Chapter 14
14
EVANGELINE
H igh in the abandoned turret, I watched Riordan gain his first ally.
I’d seen this particular dance before, in my father’s compound, in the steady stream of supplicants and ass kissing want-to-be slayers who came to pay homage to the great and powerful Silas Silverwood.
When I was a kid, he’d trot us out and force us to fight until we were bloodied, broken husks, to prove how effective his brutal training program was. Or drag an injured vampire out into the sun and carve them apart, to showcase his cruelty.
Too bad the display was bullshit, and my father had spent his life working with Tyrell, a sellout to the fabled family legacy.
Tarnishing the silver , so to speak.
My gaze drifted to Blake, at the same time his eyes lifted to mine.
Like our connection was even stronger than before, tighter than two people should be. But also further apart than strangers, with this addiction tearing us apart. Even worse, bloodlust was destroying my mate from the inside out.
I saw the strain in the tight set of Blake’s shoulders, his bunched fists, the way he kept dragging a hand through his hair. He was hurting and I hurt for him. If I could, I would take all that pain on myself, so he didn’t have to.
But that wasn’t how this worked.
And even as pissed as I was, I had to admit Riordan’s magic was impressive. His power echoed inside me, even with three solid feet of stone between us.
Or maybe I was pissed he’d tricked me. Again.
I rubbed my shoulder as I made my way to Angel’s room, last night’s stab wound still plaguing me, even though I’d been healed hours ago. The royal healer, Sylvester, despised me, probably because I’d knocked him on his ass that one time , and I wouldn’t put it past him to botch my healing, just to be a vengeful prick.
Riordan had taken a lot of blood when he’d fed, and every part of me still felt weak and shaky and strung out, because he was a greedy, manipulative bastard.
I’d woken with a dry mouth, a headache and an extra large bouquet of those dark red roses beside my bed, the smell somehow softening last night’s jarring experience.
I paused outside my sister’s door, gathering myself for what lay inside.
As usual, she was sitting by the window, staring out over the grounds, painted pink by the rising sun. The room was spicy-sweet from the overflowing vases of bright purple phlox and dark red roses on every table.
“Evie.” I tried to stop the shudder of relief when she greeted me. Angel’s eyes were clear, there was a hint of pink to her cheeks, but even better, she was dressed. Aware. No hint of tears on her cheeks, no balled-up tissues piled on the table beside her.
Nothing on the table, beside two cups of steaming tea.
I sniffed. The air in here smelled light, bright… happy ? Was that something I could do now? Could I…smell other vampire’s emotions?
But that was joy in my sister’s bright blue eyes, an almost-smile on her lips. “Do you have a minute to sit with me?”
“I have all the time in the world. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” She admitted, her hand floating up to rub at her ribcage, that place beneath her heart, the same spot that ached constantly every time I thought of Blake. “My head’s starting to clear, especially after Riordan...I mean, the king came to see me yesterday.”
“Riordan came to see you?” I instantly prickled all over with suspicion. “Why?”
“He said he could help with the nightmares and whatever he did worked, because I slept all last night for the first time in ages.”
That prickle turned into a warning. “What did Riordan do to you?”
“He brought Sylvester, the healer, who was so kind. He held my hands, told me to close my eyes, and then I got really warm. It was nice. When I woke up, Riordan said my nightmares would be gone for at least a few days.”
“He said that, did he?”
“And Sylvester will come back every few days to make sure I’m sleeping. They were so nice, Evie. We’re lucky… you’re lucky to have him.”
“Yeah, so lucky.” I mimed, hands clenched, wanting to punch something.
“And Rebecca…Bex has been so thoughtful.” Angel sipped her tea. “She’s been keeping me company so I’m not alone.”
Guilt stabbed through me.
I was Angel’s sister, I should be with her, instead of mooning about the grounds like some lovesick teenager. Ever since I’d become a vampire—a cold-blooded race if I’d ever seen one—my emotions had spiraled out of control.
“Bex is great, I’m glad she’s been here for you, Angel.” I agreed mildly. “Is she coming back, do you know?”
“Any minute now. She went to fetch us breakfast.” Her smile softened into an exact duplicate of mom’s and just like that, my eyes stung. “I know how you are, Evie. I doubt you’ve eaten.”
“I just…” I pinched my lips together. “Before she gets back, I have to tell you something. Last night, in the garden, something happened.” Her perfectly arched brows went up and I ran my hand down my throat, still feeling the magic trying to claw its way out. “I felt this surge of magic that I haven’t…”
“Sorry that took so long, but I’m finally here.” Bex backed through the door with an enormous tray overflowing with fruits and croissants and pastries.
And…did I smell coffee?
“I figured you could use a big mug today, Miss Evangeline. Especially after last night .” Bex looked pointedly at my sister, picking out only the strawberries on her plate and popping them into her mouth. “But I brought plenty of food for both of you.”
“And the roses?” I asked. “Were those your doing?”
Her brow pinched. “Roses? I don’t know anything about roses, Miss Evangeline.” Her face cleared. “Maybe they were the king’s get well present?”
“Maybe.” I agreed, blowing the steam off my coffee while Angel and Bex talked, and I wondered who the hell was putting flowers in my room when I wasn’t looking.
Blake. It had to be Blake .
Bex was careful not to mention anything about Valaine’s attack, though she’d obviously heard the news from her uncle. I was grateful Angel was kept in the dark.
The less my sister knew about the wolves at our door, the better.
“And I’d like more books, when you get a chance, too, Bex.” My sister, out of strawberries—her favorite—had resorted to grapes. “Something…more interesting than clan histories. Those are so boring, my eyes might fall out.”
“Unfortunately, history is the best our library has to offer.” Bex slanted me a conspiratorial grin. “But I’ll bring you a few from my personal collection. Something a bit…steamier.” She waggled her eyebrows and Angel blushed, but didn’t say no.
“There’s a library here? In the castle?” My mind churned.
Libraries held knowledge and…if I found my own answers, I wouldn’t have to rely on Malachi or Riordan for the truth. I could figure things out on my own and… Angel was getting better . If the castle we had to escape, we might even make it out.
“Every clan has a library, where we keep our most important documents and histories. The Nocturne Clan is no different, though our library has been off limits for centuries.”
“That hardly seems fair.”
Bex’s smile fell. “Lord Tyrell had many secrets, Miss Evangeline, and I expect many of them are locked away in that room, the way Bosch guarded it so fiercely.”
I slanted her a look. “So tell me, Bex, if this library is so private, how were you able to get inside?”
“Evangeline, you’re looking fetching this morning.” Malachi’s eyes danced. “Sleep well?”
A certain blond vampire fell into step with me in the main hall, and I ground my teeth. Why did this asshole always pop up at the most inopportune times?
“And you’re still slithering about. Don’t you have a graveyard to haunt or something?” I tried to outpace him, which was impossible, given his legs were a foot longer than mine.
“Shame you couldn’t kill Valaine last night. One less enemy to deal with, but I guess you can’t win them all.”
“Not like you had any better luck.” I sniped back, done playing nice, and deciding I most certainly did not have time for his bullshit. “You failed first.”
“Point taken.” He acquiesced easily. “How is Lord Marten? I heard he swooped in to the rescue, yet I noticed he didn’t sweep you off your feet and into the castle to be healed. A shame you two are being kept apart by something so mundane as bloodlust. Reminds me of a Greek tragedy.”
No, I’d stumbled in under my own power, rousted Riordan, who’d taken far too long hunting down Sylvester, during which time I’d nearly bled out. A total shitshow, in my humble opinion.
“Blake was dealing with the crisis.” I said stiffly.
Malachi frowned before his hand snapped out, snagged my wrist, reeled me closer. “When is the last time you fed, Evangeline?” His face was uncharacteristically serious, thumb sweeping beneath my bruised eyes, over my cold, pale cheek. “You look awful.”
“Worry about your own self, traitor.” But the words were accompanied by a shiver, and while I told myself I was only cold, I couldn’t deny the thrill of those fingers dragging over my lips before bracketing around my throat. Loose, barely pressing against my skin, but that almost-there touch was every bit as possessive as any collar.
“So you haven’t fed in over a week, since before the dinner?” I loved how he said the word dinner , like we’d actually shared a cordial meal with Tyrell, instead of a night of murder and bloodshed.
His grip around my wrist tightened, thumb circling my beating pulse, never breaking eye contact as he tipped his head back, then ran those long, clever fingers down the length of his corded throat as my fangs throbbed. “There is a solution to your problem.”
His scent washed over me, cedar and smoke and sin and fuck me, but my entire body responded, fangs lengthening at the memory of how good he’d tasted. How close he was, his thumb pressing on my pulse.
“Yeah, no thanks.” I said brightly. “I’d rather shrivel up into a husk and die a painful death than drink from you.”
I wasn’t, technically, starving, but hunger lurked right outside my thoughts, and now that I’d cut Riordan off—or cut myself off from Riordan—my options were limited. But Malachi, as pretty and tempting as he was, was a dangerous choice for so many reasons.
Besides, he repulsed me.
Totally, completely repulsed me.
“Too bad.” He murmured. “I would very much enjoy a replay of our time in the forest, Vicious.” His wink made me want to scoop his eyeballs out with a dull spoon. “I assume the king has been less than forthcoming with solutions to your…predicament?”
When I didn’t say anything, he gave a dramatic sigh, made even more dramatic by his floor length red velvet robe, embroidered with stars and moons.
“You have to feed, Evangeline. If not from me, then from someone,” he murmured, as if he actually cared . “Blake’s bloodlust is curable, with the right sort of magic. Witch magic.”
“Witches are even more untrustworthy than you, so again, hard pass.”
But despite everything I knew about Malachi—his lies, his betrayals, his general sleaziness—my heart leapt.
“Yes, witch magic could be the answer to all your problems, Vicious.”
From his slow, knowing smile, the way his eyes lit from within…he knew he had me. “But until then, I’m a patient male. When the nights get too cold, or you get too hungry, come and see me, and we’ll work something out. But know this.” His eyes dragged down my body, and he didn’t bother hiding the desire in his gaze.
“The longer you wait, the higher the cost.”
Darkmore Castle’s library stretched out before me in a maze of towering shelves lined with ancient, crumbling books. The doors were right where Bex said they’d be, and the combination to the ancient padlock worked on the first try.
I raised the candle higher and cracked leather spines gleamed, casting shadows that twisted and writhed with each flicker. One steadying breath and I stepped deeper inside, savoring the scent of old paper and ink .
Here, I felt something different than the dread of this past week—the thrill of anticipation.
My footsteps echoed softly as I navigated the darkened aisles, not even sure what I was searching for.
Some clue, a glimpse of red leather, a book binding marked by a wolf’s head.
I knew the folio wasn’t here—but this library was off limits for a reason. I wanted to know why.
Besides, secrets made me curious.
Reckless, too, I supposed.
As I rounded the next corner into an even darker aisle, I froze. A tall figure hovered near the back shelves, slipping book after book back into place, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. His long red hair hung almost to his waist, and his shirt collar askew, as if he was in a rush. A staggering number of books were pressed against his chest, and when he turned, shock flickered in his eyes.
I raised my hand in an awkward wave. “Hello. I’m Evangeline, but you can call me Silver for short.” I hated to admit it, but Riordan’s nickname—meant, I was sure, to be an insult—was growing on me.
He tipped his head to the side, considering me before he answered. “I’m Eldric, the official clan historian. Pleased to meet you, Evangeline.”
“You know who I am?”
“Of course. The entire castle knows who you are.”
The light of my candle touched his auburn hair, brought out the hint of yellow in his eyes as I mulled this over. His golden skin was more sun kissed than any vampire I’d met so far, and while he was lean, muscles played along his strong forearms as he balanced the towering pile of books.
“So, Eldric,” I kept my tone casual, hoping he didn’t get suspicious about my own midday visit. “What brings you down here?”
He hugged the books in his arms tighter. “I, uhm, I wasn’t expecting to see anyone while I…returned these.” His grin faltered slightly; gaze darting around the shadows.
I raised an eyebrow. “Returning? I wasn’t aware this is a lending library?” So Bex and this guy had access to the library and were ‘borrowing’ books illegally—but if Eldric really was the official librarian, why was he acting so skivvy over a few books?
He ducked his head. “Yes, well, I—uh, borrowed a few volumes for research purposes. Except…I’m not supposed to…technically… take anything from the castle.” His sheepish grin grew and he said cheerfully, “I figured with the new king, now was a safe time to bring them back.”
I nodded, sensing his discomfort and deciding to make the most of it. “Research, huh? Interesting.” I let the silence linger long enough he squirmed. “Actually, Eldric, I could use your help. I’m looking for something specific, but I’m not sure where to start.”
His eyes widened, sweat beading on his temple. “Of course. Anything,” he offered quickly.
I took a step closer. “Have you ever seen any books marked with the signet of a wolf’s head?”
Eldric’s face drained of color, his gaze drifting toward the furthest, darkest section of the library. He took a cautious step back, as though the mention of those books was some sort of threat. “Wolf’s head…” he muttered, his eyes narrowing. “Those… those would be part of Tyrell’s private collection. They’re kept under lock and key, I’m afraid.”
I leaned in, feigning casual interest. “Tyrell’s dead. Surely, as the clan historian, you have access to everything down here? ”
He shook his head, casting another wary glance at the back of the library, the darkness too deep for even my eyes to penetrate.
“No, no, those books are locked behind spelled iron and no one has the key, save for perhaps King Riordan. Tyrell’s collection contains… sensitive material. Powerful texts, some of which contain forbidden spells, secrets the High Master wished to keep hidden from the rest of the clan. Texts deemed too dangerous for even me. I wasn’t permitted to breathe on those shelves, much less read anything on them.”
I frowned, as if only mildly curious, though my pulse quickened. “Interesting. So… they’ve been locked away forever?”
“For four centuries, yes.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Tyrell was… careful. Protective of his knowledge. The wolf’s head mark is rare and associated with the oldest of his personal texts, some even rumored to be… well, cursed, if you believe that sort of thing.”
I tried not to let my impatience show. “You seem to know an awful lot about them. You’ve never been tempted to take a teensy weensy peek?”
Eldric swallowed, then set the armful of books carefully on the nearest table. “Oh, believe me, I’ve been tempted. But even showing interest in those texts would get me killed. Tyrell would have dragged me to the dungeons and given to Valaine. Even I’m not that foolhardy, though my sister would disagree.”
He glanced toward the door, as though he’d lingered too long, then cleared his throat. “It was nice meeting you, Evangeline.” His murmured, and he seemed sincere. “If you’ll excuse me, I really should be going.” He hurried off, casting one last, long glance over his shoulder before he disappeared.
I watched him go, filled with a fresh surge of determination.
Then raised my candle higher and headed for the shadows, pulling out my knife as I went.