Chapter 16
Severin
I USED TO ENJOY MY weekends. Now, they’re excruciating. Because now, all I can think about is her, and none of my outlets give me any semblance of relief.
I’m working on the botany grimoire, with my tools spread out on the table around me. I’ve already cleaned it and separated the pages that were stuck together, and now I’m focused on restitching the binding, which has come loose over the grimoire’s long life.
The new cord is waxy in my fingers, and I narrow my eyes as I weave it through the leather with slow, intentional movements. I don’t want to damage the original material, so I’m reusing the holes left by the previous stitching.
But as I press the needle through the leather, I notice a slight tremble in my fingers—so subtle it would go unnoticed by anyone else, but obvious to me. And as soon as I take note of it, my thirst, which I’ve only barely been keeping at bay these last weeks, creeps up to demand my attention.
I’m over three centuries old, and I can’t recall the last time I was so ravenous for blood. Perhaps when I was young and first coming into my fangs, but that was so long ago now, it’s somewhat difficult to piece together the memories.
I gently tug the cord through the binding, then set the needle down and push to my feet. I won’t be able to do this level of careful work if my fingers won’t hold steady.
Crossing my small apartment, I open the cupboard in my kitchen, where I keep my store of blood. Six bottles stare back at me, the glass tinted amber, making it difficult to see into them. I lift one, only to find it empty. Then I lift another, and another.
Gritting my teeth, I reach for the last glass bottle. In my fingers, it’s cool and lightweight. Empty.
I’m out of blood.
Fuck.
I never let my stores run out. This is just one more thing I’m struggling to keep control of. It’s like my mind is so full with the storm witch that there isn’t room for anything else—and it’s maddening.
Slowly, I set the empty bottle down, then pull the others out of the cupboard and line them up on the countertop.
I walk back into my sitting room, where I retrieve the carrying case from under my desk.
Inside, it’s lined in rich velvet, with six compartments made to perfectly fit the glass bottles so they won’t clink or roll around during transport.
With each empty bottle I slip into the case, I think of Maeve.
Of her eyes. Her mouth. The smell of her skin.
And by the time I flip the latches on the case and grab my cloak, I’m starving. But not for anything the blood bank will be able to provide.
I’m hungry for the one thing I won’t allow myself to have.
And that’s her.
“WELCOME TO THE CRIMSON CASK!” a cheerful voice calls out as I step into the blood bank.
My eyes take a moment to adjust from the bright autumnal sunlight outside to the dim light coming through the building’s red glass windows.
As an establishment that primarily serves vampires, they keep the light low, and gentle music plays from a gramophone in the corner, somewhat soothing my frayed nerves.
“Oh, Professor D’Arques,” the woman says as I step up to the front desk. “I feel like we’re seeing a lot of each other lately.” She grins, revealing the tips of her fangs. “The students keeping you on your toes?”
I lift my carrying case and set it onto the front desk. “You could say that. And please, call me Severin.” I’ve told her this a number of times, but she never heeds me.
The woman, Arella, takes the case and tips her head at me. “I like the sound of Professor D’Arques better. It’s sexy, you know.” She winks one bright red eye at me.
My eyes haven’t been that color in a long time. Vampires’ eyes only go red when we’ve recently fed from a live vein. For years, mine have remained dark. And for years, I was okay with that.
Now, though, it makes me clench one of my hands into a fist.
“We have a special flavor this month,” Arella tells me. “Pumpkin spice. It’s delicious. Would you like to try it?”
It takes all my control to keep my lip from curling up in disgust. “Pumpkin . . . spice?”
Arella nods eagerly. “To celebrate the season.”
I swallow hard and try not to grit my teeth. “No, thank you. Just the usual.”
“You sure?” she presses, tipping her head at me.
“Quite. Thank you, Arella.”
“All right, Professor. It’ll just be a moment.” She disappears through a door into a back room, and I take a seat in a plush crimson armchair.
Pumpkin spice. How repulsive. Is that what young vampires are drinking these days?
I flick a fluff of lint from my slacks, trying to control the anger rising inside me.
Blood is sacred. Intimate. Flavoring it for the season feels . . . obscene.
Not for the first—or even the hundredth—time, I wonder what Maeve’s blood might taste like. Ozone? Summer storms? The thought makes my fangs ache and my stomach tight. One finger starts tapping out a rhythm on my knee. I hope Arella hurries up. I need that blood. Now.
A few minutes later, Arella emerges from the back room. “All right, Professor, got you refilled.”
I’m on my feet in a moment, already pulling out the eldertokens to pay her. I slide the coins across the desk, and she hands me my carrying case—it’s much heavier now, and the weight of it comforts some of my strain.
“Thank you,” I say, starting to back away from the desk.
“Oh, I meant to tell you, we’re hosting a party for Samhain this year. It’ll be at Gild, if you want to come.” Arella pops a hip and smiles at me. “It’ll be some good old-fashioned debauchery. I’d love to see you there.”
She blinks her red eyes slowly, and I don’t miss the way her gaze darts to my mouth.
“I’ll consider it,” I say. “Good day, Arella.”
She wiggles her fingers as I start to turn. “Bye, Professor.”
The way she says it reminds me of Maeve. Everything reminds me of Maeve.
I push through the door and flinch against the bright golden sunlight. It takes a moment for my eyes to readjust yet again, and with my thirst scratching at my throat, the discomfort makes me even more irritable. I need to get back to the academy so I can quench my thirst in peace.
But is there peace for me anymore? With Maeve lurking in every corner of my mind, I’m not so sure.
As I start to walk, I think of Arella’s invitation. Maybe I’ll take her up on that offer. A distraction might be just what I need.