I turn his words over in my head, trying to find a deeper meaning to them. I know there is one—it’s obvious from the way looks are flying between my uncle and Amka. Macy seems oblivious, but that’s obviously because she’s as in the dark about this subject as I am.
“She’s brutal,” Amka says after a second. “Completely terrifying. But if anyone knows how to help you, she will.”
I’ve got to admit, “brutal” is not exactly a word that evokes confidence in me. Then again, neither is “terrifying.” And considering I’m standing in a room with one of the most powerful vampires in existence and no one here is the least bit afraid of him, I shudder to think of what this Bloodletter person might be like.
Especially since even Jaxon seems nervous at the idea of taking me to her.
“Do you know her?” I ask as apprehension fills me. “I mean, will she try to kill us on sight or will she at least listen to what we have to say?”
“She’s brutal but not completely psychotic,” Jaxon tells me. “And I do know her, yes. She raised me.”
He doesn’t say anything else, just kind of drops it out there, like being raised by the most terrifying vampire in existence is a totally normal thing. He might as well have pulled out a full-on South Park impression and said, Move along, people. Nothing to see here.
Which only convinces me more that there’s a lot Jaxon’s leaving out. And more concerned that what he’s leaving out is really, really bad.
But if seeing this Bloodletter person will help get Hudson out of my head, and maybe even give me a glimpse into Jaxon’s childhood, then I’m all in.
“How long does it take to get there?” I ask. “And when do we leave?”
“A few hours,” Jaxon replies. “And we can leave now if you want.”
“Now?” Uncle Finn asks, sounding less than impressed. “Why don’t you at least wait until morning, when it’s light out?”
“And give Hudson another chance to try to body snatch me again?” I ask, and I don’t even have to pretend to be traumatized at the thought. “I’d rather not.”
Not to mention, I’m too freaked out to sleep tonight—and maybe ever again. The fact that Hudson is inside me is terrifying and gross and weird. Can he read my thoughts, too? Like, is he in my head right now, hearing everything I’m thinking? Or are his talents limited to just taking over my body? Just. Give me a break.
How did my life get to this? Five months ago, I was in San Diego, and my biggest decision was where I was going to go to college. Now, I still have to decide that—or at least I think I do (do gargoyles even go to college?)—plus deal with evil alpha werewolves trying to take me down and psychopathic vampires living in my head.
If it wasn’t for Jaxon, I’d be pretty positive that I’ve traded down…way, way down.
Deciding the best way to circumvent Uncle Finn’s objections is to simply act like this is a done deal, I turn to Jaxon. “Do we need to call first and let her know we’re coming? I mean, if she has a phone in her”—I can’t believe I’m saying this—“ice cave?”
“She doesn’t need a phone. And if she doesn’t already know we’re coming, she’ll figure it out long before we get there.”
Because that’s not creepy at all. “Awesome.” I smile at him. “I’ll go get changed and meet you at the front entrance in fifteen minutes?”
Jaxon nods. “Make sure to layer up. We’ll be out in the cold for a while.”
By “a while,” I assume he means the whole time, considering the Bloodletter lives in an ice cave. Which is another weird-as-hell thing that I want to hear more about—including whether or not Jaxon grew up in the ice cave we are going to visit or if he grew up somewhere else and moved there after. I mean, because nothing says “retirement” like carving out a home for yourself in the middle of a frozen Alaskan cave.
“Give her at least thirty minutes, Jaxon,” my uncle says with the air of a man who knows when he’s been beaten.
“I’d rather get started as soon as possible,” I object.
“And I’d rather you had something to eat before you go.” He gives me a hard look that lets me know in no uncertain terms that this is one thing he is not budging on. “It’s not