Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter
Twenty-One
The palace in the woods is in a terrible state. Overgrown wisteria and ivy cascade down columns, each pillar riddled with cracks, bursting with moss. And just as I did last night, I run.
I can feel her behind me. Stalking me, then melting into the shadows of the abandoned palace. I run down a wide hallway, the moonlight shining through stained glass and casting grotesque shadows on marble sculptures.
Aliz Astra is at the door, clinging to it, her crimson eyes piercing the midnight dark. A sound catches in my throat, midway between a sob and a gasp. The sharp vines have spread over my skin, moving, cutting through me.
My bare feet ache against the cold marble floor, and I stop beneath a painting of a woman, a vampire with snow-white hair falling in a straight curtain, down past her waist, with nothing more than a thin sheet of fabric covering her.
And although she’s a figure in a painting, frozen in oil and thick brushstrokes, her eyes snap towards mine.
Her red lips part, biting through the canvas.
Paint cracks and crumbles as she reaches through the frame.
She’s covered in blood, and her eyes glow a horrifying electric blue. Every sense in my body tells me to flee. I hear Aliz, too, closer, telling me to wait, telling me she’s thirsty. I run through a glass ballroom and smash the wall, sprinting straight into the hedge maze.
I snap a stick and make a cross. I cry, telling her to stay back.
My feet bleed as I get tangled in thorns.
A dead end, and her hand appears through the hedge, pulling me through.
And just like last time, when I’m in her arms, the pain, the fear, the helplessness, all fade, leaving only her.
Like last time, I kiss her neck, I dig my nails into her skin, wanting her more than anything.
Then her red eyes are on mine, gentle, deadly.
But she doesn’t bite me right away. She takes her time, kissing my neck, pushing me onto the ground, pulling up my nightgown.
Her fingers run over my skin, and she knows exactly how to touch me.
I pull her closer, and I say, Bite me, over and over, as she kisses down my torso.
I feel her tongue, her fingers burying deep inside me. I moan, and again I beg for her fangs.
And she gives me what I ask for, fangs sinking into my inner thigh, curling her fingers up, and—
I wake. My eyes are wet with tears, my heart racing, skin burning.
The feeling of what just happened, everything, still buzzing under my skin. I bury my head beneath my pillow. Tears of frustration wet my cheeks, the unbearable shame at having dreamt of her like that tightening my throat.
My body burns in a way it hasn’t since I became a vampire hunter.
I remain still for another moment. Is she already here? I search my bedsheets for my phone, but I can’t find it. It must have fallen, I think. I reach a hand through the curtains, and when I pull one back, the fabric opens an inch.
I peek out and see her staring right back at me, eyes bright red.
I freeze, still holding the curtain. Her expression is completely blank. She’s sitting eerily still, legs folded, right at the limit of the saltward. A faint blue light shimmers from the ward, preventing her from getting through.
I open the curtain an extra inch, and she breathes in, as though she’s only now aware of the fact that I can see her, too.
“Go to bed,” I say, my voice calm.
“I was waiting for you to wake up.” If it wasn’t for her red eyes, I would assume she was completely fine. But I recognise that expression. Thirst, the sort of thirst that takes over a vampire’s mind completely, has frozen her features in place, like the stillness before a storm. I swallow hard.
“Why?” I ask. The desire that could have made me easy prey has left me entirely, my hunting instincts slowly kicking in.
I might just have to tell her the truth. Show her my weapons so she cowers in fear, hides in her coffin, and waits until the monster leaves her room. My chest aches. She’s looking at me the way the vampires in blood parties look at me. She sees a meal, not a person.
“You were begging me to bite you,” she says, her face calm. Her voice is alluring, trying to pull me in. “I just want to give you what you asked for.”
“Very kind of you,” I say. “But it’s not happening.
” I look across the room. There’s a face mask on the floor.
She must have tried to withstand the scent.
The air freshener lies on the ground, too, along with a can of deodorant.
She must have opened the window, and if the wind had blown just a little harder, it could have scattered the salt.
Based on what she just said, I was talking in my sleep again.
The shame that already clings to me deepens, burning my neck. “Go back to your coffin.”
“One sip,” she pleads. Her red eyes are too bright. I’ve seen this happen to other vampires. Their minds twisted, thirst the only remaining sense, louder than reason. I wish I’d never seen her like this. But I knew this was a possibility.
I take a deep breath and focus.
It’s not my fault that my blood smells the way it does. But her thirst isn’t her fault, either.
I climb off the bed, and I’m not sure if it’s the sudden movement or the deadly look that’s hardened my features, but she snaps back into lucidity, her neutral expression twisting into panic.
“Stay back!” she shouts. Her arms tremble, and I can see her fighting the thirst, not allowing it to take over again.
“No,” I reply, stepping over the saltward. She keeps her eyes tightly shut, her breathing uneven. “You need to get used to this, Aliz.”
“I can’t,” she says, cowering towards her coffin. The danger in her voice is gone. She’s back to the Aliz I know. “You have to take the garlic, I can’t—”
“Well, I can’t risk it,” I say, crouching down in front of her. “Look at me.”
“I swear I won’t bite you.” Her voice is hoarse. “So please—”
“I know you won’t.”
I push her down, and unlike every single other physical interaction I’ve had with her, I don’t hide my strength.
Later, if she asks how I did this, I’ll lie.
I’ll tell her that I wasn’t that strong, that she was weak because she wanted me.
For this to work, for us to survive what’s left of the month, I need her to listen.
“You’re not going to bite me,” I say in a cold voice, the one I use on hunts, keeping her wrists pinned down. “And no matter how much I want it, I won’t ask you for it. Understood?” My dreams may tell me otherwise. But this is reality. I won’t allow myself to be weak.
She holds her breath, eyes squeezed shut. She’s really trying.
“What if I accidentally cut myself?” I ask, leaning closer to her, and Aliz turns her head, tears dampening her white lashes. “What if I fall or get a nosebleed? You wanted my blood before you knew what it smelled like. You know that.”
“But this is a hundred—a thousand times worse!” she cries, struggling against me to no avail.
“I know.”
“No, you fucking don’t,” she says, straining still. “This is torture.”
I swallow, her words searing through me. I should have known she’d react like this. I should have known she’d lose me under the scent of my blood. “Please,” I find myself whispering, and she looks at me, confused. Her eyes widen as she takes in my expression.
“What is it?” she asks, sobering.
My eyes burn. “I need you to see me as a person,” I say, keeping my voice from breaking.
My words probably make no sense to her. “I need this from you, more than anyone, Aliz.” Her eyes are still bright crimson.
Slowly, I draw my hands back from her wrists.
She doesn’t lunge at me. Despite the Familiar’s mark making her want me far more than she should, exacerbating her thirst, she stays in control.
“Of course you’re a person,” she says. She takes my hand, not to pull me down, not to trap me, but simply to squeeze it.
Warmth and salt streak my cheeks. “I’m the monster here, not you,” she says.
“But what if I compel you?” Despite all her struggling, despite saying it’s torture, Aliz has somehow managed to get her eyes back to their normal colour.
“I trust you,” I say in a small voice. I sit up straight, my knees still at either side of her hips. She stares up at me, eyes wide. Shocked.
“You do?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “We’ll survive this, Aliz.” I run a finger across her brow, and she doesn’t try to bite it, taking short and shallow breaths. “Have you had your dinner yet?”
“I couldn’t drink it,” she whispers. “The blood—” She tugs her shirt up, covering her nose. “It tastes sour.”
I shudder. That’s not good.
But before I can panic, an idea forms in my mind.
Not the sort of idea a vampire hunter should have.
But right now, at this moment, Aliz matters more than my principles.
If I tell her, she’ll probably say no. “Why don’t you sit at the window?
” I ask her, and she nods slowly. She seems to be calming down.
I would hug her, but I know it would make things worse. “I have to make a call.”
Nocth answers immediately.
“Dean’s office,” he says, just as he did before.
“It’s Cassie,” I say, hoping he won’t say my real name with Aliz in the room. “I need help. Aliz—”
“Did she bite you?”
Aliz climbs up onto her desk, finally sitting on the window ledge, and I leave the room, standing out in the hallway, wearing just my nightgown and slippers. “No,” I say, and I can’t tell if his sigh is one of disappointment or relief. “Do you care about Aliz’s well-being?” I ask.
“Of course I do,” he says. I look up at the vaulted ceiling, my heart thumping.
“Well, she needs blood.”
Callisto will kill me.
But I can’t think of what else will help her get through this.
“Human blood,” I say.