Chapter 8 #2
One of the witches pointed to the itchy scabs on my neck—the ones that Mama’s choker had cut into my skin—and muttered something to the other. “We can have Granny prepare a poultice for those wounds to prevent infection, Miss.”
“No!” I replied too loudly, wary of anything they might give me. But the strange looks I was receiving from my vampire companions forced me to clarify. I lifted my hand to the choker, playing my part. “No more dabbling in magick, I meant to say. I’ve learned my lesson. I can heal on my own.”
Bastien covered my hand with his, his fingers curling around my palm, and gave me an encouraging squeeze.
I stared at the place where our hands were joined, unmoving.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t apologize, or tell me I was being irrational.
He just touched me. His presence warmed my entire body, despite the temperature of his skin.
It was strange having this vampire comfort me when I was scared.
No one did that for me. No one but Sera.
I reminded myself that he wasn’t doing it for my benefit but out of self-interest. He was hungry. Above all else, I had to keep that in perspective. He was using me just as much as I was using him.
“A poultice isn’t magick, Miss,” the witch tried to clarify. “Just a bundle of garden herbs steeped in Gran’s special tea.”
Gran’s special tea, indeed.
At least she still had her Gran. Mine had been killed by one of them: a dark spell fired directly at her chest, turning her heart to graveworms. Bastien dragged his thumb across the back of my wrist in a slow, soothing motion.
I drew in a steadying breath, and refocused on my mission. Not the comfort his touch elicited.
I didn’t believe the witch for a second.
She was just saving face in front of the Duke.
All my coven’s healing magick was born from the power in their blood and the gift of Diana’s blessing from the moon, like when Sera performed the pain relief spell.
I didn’t want to be infected with whatever demonic magick they infused into their healing salves.
But just because I took it didn’t mean I’d have to use it. I swallowed my fear and my malice and offered the girl a smile that I hoped looked more like a snarl. “In that case, any help would be very welcome.”
She curtsied and hurried off. My grin flattened as soon as her back was turned. The words were sandpaper on my tongue. Asking a Dark Witch for help, even if I didn’t intend to use it, went against everything I’d ever been taught.
Bastien removed his hand from mine once they were gone, and I quickly placed mine in my lap.
He went back to ignoring me, conversing with Natalia in their language.
Even though I didn’t understand Sanguisi, I could tell by the way they were talking and shooting glances at the boisterous red-haired woman with the ladle that it was about her.
What did he call the witch? Shreesa? Yes. That was it.
I didn’t let my attention linger on her.
Instead, I decided to take in my surroundings.
To the right was a set of stairs across the dining room, and to the left, a door that likely went to a kitchen.
Other than the floating lanterns, there was little in the way of magick happening out here.
The stuffed crows, bats, owls, and elk adorning the walls were a strange decor choice, but seemed harmless.
I spied several smaller buildings through the grimy window, all with orange light glowing from their windows.
I wondered if that was where they hid their relics and did their dark witchery.
From everything Sera told me, the Dark Witches concealed the relics in unlikely places, guarded with protection spells and traps.
Without magick, I couldn’t hunt for them and undo the spells, but I was very good at being invisible. After years of being turned away from countless coven meetings, my curiosity demanded I learn to be silent. I’d gotten so good at it that my grandmother had called me the Ghost of Prideaux Hill.
A sudden rush of sadness made my throat constrict.
Now, she was the ghost. It was easier to be angry than afraid.
And I was very angry with these agents of darkness.
I sat silent for a time, alone, even in a room filled with people, allowing the web of thoughts in my head time to untangle.
I was jolted back to the present when Bastien’s cool breath grazed my temple, his lips so close to the shell of my ear.
I pressed mine together and closed my eyes to keep from gasping.
Each one of his slow exhales against my skin did something to me I couldn’t explain.
It was the same reaction I had the night of the ball.
A warm pull of desire inside my core that curled its fingers around some primal need.
He hadn’t even touched me, but the soft place between my thighs reacted as if he had.
A buzz of anticipation had me squeezing them together.
I had to do something to stop my body’s reaction to him.
“Eat,” he commanded.
The word a whisper against my skin. A slow wave of desire rolled through me, sending heat into my cheeks.
I ran my tongue across my lips and straightened. I had to be stronger than this. I had to be the spy I swore I’d be. Not a simpering girl.
After cleansing my hands with one of the hot towels, I picked up my fork, lowering it to a piece of meat.
Pretending it was a red-haired witch when I stabbed it.
“Did my sister make it out of the capital okay?” I asked Natalia, while trying to convince myself to put what the witches claimed was rabbit into my mouth.
The vampire took a sip of her wine. Her clever eyes dragged from Bastien to me.
I noticed that while she drank, he abstained; his glass was untouched.
“Absolutely,” she said, twisting the long stem between her fingers.
“I packed her inside a coach myself. She’s likely nearing Nightfall now.
” Her attention returned to Bastien. “If they rode as hard as we did.”
I didn’t miss the annoyed tone in her voice. And apparently, neither did Bastien.
“The harder we ride, the faster we return home. And for that, I will not apologize.”
Natalia scoffed. “Just because I agree with you doesn’t mean I like it.” She drained the last of her thick red wine and set the glass down on the table. “If you’ll excuse me, Uncle, I’m going to have my dinner.” Glancing at me, she added, “You should do the same.”
My hand stilled. I swallowed hard. Yes. Of course. His dinner.
“This conversation isn’t over. Don’t forget.”
Natalia glanced over her shoulder at Shreesa. “I never forget, Your Grace. It’s why you despise my counsel so.”
He gave an irritated grunt. “Go. Eat. We’ll speak later.”
She disappeared without another word. Once she was gone, the Duke sighed, rubbing his temples before lowering his forearms to the table.
I slid a forkful of food into my mouth. The meat was well-seasoned and juicy. Spite was the only thing keeping me from moaning. I chewed slowly, savoring the flavor, as I tried to understand what hadn’t been said between the two of them.
I’d been kept out of enough conversations to read between the lines.
And I could tell that Bastien and Natalia had been arguing, likely about the witch, Shreesa, and they were going to meet up later to discuss it further.
I speared another bite of meat and shoved it into my mouth.
That seemed like a conversation I wanted to observe.
If Bastien thought I was going to stand meekly by his side while he plotted with Natalia, he had another thing coming. Tonight, the Ghost of Prideaux Hill was going to haunt a new locale.