Chapter Thirteen #2
“We’re looking for Familiars,” I whisper, ignoring the last word she said.
I reach for another book, getting up on my tiptoes to grab it, trying to slide my fingers between the pages to nudge it out.
Aliz pushes my hand aside and grabs it easily.
I wait for a quip of sorts, but she hands it to me without a word.
“How many can we check out?” I ask.
“Five each,” she says, standing too close.
And for the third time today, her hand finds mine. Her fingers brush down my palm, between my fingers, as though she doesn’t know if she should take it or not.
I step away from her. “Maybe we should go,” I say, grabbing another book.
“Good idea,” Aliz replies. We end up borrowing nine books, and the librarian doesn’t raise an eyebrow at the subject matter. I wonder if it’s normal for vampires and humans to read about this sort of thing.
“You take the tunnel,” I say, as I surveil outside the library. The history department is quiet. “I’ll go through the pine grove.”
“Why?” she asks, gazing down at me.
“People might think it’s weird if we’re suddenly best friends,” I say. “You did hiss at me two weeks ago.”
“That was my way of saying hello,” she quips. I roll my eyes.
“Sure. And threatening to have me for dinner is a vampiric greeting.”
She looks like she’s about to argue, her jaw tight, but finally nods.
Once I step out into the October chill, a light drizzle speckling my jacket, I feel myself cooling down. But dread continues to twist inside me. No. It’s not dread. I know what it is, but I can’t admit it.
The ghost of her touch still lingers on my skin. Wanting her was so much easier when I only looked at her from afar.
I climb up the nine floors of Tynarrich Hall, hoping the exertion will somehow calm me, return me to my previously sensible self.
I stare at the paintings on the wall and realise that I still don’t know how old she is.
For all I know, Aliz could be over a hundred years old.
Over a thousand. I wait for her features to appear upon one of the canvases, but they don’t.
Fortunately, when I get to our room, Aliz seems completely normal again.
“Can you pass me my phone?” She’s sitting by her desk, five books in front of her, one of them open already.
Her legs are crossed, and the top of her shirt is unbuttoned.
I try my hardest not to look at her bare skin, her sharp clavicles and delicate neck.
“It’s on the coffin,” she adds. “Is it still light outside?”
“It’s not even lunchtime,” I say. “You got up at a very human time, Astra.”
“Well, I had no intention of waking you while you were sleeping,” she says, and I could swear her cheeks gain colour. “I can’t wait for winter.”
“Maybe you should move to the North Pole,” I say, tossing her phone towards her. She catches it with one hand, barely looking back. “You’d get six months of pure night up there.”
“I like Tynahine,” she says. “Even though I have to spend summer stuck indoors.”
“You stay here during summer?” I ask, not hiding my shock. Aliz’s cheeks redden. I imagined that at the very least she would travel back to Hungary, where the Astras are based.
“You don’t know what it’s like to be a vampire,” she says, looking back down at a book. Despite her words, there’s no sharpness in her voice. And she’s right. I don’t.
“Have you found anything yet?” I ask, sitting next to her.
“A load of nonsense,” Aliz replies, flicking through pages. “There’s nothing on blood contracts for Familiars, and the cures are not great.”
“Maybe they’re worth a try,” I say.
“I’m not enamored by the idea of chopping off two fingers and killing a cat. Especially when it might not work.” She turns the page. “Plus, these are for witches’ Familiars.”
“Witches?” I say, my eyes widening. “Are witches a thing?” Considering I almost got killed while looking for grimoires, I shouldn’t be surprised.
“Palau must think so. She’s the one who wrote this nonsense.
” She scratches her cheek, a small smile tugging her lips.
“I really hope they do exist. And werewolves. I wouldn’t mind finding myself a werewolf girlfriend; we’d be like Romeo and Juliet.
Or Juliet and Juliet, in this case,” she adds, nodding to herself as some bizarre fantasy fills her head. “Very sexy.”
I gawk at her, trying to wrap my head around the heir of the Astra empire saying something so…stupid.
The afternoon flies by, and after lunch, the tension that had built up between us in the library fades, as though that strange proximity never happened in the first place.
My neck, in turn, becomes itchier, but I focus on reading, flipping through moth-eaten pages, hoping that the cure for the mark will suddenly appear before me.
The sun’s almost setting when I pick up another book, a drawing of a violet on the cover.
There are some illustrations in the first half, naked women sinking their teeth into victims, some trying to escape, others accepting the bite.
Heat rushes through me, and I continue to turn the pages, until I stop, eyes widening.
“ ‘Nullifying blood contracts between vampires and humans,’ ” I read out.
“That must be it!” she says, and she pushes her chair towards me, wheels squeaking.
I nod, before I start reading. “ ‘Once both parties are in agreement that the contract ought to be nullified, a kiss must be placed upon the spot where the contract was first sealed.’ ” I stop reading, staring at the words to make sure I didn’t imagine them. “Seems a little too easy, doesn’t it?”
“Uh…” Aliz is staring at me, face frozen with panic. “Yeah. It doesn’t really make sense.” She laughs nervously. “Half of what Palau writes is utter nonsense, so maybe we should just—”
“It’s still worth a try,” I say, swiveling my chair until I’m facing her.
“What?”
“It’s just a kiss,” I say, trying my hardest to not think about what I’m asking her to do.
“Cassie, there’s no way that a kiss is going to fix it.”
“If there’s a small chance it might work, we should at least try.” I pull off my scarf, and Aliz’s eyes widen. “What?” I ask.
“The mark is bigger,” she says, blinking.
“Bigger?”
“The vines have spread,” she says, panicking. She holds up her phone, switching the front camera so I can see my neck. And just as she said, the lines have grown, slipping further down.
“What the fuck,” I say, touching my skin. Aliz pulls her phone away as panic seizes my throat. For a second I can’t breathe. Why is it growing? “Was this meant to happen?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Aliz says, not looking me in the eye.
“We need to try it,” I say.
“Try what?”
I point at the book, trying to scrub my reflection, and those curling vines, out of my mind.
“But you’re human,” Aliz finally squeezes out, and I sigh.
“You can wipe your lips afterwards,” I say.
“It’s just a peck.” I know I can’t compare myself to her vampire conquests, but she shouldn’t make me feel hideous, either.
Not after looking at me the way she did in the library.
“Or we can look for other cures,” I finally say. “And if nothing else works—”
“No, it’s all right,” Aliz says, getting up from her chair. “Let’s just get it over with.”
I’m about to stand, but she puts her hands on my shoulders, keeping me fixed in place.
Then she swivels my chair until she’s behind me.
She really doesn’t want to kiss a human.
I let out a frustrated sigh, and she pulls my hair aside.
Cool air touches my neck, and just as I grow impatient, her lips, cold and soft, press against the mark.
My skin burns, all while a shiver rushes through me. Aliz pulls back, letting out a short breath.
“Thank you,” I say, a slight tremor in my voice.
Jesus, what’s wrong with me? “I’ll check if it’s gone,” I say, jumping up from my chair, freeing myself from the hands on my shoulders.
I know I can just ask her if it’s gone, but I can’t look at her now when my heart is beating too fast. I can’t look at her when I want more, and she doesn’t.
I walk over to my bathroom mirror, taking a deep breath. My cheeks are red, and the stupid mark is still there.
All that for nothing.
My grey jumper feels too heavy, so I pull it off and fix my eyes upon the mark.
The twisted vines vanish beneath the white collar of my shirt.
I undo the top three buttons. I have to see how far it goes.
I undo another, the top of my black bra coming into view.
The vines stop just above my left breast. I swallow hard.
There was nothing in any of the books about the mark growing.
Then again, we still have a lot of material to read through.
“Fuck,” I whisper, tracing my finger along one of the thorned vines, goosebumps raising in the process. This isn’t good. Penny may have taught me a lot, but everything I learned was focused entirely on one thing: killing vampires. Nothing about blood contracts.
I tug at the top of my bra, pulling it down, just to make sure there are no hidden lines.
Suddenly I feel something behind me. Hands gripping my shoulders. “What—” I start, my eyes widening. I can’t see her. Her reflection is missing. But Aliz is behind me. Before I can turn, she tightens her grip.
“Don’t look at me,” she says, her voice low.
I take a sharp breath. I still can’t make sense of what I’m seeing in the mirror.
My own features are flushed. And the space where I know she is, where I can feel her, is completely vacant.
“Please,” she adds, with a hint of desperation.
There’s something else. Thirst. Her eyes must be red, too.
If I look at her, she might try to compel me.
“What is it?” I ask. Her grip on my shoulders loosens, only for her to wrap her arms around me. What is she doing? I should pull myself free, but instead, I sink into her, her arms strong and cold.
“We should try again,” she whispers, directly against my ear.
Her cool breath makes me shiver. One arm lets go, and the picture in front of me becomes all the more absurd when I feel her finger tracing a line up my neck, caressing the mark, but I see only my skin reddening beneath her invisible touch.
“Again?” I ask. And I wish she’d just go ahead and help herself, because I don’t want to admit I want this. She’s a vampire. I can’t want her.
I hear her swallow. “Well—” she says, trying to sound composed. “Clearly the first kiss didn’t work. So, you should let me try again.”
“I thought you didn’t want to kiss a human,” I say, hoping to somehow get under her skin the way she does with me. I turn my head, trying to catch a glimpse of her, but the hand on my neck grabs my chin, forcing me to look forward.
“I know,” she says, lips practically touching my ear as she speaks. “But I just want to help you, Cassie.”
I hate that I can’t see her. I feel incredibly exposed, even more so with the mark on display.
My shirt is still unbuttoned, the top of my bra visible.
I feel each line of the mark individually burning into my blood.
“Do it, then,” I say, and I fix my gaze on the invisible spot where I imagine she is.
“Fuck,” Aliz says, and she’s trembling, tightening her grip. “No,” she says, her voice low. “You should tell me to let go.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because this is wrong,” she whispers. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I say, my breath hitching. I know it, and I know we’re playing with fire. Every inch of reason left in my mind is telling me to push her away. But something else within me, far more visceral, can’t stand the thought of her letting go.
“And you’re scared of me,” she says, short nails running over the moon etched on my skin.
“I’m not.” I want to see her. I have to see how she’s looking at me and know if her need is anything like my own.
“You should be,” she says, and I feel her lips, soft at first, replacing her fingers against the sensitive skin of my neck.
Every nerve in my body comes to life, and I inhale sharply, biting down my reaction.
“Tell me to stop,” she says, before tugging at my shirt.
Her lips meet my shoulder, and I can barely think straight, but I do know that I don’t want her to stop.
“Why?” I ask, digging my nails into her arm.
“Because I want you,” she says, and I gasp when I feel her tongue running up my neck.
I bite down on my lip. I want her, too. I’ve wanted her since I first saw her.
Her lips are still on my skin when one restless hand slips inside my shirt, and the other tugs my hair, forcing me to see my reflection.
“Look at yourself,” she says, breathless, pressing her thigh between my legs.
I choke out a moan, and feel the sharp points of her fangs, tentative on my shoulder. I want it. My blood, my skin, everything, craves the wound and the ecstasy it will bring. My lips part, and I’m about to tell her to do it, take a bite, but instead all I manage is, “Christ.”
And it’s that word which breaks the spell.
She stumbles back. “Fuck,” she hisses.
Cold air brushes against my skin, and slowly I feel my sanity slipping back.
I see my reflection, shirt practically off, and in a rush, I pull it back on before turning to look at her.
She’s covering her ears, and her eyes, which are usually black, are glowing bright red.
I step back, hitting the sink, and she recognises the fear in my features.
“Shit,” she says, sitting on the floor, covering her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Any ordinary human would run away. Instead, I take a step forward.
There’s something about her expression, the guilt, that I want to wash away.
Despite my better judgment, I crouch down in front of her, slowly peeling her hands off her face.
“Hey,” I say, and she looks at me, her expression that of someone who’s lost. Her eyes have darkened to burgundy. “You’re all right.”
She stares at me, wide-eyed. “Why are you not scared?” she asks. I don’t let go of her hands.
Because you can’t hurt me.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“I got carried away,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut again.
“So did I.” I let go of her hands, taking a deep breath. I don’t know what possessed me. I don’t know how she got under my skin so easily, but I can’t let it happen again.