Chapter 6
Ophelia raised a toe above the rapidly cooling water of her bath.
The blue tinge had faded along with the sensation of burning needles being driven into her flesh.
She frowned at their loss, almost missing her daily dose of flagellation and torture.
There was something to be said for being punished for your sins, imagined or otherwise. Of course, skin was nice, too.
So was having a soul, but that bird had flown.
The door opened after a perfunctory knock, and Ophelia sank lower into the tepid water as Soku came in. Only the diminutive woman’s feet were visible beneath the mound of towels she was carrying, and the top of her neat bun even with the countertop.
“You planning on trying to drown yourself?” The brownie reached up and hefted the fluffy mound onto the corner of the sink, then turned with her arms crossed below her generous breasts.
She looked exactly like one of those girly bleach-blonde dolls Ophelia had made a point of not playing with when she was a kid. Not that she’d ever tell the brownie that. She’d seen Soku deadlift a refrigerator to clean beneath it, and her temperament was uneven at best.
Soku’d been in the middle of vacuuming when Ophelia had returned, and she’d hoped that Soku would be gone when she got out.
It wasn’t that they didn’t get along, she just was way too perceptive, and Ophelia didn’t feel like getting into things.
Which was the entire reason she was still in the tub.
She didn’t have the mental capacity to match wits with the brownie after today.
“If only,” Ophelia muttered. Unfortunately, she knew for a fact vampires couldn’t drown, though it hurt like hell once the reflex to breathe kicked in. Actually, that wasn’t a bad way to punish herself, now that she thought about it.
Soku rolled her big blue eyes and jammed up a sleeve. She reached into the tub to pull the stopper, almost going in head first. “Then I suggest you get out before you catch your death a second time.”
“Yes, mom,” Ophelia grumbled, though they were probably the same age.
Well, they would be if Ophelia wasn’t technically dead.
Ghandi, the way the woman thought she could boss her into things…
Whatever. Arguing with her was pointless, and it would only prolong her hanging around.
Ophelia stood, and Soku handed her the towel.
“Wow, your day was that shitty, huh?” she asked, raising a meticulously threaded brow and proceeding to climb onto the toilet seat so she could tidy up the sink.
Ophelia scowled at her, drying off and wishing yet again that the brownie wasn’t there. “It wasn’t great, okay?”
“If it makes you feel any better, mine wasn’t all tits and ass either,” Soku said, wiping down the backsplash with her ever-present rag. “This weasel thing has got the Below in an uproar. I would’ve been here earlier, but the meeting they called dragged on for like, four hours.”
Oh? Ophelia scrubbed the towel through her hair. “Are they going to let us down there?”
“It was close, but no.” The brownie frowned at her in the mirror.
“Don’t look at me like that. I voted for it, and now half my flat is pissed at me and everyone else who did.
I don’t see how letting Chambers run around sniffing through everyone’s business is any better than you or Jena going in to haul his ass out.
No one else can find him, and the last thing we need is that thump tripping over something that puts him back on two legs so he can blab all our secrets.
At least you have that attorney-client thing going on, and Jena’s, well, Jena. ”
She leaned over and shook her rag into the garbage. “The pixies are fucking pissed about it, too. The entire Below sounds like it’s full of enraged bees, and I’ve never seen the harems agree on anything. No good’s gonna come of any of this. Pixies are nasty little fuckers.”
Well, she would know. Ophelia sighed, cringing as she wrapped the towel around herself. Ghandi, she hated how that felt.
The brownie tongued her cheek, not missing the reaction. “But it’s not all bad, I managed to get you something from them before all hell broke loose.” She jerked her head at the door. “I left it on your bed.”
Ophelia raised a brow and crossed the hall.
A plain brown bag sat in the middle of the bare mattress.
She unrolled the top and reached in, then dumped it out when she didn’t feel anything.
A hank of…something fell out. It was a weird, opalescent gray.
She picked it up, and her brows knit. She could see it, but her fingers didn’t register that it was there.
“Go on, shake it out. It’s bigger than it looks,” the brownie said, following her in. “I had one of the harems make it for you. It’s woven gossamer. When they’re not high as fuck, they’ve got a side hustle making clothes for people with sensory issues. There’s no seams or anything to rub weird.”
It was a tunic. Ophelia held it up to the light, a lump steadily growing in her throat.
“Well, try it on,” Soku snapped, rolling her eyes.
Yeah. Easier said than done. Ophelia wet her lips, fighting a wave of anxiety as she slipped it over her head. The sleeves fell to past her wrists and the hem hit mid-thigh.
And she couldn’t feel it at all, or the chill in the room.
Soku sniffed, broadcasting “I told you so,” and not-so-chalantly flicked her rag at a spider web. “If you like it, I can have them make up some leggings or whatever to go with it. I wanted to make sure you didn’t hate it before I went whole hog. The shit’s not cheap.”
“I… No, I don’t hate it,” Ophelia sniffled, trying for the same breezy tone and failing miserably. “How much do I owe you?”
Soku rolled her eyes again. “Trust me, not having to see you run around half naked all the time is payment enough. You can spring for anything else, but that’s on me. Consider it a late Yule present.”
“What? No, I can’t—”
“Shut up, you can.” The brownie scowled. “It’s obvious you struggle with sensory crap, and it’s not like I wouldn’t have done the same for any of my other friends.”
Ophelia ducked her head, running a finger over the fine stitching at the edges of a sleeve with Jena’s words ringing in her ears. “Thank you,” she rasped. It came out easier that time, damn it.
Soku bustled past her and started wiping down the side of the dresser.
“You can thank me by going upstairs and having yourself a pint by the fire. Your irises are paler than I’d like, and Mr. Brock is up there.
He said he wanted to talk to you about something.
Besides, this room’s next on my list, and I’d rather not clean with you here. ”
Yeah, that hadn’t gone well the one and only time Ophelia had tried to stick around. Forget about the pixies, Soku was downright evil when someone stood between her and a dust particle. “You know what he wants?”
“Nope, and I don’t care, either,” Soku said, giving the mattress behind Ophelia a meaningful look.
Oh yeah, it was time to go. Soku was definitely in cleaning mode.
Ophelia grabbed her towel off the bed and returned it to the bathroom on her way past. Her steps slowed as she made her way upstairs to the tiny alcove that served as a kitchen.
An outdated fridge was jammed into it beside a rolling cart with a microwave that probably pre-dated tubed television screens.
She grabbed a bag of blood from the fridge and tossed it in the microwave, turning the dial to zap it for fifteen seconds.
It powered on with a horrific hum that raised the small hairs on Ophelia’s arms. Well, that or the radiation it was throwing off.
The nuclear-event-waiting-to-happen dinged, and she poured the pack into a mug, frowning at the ruddy liquid.
Granted, after giving herself frostbite, she needed the boost. The virus would repair any physical damage, but it needed fresh blood to do it, or it would burn through her stores. Get too low on those and hello mindless revenant hell-bent on destruction.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t like becoming a vampire had suddenly made blood super delicious. Drinking it was disgusting, but the alternative was worse. Ophelia took a cautious sip, hissing as it burned her tongue, and a weird tingle went through her.
That hadn’t started until she’d gotten to Havers, and she had no idea what it meant, but she was pretty sure magic was involved.
The same tingle had gone through her crossing the threshold of the Witchery.
Maybe that meant a supe was donating. Back at the Citadel, they’d fed exclusively on normys.
She didn’t think that was all on the vampires.
Supes just steered clear of the tribes and vice versa.
With good reason. She wished she had. Ghandi, she was an idiot.
Ophelia took another sip and leaned against the fridge, her eyes on the dark hall leading to Thaddeus’s study.
She shivered. As cozy as it should’ve been, given the perpetually roaring hearth and all the books, it wasn’t.
The place gave her the creeps. She took another sip of blood.
Maybe she’d just finish this first. Whatever he had to tell her, she was sure it could wait.
“I don’t understand,” Gideon said, putting down his glass. How was the quality of blood different in Havers?
“No, I can’t imagine you would.” The vampire pursed his lips.
“And I’d be misleading you if I said that I understood all of the particulars.
However, the fact remains that when a vampire consumes the blood of one of Havers’s residents, it subtly alters the virus, as evidenced by the way it presents itself.
” He gestured at the weeping dark marks around his eyes.
Gideon sat back in his chair, waiting for the vampire to explain what the hell that meant.