“I have no idea. She had long blonde hair and black eyes. And a small, green dragon tattoo here,” Izabela said, lifting her hand to the left side of her neck.
Saintcrow frowned. A dragon tattoo. He let his mind drift backward through time, to the days of the Crusades. He hadmet a woman at Court. A strange woman. The king’s mistress, if he remembered correctly. Elma? Eloise? No. Elowynne, he thought. She had flirted with him shamelessly but he had never taken her up on what she had so blatantly offered, which was probably why he remembered her. That and the tattoo. Not that he hadn’t been tempted by her offer, but why risk his neck by bedding the king’s mistress when there were so many others willing and eager to share his bed?
Saintcrow frowned. It had never occurred to him at the time, but now that he thought about it, he realized Elowynne had been a vampire. And an old one, to be able to be out and about during the heat of the day. But what did she have to do with what he was going through now? And why had she appeared to Izabela?
“Elowynne.” Saintcrow murmured the name as other memories surfaced. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but she was a vampire.” He snorted softly. In retrospect, all the things he had thought strange about her now made sense. If she still lived, she would be even older than was he.
“So you do know her?” Izabela asked, a note of excitement in her voice.
“I met her centuries ago. But why would she appear to you?”
“I was seeking the cause of what ails you, of course. Why else?”
Saintcrow shook his head. “I don’t follow you. She can’t have anything to do with it. I wasn’t even a vampire when I met her. If she’s still alive, I doubt if she’d even remember me.”
Izabela frowned. “That is odd.”
“You said she was a vampire at the time,” Kincaid remarked. “Perhaps she knows what’s going on with you, or can send us to someone who does.”
Saintcrow shrugged. “Perhaps.”
A slow smile spread over Izabela’s face. “Better yet, perhaps she has the answer for what ails you.”
“It won’t do us much good if you can’t summon her again,” Saintcrow said, a grin twitching his lips. “Hell, you might have accidentally summoned her ghost from the past.”
~ * ~
The Everglades were the next stop. Alara was waiting for them when they arrived. “I’ve been expecting you,” she said, gesturing for them to enter.
“Did you find something?” Saintcrow asked.
“Yesss.” She held up a hand to stay their questions. “I don’t know what is causing the problem, Rylan Saintcrow. I don’t know how to cure it. But the problem is in your blood. It has turned toxic.”
“Toxic?” Saintcrow exclaimed. “That’s impossible!” His blood had healed injuries, cured the sick, restored and prolonged life.
“Nevertheless, it is true. It has a foul taste. I fed it to a rat and the rat died immediately. I believe it is also becoming toxic to you, as well. It is my belief that it will slowly destroy you if the constant turmoil within you doesn’t drive you insane first.”
“Well, hell,” Kincaid muttered.
Under his breath, Saintcrow unleashed a long string of oaths. He supposed it explained why the fledglings were here. Although he didn’t understand how, he figured they must sense what was happening to him. Somehow they knew this might be their only chance to drink from him. He wondered idly if his blood – now presumably toxic – would strengthen them or destroy them.
He inhaled a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “If it’s toxic, why didn’t it kill you?”
Alara shrugged. “I am immune to many toxic substances. I suspect the toxicity will grow stronger with the passage of time.”
“Any idea how I might survive this?”
“Sadly, no.”
“Do you think a vampire older than I am might know the answer?”
Alara shrugged. “Anything is possible. Perhaps if you could find one who’s been through it and survived. And they are willing to share their knowledge. It’s always been my understanding that vampires are territorial creatures, not given to sharing prey or territory.”
Saintcrow nodded. “That’s true, in most cases,” he agreed, thinking his relationships with Micah, Ethan, Kincaid, and their women was rare indeed. “Obliged for your information,” he said.
“You are welcome. If I discover anything else, I will let you know.”
With a nod, he turned to follow Kincaid out the door, only to pause when the witch laid her ice-cold hand on his arm. “Remember, Rylan Saintcrow, you still owe me a favor.”