Chapter 15 #2
I could ask Karson about vampires, but I didn’t want to ask him about witches. No, it was best to remind him as little as possible about what lay in his bed.
My fingers trailed over the hard cases. Most were in remarkably good condition. I took one out—Vampires and Blood Thirst—and opened it carefully, just in case the book took revenge if you weren’t gentle. It was probably the reason they were in such great condition.
The first line started with The thirst for human blood for a vampire is insatiable.
Being surrounded by vampires right now was probably not the best time to read this.
I placed it back on the shelf, pulling out a few more, not finding anything that drew me in.
As my fingers trailed along the books’ edges, they began to tingle on one.
I skittered back and paused. It was a thick brown book.
The Origins of the Vampire. The tingle was warm, pleasant, like touching breeze-ruffled feathers.
I pulled it out and opened it. The first chapter heading read: Church Heights. I settled myself at a table in a dimly lit corner and began to read.
I already knew most of it. A boy discovered the waters with healing properties, and when he went back to the village to tell everyone, his father whipped him for lying.
A powerful warlock believed him though, and years later when the boy was older, the warlock convinced him to reveal where the waters were.
My heart constricted at the next line. The warlock performed a dark magic spell to make those who drank the waters not only heal faster, but immortal.
He did it using a human sacrifice, a young maiden witch—not just any witch, he sacrificed his own sixteen-year-old daughter.
They shackled her, slit her wrists, and while her blood spilled into the water, he along with six other powerful witches chanted the spell.
The spell was completed when he murdered her—slitting her throat and pushing her body into the deep, dark depths of the waters.
Prickles climbed over my arms. The terror and betrayal the poor girl must have felt at the hands of her own father …
I swallowed and my mouth tasted of ash.
Did that mean if the grimoire fell into the wrong hands another human sacrifice would have to be made to make the waters work again? Or was one sacrifice enough?
The more I read, the more I discovered, the worse it got.
Horror stories were scrawled on the pages, of whole villages being slaughtered.
When I turned the page, there was a hand-drawn image so detailed, it looked like a photograph.
Fathers, mothers, children, and babies, their bodies dripping with blood, their limbs floppy, lifeless eyes staring at nothing, stacked on top of each other like bonfire kindling.
I flicked over a page and what I saw—
What I saw was devastating. I closed my eyes, sucking in thin strips of oxygen, sick to my stomach.
A vibration struck me like a blast of arctic air and whipped my head up.
“You’ve got a hell of a nerve,” the white-haired vampire sneered.
I snapped the book closed and set it down, resting my elbows on the table and steepling my hands in front of my chest, ready to throw him, if I could get my palms out in time.
Two young female witches a few tables over looked at us nervously.
I kept my voice steady, leaned back in my chair, and tried to look bored. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Wearing a vampire’s cloak is a disgrace when your kind have slaughtered us for centuries. Where did you get it?” His top lip curled up, revealing a sharp white fang; he was trying to scare me. “Will I find slain vampires down an alley somewhere?”
Did he think witches slaughtered the five that Karson killed, or have more vampires been slain?
“Thank you for complimenting my skills, but if you find dead vampires, I can guarantee you I’m not the cause.”
His nostrils flared as he sniffed me. “Then explain why I can smell vampire blood all over you?”
Blood. Monique must have been wearing the cloak when she—who knew with Monique. “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”
“Listen, you little bitch.” His knuckles whitened as he clenched a chair and leaned closer. “I know what you look like. If I find out you had anything to do with one of our kind being hurt, I will hunt you down and make you wish you had never been born.”
“Original,” I drawled.
“You think you’re—”
“You seem to forget.” I looked up to see one of the young witches had moved and was standing at my shoulder.
Around my age, she was tall with straight brown hair and bangs that hung at the top of her brows.
Her gaze swung around the room pointedly.
“Firstly, you should really consider very carefully if you want to argue in here, and secondly, your kind slayed our kind for centuries, and maybe you were one of those vampires responsible for the murders, but we certainly weren’t responsible for killing any vampires, not in the past or now. ”
“But that could easily be rectified.”
I spun my head back at the sound of her voice. Dahlia stood behind me, dressed head to toe in black, her black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She glared at the vampire with a fierceness that unnerved even me.
“A huntress in a library, who would have thought you could even read.” His eyes flicked briefly between us, but he didn’t wait for her to respond. He turned and walked away.
“Not only can I read, but I can also happily write your obituary, Rohan,” Dahlia replied.
Rohan didn’t turn back; he merely gave her the finger over his shoulder.
The witch on the table clutched a hand over her mouth and giggled. She was younger than the brunette who came over, and her hair was a shade darker, but she had the same thin features, the same straight nose; sisters, if I had to guess.
We all watched Rohan until the room wavered and he disappeared.
“I almost wanted him to keep arguing just to see what his punishment would be.” The brunette smiled.
“I really don’t understand why vampires and witches hate each other so much for what happened years ago.
It’s like putting someone in jail because their long-dead relative committed a crime. It’s dumb.”
She had a fair point. It seemed pretty stupid to me too.
Dahlia rested her hand on a chair. “The problem is what many vampires did in the past didn’t get absolved, given they are still alive today.”
“I guess, but wouldn’t it be much nicer if we could all get along?”
Dahlia looked at her like she’d lost her mind. She folded her arms. “No.”
The brunette’s eyes flared. “Right, well, I’ll just get back to River.” She scurried off before I could thank her for coming over to help.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “Did you follow me?”
Dahlia pulled out a chair and sat beside me. “Not exactly.” I raised my brows and waited for her to go on. “I had a feeling you’d try to come here, and what better time to sneak out than when Karson is resting.”
How did she know Karson was resting? Unless she was involved. With other ears so close by, I bit my tongue. “So, you just sat here and waited for me to turn up?”
She shrugged and picked at her nail. “Something like that.”
“You seriously need to get a life.”
“My duty is my life.”
“That’s sad.”
“Oh, because your life working in a bar, living on your own in the middle of nowhere was so riveting.”
The dig at my job hit harder than it should have. Tom used to tell me all the time to get a career, not to stay in a dead-end job, but unlike him I never knew what I wanted to be. Besides, I enjoyed bar work, mostly. I folded my arms and scowled. “I live with Ethan!”
“Even worse,” she drawled.
I studied her. Her hair was neat, her clothes the usual, but she wore no mascara, as if she gotten dressed in a hurry. As if she had followed me here. “How close are you staying to Karson’s?”
She sat back, draped her arm over the chair beside her, and looked casually around the room. “Where I stay is my business and not one I want any vampire knowing.”
It made sense; she would always have to be on guard. At home was probably the only time she felt safe. I wanted to press her, but not here. Besides, I doubted she’d answer. I opened the book and pretended to scan the pages. “You told me to come here and learn. I can’t learn with you nagging at me.”
“What have you learned?”
“That witches like sacrificing young virgins.”
Dahlia’s brow flickered and she dropped her arm down. She even had the good grace to look uncomfortable, but it didn’t last long, and her expression was sour again. “What else?”
“Nothing.”
“Have you read about The Death Bringer yet?”
At the sound of the name, my stomach churned.
I sighed. “No, not yet. I was rudely interrupted, but if you have something to say, just say it.”
Her tongue pressed against her bottom lip as if debating. “It’s better if it comes from history.”
I glanced at my watch—it was three-thirty a.m. It took me close to forty-five minutes to get here, so I had to leave now in case Karson woke up and discovered me gone or there would be hell to pay. I stood, collecting the book and sliding it back carefully where I got it from. Dahlia followed.
I smiled at the sisters on the way out. The younger one grinned, but the older one looked curiously between Dahlia and me.
The library rippled as we moved through, and the air felt lighter now the pressure on my skin had lifted. The rest of the library appeared empty, aside from a clerk trying hard not to fall asleep at the counter.
We entered the cool night air. The rain had stopped, but the wind whipped down the dark streets, stinging against my eyes.
I shivered and wrapped my arms around my waist. The car was parked two blocks down because there hadn’t been any closer available spots earlier, but now the street was deserted.
“The gift you left me. You need to take it back.”
“Do you have it on you?”
“No. It might come as a shock to you, but I don’t carry knives on me to libraries.”
Dahlia grabbed my arm and hissed, “You should carry a weapon on you at all times. You’re a warrior, one any number of people would gladly slaughter if they knew what you are.”
I gritted my teeth. If it was what I thought it was, then was she involved in hurting Karson? “Is it a bone-ash knife?”
She let go of my arm as we moved past a long, dark alleyway. She looked across the street. “It has a poison in it that will drop them. It sends them into their worst nightmares that some won’t ever escape from.”
I halted, anger and betrayal trembling through me. “Which witch was responsible for the bone-ash blade?”
She looked back at me, no shock on her face; she knew. She shook her head. “I don’t know. I heard about him being injured, but I don’t know who had the blade.”
“The fuck you don’t,” I snapped.
She arched an eyebrow as if offended. “I don’t know. I’m just a fighter, Amy. I do as they tell me. I’m not involved higher up.” She ran her hand through her ponytail and sighed. “And Caron doesn’t know either. It could be any number of people. He has a long list of enemies.”
I felt a change in the air, an electrical charge. A presence. Something colder than the night, stirring the hairs on the back of my neck. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to the building rooftops, and down an alleyway muted by darkness. Wind rattled leaves on the road, making them sound like footsteps.
“Can you feel that?” I asked quietly.
“Yes. Where are they?” she responded, her hand slipping to an invisible blade on her side.
“I don’t know,” I answered, licking my dry lips as my gaze scanned the nooks of buildings. Shadows cast by the sharp edges looked like human shapes.
“Keep walking,” Dahlia urged. Until then, I didn’t realize I’d slowed to almost a stop.
Curled orange-and-brown leaves rushed in front of my feet. Swirling, tapping on the pavement. Tick, tick. I had the sudden violent urge to run. “Where’s your ca—”
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” The voice from behind was both deep and chilling. I grew colder than ice, not at the voice, but at the six figures surrounding us.