Page 49 of Blood Match
Not Mom or Dad or Kara or Poppy… Who else is left?
Gran!
The thought comes suddenly, and with it, a sense of calm. If anyone would understand, it’s her. Gran’s always been the one to listen without judgment, to offer wisdom without lecturing.
But what if she thinks I’m crazy? Or worse, what if I drag her into some sort of disaster? The memory of the vampire attack at Mia’s vigil is still fresh.
“Are you going to let me in on the secret?” Poppy persists. I shake my head, then sink onto the edge of my bed, burying my face in my hands.
“I need to figure some things out,” I say, my voice muffled by my palms. The weight of this secret is crushing me. I need help, guidance, anything to make sense of what’s happening.
“I can help.” The squirrel hops onto the bed beside me.
“Poppy, all of your advice involves acorns or nuts.”
“Pretty appropriate, don’t you think?” Her beady eyes twinkle when I glare at her. “Coz you’re nuts. Get it?”
“Heaven help me!” Taking a deep breath, I stand up. Gran, it is. She’s seen more in her lifetime than most of us can imagine. If anyone can help me navigate this nightmare, it’s her.
I grab my purse and car keys and head for the door, my determination building with every step. By the time I reach the front door of my grandmother’s home, I’m feeling much better.
It doesn’t last long.
“Rowan?” Gran’s eyes are sharp as she opens the front door. “What’s wrong, darling?” she asks before I’ve even opened my mouth to speak.
I respond by immediately disintegrating into tears. “Oh, Gran!” I choke.
“Come in, sweetheart.” She guides me inside, shutting the door behind us. “Can’t have you out there weeping on my doorstep, can we?”
I sniffle, feeling pathetic all over again as she leads me through the house to her kitchen. I feel myself settle again, surrounded by the familiar sounds and fragrances. The kettle is soon boiling, and herbs scent the air.
Within minutes, I’m seated at Gran’s kitchen island, cradling a steaming mug of chamomile tea. The modern stainless-steel appliances contrast with bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling and jars of mysterious ingredients lining the shelves. The scent of rosemary and sage mingles with the tea’s soothing aroma.
Gran rests against the counter, elegant as ever, in a cream lounge suit and oversized jewelry that jangles as she moves. Her eyes fix on me. “Now, tell me what’s troubling you, darling.”
I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. “I think I have some kind of psychic connection with someone,” I speak quickly, stumbling over the words, half afraid I’ll lose my nerve before I can finish.
Her eyebrows furrow, but she remains silent, waiting for me to continue.
“It’s…it’s a vampire,” I whisper huskily.
Gran’s eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“I can hear his thoughts sometimes, and he can hear mine. We’ve even…we’ve even met in person.” I look down at my mug, studiously avoiding her gaze.
“Oh my…” She exhales a long breath. I wait for her to tell me what a fool I am, but she doesn’t. “And you say he can hear your thoughts? Has he…has he tried to influence you in any way?”
“No,” I say quickly. “At least, I don’t think so. It’s more like…we just stumble into each other’s minds sometimes.”
After a moment of silence, Gran speaks. “This vampire, do you know who he is?”
I shake my head. “Not really. I only know his name is Darick. He seems…old. Ancient, even.”
“Darick.” Gran’s expression grows troubled. “One of the ancients. Oh dear.”
“Is…is that bad?” I gnaw on my lip.
“It’s not good, Rowan.” She rubs her forehead, which is smooth and unlined beneath her platinum hair. My grandmother has always been a beautiful woman, and I think she will remain one until the day her magic decides to take her to the stars. At 77, it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen anytime soon. Thank God.