Thicker than Water (Fangs and Feuds #1)

The dawn is breaking

THE DAWN IS brEAKING

Amara

I keep dreaming about that night. The girl’s limp head, a halo of crimson blood staining the carpeted floor. Tudor’s sharp fangs, how they pierced her skin like butter. Celine’s eyes, watching me so stoically.

Is this what it’s like, the life of a vampire mafia boss? Such cold disregard for human life.

And yet, she saved Hallie.

Or tried to save her. I don’t know what happened after they took her body away. And I haven’t seen Celine since. At least, I haven’t seen Celine when she’s not all tangled up around some sweaty customer. She seems to use the club as her own buffet. The next time I see her, even if she’s drinking from someone, I’m going to interrupt her and ask her what happened.

Otherwise, my guilt is going to destroy me. If Hallie is dead, I’ll never forgive myself. How could Lavinia have done such a thing, sending her personal guard to the hotel to capture Oana? She must have thought they could sneak in and out without being suspected.

I pray to Hecate that it hasn’t made Tudor suspicious, although I know that it probably has. I’m supposed to be undercover in order to prevent conflict between the witches and the vampires, not to stoke it. I don’t want anyone else’s blood on my hands, or to escalate this situation into a full-blown war. I’ve got to be more careful next time.

After my last shift of the week, I find myself wandering the serene, empty hallways of the hotel again. Not to spy on Oana or the vampires, but out of a strange curiosity that’s planted itself in my mind. I wonder where Tudor and Celine live. It must be underground somewhere, but I don’t know where, or how they get there. Or do they live outside the hotel? Maybe they have some huge mansion somewhere, with a deep, dark crypt for their coffins.

How long have they been walking the earth? I heard someone say that Tudor Thornblade is four hundred years old, which seems impossible. I’m just over two hundred, which is fairly old in witch years. Old enough to remember the War of the Final Fire, and a time before quickness and brightness so thoroughly infiltrated everyday life.

That’s why I like my coven. It’s cozy, quaint, and simple. At least it has been, since the end of the Wicked Wars.

But I have to admit…there is something intriguing about this new world. There’s an excitement, a wonderful thrill, that comes with being awake mostly at night. And there’s a power in the magic of the dirty, sweaty, hazy club, and the things that happen when the curtains are pulled.

It’s embarrassing, but…I’m actually a little disappointed that the vampire boss hasn’t come back to my bar. I can’t stop thinking about her chilling eyes, the way she bared her fangs when my wrist was cut.

Out of the darkness, I hear an enchanting, otherworldly sound. It echoes through the dim passageways. A slow melody.

As though I’m still in a dream, I follow the music. There’s a set of large, wooden double doors, open just a crack. I peer inside.

It’s an event hall, impossibly huge, with heavy tables and chairs lined in neat rows. An ornate, crystal chandelier hangs like a moon from the center of the ceiling. Decorative wall sconces cast their light through the crystal. It reflects across the hall like stars, flickering in the night sky.

At the back of the hall, by a large picture window, is a grand piano. An elegant figure sits at its bench, her pale fingers dancing over the keys. Her eyes are shut, her lips slightly parted. Entranced, I step further into the room. I’m completely unable to take my eyes from her.

Her song is beautiful. I’ve never heard anything like it before, and yet it seems so familiar. Like recognizing a face in a painting from centuries ago. It makes time and space collapse. It fills the hall with magic.

Then her fingers stop, and her mouth widens into a grin.

“Do you make a habit of sneaking around my hotel at night?”

I inhale sharply. “I…I was stretching my legs, that’s all.”

She turns on her bench, those strange purple eyes finding mine. They flicker with a playfulness that knocks me off guard. She sits casually on the bench. Today, her shoulders are bare. She wears only a tank top with a thick, leather belt and loose, dark pants. Her top is cut low and it takes all my effort to keep my eyes from wandering down her body.

Out of a sense of self-preservation, I break her gaze, looking to the piano instead.

“Your playing is beautiful,” I whisper.

She chuckles, another unexpected move. “Are you surprised? I’ve been alive for three hundred years. It would be a shame if I never picked up any hobbies.”

She turns around on the bench again, and puts her fingers back to the keys. She starts playing a tune, a more lively one now. A waltz, I think.

I should turn around right now. I should go back home. What am I doing here?

“Does that scare you?” she asks, still playing.

Against my better judgment, I move closer to her, until I’m only a few steps away from the piano.

“Does what scare me?”

“That I’ve been alive for three hundred years.”

I pause. Maybe I should lie. But somehow, the truth escapes my lips. “No. It doesn’t.”

She continues playing, but I don’t get the sense that she wants me to leave. On the contrary, her song seems to be reaching out to me, pulling me into her orbit.

I swallow. “The cleaner from the other night. Hallie. Did she…?”

“She made it. Popped out of the ground the next night. Surprisingly excited about the whole thing. I’ve never seen a vampire like that.”

Relief washes over me. “Good.”

“You were very brave, to stay and watch. Most people would have fled, saved their own skin. ”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s right. What are we here for, if not to look out for each other?”

She stops playing, and tilts her head to glance at me. But she doesn’t say anything.

“What?” I ask.

She swings her leg over the piano bench and rises. My pulse quickens as she steps toward me, until she’s so close we’re almost touching. It’s painfully intimate. A primal urge tells me to run, but I’m rooted to the spot.

What does her skin feel like? Is her touch cold?

She whispers, her lips almost unmoving. “You’re in a very different world now.”

A shiver rolls up my spine, an electric tingle that awakens something inside me. Despite my instincts, it feels agonizing to have such a small gap between us. But I can’t be the one to close it.

Without a word, she breaks my gaze and moves to exit the hall.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“.”

Without another word, she’s gone.

But I stay right where she left me.

Until the first rays of sunlight peer in through the window.