Chapter 3
The door to the apothecary swings open, and I’m met with Finn’s scowl.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Hello to you too.”
I push past him as I enter the dark space and stand next to the burning candles lining the window frame, relishing in the little heat they give.
Silently, I thank the Gods I had time to change out of that flimsy dress.
Slipping past the bloodhouse guards is a lot easier in a tunic and pants.
The dresses are beautiful, yes, but knowing the vampires only like us trussed up like a prettily packaged meal makes me want to burn every single one I’ve ever worn.
The floorboard creaks beneath Finn's feet as he steps closer, and instinctively, I reach for where my dagger is hidden beneath my belt. I relax when I find it still there. He slips the set of keys he just used to lock us inside into the pocket of his brown apron and stares at me.
“It’s Sunday,” he says.
I shrug as I remove my cloak, shaking off the cold droplets of rain before flinging it in the direction of the wooden counter. I hold back a laugh when Finn rushes to catch it mid-air before hanging it on the tall cloak rack he has conveniently placed just behind the counter.
“I’m aware of what day it is.”
“Then why are you here? You know the deal, we only meet on our set days. No communication in between.” He uses a cloth to wipe away the water my cloak left behind on the counter and then the floor as though he cannot focus on the conversation until it’s done.
Gods, he reminds me of Willow sometimes.
“It’s an emergency,” I say.
He shakes his head in disbelief.
“And what manner of emergency has befallen the great Adina Barron?”
I hate when people use my last name. It’s a sign of the orphanage that raised me instead of my family. Cora once told me that before the war, humans had family names that they carried proudly. Now, only the noble vampires do. Just another thing they stripped us of.
“Watch your tone, Finn, don’t forget that I promised to cut your throat the day we met.”
He snorts, but then shifts on his feet when he catches my glare.
“You’re fucking scary, you know.”
“I so love it when you compliment me, Finnian.” He grimaces at the use of his full name, and I get great pleasure from watching him squirm. Now he knows how it feels.
And you say I’m the cruel one.
You are. At least I’m only teasing him; if it were up to you, he’d probably be dead already.
In my defense, he is a particularly annoying member of your species.
I laugh at Athriel’s words, causing Finn to look at me in surprise.
“Are you ok?” he asks.
“Fine.” I offer, since I can hardly admit that not only do I have magic running through my veins, but for some odd reason, it also has a voice.
He still thinks you’re crazy, Athriel says in that stupid sing-song voice of his.
And whose fault is that?
Athriel answers with a satisfied laugh.
Bastard.
I move away from the window and find myself admiring the long wooden shelves decorating every wall in the small rectangular space.
They stretch so high that Finn has a ladder propped in the corner to reach the vials at the top.
Opposite it is a small basin. He may annoy me, but there is no one I know in the whole of the Court of Shadows who can mix medicine the way he can—or brew the other things whispered about behind closed doors.
Gods, there are vials everywhere: tall and thin, curved and squat, each glowing with more colors than I can name. But I’m hunting for only one.
“What exactly are you looking for?” He follows behind me like a bug.
“Something I really need.”
He hurries until he is standing in front of me, blocking my way. He places a hand against one of the shelves.
“When you say something you need?” He looks at me suggestively, and I almost gag.
“Not that, Finn.”
I pluck a vial off a shelf, but put it back as soon as I see the blue tint of the liquid inside. Where the hell are you? I could just ask him, but I already know what his answer will be after the amount I took the last time I visited, and I'm not in the mood for an argument.
He brushes a stray brown curl out of his eye, revealing a thin scar running straight through his light brown skin. It leaves a slit in his eyebrow that I once found attractive.
“Because it…erm…wasn’t good?” He stutters.
“Because you’re annoying.”
A smile breaks out on his face, and I roll my eyes.
“So, you did like it the—”
“I need some more drops,” I interrupt, hoping to end this torturous conversation.
“Absolutely not. Do you know how hard that stuff is to come by?”
I almost laugh.
“Yes, I do. I’m your supplier, remember.”
“You’re one of my suppliers.” He holds up a finger in front of me, and I slap it out of the way.
“That hurt.”
“Good. And just to be clear, I’m your best supplier. You get double the amount of venom from me than anyone else, and I’m good at keeping things discreet.” So discreet that not even he knows how I obtain it.
Good because I don’t trust him, Athriel says.
For once, we agree on something.
“True, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not giving you anymore. I made it clear when you took this job; I don’t sell to my suppliers.”
“Well, that’s great because I’m not here to buy any, I’m just taking it. Call it commission.”
He lets out a laugh.
“Yeah, I don’t think so, I’m already breaking my own rules by letting you take any at all, but you’re pushing it, Barron. Last month you took twice as much as usual, and you still won’t tell me why.”
“What I do with it is none of your business.”
I forgot how annoying he can be when he has a point to make.
“It is when you’re taking that much, the last thing I need is heat from the guards, who need I remind you have doubled their patrols in the past two weeks. Wouldn’t happen to be anything to do with you now, would it?”
Why the hell is everyone asking me that tonight?
I hope that’s a rhetorical question. And before you use your limited vocabulary to tell me to shut up, I’ve said all that I need to.
Good.
“I told you already, I’m discreet.”
He raises his eyebrows, and then a strange look of recognition fills his face. He spins around dramatically before facing me again.
“By the lost Gods, how did I miss it? You’re addicted to it, aren’t you?” He studies my face as though he might find something there.
I roll my eyes at his stupidity.
“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought. Just tell me where the hell it is.”
“No, I’ve seen that look before. You’re desperate, and the last person that came in here looking like that almost died and blew my entire operation.”
I don’t have time for this. I slip the dagger from my belt and have it pressed against his throat in seconds. A couple of vials crash to the ground, and he curses under his breath.
“Why do we always find ourselves in this situation?” he grunts. I dig the blade deeper into his flesh, drawing a little blood.
“Because you can never just give me what I want.”
“Oh, believe me when I say I would love to give you what you want, this is just a little different from how I imagined it.”
“Where are they?”
Even with my blade against his throat, amusement paints his features as though this is just some game we’re playing.
“You’re not going to kill me.”
“You sure about that?”
Uncertainty fills his eyes for a moment before his arrogant confidence returns.
“Oh, I’m very sure because I’m the only person you know who can make what you need. If you kill me, then your supply goes with me.”
Heat crawls up my face, my fingers twitching with the urge to sink my blade into his jugular. But he’s right, and his eyes catch the instant I surrender to it.
“Now, if we can be done with this knife play, unless it’s a kink of yours you want us to explore?” The corner of his lips curves upwards, and I scoff before stepping away.
You could just torture the information out of him, you know, then you wouldn’t need anyone, Athriel suggests.
He’s too stubborn for that. He knows it’s the only thing he has over me, so he’ll never give it up.
Shame, I’d so love to see the little vermin bleed.
You and me both.
“You know, you always look like you’re deep in conversation with yourself, it’s so fascinating to watch.”
“I don’t give a shi—”
A knock at the door snaps both our heads toward it. When I look back, his face is pale—and this time, I know it isn’t an act.
“Shit, shit, shit. They’re early.” His eyes widen as he stares at the door before he starts pacing back and forth.
“Who’s early?” I whisper.
He whips his head in my direction as though just remembering I’m still here.
“You can’t be here, Adina. I’m not kidding. They cannot know someone else is here.”
“Open the door, Finn, we know you’re in there.” A deep voice rumbles from the other side.
“Adina, please.”
Something in his eyes shows a fear I recognize all too well. He scrambles across the room, but my attention is still on the door. Who the hell has him so afraid?
“Here.” I turn to find him shoving a small vial into my face. I push his hand away from me. “I need you to drink it.”
My eyes take in the green liquid floating around inside it, and I push it back in his direction.
“I’m not drinking that.”
“You have to. Gods, do you really think I would do anything to hurt you? I’m trying to save your life here.”
I almost argue until I see the look in his eyes. All amusement is gone, and real fear sits in its place. A fist pounds against the door again, and I finally relent.
“If I die, just know I’m coming back to kill you.”
“Great. Fine. Whatever. Just drink it.” I pin him with a look. “Please.”
My fingers wrap around the cork, plucking it out before I down the contents.
A warm bitter flavor fills my mouth, and I almost gag as it slips down my throat.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the sensation sweeps through me, a strange tingling racing over every inch of my body.
Another loud bang forces me to open them.
“Open the door or I’ll kick it in, and neither of us wants that kind of attention, Rouke.” The deep male voice rumbles through the door again, and I can tell he means what he says.
Finn stares at me, and his eyes widen as a small laugh leaves his mouth. “By the gods, it actually worked.”
His words seem to be aimed at me, yet he is not quite looking at me.
“What worked?” I ask.
“Look in the mirror.”
I turn my attention to the small circular mirror he has hanging behind his counter, and a gasp escapes me when I find nothing looking back, only an empty space where I’m supposed to be standing.
Impossible.
“I don’t understand. How the hell did you do that?”
“It’s a new thing I’ve been working on. Vampire venom can glamor stuff if you know what to mix it with. Just keep still and don’t speak.”
“Wha—”
Before I can finish my sentence, he rushes in the direction of the door, unlocks it, and then swings it open. I bite back a gasp as three tall figures step inside, their hooded cloaks shielding their faces. Their boots thud against the floorboards as they advance, and a chill snakes up my spine.
The one at the front slips the hood from his head, revealing an angular face framed by dark strands of brown hair that hang low on one side. He brushes away the flecks of rainwater from his olive skin as his sharp brown eyes scan the room, brushing over me before returning to Finn’s.
My heart pounds inside my chest. He didn’t see me.
No, he didn’t. I can hear the surprise in Athriel’s voice.
“What took you so long?” he asks. It’s the same deep voice as the one that was threatening to kick the door open, except there is something smooth and deadly lurking beneath it. The other two keep their places behind him, hoods up and shrouded in darkness as they remain unmoving.
“I was cleaning up. You’re early.” Finn rubs his hands down his apron to further prove his point, but even I can spot his nerves from a mile away.
Get it together, Finn.
I told you he was a terrible addition to your already flawed species.
He’s just nervous.
Perhaps. He pauses for a moment, and I can tell his attention is on the man at the front. I don’t like him. There is something odd about his presence.
You feel that too?
Yes, it is dark, he says.
A ripple travels up my spine at his words. I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels it.
“Who else is here?” The stranger’s words snap my attention away, Athriel’s voice fading to the back of my mind. I freeze, too afraid to move, as his dark eyes sweep the room again.
“I told you already, I’m alone.”
“Then why don’t I believe you?”
Because he lies like a petulant child.
My heart is beating too fast to give much acknowledgment to Athriel’s words. He knows I’m here. I don’t know how, but he knows.
You can take him.
There’s three of them, I hiss.
I have trained you in the art of combat since the age of ten. Do not insult me by showing such fear.
I’m not prepared for a fight like this. I don’t know this enemy.
You confuse being prepared with being afraid.
Of course, I’m afraid. There’s more than one of them; they have the upper hand.
Then use it to your advantage like I have taught you.
Ok.
Good, now keep your dagger at the ready, and when you strike, make sure it’s to kill.
Sensing the direction of Athriel’s attention, I ease the dagger from my belt, careful not to make a sound.
I grip the hilt so tight it almost cuts into my skin as the man walks directly over to where I’m standing.
I dare not move for fear the creaking floorboards will give me away.
He only stops when he is standing right in front of me.
My heart pounds inside my chest at his proximity, but I remain silent.
His dark eyes stare straight at me as though they are piercing through my soul, then widen in surprise for just a second.
He steps back but does not take his eyes off me.
I silently lift my dagger in warning, ready to strike, but to my surprise, he turns back toward Finn.
“It appears I am, in fact, mistaken. Please forgive my transgression."
He's lying, Athriel says, and I silently agree.
Finn's shoulders relax, and he looks in my direction briefly as if he were sure I had been seen too. He quickly recovers and clears his throat.
“Of course, no apology needed. Our business is delicate, and it is best to be cautious. Shall we?”
"I do not think there is anything left to discuss, Mr. Rouke. We will take the entire crate. Tonight.”
“Fantastic,” Finn says as he stretches out a hand, gesturing away from where I’m standing.
The man nods before heading to the opposite side of the room.
Finn opens the hatch in the floor behind his counter, pausing just long enough to drop his keys on top of it.
The man’s gaze cuts back to me a final time, something strange flickering across his features, before he vanishes below.