Chapter 20 Serpentes
CHAPTER TWENTY
SERPENTES
The door slams behind me, and the sound of bolts sliding into place echoes through the private room. Lavish fresh sheets and sparkling-clean tiles glimmer under the red lighting, a far cry from the state I left it in this morning.
My feet are light as I make my way to the bed. My focus lingers on the details I couldn’t grasp the last time I was here. In the corner, there are two leather chairs and a small round table with an empty wineglass in the centre.
I sit perched on the edge of the bed, my hands clenched in the silk bedding.
I enjoy the sensation—so smooth. It reminds me of all the times I sat by the river near the valley of moonflowers, plunging my fingers into the water to feel the tranquil current slide by.
It’s a surreal feeling—a reminder of something ancient yet free from the haunting memories that usually accompany such musings.
But before I can lose myself to the moment, the clink of glass pricks my ears. Every follicle of hair on my body rises like that of a harvestman spider with a disturbed web. Near the leather couches, the darkness ripples, and red liquid splashes into the wineglass.
“Thirsty?” I ask, unsure why. A part of me wonders if he has access to blood on command.
The shadows partially disperse to allow a black, clawed hand to emerge. He takes the wine and pushes it to the other side of the table. “It’s not for me.”
“Is it for me?”
“If you wish.” His deep, husky voice has an allure that is both tempting and eerie. Like ice against my skin, leaving a faint burn that ignites a visceral spark.
“Is it—”
“Blood?” he finishes for me with a low chuckle as the shadows glide and settle into the farthest corner, away from the wineglass. “No, kamai.”
I swivel around to face him and ask, “Why do you keep calling me that? What does it mean?”
He doesn’t respond. The darkness remains so still and silent that if I closed my eyes, I would feel completely alone. With a sigh, I turn away and glare down at the ground. I grip the mattress tightly to keep myself in place and away from the nightwalker.
“I have questions for you,” I say. “And you’re going to answer them truthfully.”
“Nightwalkers don’t typically do honesty. We have a liar’s tongue.”
“Then restrain it for ten fucking minutes,” I hiss.
A hint of a laugh escapes him. “Go on, then.”
Closing my eyes to help resist his damn allure, I ask, “The bite you gave me—does it mean something? Am I turning into a true nightwalker?”
Silence. It’s like he takes pleasure in watching me squirm.
The weight of not knowing whether I’ll burn in the sunlight or continue to walk in it sits heavily on my heart.
If I ever became undead, I would have to cut all ties with my friends and Cole.
I wouldn’t be myself anymore. I’d be a mindless creature driven by blood thirst and frantic, panicked heartbeats.
I’d be even more of a monster than I am now.
“No. For that to happen, you would need to drink my blood within three days of the bite…then die. And as of right now, kamai, I want you alive.”
I open my eyes. “Why?”
“You’re part human, why not ensure you keep what’s left of your soul?” The darkness stirs. It flows past the table, and the wineglass disappears. The darkness continues to move until it reaches the bed. I quickly close my eyes again. His allure seems to stem from a connection through sight.
The mattress beside me sinks, tipping my body towards him. Sucking in a deep breath, I shuffle away and turn my back to the shadows. I hold my knees tightly to keep myself grounded.
“You fear what you cannot see.”
“Is that really a surprise? You’re doing everything you can to conceal yourself.”
Another hint of silence, then, “I don’t particularly trust you to keep my identity a secret. You’re very close to your lover.”
“He’s not my lover,” I mutter. “And so what if I am close to him?”
“I doubt he will keep anything you say a secret. Near the Prayer Sanctuary, with the stench of biohumans lingering in the air, his voice will reach other slayers. I prefer the unknown. No face means no hunt.”
I shake my head. “Slayers hunt nightwalkers, with or without faces. If Jax—” A sudden rush of frustration tingles my skin. Why does the mention of Jax taste like ash on my tongue? “If a slayer learns about you, it wouldn’t matter because they kill any undead they encounter.”
“No. Slayers hunt those who oppose Serun’s Law. They’re far more complacent than you believe. Why do you think they’re waiting to break you out? Certainly not to let nightwalkers have a chance to leave the area. That’s what your not-lover told you, or did you miss his lie because his mouth was—”
I spring up and confront the darkness. “How do you know what he told me?”
The darkness undulates as though to shrug. “I’ve tasted your memories. You let me do that. It’s also how you ended up with the brand of a nightwalker.”
I touch my shoulder, recalling the snake woven with moonflowers. “Does the brand do anything?”
“Nothing you won’t like.”
My gaze narrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighs, almost bored. “In the Undercity, if you’re branded, you’re under the protection of your sire.
But in this case, it’s just a tattoo. Some have more than one, signifying they belong to a protected class of Feeders and cannot be harmed.
Still, it doesn’t apply to you because you’re topside.
Nightwalkers don’t care for brands up here. They’re more interested in scents.”
“Scents?”
He breathes a laugh. “Your senses will have sharpened since the bite, awakening the part of you that you have been trained to ignore. Tell me, kamai, what do you smell?”
I take a breath and taste the pungent odour of rotten fruit. With a deeper inhale, a sharper note strikes the back of my throat and lingers there. A musky, acidic, and oily scent emanates from the nightwalker, and I open my eyes. “Nightshade. You smell like nightshade. I know it well.”
“The stronger the scent, the more a nightwalker fears harming the branded. Also, the bigger the brand, the more likely a nightwalker will leave the human alone.” He chuckles darkly.
“In both cases, no undead will fucking touch you for fear of becoming a scream in a silent forest.” He stands, and the shadows form the silhouette of a man wearing a hooded cloak.
Long black claws seem to grow from his fingers, becoming the shadow of a monster.
“That is, if you let me keep biting you. Venom fades within three days, and with it, so does the brand. A safety net, I suppose. The nightwalker can let them go and find another. Freedom, if the human chooses.”
“It will fade?”
“After three days,” the nightwalker confirms. “But if you’re interested,”—he reaches into the darkness and produces the wineglass, still filled with rich red liquid—“the venom will last longer if you drink my blood.”
My eyes narrow. “You said it wasn’t blood.”
“And I said—a liar’s tongue. You should know. Your entire identity is a lie.”
“No, it’s not, nightwalker,” I seethe.
Red eyes crinkle, and he lifts the glass towards me. “An offer. This is why I’m here.”
“But why?”
The darkness flows, drawing closer to the table. He sets the glass down before striding back towards the bed, gesturing towards the vent above us. “It’s easier for me to find you if my venom has not faded.”
I step back, edging towards the door. “I don’t want you to find me.”
His laugh is chillingly low. “I’ve witnessed bloodshed in your memories.
Heartache. Moments when you were with others but felt alone.
” He pauses, seeming to weigh his words.
“The Hellsgate is opening somewhere in Darkovish this year, and if it’s near the Feeding Ground, I suggest you drink from me.
Anything less, and I might not be able to reach you quickly enough if you are caught in the violence. ”
I press my hand to my chest. “That thing in the airshafts—is it a monster from Hellsgate or one of Serun’s creatures?”
A low rumble sounds in his throat. “A weakened creature from Hellsgate. However, it will grow stronger when the gate opens. You were clever to tighten the screws. It might not harm you by scent now, but it would harm the others given the chance.”
I instinctively step closer, then quickly scurry back three paces, shaking off his allure. “Why do you want to help me? Why did you save me last night? Am I not your prey? I am not truly one of you.”
“Not yet.” The darkness parts, revealing red eyes that paralyse me.
His gaze drops to linger at my nape before returning to meet mine.
“And I don’t know why I’m helping you. Maybe my soul is getting in the way.
Perhaps I’m intrigued by the idea of humanity and curious about what you’ll do next, Saya. ”
Through clenched teeth, I say, “I don’t want you anywhere near me if that is what you’re suggesting.”
He steps back, turns, and makes his way to the vent above the bed. “Then don’t drink. But my offer stands for tomorrow night if you choose to entertain me again.”
Shadows billow upwards and through the vent, then I am alone.
I let out a tight breath before inhaling deeply and slowly exhaling. Tense muscles relax, and my shoulders sag in relief that I didn’t become a nightwalker’s unwilling snack.
My gaze lands on the table where the wineglass waits. I make my way to the table, gripping the fabric of my gown, my jaw clenching at the sight of the thick liquid.
It definitely looks like blood.
I grab the glass and lift it to my nose.
It is his blood, with the lingering scent of nightshade, but it doesn’t carry a rusty metallic scent.
Instead, there’s a sweetness to it, like ripe raspberries, with a subtle hint of lemongrass.
I recognise it all too well. Sprigs of lemongrass grew near the riverbank beyond the valley I grew up in.
I set the glass back on the table, step away, and fold my arms across my chest. The nightwalker wants me to drink his blood because he wants to help me, but he also made it clear that nightwalkers are known for being notorious liars.
Help means I can keep Cole safe. If the Hellsgate opens in Darkovish, who better to protect us than a nightwalker?
Sure, I’d prefer a slayer, but hoping for a hypothetical slayer to show up when I have the option of protection from a nightwalker who has already saved me once… The decision weighs heavily on my mind.
Fuck it.
I reach for the wine, press the glass against my lips, and as a droplet of sweetened blood hits my tongue, I clamp my mouth shut. Another force is telling me to stop, and somehow, I do.
As much as I want help, I don’t trust this nightwalker. Hope is tempting, but nightwalkers are the reason we lost hope in the first place.
I place the glass back on the table and return to the bed. Silk glides through my fingertips as I crawl into the middle of the bed and lie down. A deep sigh escapes me as I gaze up at the vent. “You’re still there, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
I huff a breath. “Figured you were the type.”
“Type of what?”
He is…old, isn’t he?
“Never mind. Were nightwalkers the reason Mother left us? You surfaced after she left.”
A beat of silence. “Mother left because humans can’t help but ruin things. Always seeking more power. Creating things they shouldn’t to win wars they couldn’t on their own.”
“Like slayers?”
“Like vampires,” he says, but his tone is dismissive, as if he doesn’t want to talk about it. “May I ask something?”
I shrug my response. It’s only fair.
“This man you spend your nights with—why isn’t he your lover? I don’t particularly understand.”
I grunt out, “Don’t nightwalkers mess around?”
“No. We don’t. When two nightwalkers share blood under the same moon, they’re mated for eternity.”
“So, if I were to drink your blood tonight...”
“I would then have to drink yours for that to happen,” he finishes. “Now tell me about this not-lover of yours.”
My fingers pinch at the buttons of my gown. “He lied to me—and I’ve lied to him, I suppose—but it seems he won’t share important information with me until he has to. So…it bothers me. His lies are bothering me enough to make me hesitate.”
“I have lied to you.”
“But you’re a nightwalker,” I mutter. “So it doesn’t hurt.”
Darkness spills from the corners of the vent. “Will you leave him?”
“Why do you ask?”
Bleak darkness billows out, weaving into inky ribbons like it did last night. They lower, seamlessly dancing in a spiral towards me. “You have given me a lot to think about.”
With a sigh, I look away and glare at the exit.
Illuminated pale white light cuts through from underneath the door, but struggles to stay alive in the red room.
“I didn’t think I would leave him until he told me he came here willingly.
The stories he told sound believable, but it makes me wonder what else he could be lying about. ”
I face the vent again, my eyes widening and an ache flaring in my stomach at the sight of the ribbons so close. Within arm’s reach. Too daring for my own good, I reach out to them as he says, “A saviour can also be your destroyer.”
My fingertips touch the ribbon closest to me. The silk slips through my fingertips like a coin between knuckles. “You want to save me?”
The ribbon crosses my wrist and winds down my arm to my elbow. “That’s what we do.”
I shift awkwardly and retract my arm. The darkness draws up into the vent as though pulled by a vacuum. “Did you see all my memories? Every moment before I came to Darkovish?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
A long pause. “Your Vaganova method was magnificent.”
I smile at the memories of ballet I have pushed down, but long to return to.
“Your laugh is beautiful, Saya,” he says. My breath hitches, and my vision turns glassy as I face the darkness consuming the vent. “If you accept my offer, you will never have to hide that smile again. You can be you, not what you have been taught to fear.”
I pick at a button on my gown. With a deep breath, I turn back to glaring at the door. “I like being me, and as far removed from something like you, nightwalker.”
“Is that you talking, or the poison you’ve been fed by your mother, friends…and not-lover?”
A pang of pain spears my heart, but I bite down on my lip to keep myself from opening up to someone who sees far more than he should.