Phylia gives me a stern look. “You will once you calm down a bit. Now sit down and let me patch you up. Then I’ll make tea, and you can tell me your tale.”
Nine
KARL
ITALY, 1521
The days have blended together since Cheryl and I were banished from King Raphael’s court. Despite Solomon’s spell, which was supposed to ease the ache of Manu’s betrayal, the pain is ever present. My heart is heavy and hollow at the same time, and my entire body is wound tight, ready to snap.
The compulsion to find Ronan and obliterate him is dulled, but not gone. I know that if I see him again, my wolf will take over and rip him to shreds. If I do that, it’ll be my death sentence, and I can’t do that to Cheryl. I’m the only family she has left, even though I’m nothing but a shadow of the male I used to be.
I do the only thing I can think of: I drink to the point where I’m useless. I know this is hard on Cheryl too. I’m a burden to her, but I’m caught in a vicious cycle, and I can’t break away from it. I’m doomed no matter what I do.
Arrangements were made for our trip to the Americas, but I don’t recall the exact date we’re supposed to depart. Solomonand Cheryl seem to believe putting an ocean between Manu and me will help, but I don’t have such hope.
Tonight, I spent most of the evening in the inn’s tavern, drinking ale, like always, stopping only when the owner closed the tavern and sent me back to the room I share with Cheryl. Most evenings, I don’t recall getting back to our lodgings. I have a feeling Cheryl helps me to bed. Tonight, I trudge up the stairs on my own and, by a miracle, find the correct room even though I’m seeing double.
There are two beds, one on each side, a washbasin in the corner, and a small table with two chairs. The fire in the lantern still burns. Cheryl probably left it on so I could find my bed on my own. She’s already asleep, so I try not to make a sound. But my balance is impaired, and I end up falling against one of the chairs, toppling it over.
“Karl?” Cheryl asks in a raspy voice.
“Sorry.”
She starts coughing and doesn’t stop for a while. Even drunk, I notice her cough isn’t dry. She doesn’t sound good.
“Are you okay?”
“No. I feel like I’ve been trampled on by a herd of fat cows.”
I approach her bed. The light from the lamp allows me to see the sheen of perspiration clinging to her forehead. Her hair is matted and damp. I press my palm to her face, shocked to find her hot to the touch.
“Cher, you have a fever.”
“I know. I’ve had it for a couple days or so.”
“A coupledays?” My voice rises. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I did. You just don’t remember.”
Guilt pierces my chest. I was too drunk. But knowing that Cheryl has been ill all this time and I’ve done nothing to help her sobers me up.
“What can I do?”
Her feverish eyes connect with mine, and I read sorrow beyond comprehension in them. “You can let me be. Maybe I’ll get lucky and die.”
“Don’t say that!” Anger bubbles up my throat, but it’s not aimed at her. I’m angry with myself. I put Cheryl in this situation. I was so wrapped up in my agony that I failed to see how much she was suffering too.
“You’re immortal, Karl, but I’m not. I’ll die eventually.”
“No, I don’t accept that.” Tears cloud my vision as desperation claws into my heart. “You could be turned.”
She closes her eyes. “I’ve already tried that route. None of those bloodsuckers will even attempt it.”
Maybe not the vampires in King Raphael’s court, but there are other vampires in the world. I just have to make sure Cheryl doesn’t die before I can find one who will help us.
“I don’t care. You’re not dying tonight, Cher.”
I pull the sheets away from her body and pick her up. She fell into bed dressed, so I don’t need to put clothes on her, which is good. There’s no time to waste. I have to find Solomon. He’s the only one who might be able to help Cheryl.
