Chapter 20 – Lily #2
“No, it wasn’t. I haven’t had a cigarette in many years, and the taste was quite nostalgic.
” He smiles and kisses my wrist before letting it fall.
His expression shifts from playful to something much more serious.
“Some of my kind use human blood not just for sustenance, but to get high. When someone’s been using drugs, their blood carries those substances—and for vampires, it’s intoxicating. ”
My stomach turns. “So they target addicts?”
“Worse. Often they create them.” His voice hardens. “They’re called bleeders—humans who get pumped full of different drugs, then drained regularly. Some do it willingly for money, but others aren’t so lucky…” He trails off, but I can fill in the blanks.
“That’s disgusting.” I shiver. The word bleeder is so callous, so inhumane, and something about the way Cass says it, so casually, jars me.
I pull the covers up higher as an intrusive memory hits. “I…I think I saw one the other day. A young woman, I mean. Back at the hospital. Skinny thing, covered in bruises, low blood count. She was talking about some people who were after her. She’s the one with the same tattoo as my mom.”
“A tattoo usually signifies ownership,” he says quietly. “Like a cattle brand. It shows other vamps that a chattel, a blood donor slave, is off limits to others. I don’t know why your mother would have such a thing, but it’s never a good sign.”
“Right,” I mumble.
I want to tell him about what I learned from Pat.
That my mom was a medium, who definitely did run with, and likely pissed off, the criminal vampires he associates with, but the words stick in my gullet.
I can’t bring myself to say them, not yet.
We have to find Megan. She’ll be able to tell me more. I just know it.
“Okay”, I say, straightening up. “So, what? You need me to come with you? Listen in to what they’re thinking? Find clues? That kind of thing?”
“Exactly,” he says.
“Done.”
“Easy, now,” he says with a proud smile.
“First, we’ll need a practice run. The Jackalope is perfect because it’ll be packed with vamps, but it’s way more casual than the club.
Less dangerous. It’s a chance for you to listen to more than just me.
It’ll be intense, but it’s better for you to be prepared. ”
“Then we go to this club?”
“That’s the plan.” He hesitates. “I just need to work on getting us in. This place is strictly invite-only.” His expression sobers. “I won’t lie to you—there are risks. But I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promise.”
He strokes my face, and I pull back slightly, my stomach clenching. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” My tone is harsher than I intended, and I see the confusion flicker across his face. I take a breath, trying to soften my voice. “I’m sorry, it’s just…that word is hard for me.”
He drops his hand from my face, giving me space. “Promise?”
“My mom used to make promises all the time. ‘I promise I’ll get clean.’ ‘I promise this is the last time we move.’ ‘I promise things will be different.’” I wrap my arms around myself.
“She meant them when she said them, I think. But she broke every single one. After a while, promises just started to sound like…lies with good intentions.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes. “I see.”
“I know you mean it,” I say quickly. “And I know you’re not her. But could you maybe just…say you’ll do your best? That feels more honest.”
He nods slowly. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe, Lily. That’s not a promise—that’s just who I am when it comes to you.” He glances toward the window, where the first hints of dawn are starting to creep across the sky. “I should go soon.”
“Where do you go when you leave?” I ask, suddenly curious. “Do you have an apartment somewhere?”
He’s quiet for a moment, then: “I have a place, but lately, I’ve been sleeping in the ground.”
“Good one,” I say with a chuckle.
When he doesn’t laugh, I realize he’s serious.
“We belong to the earth.” He meets my eyes, something bashful flashing in them. “The first night we met, after I took you home from the tattoo shop, I slept in the dirt across the street. I wanted to stay close, to make sure you were safe.”
The confession makes my chest tight. “You watched over me?”
“I couldn’t see you, but yes. I listened to your heartbeat all night. It was the most peaceful I’d felt in decades.”
I reach out to cup his face, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his voice and kiss him. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me onto his lap, kissing me deeply as his fingers rake up the back of my neck and through my hair.
“I’ll be back later to pick you up,” he murmurs against my lips. “Try to get some rest.”
It must be around lunchtime when I finally wake. The warmth of the midday sun filters through the blinds and warms my skin. I gradually peel back my satin eye mask and let the light eke in, yawning and stretching as I take in the day.
Something catches my eye on my bedside table, a scrap of paper with torn edges balanced on a stack of books. I hold it up to the light and study a rough pencil sketch of me sleeping. My naked body draped in a sheet like a Renaissance painting, and a note that reads, “See you tonight x.”
I run my fingers along the edges and smile to myself imagining him watching me sleep, rapidly committing each detail to paper in the quiet moments before dawn.
As the light streams through the kitchen windows, I pour myself a coffee, idly stirring it as I mentally go through every possible outfit in my closet.
What am I supposed to wear to a vampire bar?
I doubt blue jeans will cut it, so I settle on the burgundy Balmain dress Kate bought me as a gift last year.
The one that cost so much the tag nearly gave me a heart attack.
“You need a sex dress,” she’d said simply as she handed over her platinum AMEX like it was nothing. “Something you can squeeze into with a pair of fuck-me heels. Something that makes you feel absolutely fabulous.”
It’s been gathering dust in the back of my closet ever since.
I should also probably admit that the nerves I’m feeling aren’t just about the clothes or having a first date with a guy I actually like.
No, I’m worried that my burgeoning supernatural power isn’t up to where it needs to be and I’ll let Cass down, or worse, get us in serious danger with some very bad people.
I settle into the couch and out of the corner of my eye, I catch the candles and salt on the coffee table and toy with the idea of doing a practice session in the void, just to dial into hearing multiple voices.
Cass said he’d look out for me, but a little extra preparation couldn’t hurt, right?
I light the candles, even though I know I can access that place much easier now, and say the incantation. This time I close my eyes and let the window open more. Allowing more chatter in. The babble from the chorus of the dead, all battling for my focus, clamoring and desperate for my attention.
My breath slows, and I let them flood me, one by one at first, then all at once as I practice picking through the snippets and chasing the threads.
It’s good practice for tonight, and I think I’m finally starting to get the hang of it.
The more I search and fight, the harder it is to stay on top of it.
If I want this to work, I need to relax and let it happen, let the voices from the void find me.
Stop trying to control everything and just ride the waves.
“Reba gets everything, even the car.”
“The cat’s medicine is on top of the fridge.”
“I hid the money in the—”
“Liliput.”
The air is knocked from my lungs. That sounded like…
“Mom?”
“Liliput, my darling.”
The tears come instantly, hot and desperate. “Mom? Where are you?”
I’m reaching through the void now, clawing at the darkness, trying to follow her voice.
But she’s everywhere and nowhere, an echo bouncing off the walls of eternity. The space is too vast, too chaotic. I can’t pin her down.
“Please don’t leave me again!” I’m screaming now, tearing through the spirit realm like a madwoman. ‘There’s so much I want to ask you.”
Her voice comes back, fractured and fading. “Liliput. Listen.”
“I’m listening! I’m here!” But even as I say it, I can feel her slipping away, running through my fingers like vapor—impossible to catch.
“What is it, Mom? Tell me!”
My vision explodes with a torrent of images—violent, blurry, too fast to comprehend. Blood splattered in the cracks of peeling wallpaper. Darkness. Hands around her throat. Terror in her eyes. And through it all, her voice growing fainter and fainter.
“Do. Not. Trust. Him.”
“Who?” I scream into the void, my throat raw. “Mom, who can’t I trust? Come back! Come back!”
But she’s gone, and I’m alone in the dark, sobbing and shaking on my living room floor. The candles flicker in my peripheral vision as I gasp for air, my whole body shaking with the weight of what I just experienced.
Her warning rings in my head. Echoing round and round like an alarm. No beginning, and no end.
Do not trust him.
Do not trust him.
Do not trust him.