Dark Rabbit

Chapter 13: Second Thoughts

A half-hour earlier. The House in the Woods, New Haven.

Maia closed her book, unable to concentrate. The sunlight filtering in through the stained-glass windows splashed a rich palette of colors on the wall paneling but did little to lighten the dread crushing her soul.

If she had a soul.

For the first time in ages beyond number, she was beginning to doubt everything.

She'd dreamed last night. And when was the last time she'd been the one dreaming? She was back in Connacht. She was once more a young girl playing with her brothers in the courtyard of the castle. She'd thought her existence before Electra carried her away had vanished. Instead, it had remained hidden in a secret place inside her. Why was it reemerging now?

Was it because she was abstaining from blood? After the Litha festival in June, she'd stopped sampling. She suspected blood was addictive and she wanted to wean herself off before Sam visited. She'd been right. The first days had been torture. But now she'd been clean for over a month. It probably wasn't a coincidence that the memories resurfaced at the same time.

Unless it was Sam. Had he awakened something within her? Now she was hearing a soft woman's voice, urging her to leave blood alone. Who was that? Her conscience? The first time she'd heard it, the voice advised her to treat Crowley carefully. He could be an ally. Surely her conscience wouldn't have spoken up for a demon.

Electra appeared to suspect nothing. For now, she tolerated Maia's abstinence, although realistically that couldn't last. She'd already become more insistent about Maia staying at her house, no doubt to keep an eye on her.

In the aftermath of the attack on Lutar, Electra would be even more likely to lash out. So far, Maia had been able to keep Sam out of harm's way, but she had no way of protecting Dean. Would Electra blame both brothers and exact vengeance?

She felt her cheeks grow hot at the thought of how ill Sam had been. She'd only meant to make him sick enough to remain in bed—far away from Lutar. Once she realized she'd overdone it, she eased off. After that first bad night, she kept him in a state of peaceful drowsiness with just enough fever that he couldn't go anywhere. She would have kept Dean safe too if she could have established a link. Sam wouldn't want anything to happen to his brother.

And now? Was there any hope for her and Sam? Electra would eventually find out she wasn't feeding off him or anyone else. She couldn't run away. Electra had drunk her blood. She'd always be able to find her. Worse, if she tried to flee, Electra would likely punish her by killing Sam.

Only by pretending to feed off Sam could she keep him safe, and even then there were no guarantees.

She knew about Lutar, but Electra had never revealed to her where the other pure-bloods were. Sam and Dean were hunters. They were bound to run into them eventually.

She fought the onslaught of panic and forced herself to concentrate on the immediate crisis. When Electra summoned her in the middle of the afternoon, she knew it couldn't be good news. Electra didn't leave the bookstore on a whim. Not that her assistant wasn't perfectly capable of managing in her absence, but Electra was conscientious when it came to her business.

But when Lutar was in danger ...

Crowley's shape shimmered and solidified in front of her. "How bad is it?" he asked.

"That's what I was going to ask you." She secreted the book of poetry under the cushion. Electra could become suspicious if she knew Maia was reading Ní Dhomhnaill, or any other Irish poet for that matter.

Crowley grimaced. "Lutar was insolent from day one. Living as a lord in his castle in that small dump of a town only fed his pride. The prat was willful, ignoring his elders. He treated me like dirt. Usually someone has to know me for at least a couple of months before that happens. I told Electra she was being too indulgent."