Chapter 13
brEAKING: Fire in Prague nightclub kills dozens
posted by the Associated Press eleven years ago
PRAGUE (AP)—Fire broke out in the early hours of Sunday morning at one of Prague’s most popular nightclubs, trapping dozens inside. A spokesman for the city’s fire department said the total death count is not yet known, and rescue efforts remain ongoing. In a peculiar detail, many of those who escaped the club appeared to have severe puncture wounds in their wrists and necks; at least eight such persons required hospitalization. In a press conference, officers from Prague’s Regional Police Directorate did not comment on whether these injuries were connected with the fire, nor on any possibility of arson. There was some speculation that a rabid animal had somehow gotten loose inside the club and that the fire began during the ensuing panic. However, no officials have yet confirmed this theory. This report will be updated as more details become public.
Callum wasn’t sure how long he was in the darkness.
He could smell smoke, hear screams—the music was still pounding, people hearing the yells too late to run, get out, save themselves. There was nothing Callum could do. None of this was supposed to happen.
Callum, what’s wrong? Where’s Konstantin?
The look on Octavia’s face when Callum told her their sire was dead. He couldn’t bring himself to confess that it was all his fault.
Callum? Callum?
That wasn’t Octavia—it was Tess. Were they still in the meadow? She was leaning over him, the neckline of her shirt dipping low. Yes, he thought, be close to me. He ran his hand over her thigh, feeling how soft she was, how strong. The moonflowers glowed so brightly they burst into flames—god, it was so warm, and Tess was dripping with sweat, peeling off her shirt so he could finally see her luscious body. Her hair was soaking wet, and she flipped it forward, dragging it over his chest, the water scalding and sizzling as it burned his skin. The pain was so pleasurable, so addictive, he wanted to flip her on her back and move against her, to feel her slick body pressed to his—
“Callum!”
Someone slapped him—hard—and his eyes fluttered open.
“There,” Nantale clipped, looking stern but also a little worried. “Took you long enough.”
It took him a second to get his bearings—he was lying on a couch in his rooms back at Nantale’s compound. Nantale and Sylvie were there, and so was Tess—she was wringing out a wet cloth, dripping cool water onto his forehead.
“Are you okay?” Tess looked even paler than usual.
He felt a lurch in his body, an involuntary desire to comfort her, to show her she didn’t need to worry. But when he tried to move, his head swam again, and he felt like he might be sick.
“Easy, easy.” Sylvie stepped in front of Tess and Nantale. “You two, give him space. And you—don’t try to move yet. Here. Drink.”
She had filled a whiskey glass with warm rabbit’s blood, and he sipped it slowly. The sustenance felt medicinal and right, and he felt a bit less woozy with each sip; everything around him came into clearer focus.
“What happened?” he asked.
“You were stabbed,” Tess said gently. “Sylvie thinks the dagger must have been poisoned.”
“The wound should be healing, but it isn’t.” Sylvie looked concerned. “I don’t know exactly what’s causing it, but it’s in your bloodstream. Did you hallucinate when you were passed out?”
Callum avoided eye contact with the others. “Erm. Yes.”
“That’s what I thought.” Sylvie nodded. “We need to figure out what kind of poison it is so we can find an antidote. I have a book in my room that might help—I’ll go get it.”
She sped off, leaving Callum alone with Tess and Nantale.
“How are you feeling?” Tess asked. “Do you remember what happened in the meadow?”
His mind immediately flashed to his hallucination, but he knew that wasn’t what she meant. She looked squirrelly—was she hiding something?
“Not really,” Callum admitted. “How did I get back here? Nantale, did you come for me?”
Nantale nodded toward Tess. “The girl brought you.”
“On the horse,” Tess clarified. “You were half-conscious, we rode back together. You don’t remember that at all?”
“I don’t.” Callum peered at Tess. “Why?”
Tess looked down, and her cheeks warmed. Now Callum was sure there was something she wasn’t saying.
Sylvie rushed into the room with a thick leather-bound book and laid it on Callum’s table with a thwack. Tess frowned as she read over Sylvie’s shoulder.
“Henbane?” Tess asked. “You think that’s what poisoned Callum?”
“Maybe.” Sylvie frowned. “But these effects seem awfully severe for henbane.”
“Felix’s clan has used poisoned blades against us before.” Nantale shook her head. “But we’ve never been able to identify the poison—or find a cure.”
“Oh!” Tess’s eyes lit up with recognition—but then she bit her lip, looking worried. “Do you think it could possibly be Datura?”
“Datura?” Callum looked puzzled.
“Devil’s trumpets—of course.” Sylvie flipped pages in her book. “Highly toxic, hallucinogenic, can cause fevers, delirium, psychosis, and death.”
Nantale looked gravely from Sylvie to Callum. “But there is no cure for Datura.”
“That’s true,” Sylvie confirmed, shutting her book with a dreadful finality.
Everyone looked crestfallen, but Callum had to repress an urge to laugh. After all his lifetimes, was this really the end? Some stupid little leg wound with a dirty knife?
But then Tess cleared her throat.
“What is it, girl?” Nantale asked, eyes narrowing.
“So that’s not, um—I mean, that’s not strictly correct. About there being no cure.” Tess looked deeply uncomfortable—even nervous. “You know the black jewel-weed lilies? That grow in the north? You can use them to make…um, a poultice? I think that will cure the wound.”
They all looked at Tess, absolutely dumbstruck.
“How can you possibly know that?” Callum asked, but Sylvie waved her arms at him as if to shoo the question away.
“Who cares how she knows it! If she’s right, it could save your life. Isn’t that good enough for you?”
“It’s not good enough for me.” Nantale folded her arms. “It would take days to travel north to retrieve those flowers. We’d need to send a hunting party, which would risk valuable members of the clan and leave us vulnerable to attack here at the compound. If we’re going to take your word, I want to know the source of your information.”
“Wait.” Callum shook his head, his memory jogging. “Sylvie, did you tell Tess about the moonflower meadow?”
Tess gave Sylvie a panicked look, and Sylvie stuttered, “I—probably, if she says I did, I’m sure I did! My memory isn’t what it used to be—well, look who I’m telling, yours must be even worse, no?”
“I recall perfectly clearly,” Callum growled. “Tess said you told her about the meadow, she led me there, and then I was attacked. So if you didn’t tell her, a vampire outside this clan did.”
“They didn’t,” Tess insisted. “Callum, I swear.”
“Then how do you know about the antidote?” Nantale reiterated. “No one in our clan has ever discovered it. You must have been speaking to someone else.”
“Was it Felix?” Callum turned to Tess, furious.
“No!” Tess blurted, but Callum felt certain she was lying.
“It explains everything, ” he fumed. “He brought you here to cause chaos in our clan, to make me think Octavia was alive, to lure me to the meadow—”
“And how would he have done that, exactly?” Tess countered. “I live in New York, remember? How the hell is Felix Hawthorn going to communicate with me and bring me here?”
“You know his name ?” Callum seethed. “How do you know his name if you haven’t talked to him?”
“Because I’ve read about him!” Tess exploded. “The same way I’ve read about all of you, because you’re all characters in a goddamn novel!”
There was a moment of stunned silence, then Nantale spoke.
“Explain yourself. Right now.”
Tess dug in her bag and extracted a worn paperback, which she handed to Nantale.
“ Blood Feud? ” Nantale asked. “What is this?”
“It’s the first in a series,” Tess explained. “Three novels about the Isle—about all of you. Obviously they’re fiction, because most people don’t think vampires are real, except some of us do—I mean, some Feudies do—sorry, that’s what the fandom is called, Feudies, like Blood Feud, see?”
Callum felt woozy. “Am I hallucinating again?”
“No—well, maybe, but not about the books.” Tess sighed. “Anyway, so some of us Feudies, we would, like, find pictures of you and Octavia, or Felix, or Konstantin, and get all into these conspiracy theories of how you were all real vampires and the Isle must actually exist too. That’s how Octavia found me—she read some dumb essay I wrote on BuzzFeed —”
“On what?” Nantale interrupted.
“It’s a website, it doesn’t matter. I wrote this essay about how the Isle was real, and Octavia saw that I lived in New York, so she came to me for help. And she told me not to tell you about the novels because she thought you might think I was crazy, and looking at your faces now, maybe she was right. But anyway, that’s how I knew about the Datura and the black jewel-weed lilies, because I read about them in book one when Isobel gave Felix a poisoned dagger to use in a fight against you.”
“You know about Isobel?” Callum was taken aback.
“When I came here I was dressed as Isobel!” Tess confessed. “Because I had been at my former best friend’s Blood Feud– themed birthday party!”
“So when you said I was a villain…” Callum thought back to that moment, the context suddenly clicking into place. “It was because I’m a villain in that book?”
“This whole clan kind of is?” Tess said apologetically. “And no offense, but the way every vampire here looks at me like they have murder in their hearts hasn’t done much to disabuse me of that opinion.”
“And the moonflower meadow?” Callum asked. “You knew about its source of magic from your books too?”
Tess paused for a moment, then nodded. Callum’s instincts prickled again—he still had the distinct sense she wasn’t being entirely truthful.
“But who is writing these things about us?” Nantale asked, pointing to the cover of the book. “Who is August Lirio?”
“No one knows.” Tess shrugged. “It’s a pseudonym—we have no idea who the author really is.”
“Excuse me,” Sylvie butted in, “but can we focus? Whoever wrote those books, whatever they know and however they know it, we have a chance to save Callum’s life here. Don’t you think we should take it?”
“Yes,” Nantale answered. “Sylvie, you know the north best. I’ll give you a hunting party to gather the lilies, and we’ll increase security here in their absence. Tess, you’ll stay with Callum at all times to monitor his health and bring him anything he needs. I can’t spare anyone else to do it, I hope you understand.”
“Of course.” Tess nodded.
“Hold on,” Callum objected. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Yes you do, you can barely move,” Nantale said dismissively. “Tess, after all you have seen, you must be eager to leave this island, and I don’t blame you. But given what you know from these books—not just how to cure Callum, but potentially how we might all escape—I must require you to stay with our clan a little longer. Is that acceptable?”
Callum expected Tess to argue, but she just nodded, looking defeated. Strange—that wasn’t like her.
“Sylvie, come,” Nantale commanded. “We must move swiftly.”
Sylvie hurried out of the room. Nantale turned to follow, but then paused and picked up Tess’s copy of Blood Feud. As she held the book, her eyes glowed a deep and vivid scarlet—and suddenly, she was holding two copies instead of one. She handed the original book back to Tess and swept out of the room with the newly glamoured copy, leaving Callum and Tess alone for the first time since Callum had regained consciousness.
“So, um.” Tess folded her arms, uncomfortable. “Do you need anything?”
“Will you pass me that?” he asked, nodding toward the book. “I think I’d like to read.”