Chapter 15
THAT WASN’T REAL
ELLIOT
“Well, now I know why you didn’t tell me she was hot,” Henry says. He lays on the lounge’s couch, pillows once again spilled across the tile floors. We’re alone, but Henry is still on shift.
Luckily, I’m not. I’m too fucking stressed, too scattered to have people’s lives in my hands.
Henry is the opposite. He’s relaxed and stretched out, enjoying the last of his lunch break before he goes into another surgery. He takes a bite of apple before tossing it up in the air like a ball and catching it.
“She’s not—” I break off. I can’t finish the sentence, and Henry smirks knowingly at me.
Cora Reed is hot, and until today, that was fine. It was easy to ignore her attractiveness when she was nothing more than my best friend’s killer. Who cares if she’s hot if she’s psychotic?
“She was my friend,” I say finally, gritting the words through clamped teeth. “She was my friend. She was probably Harrison’s friend eventually. And she killed him. That’s completely fucked, Henry. It makes it worse, if anything.”
“To be fair, you were twelve,” he says. He takes another bite of apple before sitting up, resting his elbows on his knees. He studies me, blue eyes quietly assessing until I’m squirming. “I think you’re overreacting.”
“I think you’re under-reacting,” I argue.
I run a hand through my hair and slouch back in my chair.
“I liked her, Henry. What if we ended up dating or something? Maybe she killed Harrison because he tried to get between us. Or maybe she killed him because I broke up with her, and she wanted to get back at me.”
“You were twelve,” Henry repeats, slowly, as if I’m stupid. “You having a crush on the hot, spooky girl isn’t nearly as monumental as you’re making it. I’m sure half the guys in your school wanted to get it on with the freaky outcast.”
“There’s a reason she took those memories,” I say. I’m starting to spiral, but I can’t help it. This woman stole my memories, and I’m terrified of what I’ve forgotten. Of what I’ll learn if I keep digging.
“I feel like I should tell you to leave this alone,” Henry says, grinning. “But clearly you don’t like that advice.”
“Would you?” I challenge. “Would you leave it alone? Knowing that you might know something about your friend’s death? That maybe—”
“It won’t bring Harrison back,” Henry says. His smile falls, voice softening. “I know you feel like you owe him, but…you don’t. Nothing you figure out now will change what happened. It’s only going to bring more hurt.”
“Maybe,” I agree.
Henry chucks his apple at me, and it smacks against my shoulder.
“Shit!” I grab my shoulder, glaring at him. “What the Mother was that for?”
“I can already tell you’re going to ignore my advice.
Again,” he says. He rises from the couch, carelessly stepping over the apple as he heads for the door.
“We both know you’re going to dig until you’ve shattered your own heart, so be strategic.
Get closer to the date he died. She’s giving you memories from when you were twelve.
That’s not going to tell you shit, and you know it. ”
“Yeah, but—”
“Tell her you want the good stuff,” he interrupts. “You were, what, sixteen when Harrison died? Tell her you want those memories.”
“I doubt she’ll—”
“There are other ways to get vampire blood,” Henry says, cutting me off again. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have other options for witch allies.”
“We are not her allies,” I say quickly.
“Yeah, yeah.” Henry flaps his wrist at me as he tugs open the door. Beyond this room, healers bustle up and down the hall, and somewhere in the distance a baby is crying. “Now, if you’re done complaining about your childhood crush, I’ve got a life to save.”
He’s out the door before I have time to respond.
The following week, Henry and I are back at the stone table in Sebastian Vulce’s open-air courtyard. We’re nearest the ivy-covered wall, facing Cora, and beyond her, the doorway into the manor. Though I can’t see him, I assume Sebastian is lurking somewhere within the shadowed halls.
“I only brought one this time,” Cora says, drawing my attention.
We’ve just finished our work on the protection spell, and as usual, I’m feeling it more than anyone else.
As I heave to catch my breath, Henry taps his fingers rhythmically against the table and Cora readies today’s memory.
I haven’t let myself look at her for longer than a few seconds since we arrived today, but with both of them distracted, I allow myself the indulgence.
She’s wearing her typical baggy black dress and heavy tights. Her hair is in its tight ponytail, and she’s not wearing any makeup. She’s pretty in a startling way. Her large, yet delicate features demand attention, and I can hardly blame my younger self for being smitten.
There’s something different about her today. I can’t quite place it, but she looks sadder. Less put together, like she’s a stitch away from falling apart.
I hate that I notice.
Still breathing hard, I force myself to look away. I swipe the jar she’s placed in front of her, twisting to read the label.
Elliot Lyrie
age 12
Ochre Primary School
“No,” I say. I push it back toward her, barely restraining a smile when her brows furrow. She glares at me, mouth puckering.
“No, what?”
“No, I don’t want that one,” I say. “I want an older memory. From when I’m sixteen.”
“That’s not how this works,” she says. She grips the edge of the table, and her attention flickers to Henry, as if expecting him to back her up.
I almost expect him to. After all, he does like mean, pretty women.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m on his side, remember?”
“Never call me sweetheart again,” she says. She’s speaking through her teeth, almost growling.
Once again, I’m holding back my amusement.
“Yes, ma’am,” Henry says. He offers a small salute, earning him a sharp scowl in response.
“Either you want this memory, or you don’t,” she says. She starts unpacking her bag, placing the stone and its ingredients on the table. “You don’t want it? Fine. You can go.”
My heart punches against my ribs. I knew she wouldn’t back down easily. This was one of her rules, after all. She gets to pick the memories.
“If you haven’t watched them anyway, what do you care when they’re from?” I ask.
Cora doesn’t reply. She lines the ingredients over the top, finishing with a few drops of liquid. I risk a glance at Henry, and his stare says everything he can’t out loud: don’t look at me, dummy!
“I could find blood elsewhere,” I say. I focus on Cora and do my best not to fidget when she holds my gaze. She’s unflinching, untouched by the threat.
“That’s a grand idea,” she says lazily. The stone starts to smoke beneath her, filtering up to her barely-restrained smile. “Remind me, how did that go for you last time?”
“Yes, well, now I’ve got Henry for back-up,” I say. It’s a stupid argument. Makes me look weak, pathetic. Still, it’s the best I’ve got.
“And now I know you’re looking for vampire blood,” she says sweetly. She finally pulls back from the stone, but only to uncap the memory. “I’m close with the vampire king, in case you’ve forgotten.”
She subtly tilts her chin, nodding at the manor’s doorway.
“I haven’t forgotten,” I say. “He’s got quite the hold over you.”
I expect her to flinch. To frown. To get defensive in one way or another.
Instead, she offers a one-shoulder shrug.
“Yes,” she says. “I suppose he does. He also has quite the hold over our blood vendors.”
“We’ll come twice,” I blurt. “Twice a week, if you’ll give me older memories.”
Beside me, Henry stiffens. We both know we don’t have time to make bi-weekly trips to the Night Realm.
Especially not him. I may not have a life outside of the healing center and this psychological warfare, but Henry does.
He’ll have to cut back on time with friends, on time with Mary and other women.
I glance at him again, trying to convey I’ll make it up to him.
“Fine,” Cora says. By the time I look back to her, she’s already rising from her bench. Unsurprisingly, she’s taking the memory stone with her. “I’ll be right back.”
“No way,” I say. I’m out of my seat and standing in front of her before she’s fully on her feet. She blinks at me in surprise when I grab her wrist. “You’re not taking this. For all I know, you’ll go watch the memory in advance.”
“For all you know, I’ve already done that,” she snaps. Her attention drifts to her wrist, to my hand around it. I expect her to demand I release her. Instead, a heavy blush scours her cheeks.
“Unhand my witch, Lyrie,” comes a voice from the doorway.
Out here in the daylight, I shouldn’t be terrified of Sebastian Vulce. He might not burn in the sun, but he’s weak like this. And yet, he walks across the courtyard with slow, predatory steps.
“I have this handled,” Cora says. She glares at the vampire king before roughly stepping out of my hold.
One of the mermaid scales falls, hitting the cobblestone.
Cora curses as she crouches to pick it up.
She glances at me and Henry, but her attention settles on Sebastian as she speaks.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t kill anyone while I’m gone. ”
Breath held, I wait for Sebastian Vulce to put Cora in her place. Instead, his lips twitch, as if fighting a smile.
“Very well,” he says. The look is there again, the one that suggests she is far more than mere weapon to him.
Once Cora disappears into the manor, I return to my seat. Sebastian Vulce remains standing, and he stares down his nose at me as if I’m a repellent insect. I force myself to hold his gaze, even when I’m sure I can’t bear another second of his scrutiny.