Chapter 114

Almara’s Pov

I quickly wipe the blood from my lip, but it’s too late. Arthur knows blood has been drawn. I watch as defeat makes his body crumple. He falls to knees and lets out a broken sob. Along with the sound of his shocked tears, my heart shatters.

I have never seen Arthur cry and it dawns on me that perhaps this is the first time he’s cried since he was Grace’s age. I go to wrap my arms around him as I would to Grace, but without lifting his head from his hands he tells me to stop.

I try not to take it personally, I know it’s because he can smell my open wound and I would only be causing him more struggle.

“We’re going to fix this.” I tell him, forcing my voice to sound more courageous. Arthur lifts his head up and though his eyes are red and his nose is running, he still gives me butterflies.

“I’ve taught you well.” He laughs. I dare take a step closer to him, not sure what he means. “Fake it till you make it, right?” He says, shaking his head.

“I do mean it. There’s people that want to help.” I tell him.

“Just because people want to help, doesn’t mean they can. Hell, I want to help myself and I can’t. If all it took was a little bit of want, we wouldn’t be in this problem!” Arthurs snaps and immediately closes his eyes in shame. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to yell at you.”

I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. There’s a knock on the door and it takes me a minute to find my voice. “Come in.” I eventually manage, which gives Arthur enough time to pick himself up and look as if he never been crying.

Roman steps forward and closes the door behind him. “The publicist is on the phone.” Roman speaks as though in any other business meeting. “As you know, your grandmother sought remedies and apparently there’s some who claim to be experts and can help you.”

I try to not let my hopes rise too much as the tone in Roman’s voice calls for caution. “The issue is, none of these so called experts have a consensus on what the cure is.” Roman hands extends the phone out for Arthur to take. “She wants to discuss with you what you want to do.”

Something in me snaps. The apathy in Roman’s voice, and the way he’s treating this problem as something as a mere inconvenience for him and not a life-threatening crisis for his son, causes me to step into gear.

I intercept as he reaches the phone out and take it from his hand. “Hi Cindy. This is Almara. Arthur can’t talk right now, but you can talk to me.” I look at Arthur whose smiling proudly at me. He goes to take a seat on the couch and I join him.

Cindy explains out of the hundreds of recipes they’ve gotten, five ingredients have been apparent in ninety-percent of them. They are: clippings from bat wings, fresh garlic, plasma juice from the moon plant, red lizard tongue, and dandelion residue.

Cindy also admits there is no guarantee this will work, but it’s the best they’ve got. According to the experts, Arthur doesn’t have much time before this vampire bite either becomes permanent or kills him. Whichever comes first.

“What? What is it?” Athur asks. I shake my head, not ready to break that news to him yet.

“Okay, thanks Cindy. We’ll get on it right away. Please call with any updates.” I hang up the phone and turn to face Arthur.

“What was that face of terror for?” Arthur asks, trying to make light of the situation but clearly sounds concerned.

“Nothing.” I lie, “the ingredients are just disgusting.”

“Well, nothing is fouler than being part vampire.” Roman says while snatching his phone from my hand.

“Well, what are they?” Arthur asks. Now that I look at him as the initial relief of seeing him has worn off, I can see clearly how unwell he looks. His eyes are twinged with yellow and red. His skin is certainly more pasty, and I wonder I he’s aware of the bead of sweat forming on his brow.

I put my hand on his, hoping that my doing so I can slow down whatever internal clock that’s ticking away inside him. His hand is colder than it was in the car though it’s warmer in the house.

I rely the ingredients to him and Roman, and Arthur’s face twists in disgust. “We’re going to need help getting them.” I realize. Just then my phone rings and I see Cathy’s name pop up on my screen.

I answer. “Hi, Cathy. Is everything okay?”

“Me? Almara, I call to check in on you and you’re the one asking if I’m okay?” Cathy laughs and while I wish I could join in her fun banter, I simply cannot. Especially not with Roman snarling over my shoulder. He still thinks Cathy is the friend that can’t be trusted.

“I would’ve called earlier, but I just got done work pretty late.” Cathy continues on.

I turn my back to shield off Roman’s glare. “Actually, everything isn’t okay. Do you think you can come over? I need your help.” I can feel Roman’s protest behind me, but Arthur must tell him to back off because the rest of our conversation runs smoothly as I give Cathy the address.

“She is not welcomed over here.” Roman says.

“Well, it’s a little late for that, Father.” Arthur interjects. “Besides, if Almara says we need help, then we best be getting it from friends in a time like this. The last thing we need are more of your powerful acquaintances getting caught up in this.”

Roman stiffens and speaks very calmly. “Friends are who you want at your funeral. Power is what you want in a crisis.”

“I’m too tired for this. Cathy is coming over. I’m going to go rest.” Arthur stands and quickly grabs his head.

“Are you okay?” I ask, standing up with him to assist if need be.

“I’m fine,” he jerks his arm away from me. “I just stood up to fast.” I pretend to not notice the way Roman lifts his eyebrow at his sons quick dismissal.

Arthur lets out a deep sigh and kisses me goodbye. “I trust you.” He tells me and I hope Roman caught that part too.

Arthur pauses to kiss Grace and heads up to his room. Roman gives me a look over and then also turns to leave.

I sink back into the couch with a sigh and wait for Cathy to arrive. In the meantime, I feed Grace and keep her entertained. No more than thirty or so minutes, Cathy is escorted into the living room.

“Your friend.” Roman motions at Cathy as if tossing a piece of trash. Roman turns to leave, shutting the door a little to loudly behind him. Grace reacts to the sudden noise and I go to comfort her.

“Sorry about him. He thinks you’re the one who called the media. I told him that wasn’t true, I know it was Emma. I saw how jealous she was and how when I opened my big mouth she just had this look in her eye that she knew she could cause trouble.”

I bounce Grace lightly and her cries turn to giggles. “But don’t take it personally. Once Roman gets an idea in his head it’s very challenging to have him see any other way.”

“I just thought it was because he was rich. I always assumed all rich people and wolves are arrogant.” Cathy says and she steps closer, her eyes delighting in Grace. She holds her hands out as if to ask if she can hold her. I gently place Grace in Cathy’s arms who starts making baby noises.

For a moment all seems normal. “Also, Emma wasn’t the one who called the media. Just so you know.” It’s a good thing Cathy has Grace, because my body becomes numb.

“What? Who did then?” I stammer.

“I have no idea, but I was with her all day. Sure she laughed after you left, but she made no phone calls. She’s all bark and no bite, you know that.” Cathy puts her Grace back in her bassinet. “She’s beautiful, Almara.”

“Thanks.” I hear myself say. If Emma didn’t call the media, who did? And more importantly why?