15. Chapter 15
15
Chapter 15
Bronwen
“Good morning, Winnie,” Mama said with a soft smile as I entered her sewing room. Her voice was warm and familiar, making the nickname feel less grating. Only she and Papa could call me that without stirring some part of my frustration.
“Good morning,” I replied, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Or rather, the lack of sleep. My nights were still filled with restless nightmares—August taunting me at every turn, his laughter echoing through the darkness.
Mama seemed to notice the dark circles under my eyes, though she didn’t comment. Instead, she gestured to an empty chair by her side.
“Come, help me with this hem,” she said, her tone gentle but firm.
I sat beside her, smoothing the fabric she handed me. The needle always felt awkward in my hands but the rhythmic motion of stitching calmed me. For a while, we worked in silence, the sound of scissors and thread filling the space. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the sewing room. It felt safe here, as if the troubles of the outside world couldn’t touch us.
“You should take more care of yourself, Winnie,” Mama said softly after a while, her eyes never leaving the fabric. “A good night’s rest does wonders.”
I nodded but didn’t respond. I just hoped she only thought it was because of the hunting.
“I need you to deliver some items to Miss Georgia sometime today,” she said, nodding to a small bag near the door. “She’s far too pregnant to come to Market, but she’s requested new dresses.”
“Alright,” I said, stifling a yawn. “I’ll take it once I’ve changed.”
Mama gave me a knowing look but said nothing. She knew my routines well enough. I didn’t let anyone see me until I was properly dressed and composed.
Back in my room, I stood before the mirror, frowning at my reflection. The dark circles under my eyes stood out sharply against my skin, a testament to my sleepless nights. With a determined sigh, I reached for a jar of powdered pigment, carefully dusting it under my eyes to mask the signs of exhaustion.
My hand grazed over the scar on my neck, right above my shoulder. Its dark lines shined brightly against my tan skin. I dabbed a little powder on it and succeeded in making it less noticeable, but it did nothing to hide the raised skin. If anyone looked hard enough, they would see it.
I took my time choosing a dress, settling on a soft green one that complemented my eyes. The fabric hugged my form just enough to be flattering. I pulled my hair forward to do my best to cover the side of my neck.
Satisfied with my appearance, I made my way down the hall and grabbed the bag Mama had prepared. The morning light was bright, and I squinted as I stepped outside, the cool air brushing against my skin. The road was quiet, lined with towering trees that swayed gently in the morning breeze. My steps were steady, my thoughts scattered as I let the crisp air clear my mind.
Further down the winding road, I spotted Talia, a girl I had known since childhood, walking in the opposite direction with a basket tucked under her arm. We had once been inseparable, spending countless afternoons climbing trees and sneaking treats from Market. But as we grew older, our paths had shifted. She had been with Adar for a while—long enough for everyone to see how deeply they loved each other. But Adar knew the truth neither of them could escape. She wasn’t a witch, and because of that, he couldn’t give her forever, no matter how much he wanted to. When he ended things, it wrecked them both. She believed he had simply fallen out of love with her, never knowing the real reason, and that misunderstanding built a wall between us. She drifted away, not out of hatred, but out of hurt, and though we still exchanged pleasantries, the closeness we once had never returned.
She paused when she saw me, a smile brightening her deep brown face, her freckles standing out against her dark skin. Her thick curls were tied back with a simple ribbon, though a few rebellious strands framed her face, catching the morning light.
“Bronwen! You look lovely today,” she said, her eyes drifting to my dress. “That color suits you so well. ”
I ran my hands down the fabric with satisfaction. “Of course it does. I always look good.”
Sophie chuckled, shaking her head. “And humble as ever.”
“Confidence and humility don’t always go hand in hand,” I said playfully. “Besides, if you had Mama sewing your clothes, you’d always look this good too.”
She rolled her eyes, shifting the basket in her arms. “Making a delivery?”
I nodded, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. “Mama made some dresses for Miss Georgia. Figured I’d enjoy the walk while I can.”
Sophie glanced up at the sky. “Well, don’t let the sun ruin your perfect dress,” she teased. “See you later, Bronwen.”
I waved as she passed, watching her disappear down the path before resuming my walk. The momentary distraction had been pleasant, but as I walked further, an unsettling quiet settled over the road. The chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves ceased, replaced by an eerie stillness. My fingers tightened around the strap of the bag, and I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing. Yet the familiar prickle on the back of my neck told me I wasn’t alone.
“Running errands, Winnie?” His voice slithered from behind me, laced with mockery.
I froze, closing my eyes for a brief moment to steady my breathing. “Not today, August,” I muttered, continuing down the path without turning around. It was too early for this.
Too early for him.
“Such a dutiful daughter,” he mused, his tone light and taunting. “And here I thought witches didn’t bother with neighborly kindness.”
Ignoring him was futile, but I tried anyway. My grip on the bag tightened. Miss Georgia’s home wasn’t far now, and I could only hope he would leave me alone when I got there.
Surely he had something better to do.
“You know, I thought after last night that nothing could be better than those pants on you.”
I stopped.
“But that dress . . . One gust of wind and I could see exactly what was under it.”
He’s just trying to get under your skin.
I took a deep breath before turning to him, allowing my gaze to slowly rise to meet his. He stood effortlessly, his tall frame leaning just slightly to one side as if he were completely at ease. The sunlight caught the sharp angles of his face—his high cheekbones, the defined curve of his jaw. His short blonde hair, tousled just enough to look intentional, framed his features perfectly. But it was his smirk that made my stomach twist with irritation, a slow, knowing curl of his lips that made it painfully clear he was enjoying this. He was waiting, reveling in the moment, pushing me just enough to see how I’d react.
But gods, why did he have to be so tall?
Focus, Bronwen.
I bit my lip, letting my gaze drop slightly before flicking back up to meet his. I knew exactly how to play this game. My voice dropped just enough to make it sound like a secret between us. “If I show you, will you leave?” I tilted my head slightly and bit my lip, teasing the line between amusement and challenge.
His smirk dropped from his face. A crack in his centuries old armor that made him almost look . . . human.
I let out a short before turning away and resuming my walk.
The moment of calm shattered as my bag was yanked from my grasp, soaring through the air before colliding with a tree and landing in the mud with a dull thud. My fingers curled into fists as I spun around, my jaw tightening.
August leaned lazily against a nearby tree, his arms crossed over his chest, watching me. His expression was so infuriatingly smug, it made my blood simmer.
“Oops,” he said, feigning innocence.
“You’re insufferable,” I snapped, my hands balling into fists as I walked towards him. “Pick it up.”
He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Make me.”
That was all the invitation I needed to lunge toward him. He moved to dart away, but not fast enough. My hand closed around his arm, grabbing his magic. His playful expression shifted to one of surprise—and fear. I could feel his pulse quicken under my grip, a faint and fleeting sign of life that only made the magic within him more tempting. The surge of power coursed through me in a heated wave, leaving him unable to fight back.
He dropped to his knees, and I grabbed his neck.
“Do you think because the sun is out that I won’t kill you?” I hissed, tightening my grip. “No one is around. And if someone saw, I’d just kill them too.”
The words that spewed out of my mouth shocked me, but I meant them.
His hands clawed weakly at mine, his nails scraping against my skin, but it was futile. The life drained from him, and with it came a rush of energy that filled every inch of me. It was intoxicating, an unrelenting pull that threatened to drown out all reason. I tightened my grip, savoring the fleeting moment of control.
I raised my hand, watching as flames danced at my fingertips, the heat radiating from them in waves. I brought my hand closer to his chest, stopping just short of contact. The scent of singed fabric reached my nose, and I knew the delicate skin beneath was blistering. His strained gasps filled the silence, each one a reminder of the power I held.
“C—” he choked. “Carrow.”
My brow furrowed. The name hung in the air, heavy and unfamiliar, yet it struck a chord deep within me.
“What?” I demanded, my grip loosening slightly as his words echoed in my mind.
He closed his eyes, gasping for air. “First vampire,” he whispered hoarsely. “Carrow.”
The name felt like a stone dropped into the still waters of my thoughts, sending ripples of questions I couldn’t ignore. Carrow. The first vampire. Was this another one of his games? Another distraction meant to throw me off course? I couldn’t trust him, but what if he wasn’t lying? What if this was the lead I had been searching for?
I released him, letting him fall forward as I stepped back, my heart pounding. My mind raced, caught between skepticism and a growing determination. If this Carrow existed, if he was truly the first vampire, then finding him could be the key to ending all of this—the hunting, the endless fear, my . . . defect.
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus. “What do you know?” I demanded, raising my hand to freeze him in place. The spell wrapped around him like invisible chains, holding him firmly as he tried to regain his composure.
He shook his head. “If you want to know, we have to make a deal.”
“What? ”
He straightened slightly, his usual smirk struggling to return. “A truce of sorts,” he rasped.
My eyes narrowed. “A truce?”
“You don’t kill me,” he said, his voice hoarse but steadying, “and I’ll help you find Carrow.”
***
I returned home later than I intended, my steps heavy as I walked to my room. August said he had heard of the first vampire—Carrow—but he didn’t know much. He said he would ask around, to find something that could lead us to more. I just needed to give him a few days. I also needed to trust him.
I didn’t.
But I had no other option than to try. As infuriating as he was, I had never met another vampire as controlled as him. He might have been my only chance to find Carrow.
I’d just have to suffer at the mercy of the mark for a little while longer. But no matter the truce we had now, I would kill him after Carrow.
Dropping the bag of soiled clothes near my door, I caught my reflection in the mirror. The dark circles were back, deeper than before. My hair, once full and vibrant, had thinned, a cruel reminder of the toll these sleepless nights were taking on me.
With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and let my thoughts center on the magic I’d pulled from August. It hummed faintly beneath my skin, warm and foreign but undeniably potent. I placed my hands over my face and willed the energy to flow, erasing the signs of exhaustion. A tingling warmth spread across my skin, and when I opened my eyes, the dark circles were gone. My hair felt fuller, softer, as though vitality itself had been restored.
I studied myself in the mirror, a small, satisfied smile tugging at my lips. Whatever games August thought he was playing, I would ensure he regretted them. For now, though, I allowed myself the comfort of looking and feeling whole again.