8. Vasile
Chapter eight
Vasile
I do not want to open the envelope Deacon is holding out towards me. I do not even want to take it from his hand. Nothing good can be contained within.
I know why he didn’t give it to the hunters. No matter what Tamesis has written, they can’t catch him, and I will be an easy scapegoat to make them feel better. I believe many of them did not like Nathan—Moreau included. They still need to make an example of his murderer.
My hand does not tremble as I reach out and take the envelope from Deacon’s grasp. If I asked, he would open it for me, I know it.
But he cannot. I cannot. The room is silent as I open the note and pull out one handwritten page.
My warrior , he has written, and bile rises in my throat.
“You can go to the flat,” Kieran says, and his voice sounds faint, far away. “You don’t have to read it here.”
I shake my head. “It is fine.”
My warrior,
I hope you like the gift I have left for you and the timid little vampires you have collected. Honestly, I am surprised. What a rare, uncomfortable feeling. I am surprised you allowed a rival predator to slip through your grasp. I have never known you—with one notable exception—to be prone to sentimentality.
Is that what you have become? Sentimental? Weak? I hope not. I suppose I shall find out the truth soon enough.
I have never known you to play nicely with others, either. What a strange little pack that has amassed here. A wolf with no wolf. A vengeful mage. And all their mates… How far will you go to protect them, my warrior? Will you show them who you really are?
Do they know, your vampires, how far you were willing to go to stop me? You drained me dry, Vasile.
I owe you for that.
Enjoy your gift. It is one of many. I will free you again. I will return you to who you are supposed to be.
Yours—now and forever.
Tamesis.
I bite my tongue to swallow the scream that wants to escape. This is what it is all about? I know Tamesis wants something from me, and I know he wants revenge for what I did. I know, too, that Njáll is right.
But this? I fold the note up and put it back into the envelope, every movement short and sharp.
I can’t look at Deacon. I don’t want to read the expression on his face, or, worse, I don’t want to be unable to read it.
I look at Sam instead. “What do you know about the bonds between a sire and their turn?”
“Uh…” Sam flounders, glancing at Kieran and Lucien, then at the other mages in the room. “Not much, honestly. Bonds weren’t a big thing I learnt about growing up.”
Ophelia shifts in her chair. “What do you want to know?”
“They fade.”
She blinks, waiting for a second for a question, and nods when she realises one isn’t coming. “Yeah, they do. Over time. They can flare up if something happens—something traumatic, maybe—but the vast majority of the time, they fade to near-nothing after a few decades.”
“Why?”
“From what I’ve read, it’s so the turn won’t die when the sire does.” She shifts in her chair again, this time ensuring she’s fully facing me. “They’re different to mating bonds or soul bonds. They kind of go one way, from sire to turn, to make sure the sire can help their fledgling when they’re in the initial bloodlust stage.”
I nod. I know that, but I’m not going to interrupt her. I want to be certain.
“They allow for control. So over time, as the fledgling grows in power, the bond starts to fade because their sire shouldn’t need to control them anymore. Plus, once a fledgling is out of that stage, odds are they’re going to survive for a while yet. They’re likely to outlive their sire.”
“Makes sense,” Sam says, nodding. I glance at Deacon. He’s watching me, not Ophelia, and his jaw is set, arms crossed over his chest.
“And what about when the sire dies?”
Ophelia shrugs. “The bond snaps. Provided the fledgling is old enough, they might not even notice. I mean, it’s likely they’d know something had happened , like a strange sense, but unless they’re unusually attuned to magic, they might not be aware of it.”
“Then the bond between Tamesis and myself…”
“It should be gone,” Ophelia says, nodding. “I mean, he might be able to track you in other ways—there are mages who can do that, and fuck knows what’s going on with the ones he’s given fae blood—but he can’t use the bond against you.”
“What if I wanted to use it against him?”
Everyone is silent for a moment. Ophelia shakes her head. “If it’s gone, then—Then you can’t.”
I think about the only bond I can still feel; the aching, jagged space where Deacon used to sit.
“Can it be reignited?”
“I—” Ophelia looks at Sam and then Dante, who both shrug. “Maybe? I don’t know. It’s not something I’ve ever heard of before.”
“Is there a reason it couldn’t be?”
“I guess not. There’d be space for it, still. The death magic that made you a vampire comes from him.” She rubs a hand over her forehead. “I know a necromancer I could call and ask.”
“Do that,” I say. It is the only lead we have. The only possibility to find him. “And soon.”
“Y-Yeah. Okay.”
I look over at Kieran, whose brow is furrowed in concern. “I would like to retire now if that is all right.”
He wisely does not mention that it is still early in the night. Lucien’s expression is even more concerned as his mate stands, but he takes the plate from Kieran’s hands with care before he looks at me again.
I have no doubt he has opinions about the plan I am clearly making. I do not care. I cannot risk him and this pack just because my sire has it in his head that he can get me back by—What? Killing them all?
Tamesis is capable of far more than that.
“It’ll take a lot of power,” Ophelia murmurs as Kieran and I reach the door. Deacon follows, of course, and that is not unexpected. Our bond is broken, but I don’t need it to feel the fury emanating from him. He does not approve. He wants me as far away from Tamesis as possible.
The truth is, so do I. Unfortunately, it is not up to either of us.
Kieran leads us down to the flat and waits for my nod, this time, before he excuses himself. Deacon closes the door and leans back against it, and I stand in the centre of the room, watching him.
“What did the note say?” he asks.
“The usual. Threats. Promises.”
“They’re the same thing to him.”
“I know.” How does he? I never let Deacon get close to Tamesis. That was the entire point . If Tamesis got too close to Deacon, he would destroy him, and there was no universe where I could let that happen.
There is no universe where I will let that happen.
“Vasile. What does it say?”
“He killed Nathan.”
“We knew that already.” Deacon huffs a breath and pushes off from the door. Even under his suit jacket, I can see the way his muscles bunch and flex as he walks around the flat. He opens one bedroom door, then the other, ducks into the bathroom…
We both know there’s no one here. I sigh and drop onto the sofa. The letter is burning a hole in my pocket. Deacon checks every corner, paces around the living room, and when he stops a few feet from me, I tip my head back to look at him.
He’s alight with fury, with anguish, and as much as I want him—I’d gladly fall to my knees before him and beg for forgiveness if I thought it could change the past—this is also why I do not want him here. Why I don’t want him anywhere near me.
He made the right decision, leaving me and our life behind. It’s kept him safe all this time.
I never should have gone to him after Jeremiah told me Tamesis had returned. Tamesis’ attention would still be on him, yes, but not the way it has to be now. I have no doubt Tamesis knows Deacon was the one to find Nathan. He knows Kieran and his pack are important to my wolf, too.
Deacon opens his mouth, and I sigh, certain that I know what he is about to ask.
“Why didn’t you ask Ophelia about our bond?”
I sit up straight, sucking in a startled breath. No. I did not expect that.