Chapter 29
When I slink back into the clubhouse, it’s after four opponents, two black eyes, one broken rib . . . and one unfortunate life lost. That’s the reality of fighting in the rings at the Market Ebon. The price to enter is your life. And the victory is getting to keep it.
My wounds are slow to heal, and I eye the fridge as I enter the common area. The ache in my bones begs me to feed. But the blood in the fridge isn’t what I thirst for and I know it will taste like ash in my mouth. Instead, I make my way down the hall to the left.
I pray that Evangeline is somehow miraculously unattended.
Whether it’s because I’d rather not get shit for my current state or because there’s a pang of jealousy in my chest at the thought that anyone else has spent their night with her, I’m not sure.
I pause just outside her door, lifting my head and inhaling slightly.
The scent of her blood still lingers in the air.
I bare my fangs in response, doing everything I can to keep from tearing through the door.
I roll my shoulders, suppressing the hunger before pushing the door open and walking in.
The overhead light is off, only a soft glow coming from the partially open bathroom.
To my surprise, neither Sterling nor Quinn are here.
Laurel is, though, leaning back in the chair Sterling had occupied earlier.
“Aamon,” she yawns, sitting up straighter and closing a book nestled in her lap. “I hadn’t expected you back so soon. Quinn said you were gone for the night.”
“I was. I had some commitments in the rings I had to fulfill." I'm lying. Andras summons me to the rings as often as possible, but since Evangeline’s arrival, he’s been far more lax with his orders.
Laurel nods, either not recognizing the deceit in my words, or not caring enough to challenge them.
“She’s been stable, no significant change.
I’ve tried to make her as comfortable as possible while I dig for a solution.
” She holds up the book for me to see. There’s a stack of similar looking titles beside her chair as well.
I lean against the desk, elbow propped against the arm at my chest and fingers brushing over my chin. “There’s no known way to treat her?” I ask, already knowing the answer. If there was, Laurel would have done so.
“Not without Angel’s Trumpet, if that’s even what they were using on her.
” She sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Aamon.
All of this is just a stab in the dark at this point.
There’s no manual for this.” She gestures down towards Evangeline’s body in frustration.
“They’ve been suppressing the Arcane inside her for far too long.
It’s a miracle she’s lasted this far. I’m not entirely sure what all they were doing to her .
. . but her body, as well as her aura, are showing significant signs of trauma. ”
I swallow, my muscles flexing responsively. If I ever get ahold of Raziel, I will make him pay for the pain he’s put her through. And between now and then, I will make it my life’s mission to collect a detailed list of his wrongdoings, just to ensure he is properly repaid.
“Do you know what kind she is? How the Arcane has manifested inside her?” I ask. Laurel hadn’t witnessed her as I had. But even so, I’m lost on what she could be. I’ve never seen anyone touched by the Arcane like that before.
Laurel levels a judgemental glare at me, nearly rolling her eyes. “As if you don’t already know.”
I’m taken aback at her accusation. My brows pinch together as I stand a little straighter. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re telling me you can’t feel her power calling to yours? Come now, Aamon. Use that brilliant intuition of yours.”
“You’re saying—she’s—”
Laurel nods, turning her attention back to Evangeline. “Like calls to like.”
A vampire.
It hits me all at once. The reason we’ve been so caught up in her orbit, so drawn to her power.
It’s not just the Arcane that recognized itself in her.
It’s the manifestation, too. Our crew is strong, powerful.
We are about as close knit as crews get inside the Blood Order.
So having her show up, her power, her allure as one of us disrupting the order .
. . it suddenly all makes perfect sense.
She belongs to us, our power calling to hers. But she’s also our opposite. Our enemy. An enigma wrapped in an anomaly wrapped in the strongest manifestation of the Arcane I have ever personally felt.
But it can’t be. “I’ve never seen a vampire like that before, Laurel. Are you sure?”
Laurel sighs, as if frustrated by my distrust. “She’s not fully turned.
Whatever her father was doing to her has kept the Arcane from manifesting fully.
But . . .” She leans forward, peeling back Evangeline’s top lip to reveal two pearly white fangs that I know hadn’t been there previously.
She has my full attention now as I stand, stepping forward and leaning over the end of the bed post to get a better look.
“What the fuck?”
“That’s what I said when I first saw them.
” Laurel chuckles. But then her face turns grim.
“I can’t say for certain how she was able to hide them from us for so long .
. . but there’s records of methods the Watchers used back in the early days of their reign.
The most medieval tactics to conceal features of those touched by the Arcane. ”
“Such as?” I ask, when she fails to continue.
She sighs, letting Evangeline’s lip slip back into place. “Such as filing down fangs till they mirror a mortal’s canines.”
My toes curl, a mind-numbing sensation rippling through my body. “How often would she have had to undergo something like that?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I can stomach the answer.
“Judging by how long it took hers to make an appearance since she’s been away from Raziel?
I’d say at least weekly. It’s likely there were earlier signs that we missed, too, since we weren’t looking for them.
But her body is fragile right now, probably from how hard it’s been fighting the Arcane inside her.
You could turn her fully, you know. If you offer her a blood—”
“No,” I interrupt. I’d already had the same thought, how a bloodbond might override whatever inside her is still fighting to suppress the Arcane. But I won’t do it. I can’t.
“Well we have to figure out something—or a simple hip dislocation will be the least of our worries.”
“Hip dislocation?” I cock my head to the side, trying to understand her meaning.
“That’s what I treated her for when Quinn brought her to my shop in the Market Ebon earlier tonight. Did he not tell you?”
“No.” I purse my lips together, hating the bitter taste of betrayal on my tongue. “He definitely did not.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I told her. As a Watcher she should be stronger than she is, and definitely less destructible. Whatever they were doing to her was poisoning her. The Arcane having lived this long inside of her without being accepted, I fear—”
Laurel trails off, chewing on her bottom lip as she watches the steady rise and fall of Evangeline’s chest.
“You fear what?”
“I fear what the Arcane will mutate into if she continues to suppress it. There’s rumors, you know.” She gives me a sidelong glance before continuing. “Theories about creatures like the ghouls. What they really are.”
“Those are nothing more than old wive's tales,” I say, brushing her off. But I see the fear in her eyes and I feel it echo through me.
A knock at the door interrupts our conversation before Laurel can respond and I turn to find Andras filling the doorframe.
“Mind if I come in.” It’s not a question, and he reiterates as such by entering before I can even reply.
“I’ve come to see our dear, sweet guest. Seems as if she’s fallen under an ill fate? ”
He stops at the foot of her bed, laying a hand on the bed post and tapping his fingers idly. Laurel gathers her things and stands from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave her in your care.” Her head nods my direction and my skin pricks with nerves at the sudden responsibility.
“What if she needs you?” But Laurel waves me off. “Like I said, she’s been stable, and Sterling should be back soon. He just stepped out to feed.” She skirts past me, squeezing my arm in reassurance as she goes. “You’ll be fine. Give yourself more credit.”
But I couldn’t disagree more. Frankly, I’m trusting myself more than I should just by being here right now, with the way my hunger is making my body ache.
With the way it’s taking all my willpower to not lunge at Evangeline and tear into the blood I can hear beating beneath her skin.
Still, Laurel winks at me and continues on, making her way to the door.
Andras reaches out and grabs her hand just as she passes him.
He pulls her in for a long, controlling kiss before letting her go.
“Visit me later, my love,” he commands. She nods, deflecting her gaze as she turns and exits the room.
Sometimes, I feel for Laurel. In many ways we are so similar.
Two outcasts with no home to call our own, taken in under Andras’ wing—puppets for him to control.
Where I fill the role of son, she fills the role of lover. And despite the years of existing side by side, in similar circumstances, I still cannot puzzle out if it is a role she fills willingly or not.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Andras once Laurel closes the door.
“This is my territory, is it not? My clubhouse? I was unaware I needed your permission to visit my guests.” There’s a smug look on his face as he turns to face me, arms folded across his chest.
“That’s not what I meant,” I start to argue, but think better of it. “Is there something you require, Father?”
He smirks, the smallest hint of a laugh on his tongue. “You had quite the night, from what I hear. Four opponents, one ending in death, even?” He quirks a brow my way.