She reminds me of some of the vampires I’ve killed during my missions. The old ones with centuries of blood stolen through their fangs.
“What happened to your hands?” I ask. When she stretches her fingers, the wounds are gone. She looks at her skin, furrowing her brows.
“My hands?”
“You had cuts on them,” I say, and she seems amused.
“No, I didn’t,” she says lightly. All vampires heal quicker than humans do. But the speed at which they do so is usually determined by whether they are Heritages or Converts, and by the type of blood they’ve been drinking. Given the speed with which her wounds vanished, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has been drinking fresh blood.
Before I can ask another question, the tunnel comes to an end, and a sign over an archway readsKinsnet Library.She walks up a stone staircase and glances back down at me. “See you around,” she says, smile not reaching her eyes.
The relief offinally being out of those dark, narrow tunnels loosens my every nerve. And being left alone certainly helps.
I make my way up to the fourth floor of the library. I notice new details in the blue dome, a bunch of words in Latin fringing the paintings. The fourth floor has two dozen tables, with six chairs each, and they’re just as busy as the tables on the ground floor.
Even though existence ofThe Book of Blood and Rosesseems to be common knowledge amongst the vampires, I can’t find any books about it. Had I asked Professor Gustavsson for more information, he might have pointed me in the right direction. Or reported me to the dean. So, I start with a broad search;Vampire Myths and Legends,along with some other books that will hopefully help me locate the secret library:TheComplete History of Tynahine, The Architects of Tynahine,andVampires in XIII Century Scotland,amongst others.
I spot a table right by the balcony, which is yet to be claimed byany other students. I open my notebook, placing it on my left side, and work my way through the glossary of the first volume, searching for the book’s odd title.
The chair diagonally across from mine squeaks as someone pulls it back.
While good manners dictate that I should look up and exchange hushed pleasantries, I keep my attention focused on my book. Only when I hear the rustling of a page, do I glance up at my tablemate. Instantly, I wish I hadn’t. My heart lurches, breath stuck in my throat. It’s as if the entire library became invisible, because all I can see is her.
Aliz Astra is focused on the book she just opened, with a blunt pencil dangling between her long fingers. She holds a single page up, and her lean frame, her broad shoulders and long neck, all angle towards that piece of paper. Her white hair is a tousled mess, and she runs her fingers through it, keeping it away from her eyes. The top buttons of her cream shirt are unbuttoned. I force my expression into a mask of neutrality, waiting for her to noticeme.
My blood burns, shame colouring my cheeks.What the fuck am I thinking?And more important, what is she doinghere? Aliz Astra isn’t supposed tostudy.The library is of no use to her, except as a spot to mess around with her girls. And out of all the tables, why did she have to sit at mine?
While my mind rushes, the heiress draws a flask from her bag, the scent of hot blood reaching my nostrils. She slips a metal straw between her lips, not glancing in my direction. As though she doesn’t know I’m here. But she sat here on purpose, didn’t she? All because I looked at her.
I try to look away, but I can’t. She’s still focused on her book, rubbing the page mindlessly. Her white hair has a pine needle stuck in it, and when I allow myself a deeper breath, I find she smells like moss and rain.
She takes another sip of blood before wiping her lips, staining her index finger crimson. Aliz Astra runs her tongue over the blood on her finger, and her gaze locks with mine.
Her eyes, surrounded by white lashes, are black, not red. But all the same, it’s like being compelled. As though she’s invaded my mind in a way no vampire has been able to since my recruitment. Time slows, and the whispers of the surrounding tables quieten to the thudding of my own heart, harnessed entirely by her attention.
I hear her again, against the bookcase. I see the girl from the tunnel, with those small cuts on her hands, pressed against her, moaning, and Aliz Astra’s lips in the crook of her neck, her fangs piercing her skin,myskin, my blood, rushing to her tongue.
And as this vile desire sears through me, she takes another sip, her eyes not leaving mine, as though my every thought is filtering straight into her mind.
Her lips curve.
I look down at the book open in front of me, the words upon it a scrambled mess. That’s the third time she’s smiled at me, and the third time I looked away. I won’t let it happen again.
It’s not unusualfor a hunter to be entranced by a vampire.
We can’t be compelled, we’ve been trained not to be, but we’re still human. I don’t know what it is about her. Maybe it isn’t evenher,maybe it’s just this fucking place.
When I see Penny’s number light up my phone, my anxiety only seems to increase. “What is it?” I ask, phone pressed to my ear.
“Hello to you, too,” Penny says. “How is the search going?”
I stare up at a streetlamp, a few moths braving the damp air to fly towards its light. “I’ve covered forty tunnels, but I have a feeling that I’ve only scratched the surface.”
“Send me your progress,” she says.
“I will,” I say. “But I need more information. Where did you first hear aboutThe Book of Blood and Roses?”
“In one of Callisto’s libraries,” she says. In the headquarters. Which I’ll finally be able to access once I get my promotion.
