Lying bastard. He probably didn’t even go.
I follow Lysander’s directions, taking the adjacent hall to the end. As he said, a staircase hides there, deep in the corner. It rises up and disappears into darkness.
Climbing the wooden steps, I keep my eyes focused on the light pressing against the door. Shadows move underneath, and I pause. Why would Avurm be here? Especially if the sun can hurt him. Had Lysander been wrong about him being here?
Strange sounds come from the other side of the door, like low grunting and shuffling. It only piques my curiosity more.
When I open the door, the first thing I see is Avrum standing frozen in the center of the large attic space. He stares at me in both surprise and horror, and as his arm falls to his side, so does the sword he’s holding. It clatters on the floor by his feet.
“Haven!”
“You seem surprised to see me.” I step further inside, but Avrum’s arm juts out, eyes wild with fear.
“Don’t move,” he snaps. I’m about to argue with him, but when his eyes drop to my feet, I look down to see the place where my foot is about to step is missing a chunk ofwood. My throat tightens. If he hadn’t stopped me, I would have fallen through.
I shift back, my stomach tightening. That could’ve been bad. Deadly.
As I look around, I find that many of the floorboards are missing, and stripes of sunlight are pouring in through broken windows and gaps in the roof above. It’s a dangerous place for me, but even more dangerous for a vampire like Avrum. So, then, why is he here?
“I… am.” Avrum says, picks up his sword, and brings it across the room to a metal trunk where he drops it in. “Surprised to see you, that is.”
Moving carefully now, I walk across the room to him, annoyance ringing through me that he really has been up here all this time, hiding out from me. At least, that’s what it seems like. I jab him in the shoulder with a finger, feeling nothing but solid muscle.
His spine straightens, but he doesn’t face me.
“What happened with my father?” I ask. “Did you see him? Speak to him? Does he know about our plan to escape?”
He doesn’t answer. His entire body is as rigid and unmovable as stone.
“Avrum.” My aggravation builds from his silence. “Did you visit my father or not? You must answer me.”
Then, he turns, his expression solemn. Wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his hand, he sighs. “Who told you where I was?”
“Your friend. The one who’s part of the guard.”
He grits his teeth. “Lysander.”
He really didn’t want to be found up here. I don’t understand.
“What does that even matter?” I press. “Why didn’t you come to my room? What did my father say?”
An array of emotions cross Avrum’s face—worry, pity, confusion, desperation—all ones I recognize but don’t understand. But still his lips remain clamped shut.
My heart drops. Something isn’t right.
“Avrum…” My voice trembles. “What-What is it?”
“Oh, Haven,” he mutters. Grief clings to every word. The way his gaze roams my face makes my stomach clench painfully. “Your father… He’s…”
My worst fear comes crashing down on me in an instant, and my lungs seize. I can’t breathe.
“No…” My head whirls. He doesn’t have to say the rest. The truth echoes behind my ears as if he has screamed it. “No, please. No…”
“I am so sorry, Haven,” he whispers, stepping toward me. “I went to your home and your father… He’d passed away.”
The words pound through my skull, tears springing to my eyes instantly. “No! No! He can’t be! He isn’t!”
He reaches out to touch me, face contorted with pain. “Haven…”
