Текст книги "A Bargain So Bloody"

Автор книги: Vasilisa Drake

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“Training is hungry work,” Raphael remarked with a hint of amusement.

“I feel rather like a dog that’s been given a treat for performing a clever trick.” Not undeserved, given the rigorous mental training he’d just put me through. Still, the image made me think of Titus’s comments about me being a spoiled pet. I fought to keep that out of my emotions and off my face.

“You are rather clever,” Raphael teased.

Titus’s spoiled pet taunt came to mind, but I kicked it away. I hadn’t seen him in weeks. Perhaps he’d departed from Damerel, whatever plan foiled.

We sat for a while, an easy silence between us. The castle could be utterly silent at times, given the quiet way vampires moved and noise insulation. In my rooms, sometimes it was too quiet. Sitting next to Raphael, it was comfortable.

“What changed your mind?” I eventually asked. “When I asked you weeks ago to train me, you refused. You said it would hinder your ability to keep me safe. So what changed?”

“Everything I said is still true. I do think you’re safer if I can sense your emotions. That way I’d know if you felt you were in danger.” Raphael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked ahead. “But… you wanted me to. It’s hypocritical to tell you you’re safe in my kingdom and yet curtail your wishes as if that wasn’t true. Perhaps there is another part of me that was selfish. That looked for an excuse to hold on to the blood bond. But my desires should not win out over your own, not when I’ve promised you sanctuary, and that includes sanctuary from the king’s whims. So, if you want something, and it’s in my power to give it, I will give it.”

I tried to make sense of what he’d just said. I swallowed.

“You really are doing it just to respect my wishes?” My wishes had never mattered to anyone before. Never been taken into consideration. Never had any power.

“Of course.”

Of course. Like it made sense.

“Samara, if you tell me you want something, I will do what I can to please you. Why do you struggle to believe that?”

My stomach twisted. “I was raised to believe that the surest way to be denied something was to let another know you wanted it.” An instrument. A hug. A family.

“That’s a sad way to live.” He didn’t coat the words in a saccharine way another might have.

“It was a safe way.” I took another bite of the pie, the granules of sugar melting on my tongue. Delicious. “Why was Demos upset earlier?”

My bid to change the subject wasn’t subtle, nor appreciated by the pained expression on Raphael’s face.

“He had… concerns.” Raphael said the last word slowly, like he was trying very hard to make something complicated fit in a tidy little box.

I told myself I was disappointed in the vague answer only because I was curious, not because I was upset Raphael didn’t confide in me. It didn’t affect me; I’d be gone soon anyway.

“Ask me something else,” he said, a peace offering.

“Tell me something,” I countered. “Something… something someone wouldn’t guess about you.”

He grinned. “I find I’m curious to know what you would guess about me, but I’ll play.” A pause, and his expression grew a shade more serious. “I never wanted to be king.”

“No?” I asked, surprised. I remembered how staunchly he’d told me he was glad he’d been turned into a vampire. I’d assumed Raphael wanted power. I would never want to turn, but the desire for strength? Recognition? That could be as seductive as safety.

He shook his head, leaning back on the couch. “In many ways, it feels like a choice forced upon me.”

I shifted slightly so I was facing him more, tucking my feet under my legs. “How did you become king?” Could vampires inherit? They couldn’t have children… organically. My stomach twisted at the thought of Raphael being one of those babes turned.

Raphael arched a brow. “The same way anyone gets anything in a world of monsters. By force. It was the only option that let me have what I wanted. But I own all my actions—every single bloody one.”

I considered that. I’d felt trapped at Greymere, with only one path way forward. But I’d done something bloody in my own right to escape.

“I was the strongest, and I was the most ruthless,” Raphael continued. “The years when I came to power… I didn’t waste time on politicking. There are those who excel at it, and they have a place. But me? It was a brutal, brutal thing.”

“What do you excel at, then?” My voice was soft.

He held my gaze. “Truthfully? Surviving. At any cost.”

He was a survivor. Like me. It was hard to imagine us having anything in common, but when he said those words, I heard the savage truth. I recognized it like I recognized my fingertips.

We were closer now. In that moment, I didn’t want to survive—I just wanted. My heart fluttered, the mental shields I’d worked on only half in place. There was no way Raphael missed that, and yet he was still so close.

But I’m leaving.

And I wouldn’t survive Raphael.

“Will you tell me what it’s like beyond Damerel?” I whispered.

If Raphael was surprised by my sudden conversation change, he didn’t betray it. He pulled away and returned moments later with a giant scroll. He pulled the low table closer to the couch and laid the map open for us.

I blinked. I hadn’t actually seen a map since childhood, and even that had only been due to the tutors my mother had insisted on.

The map itself was a work of art, but my eyes skipped over the ornamentation and tried to refit this map into my worldview. I didn’t remember Eurobis being so large. I planted my finger on a mountain range in the middle. “Is this really Damerel?” The letters were curved in an ornate script. No map from the Witch Kingdom would have named the vampire capital.

He bent closer, shoulder to shoulder with me, even though he could see just fine with his vampire vision.

“Though I rule the so-called Vampire Kingdom of the West, we’re more of a barrier between the two halves of the continent.”

“So what’s over there?” I moved my hand to the middle-left of the map.

“Other magical creatures capable of reasoning inhabit the rest of the continent. You’ll find kobolds and ogres, but there are other beings of power who have claimed territory.” Raphael moved his fingers to the back of my hand. I jolted at the contact but let him adjust my fingers to the north corner. “The shape-changers live here.” He moved my hand down to a peninsula so narrow it could have been an island. “The Winged Ones are here. There are more magical mortals, like your witches, only they don’t use magic in the same ways.” He withdrew his fingers and gestured to the rest of the map. “The fae have several strongholds, constantly changing alliances. You would encounter them…” He trailed off uncharacteristically.

I’d encounter them when I left. “Do you think I could manage there? I’m just a void.”

“I think you could thrive,” he rasped. “It’s not the Witch Kingdom, where you have magic or you’re mud. There are many ways to live there.”

I pursed my lips. I hadn’t ever thought of it as unfair. It was just how things were. Besides, witches shared their magic with the rest of us through cards. That we paid for.

I turned away from the thought. “Have you spent much time in the rest of Eurobis?” He certainly knew about it.

“I cannot. The southern and northern kingdoms have closer ties. We trade through them, most often.”

Trade. The Witch Kingdom was locked between those kingdoms; we had no one to trade with. Sometimes it disconcerted me how much more to the world there was now that I was ostensibly in the world of monsters.

And soon I’d get to see an entire new realm.

By myself.

“Would you… visit me, once I’m settled?” The thought, silly as it was, slipped through before I could catch it on my tongue. The late hour made it too easy to say these ridiculous things.

He drew closer, his cedar scent licking at my senses, our knees touching. “Samara, there is nowhere in this world I would not go if you wished me to.”

He couldn’t lie. I stilled, my body frozen while my heart raced faster and faster.

“Too much truth?” His tone was teasing, yet his eyes were still serious.

Yes. It wouldn’t be a simple thing, wanting Raphael like this. It would destroy me. There was no denying it. Not after this night.

But it would turn me into what they thought, another human for the king to use. I had to translate the book and leave—

“Samara?”

I shook my head. “I can’t do this.”

He didn’t play coy and ask what I meant. “I’ll always respect your wishes.”

The sentence held a hundred possibilities I was saying no to.

The man who called himself king of monsters would always respect my wishes.

“I have to go,” I murmured, untucking my legs and pulling away. To avoid leaving on a bleak note, I summoned vexation I no longer felt and arched a brow at the vampire king. “I’m sure I’ll be able to find my way back to my rooms from here.”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Thirty-Nine

One of my books was missing. I frowned. I had been rotating through the books since the librarian apparently made a stink about them being gone for too long, but the one missing wasn’t just any book, but the one I’d tucked my notes inside of. Had I returned the wrong book by mistake?

Amalthea was called away on court business. Normally, she accompanied me when I refreshed my stock of books. I debated waiting for her, but I was so close to getting this latest passage fully translated.

It had been coming more quickly, even though I was splitting my time between practicing my mental shields with Raphael, physical training with Demos, and translating. Progress had been the slowest on sparring, but Raphael appeared almost frustrated by how quickly I’d developed my mental shields.

Translating… I was close. There were a few gaps I could infer, but there was one term in the opening I couldn’t grasp. Though I could translate other pages, the opening pages of a grimoire served as critical context for the mythical tome. I’d seen something similar to at least one of the mysterious glyphs in the missing book, I was certain.

This is the book of the necromancer. The witch who alone serves Anagenni, they who _______. Through the goddess’s will, the necromancer has dominion over bone and blood, ____ and ____. The ______ bow to the necromancer.

I made a quick calculation and decided my desire to finish my work outweighed how uncomfortable the librarian made me.

The librarian was surprisingly absent from his post. I took that as a good omen and went inside, scurrying around the stacks of books to find the now familiar corner that held the Old Runyk books.

Where is it? I scanned the spines, but the book I was looking for wasn’t there. I squatted low and pulled out each book one by one. Maybe it hadn’t been reshelved? That would mean I’d have to ask the librarian, and just the thought sent a shiver down my spine. Maybe it had fallen behind a piece of furniture in my room.

“Looking for this?” an old, cracked voice said.

I jerked upright and turned.

The librarian stood just a few feet away. His appearance was every bit as ghastly as I remembered, skin as thin of the frailest parchment bound in the texts he guarded. But that wasn’t what I focused on.

The missing book was in his hand.

“Oh, um, yes,” I squeaked. “I didn’t mean to return it. I wasn’t done with the book.”

“Of course,” he said congenially.

He made no move to give me the book, so I was forced to walk to him and take it. I opened the front and frowned.

“Or were you looking for these?”

He held a few sheets of parchment aloft, covered in my drafted translations. Relief went through me at the realization I wouldn’t need to start all over again.

“Yes, thank you.” I held out my hand, but the librarian kept the papers lifted.

I looked up at him in confusion.

“Did you think,” the librarian said mildly, “that I would not figure out what you were doing?”

I took a small step backwards. “I’m working on a project for the king.”

The librarian barked a laugh, the sound like a crack of thunder. “Did you think I wouldn’t know who you really serve? That I wouldn’t recognize you for what you really are? As if the king would ever ask for this. When he learns what I’ve done, he’ll reward me.”

What he’s done?

His voice turned into that hypnotic lull of a thrall. “Now stay still so I can kill you.”

I barely had time to process the threat before the librarian lunged at me. It was nothing like the lunges Amalthea made when we sparred, or when Demos modeled his movements. This was a vampire’s lunge, fast, deadly, and unstoppable.

The librarian grabbed my shoulders in his hands, nails digging in.

“Let go!” I cried.

Startled, his grip halted for a second. I had only the moment to reach into my deck and pull the one card I still had. Half a thought pulled the magic from the enchantment.

Bzzz!

A cloud of insects manifested between us, diving for the vampire.

The sound that came from the vampire was nothing human. He roared as the swarm of wasps attacked. His limbs swung wildly, attempting to swat them away.

They’d buy me scant seconds. They blocked his vision, but there was no chance I could run and escape in time.

There was only one move open to me.

I pulled the dagger from my belt, the bronze blade surprisingly light. The wasps continued to sting the vampire, but he was once more moving towards me.

I lunged.

And planted the blade squarely in his chest.

The ancient vampire crumpled to the ground.

His face turned from pale to the color of ash. His skin began to crumble, turning to dust and falling in until there was nothing left but bones and the clothes he’d worn. The wasps disappeared with the spell. My dagger clattered to the ground, no longer embedded in the flesh.

So this was how a vampire died.

A strange calm had come over me. I stood transfixed, watching as centuries of undeath faded into nothing.

I had done that.

Without thought, I smiled.

What transpired after was a blur. Amalthea found me there, drawn by a vision.

“Samara! What happened?”

The story stumbled out of me, and she pulled me into her arms. I didn’t manage to lift my arms, and her brows knitted together in concern. “We need to tell Raphael.”

“Can you?” I asked. “I just want to go back to my room and work on the translation.” I was so, so close to deciphering the last words of the critical first page.

Amalthea looked at me like I had lost it. “Sam, you shouldn’t be alone right now. This… this would be a lot for anyone, but especially…”

Especially someone as fragile as me. She didn’t say it, but I knew what she meant. Yet at the moment, I didn’t feel fragile.

I didn’t feel anything.

“Let’s go to my rooms, and I’ll tell Raphael to meet us there,” she suggested.

Suddenly tired, I did as she bid. Raphael came immediately once she sent word, furious.

“How did this happen?” he snarled.

“Raphael,” Amalthea said, her tone reproachful.

She had cleared one chair from the mountain of dresses it was buried under and given me a cup of tea.

I stared at Raphael. His eyes were wild.

He was dressed in court fashion, like he’d just run out of a meeting to get here.

“I felt nothing in the bond.” His anger was on a tenuous leash.

I slumped in the chair. “Then it seems all my training has paid off. You were just wrong about me being safe here.”

Raphael jerked back like I’d slapped him. I regretted the words, but they were true, weren’t they?

“What happened?” he demanded.

It was Thea who answered, repeating everything I’d told her. Only when I had told her, I’d omitted the questions.

“Why did translating the grimoire make him want to kill me?” I asked.

Did you think I wouldn’t know who you really serve? That I wouldn’t recognize you for what you really are? The question… in the panic… I hadn’t known what he meant. It made no sense given the context.

The two exchanged a look. Pieces fit in.

“He thought I serve the creature Raphael was sent to hunt, didn’t he?” I pressed. The necromancer.

“He must have thought you served Anagenni,” he explained with reluctance.

I frowned. “You said the vampires worship Anagenni.”

“Vampires do revere Anagenni,” Amalthea explained. “But it’s not precisely true to say she is a beloved goddess. They fear her.”

“But why?” Why wouldn’t the undead love the goddess of death? What did they have to fear? Raphael clearly knew her well enough, but the librarian had rejected the idea his king would have anything to do with her grimoire.

Raphael came closer. “Don’t think on this anymore, Samara. Vampires… they can go mad with age, making it impossible to puzzle out their motives.”

My head slumped between my palms. “So I should just live in fear of the next vampire who goes crazy and attacks me?” Gods, what a hopeless thing.

“You’re not going to live in fear.” Raphael pulled my hands away, making me look up at him. “You’re brave, Samara. You saved yourself. If any good can come of this, let it be that. You’re not the same girl you were.”

I gave a small snort and looked away. “I was terrified. I got lucky.” Lucky I’d had the wasp card, lucky I’d yelled loud enough to startle the vampire, lucky I’d drawn the dagger in time and that it had landed true. “I’m not like you.”

“Of course you were afraid. Samara, there’s no bravery without fear. No courage is born untested. But you triumphed over a deadly, powerful foe. Not a fearful dove—but apparently a little viper,” he said with what I might have dared consider admiration. “Take pride in that.”

Brave. Courageous. Could those words really apply to me? Reconciling Raphael’s view of my actions with my own was difficult. I studied the flames, thinking of how I’d felt when the vampire had turned to dust. For the first time, I’d felt like I was in control.

“You won, Samara. And if need be, you will again. Trust in that.”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Forty

I didn’t waste time after the attack returning to translating. I’d worked slowly for two reasons—one, it had taken a while to get used to reading at all again, let alone in Old Runyk; the skills had atrophied. And two, which was shameful to admit, I’d lulled myself into a belief that I could take my time. A thousand gold pieces was worth working slowly for, and I had Amalthea for tea, and Demos for training, and Raphael… Raphael for everything else.

Finally, I’d finished the first passage in its entirety. I’d worked late nights… and early mornings. But the retrieved book let me piece together the word I couldn’t get.

It wasn’t a word that was common in Old Runyk. “Those who are without death,” or simplified, “the undead.” Vampires.

The implication was… terrifying. I’d asked Demos to forgo training so I could deliver the translation to Raphael. With this done, I could continue to work on the rest of the book… or let Raphael destroy it.

Demos didn’t heckle me for skipping training like he would Amalthea. He’d been a bit off since the night I’d caught him in Raphael’s chambers. Sometimes I caught him watching me. Not clinically studying my form, not like a vampire who was hungry. Just… watching. For what?

I considered us friendly, but not close enough to ask why he seemed to think I was due to sprout a second head.

“You’ve been doing well with your training,” he offered while we walked down the halls. Guards stationed periodically nodded to both of us, after straightening their posture when their boss came into view.

“Really?” I chirped. The praise surprised me.

“I don’t give empty compliments, and I can’t lie,” he said dryly.

I grinned. “Right.” Praise from the king’s general was high praise indeed.

“You came to us nearly emaciated and barely able to hold a stance, now you’ve managed to take down a vampire,” he continued. “Remind me how that went down, again?”

I shivered at the memory, tucking my hands under my arms protectively. For some reason, I wished I had the grimoire with me, but there was no way I was taking it in front of other vampires after everything.

“It was fast. Honestly, most of it was instinct, the training paying off.” The memory of the ancient librarian lunging for me played in my mind. “He said some weird stuff, taunted me. Then he charged. I was able to cast the wasp card, and I used the blade like you taught me. He was dust before my mind really caught up.”

“Battles do tend to go fast,” Demos acknowledged. “They can feel prolonged in the moment, especially for vampires who move at faster speeds, but in reality, even among mortals they rarely go more than five minutes.” A pause. “It’s surprising he didn’t use his thrall on you.”

Right. The terrifying power that let vampires compel mortals. Why hadn’t the librarian done so? I had focused on translating the book as fast as I could and avoided thinking about that battle. Or… was it possible he had? He’d told me to stay still or something, but I’d thought it was some patronizing language since he was so confident he could kill me.

“Maybe he wanted to play with his prey, and underestimated me?”

Raphael had told me his thrall didn’t work on me before. I’d thought that was just him, some quirk.

With the way Demos was probing, I decided not to volunteer that.

“Perhaps.” He looked like he wanted to say something more, then shook his head. “In any case, you should be proud. When you leave the kingdom, you’ll be a fearsome foe in your own right.”

When you leave. “You sound like you’re almost looking forward to it,” I teased, ignoring the pang in my chest. I wanted to leave. I was working tirelessly to, and with this, I might be able to. So why didn’t the thought fill me with joy?

“Or at least, you must be looking forward to having your afternoons back,” I continued.

That broke through the ice around the general. He rolled his eyes. “At least Amalthea’s been preoccupied with you. Once you leave, she’ll be back to meddling with everything.”

I hid a grin. Maybe Demos was wishing he could keep Amalthea training too. He was much harsher with her than me, but the oracle gave as good as she got—on the days she showed up. She mostly kept to their bargain, but as she reminded us both, she did have important work to do.

The hallways grew more crowded, the carpeting more ornate, as we neared the throne room. We passed a few offices, with those Raphael had mentioned he delegated work to, concentrating on different tasks. Some were vampires, but a few were humans in those ghastly vampire disguises.

Still not used to that.

“Just be warned, the king’s been in a bit of a mood,” Demos said.

I frowned. “Why?”

He looked at me like not only had I sprouted that second head, but it was a very stupid head. “The librarian attack.”

“Oh. Right.” Of course Raphael would be stressed—someone who had held an important post had gone insane. No doubt he was worried others might follow.

Demos led me through a side door rather than the main entrance, and explained we’d wait for court to adjourn, at which point I could talk to him. I had dressed in proper clothes rather than the training leathers Amalthea had fitted me with. The dress was vivid blue and slightly low-necked, as was appropriate for my “station” as Raphael’s Chosen, and as ornate as I could manage for something I could put on myself.

I was woefully underdressed compared to most of the court.

We were a little to the left and in front of Raphael, standing back. He didn’t look at us when we entered, so I took a second to study him. He sat on an elevated dais upon a high-backed throne made of solid silver. His crown was a matching metal, with rubies dotting the edge, his hair tamed back by the crown. His fingers were steepled on the arm. The only sign of boredom was his fourth finger tapping to a staccato. His posture was rigid, his expression not interested, but not insultingly bored. Dispassionate, perhaps.

The room held at least ten rows of long seats, mostly filled with nobles dressed in finery.

Two were standing towards the front of the room, petitioners seeking some resolution. Across from Demos and me were three vampires seated behind a slightly elevated bench: two vampires, and a human to the side. Their clothes weren’t as ornate as the petitioners, but rather uniforms. I quickly surmised these were something akin to a jury that heard petitions. The first few petitions were surprisingly mundane. When matters escalated up for Raphael to deal with, he was collected, he let both parties speak. His rulings seemed generally fair, but of course, no one dared argue with their king.

I thought about how he’d confided he’d never wanted the crown, yet he was involved as a ruler. Though the first I’d seen had been wealthy nobles, as time went on I realized there were others who also sought resolutions. The process wasn’t riveting, exactly, but it was a fascinating look at the kingdom. It had due process, a far-cry from the chaotic frenzy I’d always feared. Yes, some vampires were crazy—hence the recent attack on my life—but the kingdom had another side to it. I wasn’t so blind I couldn’t acknowledge that.

A human came forward. Unlike the others who roamed the halls, this one didn’t disguise his species. He had hair the color of wet dirt, with silver flecks speckled throughout that complemented the sagging lines around his eyes and jowls. A pair of spectacles balanced on the bridge of his nose, so short and narrow I wondered how he didn’t go cross-eyed. A vampiress who looked years younger, but could have easily been centuries older, stood at his side as if presenting him.

The court secretary cleared his throat. “Janessa of the Ash-Sworn clan petitions King Raphael to allow her to turn Crowley Adinamos to one of the night people, and live as a member of her clan.”

The night people. A vampire?

Demos tensed besides me, but I stared at Raphael. He extended a hand, waving them to continue. He hadn’t directly responded to the other petitions, as they’d been to the court, but this power must exclusively reside with him.

“Tell us your service, Mister Adinamos.”

Crowley cast a nervous glance back, then shuffled a few steps forward, wringing his hands.

“Your Highness,” he stammered.

Your Majesty, I silently corrected.

“I’ve served the Ash-Sworn clan faithfully for more than thirty years. I’ve submitted papers outlining my contributions.” He gestured to the secretary, who lifted a thick stack of parchment.

“I’ll hear it from your mortal tongue,” Raphael said without humor.

“O-of course.” The stammering returned. “I didn’t mean to imply—that is—I’ve worked hard, King Raphael. I’ve worked tirelessly as one of their actuaries for decades. There are books filled in the accounting I’ve done. My eyes have paid the price.” He raised a hand to the spectacles on his face. “And my service is without barriers. I’ve given blood, when requested—as is my privilege!” he quickly clarified. “I have lived a life without magic, after you… err… graciously accepted me in your kingdom. That is of course its own reward. But my most ardent dream is to prove myself worthy of eternal service.”

My stomach cramped. Demos quietly offered to escort me outside, but I waved him off. I wanted to see this. Needed to.

A human choosing to give up their humanity.

Crowley dithered through a few other accomplishments, pressing his glasses back now and again with his third finger. It was a ploy, perhaps, showing himself with mortal hair that was white only from age, mortal eyes strained from labor. A price he’d paid in hopes Raphael would wipe the slate clean and gift him immortality.

“And then”—Crowley’s voice lifted in triumph—“the reason for my petition came. A fortnight ago, a young vampire was injured, not even ten. He had fallen into a ravine. His legs were broken, and he had no chance of climbing out. I aided him, provided him with blood, and returned him to his parents. I can think of no higher service I could offer than to remain in the kingdom’s service forever.”

At last, the man stopped speaking. There was utter silence in the room, as if everyone held a collective breath while awaiting Raphael’s decision. Of course, most of the courtroom didn’t need to breathe. Still, the silence was so bad I could imagine myself hearing Crowley’s heartbeat, twin to my own racing one—with excitement, while mine ached with dread.

“I have considered your petition.” Raphael spoke in that slow, unhurried tone I’d first heard from him, like unending night. “You make some valid arguments for why you deserve to be one of the blood. Your actions with the son are telling of your character. In fact, I believe though you demurred, the young vampire was none other than the heir to the clan you serve.”

Did I imagine Crowley taking a half step backwards?

“You have my blessing.” Raphael nodded to Janessa. “Turn him. Now.”

Janessa looked surprised, as did everyone else in the room. Not blatantly whispering, but there were telling shifts of eyes, adjusted stances. Something was off.

“Didn’t they want this?” I asked Demos under my breath.

“The turning is normally done in private,” he explained. “But I’m sure Raphael has his reasons.”

Lady Janessa stepped over to Crowley, taking center stage with him. They were on display. “Here, Your Majesty?” she murmured.

He gave a casual flick of his fingers, not deigning to repeat himself. He was still the picture of casual grace, but something in his eyes was cold.

Once Janessa leaned over, I could look nowhere else. Bile coated the back of my throat, and I wondered if I’d made a grave mistake in not taking Demos up on his offer to stand outside.

But I stayed.

I had to see.

The vampiress brushed the human’s hair away and bit into his soft, sagging skin. His lips parted, but he made no move to get away. I could imagine exactly why—and why this would be done in private.

He fell to the floor, and she went with him, kneeling as he lay in her lap.

She didn’t let go with her fangs. He grew paler and paler, his skin almost the white of the vampire by the time she withdrew her lips.

With a nail, she clawed her own wrist open and drenched his parted lips in her blood. His chest was no longer rising and falling.

The air in the room was suddenly too thick, pressing in on all sides, but I couldn’t look away.

She killed him. And now she was to resurrect him.

“Just one small matter,” Raphael said.