She chuckles lowly, stops, and lets out a huff of annoyance. “Lenaro was a redcloud addict, my dear. A human, like me. Like you. Worse than that, he was a smuggler. Of narcotics, of fenced goods, ofhumans.”
Lines form between my brow. “My father was . . . a slumlord?”
Jinneth snorts. “Ha! He would be so lucky to call himself such. Only in his own mind, Seph. Only in his own mind.” Her head shakes, her neck wagging. “No, no, Lenaro was a petty criminal. A squirrelly brigand. However”—she lifts a finger—“he wasdamnedhandsome and charming.”
A wry smile comes to my lips at the same time as it does hers. I roll my eyes slightly, making sure she can see. “I’ve known a few of those in my day, too.”
“Yes, seems we both have poor taste in men, dearest.”
When I open my mouth to reprimand her, she laughs and shoos me, shutting me up before I can begin.
There’s no point arguing with her about her opinion. She not only hates vampires—men, especially—but she’s notwrong, either.Lukain, Baylen Sallow. Before the three mates I have now, my wandering eye wascertainlyfaulty. Even now, to any sane woman, Skar, Vall, and Garro would be my captors. I would be their slave and prisoner. I’m just lucky enough tohave persuaded them to my side and make them see value in me outside my Loreblood.
“Your father was not some illustrious vampire or superhuman of importance. He was a drug dealer with shady friends. And, I thinkbecauseof that, you were born with a blood illness.”
My body stiffens.Like Ethera from the North Mines.A quick flash of a memory shocks my system: Vallan slashing into her neck so violently she was nearly decapitated.Willingly.
“I take great shame in birthing a child from an active redcloud user,” Jinneth continues, staring down at the table with a crease knotting her brow. Her head lifts, resilience in her gaze. “But you wouldn’t have become what you are without it, also.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Guess it, uh, all worked out in the end, Mother.”
“I can’t place too much blame on your father or deride him too badly, either, because I was not much better.” Her fingers drum the table. “You may wonder how I ever became associated with such a vagrant. Well, I was a nightlady in my younger years, Sephania. I was a derelict prostitute and, it can be said, an amateur researcher of alchemy.”
My head shakes. It feels like my brain is melting from the whiplash caused by her weaving story. “On what road does a nightlady and analchemistconverge?”
She laughs. “On my road, dear. It’s simple. Vampires were a threat then, as they are now. Even more of a threat to ladies who open their legs in the night.” She shrugs. “I wanted to find a way to hurt them if I ever needed to defend myself.” Shaking a finger at me, she adds, “That part might be a clue for later.”
I scratch my forehead, unnerved by the genesis of her tale. “Back to my blood illness?”
“Yes. Right.”
There’s a tempest of memories running through her head, I can tell, which is why she must seem so scatter-brained. I sit back, waiting, bouncing my knee nervously.
“Say one thing for Lenaro: He was resourceful. That came in handy because, out of desperation, I begged him to obtain some unrefined blood for you. My plan was to give you a blood transfusion, to save you. The harebrained idea was sound enough in my mind: suck the bad blood out, pump the new blood in.”
“Pragmatic,” I chirp.
“I thought so. Lenaro got me the goods. Even with a blood transfusion, I knew the chance of rescuing you was slim. You would either live a painful existence and die before your fifth summer, or . . . well, I didn’t know. I was willing to tryanything.”
She sighs and leans forward, resting her ample chest on the table and reaching across to take my hands. “Turned out, my dear, the blood I was given wascompromised. I’m unsure how. I don’t know if it was tampered with, or naturally changed, or—”
“Compromisedhow, Mother?” I interject before she can go into another tangent. My hands squeeze hers.
“According to acquaintances of mine at the time, the blood was a mixture of human and vampiric blood. That wouldn’t have been so horrible on its own—would have produced a stronger high if it had been refined into redcloud. But I learned that the vampire blood in the tincture was from an ancient bloodline. Or at least a disparate vampire family that did not mix well with human blood. Ortoowell, I suppose—”
“How do you know the vampire bloodline was ancient?”
“Because I asked someone who knew far more about this sort of thing than I did.”
My lips firm into a small frown. With a curt nod, I urge her to continue, storing away that detail for later.
“We gave you a little at first, to see how you’d react.” Her face screws up, disgusted and ashamed. “Vampire blood is like a cancer, Sephania. It overtakes human blood rapidly. I was shocked when you were essentiallyfixedafter the first dose and a week’s worth of rest.
“Any wrong amalgamation of human and vampire blood would have killed you. We were lucky, Truehearts preserve us, that this combination worked. Itmorethan worked. It did something extraordinary to you, rapidly healing your sickness and declining health.”
She clears her throat, evidently fighting off emotional memories of her own, and sits back, sliding her hands out of mine. My palms are sweaty as I try to parse through everything she’s telling me. It isnotwhat I expected at all—she’s right about that. I suppose I did assume my father must have been some powerful being, and that his powerful blood ran through my veins.
“How did we get separated?” I ask, perking my head up.
