Page 2 of Blood & Roses

“It’s my lucky day, then,” the drunk male chuckled, his beard tickling my neck as he breathed me in. I withheld a shudder, hoping he didn’t realize how he repulsed me. His meaty fingers were red, the knuckles bruised as if he had seen many a fistfight. I knew it was innocent children those knuckles found each night, and I steeled my resolve. “I’m Birchwood.”

“Thatislucky,” I agreed, producing the shiny red apple from my cloak. It was ruby red in the dim tavern light, almost glowing with vibrant color. “I’m in a mood to share.”

The man’s eyes widened, taking in the bright red. Apples were hard to come by in the endless winter, only growing under the care of greenweavers now.

Luckily for me, I had a greenweaver of my own. Or, Ihad,before we sent her north. Ella’s work on the apple tree in our greenhouse meant we had apples year-round, and I hoped her spell would last until she returned from the university in Silvershade, where she was studying botany.

I took a large bite out of the apple, the flesh crunching between my teeth. Blood alchemy came easily to me with my particular magic, my blood or the blood of another serving as a catalyst tospeed the action I wished. A few drops of nightshade mixed with my blood rendered the apple deadly to all but me.

My trap had been set.

His eyes watched my tongue as I flicked it suggestively over my lip. “Want a bite?”

I offered him the apple and he snatched it eagerly, taking a bite alongside mine.

The trap snapped shut.

The apple crunched again, juices dribbling down the male’s chin and into his beard where flecks of spittle and apple gathered. “Know what else I’d like to take a bite of?”

I felt sure that the answer was me, but the male never had a chance to finish as I slipped off his lap. His eyes narrowed for a second, and he fell forward, his head thumping on the counter with a heavy, sickening thwack.

He was dead before he hit the counter, and I didn’t even need my magic to verify it.

Bloodweaving was a tricky gift, and it usually required direct touch and an intuitive knowledge of the body. I couldn’t heal or kill with my magic. Stopping someone’s heart or forcing their body to knit a wound was beyond my skill. But I could sense weaknesses, slow the pulse, and prevent someone from bleeding to death as long as I was touching them.

Blood alchemy was necessary for everything else, and the apple had been a relatively simple poison. It had been more than enough to take down Mr. Birchwood.

It just made good sense to use poison when nothing fancy was called for.

I met the bartender’s gaze again, placing three silver coins on the counter purposefully as I adjusted my bodice back to normal. He nodded to the coins, then to the door.

My secret was safe, as predicted. Which was good because it wouldn’t do to have the meddlesome High King’s Captain poking around our cottage again.

Captain Everett Everhart—yes, his namewassilly—had paid us a visit shortly after Victor Gold’s capture. How he was able to tie us to the events that led to Victor’s downfall, I didn’t know. But the captain came knocking on our door the next day demanding answers from us.

Only Orson’s fearsome presence, Lena’s sweet countenance and offer of tea cakes, and our tight-lipped refusal to answer any questions got rid of him.

Lena had seemed almost shaken by the encounter with the captain, and I worried he had said something cruel to her in the brief moment they were alone. I’d vowed to keep her far away from him and keep us out of trouble after that.

Of course, trouble always seemed to findus.

I was glad to be out of the foul-smelling tavern, and I headed purposefully up the main road of the little town back toward the Deep Wood and our cottage. I didn’t hear any great commotion coming from behind me, so I assumed that patrons dropping dead from time to time was a relatively normal occurrence.

I didn’t doubt someone had told the girl exactly where to find the infamous Nightshade sisters, solvers of problems no matter the size. The village kept us in business, and in return we helped them where possible.

Murder was usually much lower on my list of ways to assist, but sometimes exceptions had to be made.

I had barely made it to the end of the road that led back home when I felt someone following me. It was the beating of a heart and the pumping of blood through veins that alerted me, the presence of another registering with my magic before I could see or hear them. I quickened my pace, hoping that I was imagining the speeding of their heart in response to mine.

I wasn’t.

The presence continued to follow me, and I finally gave in to temptation and turned to face them.

There was no one there.

I gritted my teeth, trying to decide if my magic was off with the presence of so many people in Mysthaven, or if I was just beingparanoid.

Normally I would assume it was a rat or some other creature hoping that I’d drop crumbs, but animals gave off different body signatures than elves and humans. Theyfeltdifferent magically, their bodies and brains smaller and more primitive, their blood weaker. Animal blood was always the last resort in alchemy, as it bonded weakly and produced inferior spellwork.