“You were at the academy. You taught there.”
“I didn’t just teach there, Prince Lincoln, I was the Head.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Fox
I open my eyes and find Veronica perching on a chair across the gloomy room from me.
It’s the scent in the air that’s dragged me from my merciful slumber and brought me back to consciousness.
The scent of blood.
It’s dripping down her chin and her fingers are covered in it.
She grins at me.
“Hungry, Fox darling?”
My stomach moans in agony. It’s so empty and my body is so weak. I am starving and every part of my body craves just a drop of that blood.
She lifts her hand. The dark red blood runs down her hand to her wrists and she brings it to her mouth as if it were an ice cream and slurps her tongue over the sticky sweet liquid.
“He was a young man. A little cocky. They’ve always been my favorite flavor.” Her eyes glow in the pitiful light – that red color I used to find irresistible. “I suspect that’s why you first drew my attention. Abnormally confident, and some would say cocky, fora boy from Slate. It was those good looks of yours, Fox. Maybe that’s what drew me to you.”
I watch transfixed as her tongue slides up another finger and she sucks the ripe blood into her mouth.
“Maybe it would have been better if you’d met the same fate as this young man.”
“Maybe,” I murmur, barely able to muster the energy to move my mouth to speak. It’s so dry, my lips mold to my gums and my tongue sticks to my palate.
Veronica’s eyes flash in anger. That wasn’t the response she wanted. She wants me begging to take her back, begging to share the remains of this meal she’s devouring.
“Don’t be facetious, darling. You pleaded with me to change you. You wanted the power, you wanted the immortality. You wanted to be even more special than you were.”
I try to recall if she’s correct. My brain seems sluggish, the thoughts churning more slowly inside my head.
I wanted those things. But Briony was right, I wanted them, because Veronica made me want them. She presented this future that was so different from the miserable life back in Slate, she promised me a life that would be worth living. I’d looked at the shadow weaver students with their riches and their luxuries and I’d wanted that too, not understanding what I was throwing away.
“I wanted a better life,” I tell her.
“And didn’t I give that to you?”
If she’d asked me this several months ago, I’d have said no. Life at the academy was lonely. I hated what I had become. I despised everything about myself and I resented my circumstances.
Then Briony entered my life and everything changed. I can’t lie. If it weren’t for Veronica, the chances my path would havecrossed with Briony were slim. Fate chose this path for me, Veronica another instrument of her choosing.
“You did,” I admit. “In a way.”
She smiles, content with that little victory.
“Would you like a little, darling?” she says, holding her hand towards me, that scent intensifying in my nostrils. She’s licked away most of the blood but a little remains on her palm and her wrist. It takes every drop of will power I have to resist.
“No,” I say, “no.”
“Suit yourself.” She licks her lips, smearing more of the blood around them, her fangs red with the liquid.
“It’s a better life than the one you would have lived in Slate,” she says. “That’s if you’d have lasted. I hear so many die young out there.” She feigns a sympathetic look. “So tragic.”
