The warmth of her breath made a shiver race down my spine. “More than one. The place is haunted. Keep your guard up.”
She nodded, tucking closer to me.
I could feel eyes on us as we walked, but it was impossible to locate their owners. Remington showed us into a small room that I didn’t recall from my past. It was bland enough—by Silviu’s standards—that there was no reason I should remember it even if I had been inside.
It was roughly fifteen feet by fifteen, the wallpaper dark and the hearth flickering with a black and orange flame. A dark couch sat in front of the fire, and the room was empty save for the paintings on the wall. They were done entirely in shades of black and dark gray, the images seeming to move even though they were impossible to decipher.
“He will call on you soon.” Remington inclined his head, then shut the door behind him.
“When—”
I held up a hand to cut Carrow off and made a soft shh noise.
She quieted, and I walked the perimeter of the room, inspecting it for any of Silviu’s magical spying devices. His magic was distinct enough that I would feel it—particularly since he was my maker. It gave me a connection that others didn’t have.
Near one of the paintings, a tiny black crystal was affixed to the wall. It vibrated with Silviu’s magic, a sickly sweet smell of decaying flesh that had always turned my stomach.
I removed it and dropped it to the ground, then crushed it under my shoe. Once I’d determined that the room was clean, I turned to Carrow. “My apologies. I didn’t want Silviu to listen in.”
“He won’t be mad?”
“Perhaps. Would you prefer he spy on us?”
She shrugged. “We could just not speak.”
I might not have much time left with her. I didn’t want to spend it in silence when I could be listening to her instead.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Better for him to know we are on equal footing.”
“Is that the power balance here? You’re equals, even though he is your maker?”
I nodded. “Once, it was not the case. When I was first turned, he possessed the power to grind me under his boot.”
“I imagine that didn’t work for you.”
“It did not.” Just the memory made my skin tighten. “In the end, it was the horrors I committed here that saved me. The depths of the depravity returned my senses to me through the blood lust. Part of me did not want to kill like that. Whatever soul I had left was resurrected in the middle of all that bloodshed. With the barest sliver of my mind returned to me, I was able to fight my way free.”
“And then you were on equal footing with Silviu?”
“Yes. I was able to turn my viciousness on him. He chose me because I was strong. But he didn’t realize that strength would free me from his grasp.”
“So you left here.”
“Yes. It took ten years, but I left.”
“To go do good works?” Skepticism sounded in her voice, reminding me that she knew my reputation.
I had no intention of lying to her, however. “Hardly. I’m still not a good man, and I never have been. But I was never meant to be pure, unthinking evil.”
“Like Silviu.”
“Like Silviu.” I shrugged. “Though perhaps he has changed.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that. You really think so?”
“Staying the same for hundreds of years is deeply boring. Excruciatingly so. He may have changed to keep himself from going insane.”
“The fact that evil insanity is our other option is not reassuring.”