my hand still wrapped with roots. We were on safe ground. “I got attacked by . . . trapped in a burst of energies. They kicked my butt. The vampire tree saved me.”
“The vampire tree? The potted plant that has roots stuck into your whole hand? Looks like it’s claiming you rather than saving you,” he growled.
“Trust me. It was saving me.”
“I trust you, Nell, sugar.” He rocked me and I leaned into him. “I don’t trust that damn tree, but I trust you. You’re ice-cold, Nell. Do I need to get you to a hospital?” I started shivering, and Occam unfolded the pink blanket, draping it over me. We sat there, me snuggled up to his werecat warmth, which was several degrees warmer than standard human. And he was right, I felt no death and decay right here. Thank goodness, because Occam was touching the dirt, holding me. And the null room was closed up for the night, nullifying the dead, and I didn’t have a key anyway.
My head began to clear. “I think I’m okay,” I said, my voice rough. Occam hugged me tighter. Closing my eyes, I pressed closer, feeling too cold and too hot all at once. I tried to picture the Green Knight, the shape/name/form/purpose the vampire tree had chosen when it gained sentience. I saw a field of green grass, a green horse grazing. A man wearing pale green armor stood at a fence, and though his helmet was in place and I couldn’t see his eyes, I got the feeling he was looking right at me. He lifted a hand and drizzled green stuff through his green-steel fingers. It seemed to be important to him, but I had no idea what it meant.
“Ummm? Okay? And thanks,” I whispered to him. He nodded his helmeted head.
Occam said, “I didn’t do anything, Nell, sugar.”
I smiled. “You can let go now, I think,” I whispered. The knight gave a formal nod and the roots let go of my hand, pulling out of my finger. I hissed with pain and my blood ran into the potted Soulwood soil.
“You’re bleedin’,” Occam said.
In my vision, or whatever this was, the Green Knight reached out and held his gauntleted hand beneath mine, as if capturing my blood in his steel-covered palm. I felt my blood land in the pot and feed the root. That might be bad . . .
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” Occam said, his tone grim.
“No. Not needed. I’m really okay,” I said softly, opening my eyes. Even my throat was better, though I was thirsty. I pushed back from Occam and placed the plant pot on the ground. “I’d been touching dirt in the barn and paddocks, but pasture soil is different. It’s alive in ways that barn dirt isn’t. I was stupid. I shoulda touched grass leaves first, then the soil. I’ll be fine.” Leaves then soil. Always.
“You’re not fine,” he cat-growled. “Your heart was racing and you were breathing too fast and you were cold as death.” His hand touched my face as if testing my temperature. “You smelled like you were dying.” His eyes were glowing the bright golden amber of his cat. It wasn’t the full moon, but he was still close to losing control of his were-creature. Which would be very bad at a crime scene with humans all around, armed security everywhere.
I reached up with my good hand and gripped the back of his head, pulling him close and kissing him. In the dark, kneeling in the dirt, behind a barn. It was a sweet, clinging kiss, lips to lips, warm and tender and giving. When I pulled away, his eyes were human again. I smiled up at him. “I’m okay, cat-man,” I said softly. “And we have a job to do.”
“Woman, you scared me silly.”
“Scared me too. And after this case, I have a lot of thinking to do about the vampire tree. But for now, let’s get the job done.”
“You sure?” When I nodded, Occam got to his feet and lifted me to mine, cat-strong, cat-graceful, and pulled me close in the night. Into my ear, he said, “How ’bout you don’t scare me again tonight. Or ever. I might have nine lives, but you surely scared one outta me jist now.”
“Nine lives,” I said, smiling at the cat-lore comment and pointing. “We need to make sure no horses have access to that pasture. There’s a lot of death and decay in it.”