What do they want with me?
With the right ritual, I can help him, help all of them. The cost needn’t be so high.
We can do this without unnecessary bloodshed.
Since when are we on opposite sides, brother?
My eyesfinally open and stay open. A bedroom comes into focus.
There’s a heavy velvet canopy in an already familiar crimson shade overhead. The curtains are pulled back and tied around the four posts that support them. A thick duvet covers me, yet my body still trembles. I am the forge in winter—cold and hot at the same time. Fevered, likely.
Pushing myself into a seated position hurts far less than I would’ve expected. I reach behind my head and my fingertips brush against bandages. My skull is still tender but it’s been tended to. The monsters have tried to heal me.
Why? Because they need my blood fresh?Drew would know. And the thought nearly makes me sick. My brother would know what to do. He wouldn’t have even allowed himself to end up in this position. He would’ve killed the vampire lord.
We changed destinies with the hand-off of a vial, and now we will both suffer for it. Drew might have already paid the ultimate price. My chest squeezes, my heart skips a beat. No, it seems to say.
“You’re healing as well as can be expected.”
I jerk toward the source of the sound, instantly regretting the quick movement as it takes my vision a second to catch up and nearly turns over my stomach. The vampire lord stands before a single window. It’s larger than any single piece of glass I’ve ever seen and yet it somehow still seems small in the vastness of this lonely room.
“We’ve done what we could for you.” The vampire turns to face me, silhouetted by pale, normal moonlight streaming through the open window. A regular moon. That means it’s no longer the night of the Blood Moon. How much time has passed? The moon’s still large—perhaps only a day? Two? I hope no more. “But taking a human through the Fade is a dangerous and forbidden endeavor under normal circumstances. Doing so when that human insists on wounding herself speeds up the natural decay.”
As he speaks, I scan the room. There’s precious little. One table at my side of the bed—empty. A bookcase surrounds a hearth opposite the foot of the bed that holds cobwebs instead of paper and leather. Other than the symbol of the vampire etched into the stone of the hearth, this place is a void. Soulless.
“There’s nothing in here you could use to attack me,” he says.
“I wasn’t—”
“Spare me.” He rolls his eyes. “I have records detailing how you hunters are trained. You can turn anything into a weapon.” He motions to the small, empty hearth flanked by the bookcases. “I even had the fireplace tools removed.”
I swallow thickly. He still thinks I’m a hunter. That means…maybe he fears me? I try and summon all the bravery I ever witnessed in my brother.
“What do you want with me?” My words are even and level.
“I want to speak with you.”
“What makes you assume I want to speak with you?” I dare to say, even though my insides are liquefying still at the mere sight of him. Without the elixir I am helpless before him.
“Do you have something better to do?” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his bright eyes.
“Fine, go on,” I relent. He’s right, I don’t have a choice. He has kept me alive thus far, and provoking the lord of the vampires further seems like a poor idea when I no longer have an elixir to back up my threats.
“I will be plain and direct, as we have precious little time. You’re dying,” he says gravely.
I stare at my palms. I’ve been patched up. But my hands ache in a way they haven’t in years—like the first time I was in the forge. No, worse. With every movement my fingers go numb, my hands threaten to lock up, refusing to open.
“All right,” I say, finally. I’m not sure if I’m ready to fully believe him. But something does feel different in me, down to my marrow. Arguing with him might also prevent him from giving me further, precious information.
“You don’t seem bothered by that.”
He almost sounds like he cares. What does the monster who’s hunted me and my kin care about my feelings toward death? He doesn’t. It must be a trick to lull me into a false sense of security.
“I imagine it’s hard for you to relate to the emotions that surround one’s own mortality.” Hatred seeps into my voice.
“You don’t think I know of mortality?” He raises his brow, haunted eyes shining.
“The eternal vampire lord?”