If he'd understood Welsh, I was sure he'd have done something more extreme.
How the oakman knew I'd understand him, I didn't know.
There are two ways to free a prisoner--escape is the first.
I had the feeling that the oakman was looking for the second.
When he finished, the oakman was barely conscious, and Blackwood looked a dozen years younger.
Vampires weren't supposed to do that--but I didn't know any vampires who fed from fae either.
He picked up the oakman with no visible effort and tossed him over his shoulder.
"Let's get you a little sun, shall we?" Blackwood sounded cheery.
The door to the room closed behind him, and a woman's trembly voice said, "It's because you're too much for him right now, dear.
He did try to make you his servant ...
but your ties to the wolves and to that other vampire--and how did you manage that, clever girl?--have blocked him.
It won't be forever.
Eventually, he'll exchange enough blood for you to be his--but not for a few months yet." Mrs.
Claus ghost stood in the cage with her back to me, looking at the door that had closed behind Blackwood.
"What does he want from me?" I asked her.
She turned and smiled at me.
"Why, me, dear." She had fangs.
"You're a vampire," I said.
"I was," she agreed.
"It isn't the usual thing, I admit.
Though that young man you met earlier is one as well.
We're tied to James.
Both his.
John was the only vampire James ever made--and I blush to admit that James is my fault." "Your fault?" "He was always so kind, so attentive.
A nice young man, I thought.
Then one night one of my other children showed me the murdhuacha James had captured--one of the merrow folk, dear." That faint accent was Cockney or Irish, I thought, but so faint I couldn't be sure.
"Well," she said, sounding exasperated.
"We just don't do that, dear.
First off--the fae aren't a people to toy with.
Secondly, whatever we exchange blood with could become vampire.