Chapter 7
WHAT’S THE CATCH
CORA
Ispread a blanket on the couch, spending more time smoothing it than I need to.
Once Elliot’s bed is ready, I’ll have to try for more information.
If he still refuses, I’ll have nothing else to do but go to bed.
There are extra wards over my bedroom, so at least I won’t have to worry about him killing me in my sleep.
You wouldn’t be worried anyway, my brain taunts me.
I ignore it. Tuck the blanket into the couch’s crease.
“You realize I’m just going to undo all that,” Elliot says from behind me.
He finally closed the door, but he still hasn’t moved from the entryway. I’m sure he’s expecting me to kill him, but there’s no point in trying to change his mind. This will—hopefully—be the last time we ever see each other.
I swallow over the knot in my throat.
“Did you get what you needed?” I ask.
“I don’t need anything,” is his immediate, sharp response. “I’m not drinking your tea. I don’t want food—”
“In the Night Realm, Elliot,” I say, cutting him off. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at him and instead focus on his couch bed. I position a pillow at one end. His feet are going to dangle off the opposite side, but there’s nothing to do about that.
“It’s none of your concern,” he says. “What I do here—”
“I need to ensure you don’t come back, so tell me what you need,” I say, looking at him. I work to keep my voice level, but it wavers. I only hope he doesn’t notice. “Assuming it’s not an act of war, I should be able to get it for you.”
He arches an eyebrow, watching me silently. He doesn’t believe me, and for good reason.
“Listen,” I say. “If the vampires know Madam Lyrie’s son is sniffing around our territory, they’re going to get freaked out. And once they get freaked out, they destroy anything that’s a threat.”
“You’re telling me you don’t want my people destroyed?” he asks. Then pauses, considering. “Our people?”
“Your people. You had it right the first time,” I say. “Honestly, I don’t care about your people. I care about my people. And the more time wasted on you, the less time spent on things that actually matter.”
Elliot doesn’t immediately respond. He continues staring at me, and I can tell from his posture that he’s actively working not to fidget. His fingers give him away, just barely twitching at his thighs. All these years later, and I can still read him so easily. This would be easier if I couldn’t.
As he looks at me, regarding me as a stranger, an enemy stranger, I wish I could see him the same way.
Instead, I am hit with a wild and dangerous nostalgia. The way he smells and talks. The way his mouth moves, slanting slightly to the right when he speaks. The way he sighs and shifts and…all of it.
I know him, far more than I’d like.
But that is my own punishment to bear.
“I need blood,” he says, pulling me from my thoughts. A crease forms between his brows, the one he gets when he’s worried. He used to look at me that way all the time, as if I was someone he desperately needed to save.
“Blood?” I echo dumbly.
“Vampire blood,” he says. He shifts again, fingers stretching and curling at his sides. He keeps his eyes on me, but I can tell it’s taking effort. He’s nervous, telling me this.
“You’re the best healer in the Day Realm,” I say before I can stop myself. “What do you need with vampire blood?”
“I’m not going to tell you that.”
“Then no,” I say. I finally rise from the floor, patting his black pillow. It’s one from my bed, but I don’t tell him that. It’s not like I had any spares lying around. I’ve never had a guest before, and after tonight, I doubt I will again.
“Secora—”
“Cora,” I correct him. “No one calls me that here.”
His jaw ticks.
“I need the blood,” he tells me. “I can’t tell you what it’s for, but I assure you, it’s nothing nefarious. Someone is sick. Our typical healing methods aren’t working. I need to buy time.”
I study him, trying to sense a lie. There’s nothing there, not even an inkling of deception. This man may be older—broader—than the boy from my memories, but he’s still Elliot Lyrie. The same pure soul I’ve always known, and he’s telling the truth.
He would risk his life to save someone else.
“You’re in the Night Realm for a patient?”
“I need blood,” he repeats. His voice is soft, and my eyes flutter shut without permission. “Please, Cora.”
I’ve never been able to deny this boy anything.
“How much?”
“At least two vials,” he says, shoulders loosening. “More would be better, but I can get by with two.”
“I’ll give you six,” I say.
I brush past him and cross to the far side of the kitchen.
From his place by the doorway, he watches me with narrowed eyes.
I ignore him and maneuver my way onto the counter.
I wouldn’t normally do this with an audience, but at my height, counter-climbing is an essential life skill.
My kitchen cabinets go all the way to the ceiling, and I keep the good stuff—like vampire blood, poison, and rare herbs—up at the top.
“Do you need help?” he asks, voice strained.
Ever the gentleman. My lips twitch into a smile, and because I’m facing away, I let it stay. I’ve barely smiled tonight, and still, I’m sure it’s more than the past weeks combined.
I stretch onto my toes, sift through the various ingredients, and collect six vials of dark vampire blood. All belonging to a deceased vampire, just to be safe. On the off chance Elliot is lying, the witches won’t be able to hex this blood for any of their vile hobbies.
I carefully lower from the counter, and Elliot watches me with an unreadable expression. His brows crinkle as I cross the room, stopping in front of him.
“What’s the catch?” he demands. His attention drifts to the vials in my hands, and I study the desperation in his eyes. The barely-contained relief.
This blood isn’t just for a patient. Vampire blood is illegal in the Day Realm. The Mother despises dark magic, and almost everything in the Night Realm was born of it. For Elliot to be here, he’s trying to save someone he knows. Someone he loves. The idea guts me.
“Six vials,” I say, pushing them into his hands. His skin is warm, soft, lightly calloused. I force myself to pull away. “You take them, and you never come back.”
I wake to the sound of my name. I bolt upright, heart thundering. I’m moving before I’m fully awake, because it’s not Elliot calling for me. It’s Sebastian. If Elliot answers the door, there’s no telling what will happen.
I fling open my bedroom door, only to falter. My quarters are empty. The blankets are folded on the end of the couch. Our mismatched tea mugs are laid on the drying rack.
He’s gone.
“Cora!” Sebastian calls again. His fist pounds on my door in a sharp, rhythmic pattern that’s unique to him. I typically find it comforting. Right now, it’s grating my last nerve.
“Patience, Master!” I call back.
I shove the mostly-dry tea mugs into the cupboard. I toss the folded blanket on the other side of the couch, out of sight. It won’t make a difference, but it at least buys me a few seconds before I have to face Sebastian.
“You don’t have to call me master any—”
I throw open the door, letting the knob bump against the wall. I stand before him, arms loose at my sides. After years of practice, I know how to control my own body. How to breathe steady. How to maintain an even heartbeat. How to hold eye contact, even when I’m desperate to look away.
Sebastian glowers down at me. Short blond hair. Haunted green eyes. A slight twist to his mouth that makes him look displeased, even when he’s not. He’s taller than I am by several inches, but shorter than Elliot.
Stop, I mentally chastise myself. Do not compare him to Elliot.
“He’s already gone,” I say. I lift my chin, swallowing past the knot in my throat.
“I assumed you would deny it,” Sebastian says carefully. His voice is level, but I can sense the fury boiling beneath every word.
“Then you assumed I was a fool,” I say. I brush past him, into the hallway. “Go ahead and look. I can lift the ward, if you wish. You can investigate every nook and cranny. I assure you, he’s gone.”
“He left at first light,” Sebastian says. Despite his words, his eyes drift away from me, scanning my quarters instead.
I met Sebastian Vulce twelve years ago, when he was the sole king of the vampires. He was rumored to be terrible, monstrous, and unjustly cruel. To an extent, the rumors were true.
By the time his eyes return to me, Sebastian’s downturned mouth has twisted into a full grimace. He looks at me in disgust. In disappointment.
I don’t take it personally.
“Why?” he asks. His hands tighten into fists, then loosen. Tighten again.
I sidestep back into my quarters.
“An old friend needed vampire blood for healing. He’d gotten himself into trouble,” I say. It’s not a lie, but it’s certainly not the full truth. “I provided some—it was a dead vampire’s, don’t worry. I instructed him to wait until daylight before leaving.”
“You gave him free reign of your quarters?” Sebastian asks. His voice lowers. Grows rougher, and his fingers clench into tighter fists.
“He didn’t touch anything. I have this whole place warded, so I would know,” I say. “I gave him several doses of Dismemrate. He’ll have forgotten everything by the time he returns to the Day Realm.”
This is a lie. Warding every item in my quarters would take more magic than I care to waste. And while I could have given Elliot Dismemrate for memory loss…
Why didn’t I?
I swallow the question down, banishing it from my consciousness altogether.
“Who was it, Cora?”
I don’t let myself react, even as my soul hums with gratitude. No one who saw Elliot recognized him. They saw a witch—not a council leader’s son. Not the person Madam Lyrie loves more than anyone else.
I run my tongue over the back of my teeth, considering my words carefully.
“It was a boy from school,” I say finally. “He was kind to me. When all the others were horrible, he was kind. I felt I owed him.”
Sebastian studies me silently. I regulate my breathing, my heartbeat, my eye contact.
“Never again,” he says, though I don’t miss the way his face softens. “If he—or any like him—returns, you will notify me immediately.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You don’t…” Sebastian breaks off on a sigh, as if he knows it’s a losing battle. Then, he steps back into the hallway, sweeping his hand for me to follow. “Come. We have a meeting. Grace wanted me to inform you she’s made breakfast.”
It takes all my effort not to crinkle my nose.
I imagine Grace Pruce was a terrible cook when she was a witch, and now that she’s a vampire, she’s simply terrible.
That said, she’s also the love of Sebastian’s life.
We don’t have much—or anything, really—in common, but I do my best to support their relationship.
She’s good for him. She cracked through him in a way no one else could.
So if that means eating foul food for the rest of my life, I’ll do it.
“Is it…?”
“Tomato soup? Afraid so,” he says. He smiles, and it’s more disorienting than the fact he’ll never age. “Pretend you like it. I’ll have a servant fetch you something better after the meeting.”
Together, we walk through the quiet halls of the western wing, and I silently pray to every god we have that Elliot found his way home.