Chapter Sixteen #2
Her hair is half up, half down, silken waves picking up the warm glow of the surrounding lamps.
A tartan coat, pink and cream, just about covers her miniskirt.
The vampire catches my gaze and smiles. On the surface I could mistake it for kindness or curiosity.
But there’s a coolness in her flawless features that makes me shiver.
“Who’s that?” I ask, before turning back to look at Julia.
“Elia.”
I falter, suddenly remembering the Red Ribbons’ conspiracy. “Elia Tamarit?” I whisper, and Julia nods.
“You’ve heard of her?”
“I’ve seen her with Aliz a few times.” Only after saying her name, I realise I should have said Astra, instead. But Julia doesn’t seem to notice this new familiarity.
“I’d be careful around her,” Julia whispers. “She’s not like the rest of the students here.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are rumors that she used to bring humans to campus, years ago. As snacks.”
I swallow. A chill spreads across my arms, and I breathe in.
“Then again, I would tell you to be careful around Astra, but you seem to like her just fine.”
“No, I don’t,” I say, far too quickly.
Julia doesn’t dignify me with a response. She continues to work on a memory, occasionally biting her pencil. Her sharp canines are whiter than the rest of her teeth.
Aliz is in our room. I know it even before opening the door, because the tight itch in my neck starts to soften, as though the mark can feel her proximity. I steel myself, a slow breath, before unlocking the door.
“Cassie,” she says, slamming a book shut the moment I step inside. “Fancy seeing you here.” There’s a black velvet blazer splayed over her coffin. She’s more dressed up than usual, wearing a tailored white shirt and velvet waistcoat. Her white hair is combed back, damp.
“Are you going to the opera or something?” I ask.
“No,” she says. She spins her chair so she’s facing me. A chain hangs from her collar, lopsided. “Elia’s hosting a soiree at her place. I’d bring you along, but it’s invite-only.”
“Have fun,” I say, dropping my bag on my desk.
I take off my glasses and sit down on my bed, trying to ignore the itch as it continues to tighten, burning my skin.
I need her fingers on the mark again to soothe it.
I catch her looking at me, and her gaze leaves me a moment later.
Even if the soiree wasn’t invite-only, I wouldn’t be caught dead going to a vampire party. Not unless I was going to kill someone.
“Don’t scratch it.” Only when Aliz says it, do I realise that I’ve started digging my nails into my scarf. She crosses the room. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” She slides her free hand under my scarf, and my tense muscles loosen.
“I’m not,” I argue, as she draws a circle over the moon. Goosebumps raise at her touch, and I keep my eyes shut, knowing that if I look at her, my mind will wander. “But thank you.” I open my eyes, shocked by my own words.
Aliz grins, pinching my neck. “You’re very welcome, Cassie.
” My false name sounds too good as it spills from her lips, melodic, almost. What would Rebecca sound like?
My cheeks burn while the absurd thought cements itself in my brain.
I want her to say my name. I want her to know everything about me, the fact that I’m not a rich kid like everyone else at Tynahine.
I want her to ask where Wishaw is, ask about my parents.
I want her sympathy. Every new thought is more pathetic than the last, and I can’t bear to look her in the eyes.
Her phone buzzes, and she lets go, crossing the room to pick up.
“I’m on my way,” Aliz says into her phone, rummaging under her desk for a pair of brogues.
“I mean—” There’s a slight pause, and she presses her lips together.
She shoots me a quick glance and then looks away.
“You do remember what happened the last time you spiked blood, don’t you?
” she asks. I can picture her, Elia, with her doll-like features and perfect hair, at the other end of the line.
Aliz smiles at whatever the other vampire replies, and then whispers something in another language.
My chest tightens. The other girls are just playthings. But I have a feeling Elia means much more to her.
“See you tomorrow, Cassie,” Aliz says, barely looking at me.
“Wait,” I say, and she stops right at the edge of her coffin. I step towards her. Don’t go, I think. “It’s lopsided,” I say and unclip the golden chain pinned to her collar, then fasten it again until it’s hanging in a perfect curve. “There.”
“Thanks,” she says, and for some stupid reason, Aliz’s gaze has fallen to my lips.
“What kind of party is it?” I ask, hoping to snap her back to her senses. “A vampire orgy?”
She makes a face. “We’ll just be playing cards. Although the loser usually does end up naked.”
I wish she hadn’t said that, because now I can’t help but imagine her taking off her clothes.
“Sounds fun,” I say, and Aliz grabs my hand, which was still mindlessly attached to her collar.
I feel her digits searching for my pulse.
And then, seemingly without thinking, she lifts my wrist to her nose.
I stiffen. I’ve seen this, experienced this, many times over. Countless vampires digging their noses into the crook of my neck or inhaling, like Aliz does now, from my wrist.
But when Aliz sniffs, her eyes remain black, and her expression is more one of curiosity than thirst.
“I’m glad you don’t have a scent,” she says, putting a hand on my head.
“This would be much more difficult if you did.” I think of Nocth’s warning: Stop taking the garlic.
I don’t know what expression I make, but Aliz cups my cheeks, her face serious.
“I mean it,” she says, her voice gentle.
“And not having a scent isn’t a bad thing. It’s actually—”
“Can we not talk about my blood?”
Aliz would never be able to look at me the same if she ever smelled my real blood. None of the vampires I’ve met so far would. They’d turn into every other creature I’ve hunted the last four years. “Sorry,” she whispers, taking a step back.
“Enjoy the strip poker,” I add. Aliz shakes her head.
“I will,” she says, and despite my harsh tone, there’s warmth in hers.
A warmth I don’t deserve. She offers me one last smile, and then leaves.
I stare at the door, my heart pounding. I wish I had an excuse to hate her, but I know by now that it wasn’t on purpose.
Aliz wants to get rid of the Familiar’s mark just as much as I do.
The night sky is heavy with rain, the first drizzle a threat of the downpour to come.
I keep my hood up, raincoat zipped to my chin, and an umbrella fighting the wind.
I can’t stay in our room. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and the itch made its way back onto my skin mere minutes after she left.
It’s one of the mark’s most frustrating symptoms.
I walk through the campus village, my steps carrying me across cobbled stones, past willows.
Several vampires, dolled-up, are making their way down the main street, heading in the same direction.
With invites, I assume, to Elia’s party.
Aliz will sleep with her tonight, won’t she?
Images rush through my head; Aliz’s hand slipping under her dress, Elia begging to be bitten, and Aliz giving her what I can’t have, sinking her fangs into her, drinking her immortal blood.
Music comes from a building across a park, right on the edge of the campus village. Columns fringe the curved walls, the flat roof decorated with sculptures of women holding roses. The door is painted raven black, and even through the rain, I see the blur of my reflection fixed upon it.
When I look up at the wide floor-to-ceiling windows between the columns, I find glass draped with heavy curtains, crimson and gold.
And leaning against one of those windows, with her chestnut hair falling past her waist in flawless waves, is the object of my envy.
Elia is in a champagne gown, silk fabric stopping just above her ankles, with a slit running up to her thigh.
Her shoulders shake as she laughs at something someone, out of view, must have said.
Aliz is in there, amongst the shadows of vampires dancing.
My hunting instincts tell me to dig. Infiltrate, as I always do, and uncover their depravity. Prove if the rumors about Elia’s snacks are true.
Just as I consider it, Elia turns. Her eyes don’t wander across the damp street. They fall on me instantly, as though she already knew I was standing here. I swallow hard, and a moment before I look away, she raises a half-empty wineglass, swirling the blood inside in some kind of silent toast.
I hold my umbrella tight and stalk away, heart hammering in my chest. What if she tells Aliz I was there? My eyes burn, my neck itches. She has what I can’t have. What I should have never wanted in the first place.
A lonely bench beneath the shelter of a tree, overlooking the river, provides me a spot to clear my mind of her.
It’s damp, but I don’t care. I keep my umbrella up, breathing out, as though every new breath will rid me of these twisted thoughts.
I pull out my phone, gritting my teeth until my jaw hurts.
Penny hasn’t called since our last conversation. I go over everything she said, trying once more to believe her. But every time I look at a hidden corner of Tynahine, I can almost see her shadow, haunting the cobbled streets. What if she once sat on this very bench, overlooking the river?
Just as I scroll through our sparse call log, her name lights up the screen, as though she was in the same position as me, staring at her phone and waiting for me to call, before finally deciding to make the first move.
The wind nearly tears my umbrella from my hand when I hear her voice in my ear.
“How are you getting on?” she asks. I swallow. There’s caution in her words. Distance. As if she’s waiting for another argument.
“Nothing new,” I say, squeezing the umbrella’s handle tight, looking at the black pane of the river. Its current is fast, splashing against the rocks that litter it. In the distance, through a forest on the other side of it, I see lights on in a building. The hunting lodge?
“All right,” she says. Her voice is softer than usual. “I’ve been doing some digging into Inverness. Everything’s hinting at a blood party. But not the ordinary kind.”
“Did the Night Dean tell you this?” I say before I can bite the words back. There’s a sigh on the other end of the line.
“Not this time. Callisto has its own sources.” Her voice is calm. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to rekindle my trust.
“And who are these sources?”
“That information is only available to Stake ranked hunters,” she says, voice cool. “You should know that.”
“But it wouldn’t hurt you to tell me.” I breathe out. She doesn’t reply. “What did you mean by ‘not the ordinary kind’?”
“There are no known vampire clubs in Inverness,” she says. “Outside of Tynahine, of course. But I’ve found fifteen cases similar to what you encountered in Silverbirch. Not killing but tasting. They’re finding profiles, unusual flavours. This sounds like something formal.”
“Right.”
“I wouldn’t usually send you to something like this,” she says. “You won’t be going in alone, but once I know more—”
“I don’t need help.” I say this quickly, and for once it isn’t my pride talking. I don’t want another vampire hunter in Inverness. I don’t want one anywhere near Tynahine.
I can’t let anyone see my Familiar’s mark.
“That’s not up to you,” Penny says. “I also need you to stop taking your allicin supplements.”
The wind picks up, blowing my umbrella inside out. Rain dampens my scarf.
“What?” I ask, my chest sinking. Did Nocth tell her to say this? But just before I can ask, Penny continues:
“I don’t have an exact date for the party yet, but you’ll be posing as a victim. Even if you’re not on the list, they won’t turn away S-Type blood.”
Shit.
I can’t. Faust Nocth already told me to stop taking the supplements, but if I do, Aliz will ask to bite me. And I don’t think I’ll be able to resist. I’m still searching for what to reply when Penny says, “Be ready.”
“I’m always ready,” I reply, but the words ring empty.
When I get back to my room, I pull out the jar of garlic supplements.
Without them, no one will look at me the same.
Much less Aliz. Not yet, I think. The supplements take between ten to fifteen hours to leave the system.
As long as Penny warns me a few days in advance, I’ll have time to stop, and then resume as soon as the party is over.
Aliz is still at her soiree. I wonder who lost the card game.
I try my best not to think of her, clearing my mind as I change into my nightgown.
The Familiar’s mark has continued to grow, now stretching its vines down past my waist. I grimace at the sight of the twisted lines.
I scratch furiously and stop just before opening a wound.
I wonder if she still has her clothes on. My breathing shortens as I imagine her slowly unbuttoning her velvet waistcoat. I cover my eyes and breathe. I’ve never felt this. She’s twisted my mind entirely.
A wave of humiliation does away with my arousal before it can fully form. Aliz doesn’t want me. If I didn’t have the mark, she wouldn’t spare me a second glance.
I’m so used to being wanted by every vampire I set my eyes on, but it’s always been because of my blood. I’m not able to seduce her with it, not when it’s polluted with garlic. I should stop taking it. I dig my nails into my chest, frustration bubbling.
It begins to itch, more than before, so I squeeze my eyes, hoping I’ll fall asleep before it becomes unbearable.