only seen them briefly and wasn’t entirely sure. “It was quite an uneventful journey. I did breathe in a cloud of pollen, however.”

A cloud of pollen? Never in her life had she heard a more obvious lie. He looked tense as if he expected her to call him out, but she wouldn’t. If he wanted to tell her, he would. Did something upset him? Perhaps he truly was more upset about having to leave Zachariah than he let on.

“We’re getting closer to our destination,” she said as they started forward again, trying to shake off her worry. Though, he visibly relaxed when she didn’t comment on his lie. “You see how the clouds are getting darker? They continue getting darker until we reach Ichor Knell. There won’t be sunlight there.”

“No sunlight?” Zachariah asked, seeming perplexed. “Ever?”

She smiled at his curiosity. “Lore says our vampire god, Ylios, sends clouds to Ichor Knell to protect the vampire inhabitants, and his mate, Iqris, gathers them together, and this helps keep the sunlight away. I’ve lived a long time and I still have seen nothing like it.”

“How old are you?”

Again, she smiled. Zachariah and Adam were remarkably different. It was like they were two sides of a coin, one side sanguine, the other side…pragmatic. “I am three hundred and forty-one years old.”

Zachariah’s jaw dropped. “You’re ancient.”

She frowned as her thoughts turned to Adam. Could that be the reason he was hesitant to come to Ichor Knell with her? As a human, did her age matter to him? In vampire culture, age didn’t mean much except for levels of strength and agility. After a certain point, vampires stopped aging and they appeared that age for the rest of their lives. However, if an older human got bit, say, in his sixties, he would stay that age. That was precisely why Zachariah didn’t look like a thirteen-year-old boy, he’d continued to age and appeared to be in his early twenties.

Trying to shake off her unease, she said, “You might be surprised at how many vampires exist who are older than me. Many live permanently in Ichor Knell, giving them a greater chance at living a long time. Others are old yet dare venture into the world, as I do.”

“And who is the oldest vampire?”

“My father,” she answered. “Dracula. Though, some are not too far behind.”

Zachariah blew out a long breath. “Is there anything I should know? Before we arrive?”

She had to ponder that for a few moments. He would be an outsider, and his association with Adam, a blood hunter, might put a strain on introductions. Not to mention the fact that he had been feral for ten years. It would distance him from others.

Finally, she said, “Vampires will be curious about you. If you think you’re being stared at, you probably are. Don’t let them intimidate you. You are one of them now.”

Adam was strangely quiet through the whole conversation—quieter than normal. What was going on in his mind right now? He was upset about something and she didn’t doubt he was tired. They had been traveling a long time without resting and vampires had more endurance than humans.

Although he wasn’t quite as pale as yesterday, his body creating more blood to replenish what he lost, he still seemed fatigued and sore. Her father was ruthless. And she was still embarrassed and incredibly angry. Her father could have killed him. And she would never have forgiven him for it.

She opened her mouth to strike up a conversation when she picked out squeaking, groaning wheels that protested under the weight of a cart. She isolated the scent of aged wood, but more distinct was the glaring scent of human. Two humans. Merchant farmers judging from the aroma of the corn. Her entire body tensed as she glanced with wide eyes toward Zachariah. He hadn’t smelled them yet. Although he hadn’t killed any humans, and he didn’t seem interested in attacking Adam, she still didn’t want to put him in a situation where he might lose control.

“Zachariah,” she said nervously, holding him back with a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s take a walk, shall we?”

He looked at her, confused. “But…we are walking.”

Adam caught on quickly and snapped from lethargic to alert in moments. “A walk sounds like a great idea. You two get going. I’ll continue onward.”

Zachariah seemed more confused than ever as she attempted to drag him off the beaten path and into the woods. He resisted. “You were the one who was concerned about leaving Adam by himself. Besides, I don’t see a need for a walk.”

“Zachariah!” she growled. “Come with me now.”

He jumped at her tone and started to follow but not even a moment passed before he became rigid and tense. He smelled them. But his eyes stayed brown.

The squeaking cart was getting closer, close enough that Adam could likely hear it now too. The atmosphere became tense and she noticed him holding his breath like she did. The cart lurched into view, pulled by a single aged horse, groaning and creaking with each dip in the road. A farmer drove the cart and his child, perhaps ten years old, accompanied him. She continued to tense, ready to jump on Zachariah if he attacked. However, he didn’t move. He stood motionless.

His eyes were still brown.

The farmer smiled and tipped his hat to them, and only Adam gathered his bearings enough to return the gesture with a brief nod.

The cart rolled past, the corn now visible in the back of the cart, and it continued following the road, the farmer completely oblivious to how much danger he and his son were in. Zachariah didn’t attack. His eyes stayed brown.

It wasn’t until the cart disappeared from view and she could no longer smell their fresh scent that she and Adam released a collective sigh. She had fully expected Zachariah to attack. What, then, made him stay in control of his hunger? Was he so unable to kill humans that he was able to keep his hunger in check, despite having been feral? She was unsure if it was a good thing or bad.

“Zach,” Adam said, approaching when he probably should have put space between them. “Nothing? Any desire to feed?”

Zachariah shook his head. “No… Should there be?”

She and Adam exchanged looks, thinking something similar. Zachariah had been a vampire for twelve years, which was considered young in the vampire sense. Even more, he had been feral for ten of those years. He shouldn’t have this level of self-control, or any at all. She would have to watch him before she could make further speculations.

“Let’s make camp,” she said suddenly, and when Adam started to protest, she held up a hand to stop him. “Even vampires can’t keep going at this rate. We’re stopping and that’s final.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he seemed to retreat into his own little cloud of quiet, and she didn’t know what to say. What was on his mind? Why did he act withdrawn?

They didn’t start a fire, due to Adam’s insistence, but it was just as well. With his fidgety behavior, it wasn’t likely they would make camp for long. She watched his eyes continually scan the trees, and he never unstrapped his weapons. Even more perplexing, he spoke very little. Was he nervous about vampires? How many times did she need to tell him he was safe from a vampire attack? No vampire would dare venture close if they knew what was good for them.

“Adam…” Willow said, offering him a small smile. “You are safe here. Get some sleep.”

Of course, he didn’t listen. Instead, he stood and took watch, continuing his same nervous behavior.

She sighed. She had wanted to make camp for his benefit, but it looked like he certainly was not benefitting. Perhaps tomorrow he would feel a little more relaxed.