Later that evening,when Aliz goes to class, I head to Elia’s place.
I send her a photo of Julia’s mural, along with a link to Gustavsson’s profile in Tynahine’s intranet. Despite having an entire library on campus, half of Elia’s house is filled with books.
“I’ll have to check other sources,” she finally says, her voice low and careful. “But based on what you’ve told me, he might be a Vassal.” I tense when I hear that word. The Vassals are the murderous Convert cult Nocth told me about. The ones responsible for Aliz’ssickness.Elia must have noticed the change in my expression, because she asks: “Aliz’s memories haven’t come back, have they?” she asks. I stare at her. How can Elia know about Aliz’s missing memories? Somehow, I’m not surprised.
“They—they did. But Nocth was able to—”
“Put another bandage on them?” Elia’s voice is sharp. “When will Faust realise that Aliz will never grow up if he keeps sheltering her like this?”
“You didn’t see her,” I say. “She was vomiting blood.”
Elia’s gaze softens. “There has to be another way,” she says. “I refuse to believe amnesia is the only cure.”
“Did you ever see Gustavsson before?” I ask, getting her back on topic. Elia looks at me then, brows creasing. “Before he reached Tynahine?”
“Should I have?” she asks.
“He claims that he was sired by Ada Astra.” I expect to see her eyeswiden with surprise, but instead Elia makes a face tinged with disgust.
“She loved making fledglings,” she says. “Whenever our relationship was going through a rough patch, she’d disappear somewhere across Europe and bring back a newly turned vampire to make me jealous.” She swallows, looking down. “I stopped caring after the sixteenth century, so I’m assuming, if what he said was true, that he must have been one of her later conquests.” Elia stares at the printed picture. “When your sire dies, a piece of you dies with them. They can become vicious after that sort of loss. I know I did. So perhaps Ada’s death is what made him join the Vassals.”
I stare at her. I knew Elia was a Convert, yet at the same time, I can’t imagine her ever being human.
“Why would a Vassal ever go to Wishaw?” I ask. She looks at me, not hiding her confusion. “That’s my town,” I elaborate, and Elia nods.
“Scouting. He may have gone on a tour of every prom in Britain.”
“Scouting for—”
“Blood party victims,” Elia says. “You said your parents were killed by vampires.”
“Yes,” I say.
“How long after your prom?”
I scratch my neck so hard that I accidentally open a wound. Elia’s pupils dilate, and she bites her lip, hard. I wipe the blood from my neck, staring her down, waiting for her to pounce on me. But after a long breath, the thirst leaves her eyes. “They died a month later,” I finally say. And as I say it, I can feel my insides twisting. Elia doesn’t speak, letting my thoughts breathe.
It may have been a coincidence. Yet at the same time, it doesn’t make sense. If Gustavsson was looking for blood party victims, why wasn’t I taken to one? I should have been the one who died, but instead, it was my parents. And somehow, Callisto was waiting on the sidelines to recruitme.
I remember Penny standing next to my parents’ corpses. Her red hair was in a neat bun, her pale skin stark against her black clothes.I’d thought she was a police officer, though soon she told me that what had happened to my parents was a crime that no ordinary cop could solve.
I’d never questioned Callisto finding me, Callisto betting on me, deciding that this random eighteen-year-old would for some reason be a good hunter.
My blood smelling good was something they only found out later.
But what if they had already known? What if Gustavsson, the Vassals, gave them a heads-up? My chest aches. Surely they could have found someone better than me. An athlete, a soldier. The only thing I had going for me was my blood.
“You know, if Callisto was interested only in protecting humans from vampires, I would have nothing against your organisation, Rebecca,” she says, taking my hand. Her nails are pastel pink. “I would even help them, just as I help the Council. And the Council is by no means perfect. But the Council is not in bed with the Vassals.”
I don’t look up at her. I wish her words were jarring. I wish they didn’t make sense.
“Do you believe in coincidences?” she asks.
I don’t. But all the same, I don’t want to believe it. Callisto allied with the Vassals. “Why would they work with them?”
“Both Callisto and the Vassals want to destroy the Council,” Elia says, looking up at the crystal chandelier hanging from her ceiling. “The Vassals want the world to go back to how things were before the treaties. Callisto wants to rid the earth of vampires. They have entirely different goals, so you wouldn’t think they’d ever work together, but while the Council still exists, they might as well help each other out.”
“All my missions have been to dismantle blood parties,” I say. “I’ve never once targeted the Council.”
