Chapter Two
Leonora
“Hi,” I said cautiously as the heavy wood door swung open. Yesterday was only the most recent time that Hayes had tracked me down. I wasn’t sure if it had been his words, mentioning Emerson and Novalie, or if I’d grown tired of aimlessly wandering—or running, as Hayes would have said—but he’d gotten inside my head.
I’d needed time to myself, to digest or sulk or both. And yes, it made me a shitty friend and an even shittier… whatever Hayes and I were. Especially because it wasn’t until I’d shown up back at Ashvale that I’d discovered Hayes wasn’t here either—hadn’t been for at least as long as me.
Novalie blinked at me, eyes widening and then narrowing as she stood in the centre of the doorway. “Hi? Hi? Where the hell have you been?”
I shrugged. “Looking for answers.” It sounded like a better answer than what I'd actually been doing—getting blood drunk, wallowing, and hunting.
“And did you find them?” Novalie folded her arms across her chest and I could hear her heart beating unsteadily even as a muscle in her jaw flexed.
“Not really.” We stared at each other for a beat more before I sighed. “Are you going to let me in?”
“No.”
I stiffened, anger washing through me. That seemed to be my standard setting nowadays, angry, ready to snap—or bite—at a moment's notice. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Novalie lifted her chin defiantly, cocking one hip out as she swept her dark fringe out of her eyes.
“God, put your dicks away already.” A peculiar warmth spread through my chest at the sound of that voice—Emerson. It was as close to belonging as I'd ever felt. Novalie reluctantly stepped to one side as Emerson appeared over her shoulder. “I think what Novalie meant to say is that we've missed you and we're glad you're home.”
“Of course,” Novalie said, smiling sweetly even as she managed to make the two words sound like fuck off and die . “You staying? Or just passing through?”
“That'll depend on how much you piss me off,” I said with just as much sugar as her and Novalie finally relaxed.
“Fine, come in. But you better have brought presents and answers.”
“Presents?” Emerson raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow as I walked into the room, choosing to ignore Novalie's request for now.
“When someone goes on holiday, they're supposed to bring their friends back a present.” Novalie closed her door and immediately flopped onto her bed, the covers were rumpled like they'd been beneath the duvet before I arrived. “Shitty little bracelet or a stick of rock.”
“I'm not sure I'd call a murder spree a holiday,” Emerson pointed out.
“I didn't murder anyone.” I stopped in front of Novalie's desk chair and paused to think about it. “Well, not anyone who didn't deserve it anyway.”
“So... Did Rowan deserve it?” Emerson shushed Novalie behind me, like I was a wild animal that could snap with just the wrong word. They weren't far off, most of the time, but I tried to channel my anger into constructive energy. Sure, I'd had my fun with some humans, but I hadn't killed any of them—only the men at the back of the bar who couldn't take no for an answer.
“Yes,” I said and the room fell silent.
“Yes?”
“Yes, Rowan deserved it.” The air stirred and I knew Emerson was holding Novalie back.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?—”
Relief was dizzying as I turned and stepped into her personal space, peering into her eyes and nodding. "You didn't know."
Novalie jerked away from Emerson, the movement sharp, but the other girl didn't seem to mind. “Know what? That you’re a murderous bitch?”
“That he was the one who murdered me.” The tension eased like a knife had cut through the fear in the room, the anger. Clearly, Hayes hadn’t filled them in on anything after I’d taken off. On the one hand, their authentic reactions soothed my worry that they were just more people keeping secrets from me. On the other, Hayes had swanned off and let our friends think I was an unhinged murderer.
“Oh.”
“Motherfucker,” Emerson growled and I was surprised when she was the one who started for the door, her long legs eating up the space quickly. “ Motherfucker .”
“Emerson—” I began, eyes wide as I looked at Novalie and then started toward my fledgling, but Novalie beat me to it, zipping towards the door quickly and blocking Em’s way. The shudder that wracked Em was my cue to intervene though, lest Novalie had her throat ripped out. “Where are you going?”
Her eyes found mine, wild with hunger and rage, the echo of the same betrayal I'd been battling and I knew it was because of the connection we shared. Some kind of loyalty between fledgling and creator. “To finish what you started.”
“He's here?” I said, calmly, the world slowing until it felt like I was underwater. “He’s alive?”
“He's in a coma,” Novalie said, shaking her head and watching Em out of the corner of her eye. “He hasn't woken up yet.”
Yet . Breathing was a reflex, hard to shake, but in that moment I held my breath, unsettled by the idea of being in the same space as him, sharing the air as if he hadn't torn my life away. “Do they think he will?”
Novalie shrugged and Emerson cracked her neck to one side as she breathed out shakily, the flash of rage starting to settle. I understood, we all did, becoming an undead vampire was hard enough when you were prepared and trained for it. Emerson hadn't had that luxury. Neither had I.
“They're not sure. You know transformations without the heart...”
I nodded jerkily, not really needing the reminder. I'd known what I was doing when I'd gone after to Rowan and found him waiting, like he'd known all along that I'd be coming for him. I didn't need excuses or more explanations. They wouldn't give me my life back. No, what I'd needed was to feel the heat of his blood on my hands, the fragility of his heart in my palms.
I’d seen first-hand what happened when a living vampire lost their heart, thanks to Elowen’s experiment before I’d left. Most vampires didn’t survive it. The change could heal almost any wound, though the greater the injury, the longer the transition took. Most living vampires didn’t have the strength to even begin the transformation and instead found true death. The fact that Rowan was still hanging on, two months down the line…
“Sorry,” Emerson said sheepishly, bringing me back out of my head and into the room. “Still trying to keep my emotions in check.”
“It gets easier,” I murmured and sat down heavily in the chair I'd vacated, leaving Novalie to comfort Em further. “I'm sorry I left. I needed to clear my head and I wasn’t sure how much you both knew.” Had to get away from this place and the lies that filled every dark corner.
Novalie looked up, a frown pulling at her mouth. “I get why you left, now that you’ve bothered to explain it,” she said, the bite in her voice softened by the worry in her eyes. “I would have, too. I'm just pissed you didn't bring us with you.”
I swallowed, her words making my skin feel tight as I looked away and up at the high ceiling of her room. As a vampire, deciphering my feelings rather than letting impulses dictate my reactions was tough, but even I could recognize the mix of emotions now: surprise and gratitude. “I promise I won't leave you behind again.”
Emerson grinned from her place on the bed next to Novalie, her dark skin glowing with some kind of inner light borne of confidence. “We know.”
I'd only been gone for a couple of months, and yet Ashvale already felt alien to me when I’d walked through its gates. Its familiarity was strange, like the mould was the same but I no longer fit. Classes still went on as usual, living vampires still milled about the halls, but Elowen was nowhere to be found. Instead, Adrian had appointed some other, relatively young, undead vampire to run the castle. I hadn't recognised her, and she hadn't tried to stop me from entering, so really all we could hope for was that she didn't have the same penchant for murder that Elowen did.
Being back here was odd in the obvious absences, too. Hayes was like an open wound at my side, festering, and it seemed like I could step into the library and find Rowan among the stacks at any moment. I had tried not to think about them, and about Elowen, while I'd been away. Had used the blood as a distraction. But there was only so much avoidance I could really manage. It was time to face the music—or, more accurately, the screams.
“How has everything been here since...”
Emerson glanced at Novalie before deciding to answer me. “Fine. Business as usual.”
“Takes more than a few murders to worry this lot,” Novalie said, rolling her eyes and I nodded absently, wondering if my room was still how I'd left it, whether the sheets would still smell like Hayes.
“And the ball? Did you receive any invitations?” I hadn't. Elowen had made herself very clear on where she stood in terms of our familial bonds. I was a disappointment to her, which was fair enough considering what a colossal disappointment she'd been to me. From what I'd understood, it was rare for other houses to offer a claiming to someone not of the bloodline, so neither Emerson nor I would have been expecting someone to reach out, but Novalie knew who her family was. And yet, her face dropped when I mentioned the debut ball and its aftermath.
She brushed her blunt, dark hair out of her face and shook her head, silent.
“I see,” I said softly and Emerson shot me a look. But I wasn’t about to apologise for them. If they couldn’t see what they were missing with Novalie, that was their loss. The kernels of an idea started ticking away in the back of my head and I tucked it away, knowing who the next person I needed to speak to was going to be. “Their loss is our gain.”
Novalie blew out a breath, more than a hint of colour finding her cheeks. “This year had one of the highest claiming rates of any other.”
I glanced at Emerson and she grimaced, her expression telling me I’d missed a lot. I needed to make up for that, starting now. But what could I really say? She was clearly upset about her family and I didn’t think it would be helpful to tell her not to care, but I also didn’t want to give her false hope either. “Have they contacted you at all?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s fine though. I guess I just wasn’t good enough for them.” Novalie laughed, a sharp sound that cut right through me. “I don’t know what else I was expecting from a family that could send their five-year-old out into the world for some bullshit test.” She started to pace and I stayed seated, just letting her talk it out. “Plenty of people cheat the system, you know. Some of them ignore it altogether, others wipe their kid’s memory and keep them at home which sounds like a shitty compromise to me but what do I know? I’m just the kid they didn’t want.” Her breaths rose and fell until they started to sound like sobs and I stood, meeting Emerson’s eyes behind Novalie’s back as we closed in around her.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into my chest and I could smell her tears as they dripped onto my T-shirt.
“Don’t be,” I murmured, and we stayed like that until her breaths started to become more even. The bed was only a few paces away and we manoeuvred Novalie onto it as her eyes slipped closed, like the weight of the world had been resting on her and she’d finally let it all fall down.
Emerson kept her position next to Novalie, propping the other girl’s head onto her shoulder, and Novalie didn’t stir when I stood up.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” I spoke so quietly that only the ears of the undead could catch my words, and Emerson gave a nod.
“She needed you. We both did. Rowan was our friend, too.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat with difficulty. They had the right to be upset with me—hell, I was upset with me. But I also didn’t think there was much else I could have done in that situation. Rowan needed to die, the instincts that drove me as a member of the undead would have allowed nothing less. “I'll check in on you guys later, okay?”
“Sure,” Novalie mumbled without opening her eyes and Emerson frowned, sending a spear of guilt lancing through me.
“I'm going to check out my room,” I explained, wanting her to stop with the judgy eyes and was relieved when she did. It was true, I did want to see if my room remained undisturbed after my abrupt departure. But I also needed to see a certain mage I'd been hoping to avoid for a little longer after our last encounter.
I sighed as I left Novalie's room and moved through the quiet, echoing corridor in the direction of my own. I couldn't avoid Rowan forever, but my wounds ran deep and I worried that whatever I was feeling would rise to the surface when I saw him. Whether that would be guilt or rage, I couldn't say. The thought of him waking up, rising as an undead, was equally overwhelming. It was rare, so rare that death was almost always a foregone conclusion in cases where the heart was removed pre-change. But if someone was going to defy the odds, it made sense that it would be Rowan.
I pushed the thought down. I’d just have to deal with that possibility if and when it ever happened. Seeing Cal on the other hand… I wasn't exactly happy with him, and we were a long way off father-daughter bonding, but my anger towards him had cooled significantly. He hadn't really lied to me, so much as ignored the possibility of the truth. Out of my two parents, only one had actively tried to murder me and it wasn't him. I snorted as I passed a familiar window looking out over the grounds where a class was ongoing—looked like an outdoor feeding session. It seemed ridiculous that the bar for parent of the year could be so low, but that was where we were at.
I'd said things to him that I mostly regretted now that my temper had cooled and the urge to drown myself in blood was no longer my sole focus. He’d been concerned, rightly so, but he’d crossed the line into parental and that… Well, it had infuriated me. In an effort not to murder him, I’d instead knocked him unconscious and taken my anger out on the bar. I wasn’t sure if he’d been caught with paying for the property damage when he’d woken up, but if he had then I supposed he could consider it back-pay for nineteen years without a father.
Impatient and wanting to escape my thoughts, I used my enhanced speed to close the distance between me and my room. Luckily, most people seemed to be in class so I didn't have to deal with any more gawking than I had on my way into Ashvale. Clearly, vampires liked to gossip just as much as anyone else and it made sense that they’d been so wary if everyone thought I’d killed Rowan just for the fun of it.
The door was warm under my palm, like it had been basking in the sun while I was away, and it swung open soundlessly. It looked unchanged inside, a few clothes crumpled on the floor and my sheets pushed back where I had climbed out of bed, before I’d found Rowan in the woods.
I hadn't bothered coming back for anything before I’d left, had simply used thrall to take what I’d needed in the moment. The scents in the room were layered, the faded spice of Rowan and the sweet florals of Novalie and Emerson. My scent was there too, equally faded, and so was Hayes’. Except his smell was fresher, like he'd been here more recently.
I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply as I tried to separate out the tangled threads of scents. He had definitely been here sometime within the past week. Looking for me? Or just...? The ache inside me that never disappeared when I was without him flared strongly. The bond.
Maybe being here, surrounded by the feel of me, eased the pain for him somewhat. The only thing that helped me was the blood, and I couldn't feed forever. I shuddered, breathing out sharply to clear the taste of him from my mouth.
He would be back, eventually. What he was doing was anybody's guess and I supposed I didn't really have the right to criticise, considering I'd run off without any explanation to him. The bed dipped as I sat down on one side, hesitantly bringing my face closer to the pillows before clenching my jaw and pulling away.
I didn't want to miss him. I hated that his scent gave me comfort and that I could still feel his touch on my skin from our encounter at the bar. I threw the pillow at the wall and it thudded satisfyingly, a few stray feathers leaking out to float gently down to the ground.
This was part of the reason why I'd left in the first place. It wasn't just Rowan or Elowen, it was this fucking place. Everything in here was a reminder of what I'd lost, and what I'd thought I'd gained. My feet moved rhythmically against the floor as I paced up and down, thoughts churning in a way that would have made me feel sick if I still ate food.
Something caught my eye as I passed by the desk for the umpteenth time and I paused, my eyes falling on the blood red envelope. When had it been delivered? I hadn't noticed the scent of a messenger in my room, unless it was someone I already knew. Was this from Hayes? He didn't really strike me as the letter-writing type, but I clearly didn't know him as well as I'd thought.
I slid one finger under the flap of the envelope carefully, tugging to rip it at a clean angle. The smell that hit me made me certain that whoever this was, it wasn't from Hayes. The paper smelled old, like walking into a library full of dust and tomes long since forgotten. It made me think of Rowan, of nights studying with him between the stacks. The paper crumpled in my fist and I blew out a breath I no longer needed before smoothing the red paper out again.
The parchment inside was slightly yellowed and the ink was red. I brought it closer to my face and sniffed before recoiling. Blood. Whoever had written this was old fashioned, for sure. Probably powerful to boot. I traced the elegant cursive with a fingertip, eyebrows rising as I quickly scanned the words.
Dear Miss Romilly,
Your presence is humbly requested in our most prestigious court at the behest of one Adrian Curio, our esteemed head of the Vampyr Council. Your testimony will prove crucial in our investigation into the late events at Ashvale and our council member, Elowen.
The trial will commence promptly at sundown in the final week of October. Your timely presence is appreciated.
In blood and oath,
The Vampyr Council
It was a summons. The vampire council was putting Elowen on trial—despite the fact she had vanished from Ashvale and was nowhere to be found. It was hard to take a letter like this seriously when it was full of the pomp and bluster that I found so grating about vampire culture.
Adrian had been here at Ashvale, he knew just as well as me what had gone on, and yet I'd been summoned to give testimony anyway. It wasn't worded as a request, and maybe it would be interesting to go to the court, who knew what I could learn? My thoughts flashed back to Hayes and the heritage I could only guess at before I reigned my thoughts back in.
At the very least, a trip to court would mean that I had a legitimate reason to get out of Ashvale, and that alone sold the trip to me.
I promise I won't leave you behind again .
I supposed this would give me a chance to make good on my vow to Emerson and Novalie, too. But first, I needed to talk to a mage.