Chapter 31 Vapor and Smoke #2
I had walked halfway around the dome before I came across the recessed flat section of roof where a male sat at a small, weather-beaten desk, perched high above the world, scrawling away in a book with a feather quill.
Though he didn’t look at me, he knew that I had come: the brief pause .
. . and then resumption of his scribbling confirmed it.
Once, Foley had been a lord’s son. His father, Warrick Briarstone, had been advisor to King Rurik.
Their family line had been second only to the Daianthuses in power and pride.
If the true king had not been slain by Belikon, Foley would have eventually risen in rank to become the second most powerful male in all Yvelia.
It was the duty of a king’s advisor to act in his stead in emergencies, and as such, a lot of responsibility was placed on his shoulders.
Foley had been born to be respected and to work diligently in service of his realm, and instead he had learned how to fight and had joined the Lupo Proelia.
And now he hid here in his tower on top of the world, among an ocean of books, a shunned vampire who was too afraid to look up and face an old friend.
The scratching of his quill stopped at last. He set it down. “I see Guru hitched a ride with you,” he said quietly. “He does that sometimes.”
When I looked down, I found that the cat was already there, looking back up at me. Whole. Alive. Purring.
“He likes to chase the birds. They used to roost here at night, a long . . . time ago.” He seemed to get lost along the way as he spoke, as if he were, in truth, too weary to complete the thought out loud and had to force himself to finish it.
“Foley.” I said his name, and the male flinched at the sound of it. “Foley, look at me.”
He stared down at his book, frozen solid.
“All right. Fine.” There was no second chair on the roof, only the one Foley currently sat in, but there was a wooden crate full of odds and ends that he’d obviously used to carry items up here in.
I upended the crate, dumping the leather tubes, ink bottles, and other bits and pieces onto the roof, flipped the crate upside down, and sat down across from him.
Where was I supposed to start? Foley and I had never laughed together all that much.
He’d always been far more serious than the others.
More serious than Renfis, even. But there had been an easy camaraderie between this male and me.
An understanding, it could be said, of a life that should have been, now lost. We had both been subject to Belikon’s ire—heirs to a future that he had gone to great pains to destroy—and had suffered his close attention until it had become too much to bear.
We’d become brothers out of necessity, more than anything.
Inseparable. But so much time had passed.
Lifetimes during which we’d both endured the kind of misery that would have ended most other males.
I didn’t know where to begin, but the last thing I would do was rush him.
I sat silently, leaning down to pet the cat when he approached and started begging for affection.
Guru was an appropriate name for him; he seemed wise.
The wind teased at our hair and plucked at our shirts.
It scattered Guru’s solid edges, smudging him as if he were a charcoal drawing being swept from a page.
Foley looked up from his book, glancing off to the right, at the rise of the tower’s domed slate roof. He covered his mouth with his hand. “You don’t need to do this,” he said, his fingers muffling his words.
I smiled slowly, sadly, arching a brow at him. “And when have you ever known me to do something I don’t want to do?”
He huffed, as if acknowledging the truth in that, but didn’t say anything else.
I let the silence sit a moment longer, then I said, “You have a fire burning down there. Real flames, not evenlight.”
He nodded. “I like the warmth of it,” he said. “It . . . reminds me.”
Of what it was like to live. The words went unsaid, but I gathered his meaning perfectly well. “I noticed the titles on some of those books down there, too. You made your home in the philosophy and morality section?” I allowed myself a small smile.
Foley did the same, but his smile was tight around his eyes.
“Hm,” he said. “The creatures here have very little interest in either. Seemed like the safest place for me.” He laughed bitterly, finally turning his gaze to me.
“You look the same,” he said. “Tal used to tell me what you were going through. I . . .” Both of his eyebrows rose.
“I thought you’d never be free of it. I wanted to help. I . . .”
Slowly, I shook my head. “It’s gone. Done. Passed. I’m okay.”
“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I mean it.” And I did. My dreams were often nightmares, but they were nothing I couldn’t handle. Carefully, I said, She has a tendency to make things feel better.” I laughed, a little chagrined by the admission. “Even when they’re not.”
Foley’s chair creaked as he sat back in it. His eyes narrowed at me, and for the first time, I saw that he didn’t look the same anymore. Not quite. His pupils were vertical now, rather than round. There was a flighty, hunted shadow behind his eyes that made my chest hurt.
His hair was cut short.
It should have been longer.
“She?” he said. “The female? Saeris?”
I chuckled at his apparent surprise. “That’s the one.”
He seemed to struggle for his next words. “It’s real, then? The God Bindings? All of it?”
I pursed my lips, taking a beat to stare down at the table. “God, I hope so. If it isn’t, then I’ve officially lost my mind. It feels more real than anything else I’ve ever experienced. She’s . . .” Gods. How in all five hells did you describe Saeris Fane?
“Remarkable,” Foley said. The way he said it didn’t sound wholly like it was meant to be a compliment. The word was at least half of a condemnation.
Again, I laughed. “She’s changed everything,” I admitted.
“And the fact that she’s half vampire? That she’s the ruler of this place?”
“Means nothing,” I said. “She isn’t a half of anything. She’s all Saeris. I love her.”
My old friend watched me, his quick eyes scouring my face. After a long moment, he said, “Okay,” as if that settled the matter and it would never be spoken of again. “What else?” he said.
“You’re coming back to Cahlish,” I told him.
Foley shook his head. “I’m not. I’m staying here.”
“Foley, you don’t belong here. You’re—”
“I’m not going anywhere. I can’t leave Ammontraíeth—”
“Your place is with us. Your friends. We miss you. You need you. We—”
“GODSDAMNIT, FISHER! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT IT’S LIKE!
” He smashed his fist onto the table. His feather quill jumped and rolled onto the roof with a clatter.
“There are people I love out there in the world. You. Lorreth. Vash. Mayen. I would sell my soul to keep all of you safe, but the demon crouching on my shoulder’s already fucking taken it.
I have no soul left. The hunger eats me, Fisher.
” Tears welled in his eyes, ruby red and confronting—a truth that could not be denied.
He spoke it out loud, though, so there could be no misunderstanding.
“I am a vampire. I feed on the blood of the living.” He bared his teeth, showing them to me.
Gold, engraved, and vicious. “They ripped my canines out when I wouldn’t kneel and shoved these in my mouth so I couldn’t feed. But I still drink, Fisher. Ask me how.”
“It doesn’t matter.
“From rats. Birds. Anything I can hunt, catch, and kill. Because it’s a part of me now. The hunting. The killing. I pull them apart and I drain them dry, and then I do it again, and again, and again—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
A trail of blood streaked down his cheek.
“There is no dignity left in this body, Fisher. I’m not your brother anymore.
I am something so low and reviled that I cannot even settle on a name for myself.
Monster. Devil. Murderer. None comes close enough to explain the evil that crawls in my veins. I—”
“You are my brother. And it doesn’t matter.”
Foley drew in a shaking breath. “I cannot leave this place,” he whispered.
“When was the last time you took a life?”
He closed his eyes. “I . . .”
“When was the last time you attacked a member of the Fae and drank them dry?”
He shook his head, swallowing. “Not since . . . Ajun.”
“You haven’t fed on Fae blood since Ajun?” I wanted to bury my face in my hands and scream. “Whe—” I stopped. Sighed heavily. “When was the last time you were around a living, breathing member of the Fae?”
“Your mate . . .” he said, trailing off.
“Did you think about eating her?”
“No, I . . . I was more focused on killing her, I’m afraid.”
“But you saw Lorreth, too, didn’t you? Did you try to kill him?”
A deep crease formed between Foley’s brows, as if he hadn’t even considered this. “No, I . . . didn’t. I remember thinking his scent was enticing, but . . . I didn’t think about feeding from him.”
“And before then, when was the last time? When were you around someone and the hunger felt too strong to control?”
He thought long and hard. “Seven hundred years ago.”
“And did you eat that person?”
“No.”
“Gods alive, Foley. You’re so fucking . .
. urgh!” Frustration transformed my words into a snarl.
Quickly, before he could stop me, I sank my teeth into my wrist and made a small incision.
He was up and out of his seat and clinging to the parapet rail before the first drop of my blood hit the table.
“Mercy! Gods!” he panted. “What are you doing?” His eyes were full of fear.