CHAPTER 30 #2
Saul mentioned how a Noble can only truly die to a siphoner, which means the same goes for Ace. I frown, trying to understand more. “Are they hybrids?”
“No,” he says. “Fampyrs don’t exist. Not yet.”
I pause. “If love between a human and a vampire is possible, then why not between a witch and a vampire?”
He regards me quietly, his ashen eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight. “Perhaps some lines are meant to stay uncrossed.”
The words linger in the air, but I’m no longer focused on them. I find myself looking into his eyes, studying them. I’ve wondered about it for so long but never quite gotten the chance to ask. The question tumbles out before I can stop it: “Why are your eyes gray?”
He chuckles, leaning in ever so slightly, enough for his shoulder to brush against mine. His gaze never falters, as if he’s challenging me with it. Daring me to keep asking. To keep probing.
Finally, his lips part. “Why is the sky blue?”
“Really?”
As annoying as his perpetual enigma act is, I let it go, not wanting to flatter him with any more of my interest in his genetic makeup.
I start to do the deductions in my head. He can’t be a dhampir like my brother and I. Witch-vampire hybrids, apparently called fampyrs, don’t yet exist. Unless there’s more I don’t know about, Ace must be one of them—a siphoner. The very thing that can destroy even the most immortal of vampires.
The idea unsettles me greatly, because it means he’s able to kill even those that are otherwise unkillable.
But with power like that, there must be a catch, which might also be why he’s reluctant to tell me.
He reaches into one of his utility pockets and pulls out a silver case, the same one I’ve seen him use many times before. He flicks it open and extracts two cigarettes, placing one between his lips before offering the other to me.
“No thanks,” I say automatically. “I don’t smoke.”
His eyebrow arches slightly as he lights his own cigarette, inhaling deeply, then exhales a stream of smoke that curls upward. “You might want to reconsider. We won’t be able to feed properly for some time.”
The weight of what he’s saying starts to sink in. There’s no blodas, no bloodmaids, not even an animal in sight. I could go out to hunt by myself, maybe even get a fix sorted at one of Redmoore’s outposts, but I doubt he’ll let me.
Besides, fatigue is pulling at me from all possible sides.
I stare at the cigarette still held between his fingers, extended toward me. “I’ll manage.”
His expression remains the same, but something in his eyes shifts. “You were so certain before, weren’t you? That you’d never be like us. Never crave blood the way we do.” He takes another drag. “Until you did.”
The memories of what happened with Oliver and Lily flood back. I can’t afford to be starving, even craving, tonight. Not with our alliance on the line. With a reluctant sigh, I take the cigarette from him. Our fingers brush briefly, his cold against my lukewarm.
He leans in, cupping his hand around the flame as he lights it for me. I inhale awkwardly, fighting the urge to cough as the harsh smoke fills my lungs.
“Gentle pulls,” he advises, watching me with something that might almost be amusement. “Don’t force it.”
I try again, this time taking a smaller drag.
The smoke burns less, and I exhale slowly, watching the gray wisps dissolve into the air between us. The nicotine hits my system almost immediately, a slight buzz that takes the edge off my fatigue as well as the constant low-grade thirst that’s been my companion since I first tasted vein.
“Better?” he asks.
I nod grudgingly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right. We sit in silence for a while, smoking our cigarettes in the silent cavern. For a moment, the scene feels almost peaceful.
“Why did you let me live?” I ask, breaking the silence. “After I killed Hanae. The real reason.”
Ace takes a lazy drag, considering his answer. “Because death would have been too easy. For both of us.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He takes another hit, watching the tip smolder before fading, then looks at me. “It means I’ve killed enough Rosens for one lifetime.”
The admission throws me off. Is this his way of showing regret?
“And because your mother would never forgive me,” he adds as an afterthought. “If we ever get her back.”
“When,” I correct him. “When we get her back.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. It’s not quite a smile, but close enough. “When.”
I take a longer drag, making my senses dull just enough to make the proximity to him tolerable.
He crushes out his cigarette against the stone floor. “Get some sleep. We move at midnight.”
As he rises to his feet, I find myself observing the unnatural grace of his movements, while he settles into a position where he can see both the cavern entrance and the rest of his people.
Always the vigilant leader, even in moments of rest.
I finish my cigarette slowly, savoring the strange calm it brings.
When I finally crush it out, I curl up against the wall, using my arm as a pillow, and close my eyes.
I’m tired of running, fighting, and losing the people I love.
So I surrender to exhaustion, because it’s the only escape I have left, however temporary it might be.
Sleep comes in fitful bursts, interrupted by dreams of Saul calling for help, Max sitting motionless beneath a tree while something else wears his skin, and my mother’s face blurring with Ace’s.
In the moments between, I listen to the soft sounds of the Ravens at rest—breathing, shifting, murmuring.
Even in sleep, they seem connected, oriented toward each other like planets in a shared orbit. And I, the comet passing through their solar system, remain alone.
I wake with a start, unsure how long I’ve been asleep. The cavern is darker now, the torches burned low.
The Ravens are still resting, except for Kale, who sits alert near the entrance, keeping watch. Though there’s no way to tell the time in this windowless space, my body tells me several hours have passed.
Pushing myself up, I stretch my stiff limbs and try to shake off the lingering unease from my dreams. As my eyes adjust to the dim light, I notice Ace is no longer in his previous position either.
A quick scan of the cavern reveals he’s not here at all.
Kale eyes me warily as I near the entrance, restlessness propelling me forward.
“Where’s Ace?” I ask him, keeping my voice low to avoid disturbing the others.
Kale’s expression remains neutral. “Scouting.”
“Alone?”
He doesn’t bother to answer, just gives me a look that clearly says it’s none of my business.
I hesitate, then decide to push my luck. “I need some air.”
“No,” he says flatly.
“Just at the entrance,” I bargain. “I won’t go outside.”
He sighs, then shifts to allow me passage to the narrow crevice. “Stay where I can see you.”
I nod my agreement and squeeze through the opening, careful not to step fully outside. The sky beyond is dark with early evening, stars twinkling faintly behind wispy clouds. The air is cool and fresh after the staleness of the cavern, and I inhale deeply, savoring it.
From this vantage point, I can see the foothills stretching away, the distant lights of Northcross barely visible on the horizon.
Somewhere out there, Redmoore is making its decision about our proposed alliance. Somewhere farther, Cain holds my brother prisoner. And somewhere beyond that, my mother waits, having spent over a decade in captivity while I grew up believing she’d abandoned us.
How did my life become this tangled web of vampires, witches, and ancient grudges? How did I end up standing at the threshold of a cave, allied with the creatures I once hunted, contemplating a war that spans generations?
A movement in the shadows below catches my eye. Ace materializes from the darkness, mask on, his white hair gleaming in the starlight as he approaches the cave entrance. He carefully scans his surroundings with each step.
When he spots me watching, he pauses briefly, then continues his ascent. I step back to let him through the narrow opening, our bodies nearly touching as he squeezes past me into the cavern. He smells of night air and cigarette smoke, with an underlying metallic hint that can only be blood.
“You fed,” I observe, noticing the slight flush to his skin.
“Just enough,” he admits, no apology in his tone. “The others will need to as well, before we meet with your Redmoore friends.”
“They’re not my friends.”
His eyes study me with that unnerving intensity. “Then what are they to you?”
“Just comrades,” I say, realizing it’s not the answer I wanted to give, but the one trimmed down for convenience. We aren’t quite friends. Friends laugh. Friends linger. But there’s trust. Familiarity. Maybe even care, once. Just not the kind that lasts.
“We’re leaving soon,” he announces to the others, offering me nothing in return. “Kale, you and Palina will approach from the east. Reece, Irene, the west. I’ll take the dhampir directly to the meeting point.”
No one questions his orders, just begins preparing with the ease of routine. I notice he’s calling me ‘the dhampir’ instead of my name and wonder what changed since our almost-civil conversation earlier.
As the Ravens gather their belongings and extinguish the remaining torches, I find myself watching Ace again. Despite everything, I cannot deny his effectiveness as a leader.
His people trust him implicitly, follow without question.
I wonder if I’ll ever understand him, or if we’re destined to remain adversaries even as we fight for the same cause.
I wonder if I’ll ever stop wanting to hate him.
One thing is certain: the next twenty-four hours will change things. For better or worse, the alliance we might forge tonight could shape the course of this war. And I can only hope we’re making the right choice.