“She wasn’t expecting us to be so strong,” Harold says after a moment. He flexes his shoulders. He’s been trying the bindings the entire time, but we have warded those too, though I have no doubt his blessing is working away at that. “I won’t die that way.”
“The sun?” Asher asks.
“As part of some fucking experiment,” Harold spits. “She’s mad. Vampires can’t stand the sun, they can’t—”
He pales again, eyes going wide as saucers as he stares at the beaded curtain. I know Grant is out of sight. I know it. Yet, I wonder if Harold just brushed up against Grant’s magic.
“We cannot,” I agree. “Youwill not. If you step into the sun, you will die.”
It is not an assumption. Not that I have died, obviously, but we have all had close calls, even after receiving our blessings. I burnt my entire left arm last time, and wounds from the sun are slow to heal. It was weeks before I could use it properly again.
“You can’t be sure,” Harold says, but his words ring hollow, even to me. “I saw… I know what I saw.”
“I am certain you do. That does not mean you will have the same fate.”
He hisses at me, fangs out, and Asher rolls his eyes but does not move from his position against the wall. Even if Harold should break free—which he will not—his speed is likely equal to my own, so he will not escape to hurt the others.
Not that I necessarily believe he wants to. He wanted to get away from Eirian, but when we found him in that park…
Asher seems to be having the same thought. He frowns. “Why were you in the park then? Why not leave Margate altogether if you want to get away from Eirian and survive?”
“Why should I have to leave?”
“You ran,” Asher says with a shrug. “Why stop?”
Harold growls, low in his throat, and I feel a tug that makes me think Grant is listening. No doubt of that. No doubt he is concerned, too. I will not have him in here, though. There are many things he still must train to do.
“Something pulled you back. What was it?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Harold,” Asher says, ducking low when Harold turns his head, trying to avoid Asher’s gaze. “Come on. You can tell us.”
“I was hungry.” The words come out so quietly and reluctantly that I almost do not hear them at all.
“Hungry?” Asher asks.
“Yes,” Harold snarls, and when he looks at Asher now, his eyes are glowing. “This—When she—I’ve not been so hungry since I was a fledgling.”
Fuck. That is not good news, though I should not be surprised. Grant said earlier that it felt as though the fae magic was stretching Harold’s death magic at the seams. Blood is what sustains that magic, for us. If his death magic is hanging on, then he will need blood, though I doubt even all the blood in the world will fix what she has done to him.
Maurice will confirm it, of course, but I believe Harold was dead the moment Eirian gave him that magic.
“Where is Jakob, Harold?” I ask. “We know he has more than one residence. We will not be taken by surprise.”
“I told you. I don’t know for sure.” Harold growls again. He blinks rapidly, but now he does not appear to be able to suppress the glow in his eyes. No doubt he can scent that there are humans in the flat. I nod to Asher and he slips out of the kitchen, though Harold’s gaze unerringly follows him.
“Give me a clue. We will find him, even without your help, but things will be faster and less painful if you assist us.”
“Painful for who? You think I care about Jakob after he sold me out?”
“For all of you. You are dying, Harold. I believe you have already figured that out. That is why you did not leave.”
“She won’t fix me.”
“I am not even certain that she can.”
He growls again, long and low. “You knew this wouldn’t work. You knew she wouldn’t get what she wanted. Why didn’tsheknow that?”
