26. Vasile
Chapter twenty-six
Vasile
There’s a light.
It’s faint. Faint but warm and gold, like I remember of the sun.
Should I move towards it?
Where am I?
I remember…
I remember Deacon. His smile, giving me the same warm feeling as that light. Where is he?
Why can’t I feel him anymore?
Words reach my ears, muffled like I’m deep beneath the choppiest of waves.
“… More. He needs…”
I don’t know what they’re talking about. I don’t know who they are.
I’m floating here. Weightless. Without concern.
Except one.
Where is Deacon?
Where is my mate?
The light grows a little stronger. It pulses at the edges, soft and warm and welcoming. I move a step closer. What is it? It feels like some kind of power, but nothing like what keeps me a vampire.
I reach for Deacon again, encountering nothing at all.
Not even that aching hollowness that existed after I tore our bond apart. No. There’s nothing. Like it was never there at all.
Was it there? Did I dream it? Am I back almost six hundred years ago, drowning in dirt and blood?
If I open my eyes, will I see Tamesis leaning over me?
The thought jolts me—because Tamesis is alive, is somewhere terrorising someone, and that is my responsibility, my duty to stop—
“… it! He’s coming…”
My eyes feel like lead weights as I pry them open. I’m on my back, staring up at a dark green ceiling, and I don’t recognise the smell of this place at all.
It smells like… coffee? And pine.
And fae.
I turn my head and look into a stranger’s face. He appears human, but he blinks far too slowly to be one, holding my questioning gaze.
“Fuck,” another voice says. One I recognise. “I really didn’t think that’d work.”
I lift my head—and it hurts , every muscle screaming at me to lie back down and give in—and stare into Dante’s pale face. He lets out a heavy breath.
“Where am I?” I manage, looking between him and the fae. Does Dante know he’s not human? He must. Because I think—
I run my tongue over my teeth, tasting blood. It’s not human.
“Hallowed Grounds,” Dante says. “It’s a café near—Well, Lark found you just around the corner. You were pretty much dead, so he called me.”
“Because you could help?” I don’t understand.
Dante flushes. “Lark did most of the work. But he wasn’t—He didn’t—”
“I should not have helped,” Lark says, still unblinking. Even having had Saide and Rook as my guards for so many years—and they have never hidden what they are beneath glamours, instead relying on ignorance and intimidation to avoid questions about their species—he’s unsettling.
“You did.”
“I did.”
He doesn’t look at Dante, but Dante’s gaze softens when it turns on him. Poor boy. Nothing good ever comes from falling for one of the fae.
I push up onto my elbows, and when I make a pained sound, Lark does help me, supporting me with one hand between my shoulder blades. “Everything hurts.”
“You were dead,” he says flatly. “But the magic in my blood will reach you soon enough. After it is done restoring your systems.”
“He’s still… a vampire, right?” Dante asks and blushes harder when Lark gives him an arch look.
“Yes. I could not change that even should I wish to.”
Part of me is also relieved to hear it. “Did you see…?”
“Who did this?” Lark asks. “No. And I have no magic to use to seek them out. All I have is my glamour and my blood.”
“Is this place warded?”
Lark nods. “None can enter if they mean to cause us harm.”
“Do you know who attacked you?” Dante asks. He has his phone in his hand, but he’s made no effort to call anyone, and I appreciate it. I need to get my head around what’s going on.
“Lazarus,” I say, and his eyes widen.
“Didn’t he—I thought Adam—”
“Adam didn’t kill him.”
“No, I know, but he was framed for it, right?”
“Yes.” I shake my head and realise I’m lying across a surprisingly comfortable sofa. We’re out in the centre of the café, though all the windows are covered. “Lazarus is working with Tamesis. He killed Nora, and tonight he killed me.”
“That is not all,” Lark says. He gives Dante a look, and this time, Dante pales.
“What happened?” I ask.
“The clan was attacked.”
“What?” I jolt forward, hissing out a breath when everything still hurts . “When?”
“A bit before you were, from the sounds of it,” Dante says, scrolling through his phone. “Sam and the others are still there. But Tamesis, he—”
“He what?”
“He killed some of the donors. And he took Adam, Elle, and Njáll.”
“Took them…?” I shake my head. Wait… “What do people believe happened to me?”
Dante swallows. “They thought he took you, too, but…”
“Deacon was there, wasn’t he?”
“Y-Yeah. Kieran sent me a text about an hour ago. Told me they’re pretty sure Tamesis killed you.”
I suck in a breath. Deacon thinks I’m dead. The bond truly is gone, the way the one between me and Tamesis—
“He’s going to kill all of them,” I say. “If he thinks I’m dead, he’ll—”
“Who? Deacon? No, he shifted and—”
“Tamesis,” I say, and even Lark nods in understanding. “He was drawing this out to get a rise out of me. If I’m dead, he can’t do that. All he’ll want to do now is kill Kieran. Everyone else…”
We thought he was brutal before. I can’t imagine the lengths he’ll go to now.
“So we take you back,” Dante says. “They’re already looking for Deacon.”
“He left?”
“Yeah, he shifted and ran.”
Panic jolts through me, and I say the only words that come to mind.
“I need to reignite the bond between me and Tamesis.”
Dante stops short.
Lark shakes his head. “That is not advisable.”
“It’s the only thing that’ll take him by surprise. Unless either of you knows where he is?”
“No,” Dante says reluctantly. “But Adam’s gone. I don’t know if Ophelia is going to be able to get here.”
“Didn’t she tell you how to do the spell?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then you could—”
“He can’t,” Lark says, his voice colder than it was before, though his expression is unchanged. “He and Ophelia have different magic. She is more skilled when it comes to bonds, and you need someone who knows what they’re doing when it comes to this.”
Dante wilts a little at his words, and I know he wants to help, but the river of panic is rushing now, threatening to drown me. If Deacon gets hurt, I won’t even know . I need to be sure Tamesis’ attention is off him and on me. I’ll be his bait. I’ll make sure he can never hurt anyone ever again.
“Call her,” I say, and Lark’s frown is almost imperceptible, but I still add, “Please.”
Dante nods and moves away from us to make the call. I turn my head, looking at Lark again.
“You’re not the same fae I met before, are you?”
He huffs quietly. “No.”
“Who…”
“My brother.” He eyes me for a moment before he adds, “The Huntsman.”
“He saved Moreau.”
“Of course he did.” Lark shakes his head and gets to his feet. He moves behind the counter and fiddles with something I can’t see, and I lever myself up into a sitting position. My head spins, and the pain is ebbing away now, leaving me feeling… strong. Stronger than I have in a long time.
“What’s happening?” I murmur, and Lark’s head shoots up again.
“My blood,” he replies. “You have healed, so what is left of the magic is enhancing you. You saw it before, didn’t you?”
“Lazarus. His eyes flashed gold.” Lucien said the same of Adelaide and Tristan, too. They fed from fae-blessed mages.
Lark hums in agreement. “It’ll wear off by tomorrow,” he says. “Our blood is potent, though if I hadn’t found you when I did, nothing less than a necromancer would have helped you. You were clinging on by a thread.”
“But the bond—”
“Bonds break just before death,” Lark says. “Otherwise your mate would always go with you. Sometimes that happens, of course, particularly in violent cases like your own. And I’ve never known a wolf not to lose part of themselves when their mate dies, but then that is to be expected.”
He speaks about it so dispassionately, but I don’t know if that’s how he really feels. I realise that by moving over to the counter, he’s marginally closer to Dante than he is to me. Dante’s voice is hushed as he whispers into the phone.
If I go back, Deacon won’t be there. And if he’s run off like before, it might take days, even weeks, to find him. He might have left London entirely.
Besides, what was I adding by staying in that flat? I’ve hardly helped since Tamesis’ return. No. I need him to know I’ve survived, that I’m coming for him.
Because I am. I’ll end this. Kieran’s mother might have seen a different outcome, but seers’ visions don’t always come true.
“Ophelia’s on the way,” Dante says, shoving his phone into his pocket. “She told them she’d come pick me up, so we don’t have a ton of time, but Sam’s loath to leave Drew alone, even behind the wards.”
“So he’ll send Ophelia alone instead?”
Dante shrugs. “Works for us, doesn’t it? Besides, she’s getting a taxi here and back again. We’re taking all the precautions we can.”
Lark makes coffee while we wait and sets some sugared, caramel-smelling monstrosity in front of Dante that makes him smile. I’m on edge the entire time. The magic from Lark’s blood buzzes through my veins, and I’m torn between my desire to race through the city until I find Deacon or to reach out and rip Tamesis to pieces.
A soft rap at the door has us all on our feet, though Lark is the one to move towards it. Ophelia pushes past him impatiently, eyes widening when they land on me.
“I know you said he was fine,” she says to Dante, “but I really thought—”
“I am, but I need your help,” I say. We don’t have time for conversation. “I need you to reignite the bond, like we talked about.”
She studies my face for a moment before she nods, jaw set. “Okay. But I want you to remember that this is a terrible idea and that I told you that before we did it. Got it?”
“Yes, I understand.”
I sit back on the sofa again as she approaches. She drops a bag next to her feet and shrugs off her jacket, then tosses it onto a nearby chair.
“How long will this take?” Dante asks.
“Half an hour?” Ophelia shrugs. “Not like I’ve tried it before. It may not work.”
The last sentence is directed at me, and I nod. “Have they found Deacon?”
She shakes her head. “Kieran wanted to go out after him, but since he can’t scent him and we’ve got no proof he’s injured, Chaya told him to go home. She and Orion are out there, though.”
Oh, of that I have no doubt. My wolf is surrounded by the most loyal people.
“Then we have to do this. I need to take Tamesis’ attention from him. He will know Deacon is out there alone.”
Ophelia nods again. The kinship she feels towards Deacon is different to how Kieran views him, I know that, but she was raised in a pack, and that puts Deacon in an important place in her mind. Enough that I think the threat to him may be a large part of the reason she’s here.
“We’re not telling anyone about this, huh?”
“We can worry about the truth when we have the luxury to do so.”
“Okay.” She perches on the low table opposite me and Lark sets a large mug of black coffee next to her hip. The smile she flashes him is brief but grateful before she reaches into her bag and pulls out a well-worn notebook and a dark cloth pouch.
“You prepped this already?” Dante asks.
She flushes but only faintly. “After what happened with Deacon… I know we talked about this after, but it seemed like a last resort worth having. Just in case.”
I nod. “Just in case.”
Before she does anything else, she tosses her phone to Dante. “If Sam calls…”
“You’re in the bathroom. Does he think we’re at the flat?”
“Yep.”
Dante nods. Lark’s taken a seat, and he sits on the arm, watching as Ophelia opens her notebook and consults what she’s written, then digs through the pouch.
“You need to be as relaxed as you can possibly be,” she says, and I take a deep breath. “Hands palm up on your thighs.”
She places a cold stone in one, a bag of herbs in the other. I focus on my breathing. I can’t think beyond this moment. I can’t think about what might happen if I reignite this bond and somehow can never bond with Deacon again.
I can’t think about what might happen if this all ends well, except Deacon doesn’t want me again.
I need him safe. I need him whole.
That’s the only way I can survive.
Ophelia murmurs and consults her notes, and I fancy I feel the spark of her magic when she places her hands over mine. Her eyes go wide for a moment before she presses her palms down. “Lark, you—”
“It was the only way to save him.”
“No, no. It should help.”
Then I do feel something. Ophelia speaks again, voice clear if quiet, and though I don’t understand the words, I feel a spark build in my chest. It feels like when Deacon and I kissed, our bond jerking back to life, and for a moment, I think we have the wrong one.
Ophelia shakes her head. “I’m reopening a bond, which the fae magic is helping with, and using the traces of Tamesis in your death magic to reach out to him again. I don’t know how it’s going to feel when it connects, but don’t be surprised if there’s pain. Do you still want to continue?”
I look into her dark eyes. “Yes.”
“All right, then.” She closes her eyes, and this time she doesn’t speak as she feeds more magic into the weak bond she’s opened. At first, I think nothing is happening, but then pain wracks through me, lighting every nerve on fire, and I hear myself shout, but I’m certain I don’t move.
Something settles in my chest. A bond, pulsing, completely unlike the one that, until a few hours ago, existed between me and Deacon. It’s darker and heavier, and I feel the ominous weight of Tamesis’ presence at the other end.
A feeling reaches me. A questing curiosity. Ophelia’s breath shakes, and I wonder if she can feel it, too.
I push back with everything I can. All my rage, all my grief, all my irritation that Tamesis keeps coming back to ruin my life over and over again.
Amusement reaches me.
Amusement and… surprise.
He pulls back all at once, stretching the bond taut but not destroying it. My phone buzzes against my hip.
I open my eyes. Ophelia takes the stone and bag of herbs out of my hands, then puts them in another bag that she ties tightly. She’s sweating, and she looks even more tired than she did when she got here.
“It worked?” she asks.
I pull my phone from my pocket. I have a text from Tamesis. Just two words.
My warrior.
“It worked,” I confirm, my voice a croak.
“He’ll be able to find you here,” Dante says, but Lark shakes his head.
“He can’t get in if he wants to hurt you. Or any of us. The wards will keep him out.”
“I should—” I glance out the window. I can probably find him now. Track him down and kill him.
But it’s creeping closer to sunrise, and I don’t want to risk burning up before I get to him. Then what would the point be?
“We’ll keep you updated on what we’re doing,” Ophelia says. She drinks her coffee down greedily. “If they find Deacon or not. Kieran’s pissed. I won’t be surprised if he tries to lure Tamesis to Bite tomorrow night.”
“He’ll just—”
“Adam’s gone.” Ophelia shakes her head. “Elle and Njáll too—I know Lucien’s hurting for them—but Sam’s not going to be able to focus until he gets his mate back.”
“That’s the point,” I say. “Tamesis thinks Kieran will kill him. Sam is a formidable ally, one that needs to be removed.”
“Yeah, we know,” Dante says. “But we’ll tell you if that’s what he’s planning. If we don’t do anything tomorrow night, let us know if you need us. We can help.”
I look at them both, already knowing that I won’t get in touch with them if I go after Tamesis alone. I won’t risk them.
“Thank you,” I say. We all know the choice I’ve made.
“You may stay here,” Lark says. “I will not open the café tomorrow anyway.”
I thank him, and Ophelia squeezes my shoulder gently before she and Dante head for the door. When they leave, Lark shows me to a spare room in the flat above the café, assuring me that the curtains—heavy blackout fabric—will keep the light out all day.
“Rest,” he says. “You need it.”
I sit on the narrow bed and rest my chin on my hand, staring at nothing. Although I can’t feel Tamesis’ emotions, his presence remains. I don’t bother to hide my own. Perhaps knowing that I’m there, that I can feel him, will cause him to make a mistake.
It doesn’t much matter. I will stop him, no matter the cost.