I scratch my neck again, my blunt nails not alleviating the feeling. I wonder if this itch is some kind of side effect of her blood. Either way, I don’t have time to sit around pondering. I rush into the bathroom, fighting with the demonic silicone cup. And I almost,almost,don’t see my reflection. But I look up for just a second as I brush my teeth and seeit.
At first, I think it might be some kind of spot, or maybe a scar.
But then I peer closer.
The place that Jannet stabbed, and Aliz healed, is tattooed with a small black moon, two thorny vines surrounding it. It’s beautiful. And I’m sure I’ve seen it somewhere before.
Still holding my toothbrush, I step out into the room, turning on the light. I walk over and stare, without a word, at the design that decorates her coffin. Hers is gold, mine is black. But it’s the same. A crescent moon, surrounded by a tangle of thorns.
I take a step back, nausea almost knocking me off my feet. I put my toothbrush down on the desk, swallow the toothpaste, and knock on her coffin, trying to remain calm. There must be an explanation for this. Whateverthisis.
“Go away,” she groans from inside, and I hear her turning.
There’s an empty paper cup on her desk, stained red, next to a large book about colour theory. A pile of notes, some of them crumpled up. I find the handle on her coffin, and I pull it open.
Despite being a vampire hunter, I’ve never seen the inside of a vampire’s coffin before. It actually looks comfy, although far too narrow to be able to sleep in. The sides are padded with velvet. But the only thing I can look at is her, her bare legs kicking off her black silk sheets, her toned arms trying to hide her face from the light.
“Aliz?” I say, keeping my voice calm.
“No,” she says, trying to pull the lid back down.
“Aliz,” I repeat, keeping the coffin open, light flooding into it. She hisses, showing her fangs. “Look at me!”
“Go away,” she croaks, her voice low and hoarse.
I grab her arms, pulling them away from her face, and she finally looks at me, glaring. It takes a few seconds, but she seesit.
“When’d you get the tattoo?” she asks, sitting up, and I feel like screaming.
“What is this?”
She rubs her eyes and looks at my neck again. She reaches out to touch it, and with the contact, the unbearable itch subsides. Her skin is like a cooling balm, and I breathe out an involuntary sigh of relief. I almost step closer to her, but then she speaks. “It’s my family crest,” she says in a small voice.
I swat her hand away and the itch returns. “Your family crest?”
“Well…” She clears her throat then yawns. “A moon bound in thorns. That’s the Astra crest.” My heart thuds against my ears, and she grabs my arm without a care in the world, pulling me closer to get a better look at it. She touches it again, lips ajar. My breathing hitches, but for once, she doesn’t react.
Focus,I tell myself, prying my arm free from her grip. “What the fuck is this?”
“Uh…” Her expression is lost, inching towards panic. “I don’t know.”
“But you did it!”
“No, I didn’t,” she protests. “You think I can draw? I would be an art major if I could.”
“Aliz, this is where the cut was. The one you healed with your blood.”
She blinks. Her white brows settle into a frown, and she narrows her eyes. “That happened,” she says. “And you still haven’t told me who attacked you.”
“What happened to the last human you healed?” I ask, my heart thudding.
She rubs her eyes, still half asleep. “I’ve never healed a human before,” she says.
“What?”
“You’re the first human I’ve given my blood to.”
“You better be joking,” I say, anger coiling insideme.
