Page 5 of Losing The Vampire King
“Can you remember what it smelled like?” my mother urges on.
A few moments later, I feel her hand on my shoulder. Gentle, reassuring. She isn’t pushing me. She is allowing me to take my time with this, because she knows how much anguish all this is causing me, when I feel like I am the only one who can reach Eddie, and all I can do is sit here with my hands tied.
I swallow heavily, closing my eyes. I try not to think about Eddie, just the scent.
“It’s heavy,” I say, immediately frowning. “Overpowering. It almost feels like someone stuck a match inside both my nostrils and somehow managed to light them inside.”
I don’t open my eyes to see whether my mom is smiling at my joke. Not that it matters at a time like this.
“Is it sweet?” she asks, her soft voice guiding me through the darkness of my mind.
“Yes,” I nod. “But… it’s not only sweet. There is something else.”
I can’t quite describe it, but I know that I have to. My mother knows all the plants. All the nymphs should, but because I wasn’t brought up as a nymph, I lack that knowledge that all nymphs obtained during their childhood in the woods, surrounded by others like them.
My childhood was very different. I grew up with the skin walkers, always feeling like an outsider, always thinking that I was nothing but a mere, insignificant human. That was, at least, what they wanted me to think. Then, Eddie came into my life, and he created the storm that destroyed all the misconceptions I ever had. It took me a while to trust him. I think it was like that for both of us. We needed each other to survive, and slowly, we got closer. The skin walkers thought I betrayed them, but in fact it was someone else who betrayed me.
I shudder at the thought. I hate to go back to that time in my life, but I guess I can’t deny that it has helped shape me into the person that I am now, into the same woman that Eddie loves. I instantly remember why I’m doing all this. It’s because of him. I can’t lose him. He did everything to keep me safe from the skin walkers when I needed him. He was ready to die for me. That was how I found out that I am not just an ordinary human, but something much more special than that, a member of a dying breed. That was the only way I could help him. Now, I have to help him again. I have to help him find his way back to me.
“What else, sweetheart?” My mother’s voice brings me back to the present moment. My mind objects. It doesn’t want to go into the dark corners, because I don’t want to see that rage in Eddie’s eyes that have always looked at me with nothing but tenderness and love. It hurts too much. But I have to.
My jaw clenches tightly, and I bring back those painful images. My neck muscles stiffen. Suddenly, I feel like there is an invisible hand, trying to suffocate me. I cough violently, fighting the sensation. My mother notices something is wrong immediately.
“Breathe, Bianca, just breathe,” she tells me calmly. “There is no danger here.”
I feel her reassuring hand on my shoulder still. It is the only thing keeping me in place.
“The scent,” she urges. “We have to find out what it is.”
“Flowers,” I say vaguely. “Rotting flowers. Sickly sweet. Making me nauseous.”
“Can you smell burning cinnamon?” she asks through that haze.
Suddenly, my mind explodes into light. It was as if I’ve been wandering through a dark tunnel, and now, those words turned on the light. I open my eyes wide.
“How did you know?” I gasp.
“I was afraid of that,” she says, her voice down to a weak whisper. This wasn’t a good sign.
“Why?” I ask, fearing the answer, but at the same time, knowing that I must hear it. She can’t spare me from any of the details, no matter how painful they might be.
“Atropa belladonna,” I hear her say. I know she just told me the Latin name for something, only I don’t know what she is referring to. She takes a moment, then continues. “It’s deadly nightshade.”
I gasp. “Does that mean… Eddie will die?” The look on my mother’s face isn’t promising. “Tell me everything,” I demand. “Even the worst case scenario.”
“That burning cinnamon smell means that it is no ordinary nightshade. This one is homegrown by… those who know what they are doing,” she explains.
“Nymphs?” I ask, not counting myself among them in this instance, because I would barely recognize nightshade if I saw it. My knowledge in botany still lacks to a great extent, which is something I have been working hard on, but one can only cram a certain amount of information within the span of three years, while others would get their entire childhoods to learn the same things.
“Yes,” my mother confirms. “We would know how to grow it. But others could also have this information. Other vampires. Other werewolves. Other… skin walkers.”
I know what she is hinting at. The skin walkers might have found us, and they are using an unconventional way to attack. But… why like this? I don’t understand. Why don’t they just do things the way they have always been done? Why change anything now?
“This nightshade, if given in the right amounts, consistently, will make one forget everything,” my mother continues with her explanation tenderly, as if she would explain to a six year old child. Her patience is immeasurable. I only wish I possessed more of that.
“Everything?” I ask.
“Everything,” she assures me. “Little by little, the tea brewed from this nightshade will eat away at one’s memories, leaving nothing but emptiness.”
