Chapter Thirteen
Chapter
Thirteen
I keep the stake there. I must do it. I’ve spent four years giving my life, risking all I have for Callisto, slaying the same enemy, over and over.
Penny would be able to do it. But Penny wouldn’t have ended up in this position in the first place.
I take a deep breath. Aliz’s eyelids tremble, and her silver lashes flutter.
“Cassie,” she mumbles. My fingers numb as I stare at her, feeling my resolution crumble.
I can’t.
As soon as I pull my weapon away, relief floods through me, as though it was my own heart I’d been about to pierce. As quietly as I can, I lower the lid of her coffin and wait, expecting to hear her stir. But Aliz remains asleep, unaware of the monster in her room.
I shove the stake back in my bag. Then I lean against the bed, sitting with a tight grip on my knees, folded, trying to breathe.
I can’t hurt her.
Three whole days pass during which I manage to avoid her, never looking her way when she walks into Ambrose Hall.
I haven’t seen Jannet in Gustavsson’s class, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s only a matter of time before the Night Dean calls me to his office.
So I have to finish my mission as fast as I can.
I split my day into three blocks. The main one, finding The Book of Blood and Roses, gets six hours, early in the morning, when I know I won’t run into any leeches in the tunnels.
And although I haven’t found it yet, the map in my notebook has started to take shape, a great tangled labyrinth of a thousand tunnels, with as many as six floors digging beneath the earth.
I split another five hours between Integration and my normal classes.
And what’s left, I spend in Kinsnet, gathering books from the archive, searching for the words blood contract.
Vampires walk past my cluttered table on the fourth floor, filled with empty coffee cups and a dozen books.
Occasionally, they stop to stare at the subject of my research, but none of them say anything.
So far, the only cure I’ve found is death.
I know I should try again, before it’s too late.
On the fourth day, Aliz Astra finally decides to crack through the wall I built between us.
I find her sitting on my desk, early in the morning, just after I finish showering.
The mark aches against my neck, becoming itchier with each passing second.
I know that if Aliz touches it, the discomfort will vanish, just as it did the morning I found the mark.
“I got you this,” she says, lifting a long white box. I stare at her, not daring to step closer. “It’s a topical cream, with aloe vera and”—she squints at the box—“chemicals. It’s for rashes and bites, and hopefully—”
“Why?” I ask, folding my arms.
“I know you don’t believe me, but it wasn’t on purpose.” She rushes, seemingly afraid I’ll interrupt her. “I didn’t know. I swear it.”
I want to tell her that her words don’t mean shit. But something stops me.
She pulls a tube from the box and holds it out like an olive branch. I grit my teeth, but finally walk over and take it from her. “You’ve been looking for a cure?” I ask.
“Of course,” she says, gaze locked with mine. “I’ve searched through five libraries already.” I blink. She’s covered more ground than I have. I unscrew the tube and squeeze a pea-sized drop of gel onto my fingers. I rub it against the mark, and for a few seconds, the itch vanishes.
“I’m assuming you’ve found the full list of qualities a Blood Familiar has,” I say, spreading a little more. Aliz gives a small nod, swallowing hard.
“Cassie, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
I want to tell her to fuck off. But when I look at her, I get the sense that she’s telling the truth. I’ve never seen her so fragile. I keep my lips pressed tight before letting out a sigh. “Sure, you didn’t,” I say. “We should test it.”
“What?”
I step closer. “We need to know if it’s true. If your word alone can compel me.”
“I can’t do that,” she says, panic-stricken. “We’d be breaking the treaties!”
“I’m pretty sure we already have,” I say.
We haven’t.
If I was an ordinary human, then yes, I imagine that forming a blood contract without the human’s knowledge is punishable with a century in prison.
Fortunately for Aliz, however, vampire hunters are an exception.
We are not protected by those laws. “We need to know how much damage this has done,” I say, pointing at my neck. “So, hurry.”
“But what—” She takes a deep breath, and you would think that Aliz was the one branded with a Familiar’s mark. “What do I say?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Just give me an order. Tell me to clap my hands or something.”
She takes another deep breath and closes her eyes. “All right,” she whispers and finally looks at me with an odd resolution. “Twirl,” she says.
My body remains firmly in place. I don’t feel anything, but Aliz’s expression is twisted with worry.
“I didn’t do it, did I?” I ask.
“No,” Aliz says, and she lets out a long breath. “So, it’s not working.”
I lean against one of my bedposts, exhaling. I’m not under her control. But my relief is short-lived.
“Don’t be so quick to celebrate,” I say.
“We don’t know enough about the mark. Maybe it hasn’t come into effect yet.
” My neck itches again just as I say this, and I dig my short nails into my skin, unable to get rid of the feeling.
Her little gift only worked for a few seconds.
“Can you touch my neck?” I ask without thinking.
“What?”
“When you last touched it, the itch went away,” I say, and I start thinking it may have been a bad idea to ask for this proximity, until her skin touches mine. Her fingers are cool against my neck, instantly soothing the itch. I let out a short breath, closing my eyes. I almost thank her.
“I promise we’ll find a way out of this,” she whispers. We stay like this, closer than a human and a vampire should ever be. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t work with her, but as her finger draws a circle around the black moon on my neck, I cave in.
“Where will we look next?” I ask, looking up. Aliz’s expression brightens, lips parting as she realises what I just said. What I agreed to. I must be going mad.
“I still haven’t looked in the Palau Collection,” she whispers.
The Palau Collection is the second largest library, adjacent to the history department, opened by a Catalan alchemist of the same name, in the fourteenth century.
When she draws her fingers from my neck, the itch creeps up again, though nowhere near as bad as it was before.
Almost as if the mark wanted me to stop avoiding her.
We leave our room, heading down into one of the tunnels to the campus village. Aliz stops at the top of a winding staircase to catch her breath, and glances down at me. “If we don’t find anything in the Palau Collection, we could also try the secret library.”
I gawk at her, and too late, I forget to hide my reaction.
“You’ve heard of it?” she asks, all while my pulse picks up. This is it. I’m finally going to finish my mission. Aliz, of all people, knows where the secret library is.
I suppose it’s a good thing I haven’t killed her yet.
“I have,” I say, and she stares at me a little too long.
Maybe I should have said no. But she would have known I was lying.
“I mean, I didn’t know if it was real or not.
I did some research on Tynahine before coming here.
” Penny did all the research. I just leeched off her hard work.
“Where is it?” I ask in the most casual voice I can muster.
“Somewhere deep in these tunnels.” She leans against the stone wall. “But no one has ever found it.”
I hide my disappointment. My throat tightens, but I nod. “Right,” I whisper. Aliz knowing it exists is already a step in the right direction.
“Let’s go,” she says, suddenly grabbing my hand and pulling me along. I glance down at her fingers, cool against my own. I should tear my hand free. But just as I couldn’t slam the stake through her chest, I can’t seem to tug myself away from her now, either.
We reach the Palau Collection in a few minutes, a small building with a low roof.
It’s roughly the size of Kinsnet’s archive, and the volumes are, to say the least, eclectic.
Half of them cover transmutation, which is fitting, considering who compiled them.
The librarian is an old woman, amongst the scarce human staff, and she stares at us with suspicion.
Even if she’s new, she must be aware of Aliz’s reputation.
“Any books on blood contracts?” Aliz asks, and the librarian doesn’t appear to think much about the question. She types into an old-fashioned computer and tells us to head to the seventh aisle.
We’re the only students here, and as soon as we find the aisle in question, Aliz’s expression changes, black eyes studying the books with the same intense expression I’ve seen on vampires scenting my blood.
The bookcases in the Palau Collection are all mismatched, some hundreds of years old, while others are made of glass and metal.
“Here,” she whispers, reaching for a book. Her other hand brushes mine, and this time, her fingers linger, not pulling back. I feel her thumb drawing a line against my palm, her touch incredibly light. I open my mouth, but I can’t find words. I could easily draw my hand away, but I don’t want to.
The contact vanishes, and she searches through the pages of her book. I inhale, squeezing my hand, trying to get rid of the lingering sensation.
“Blood contracts between vampires,” she whispers.
“I’m human,” I say, crossing my arms, keeping my hands away from where she can accidentally touch them.
“I know,” Aliz says and continues reading. “Blood contracts with humans,” she finally says, leaning against the wall of books. Her brows knot into a frown. “Ah, this won’t do. A lot of killing.”