He came back from his meeting with the Archarcans the other day and he was so damn proud of his illusion and the idea behind it. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I think he’s flogging a dead horse.
We’re all dotted in the living room of The Spire apartment, each of us wearing our Pretty Princess jewelry to protect us from Ember’s unwanted snooping. So far, all of our research has been a bust and I have a feeling we’ll be making another trip to the library soon.
Zeph is sprawled out, taking up half of one couch while Roscoe’s lying on his back on another. I’m on a cushion on thefloor so that I can reach more of the books without having to lean too far, and Dante sits beside me, his shoulder against mine, providing a quiet sense of comfort.
It’s... surprisingly nice. No one is at each other’s throats, no one has made a dickish comment all day, and we’re all just getting our heads down, digging deep to find the vamps’ secret weaknesses.
“This one has a story all about a vamp that somehow gained more power than a hundred other vampires,” Dante comments. “No word on how he developed that much power.”
“Anything about what happened to him?” I ask, tilting my head to the side so I can observe the powerful jaw that’s within touching distance. I fight the sudden urge to run my thumb from cheek to jaw and down his neck, enjoying the slight involuntary shudder that goes through him before he turns his amber eyes to meet mine.
“Not really. One day, it sounds like he just... disappeared. It was rumored that he grew tired of nothing in his life being real. He was propped up by sycophants wherever he looked, so he changed his identity and moved to another part of the world.”
“Huh. I doubt that would work with Simpson. He seemswaytoo into owning people and having them fawn all over him for that.”
I ignore the stab of disappointment that hits me. The same one I get every time we come up with jack shit from any of these books. We’ve read so many from cover to cover, and there just doesn’t seem to be an answer.
“Maybe vamps don’t have a magic button we can press to end them.”
“Beheading’s good,” Zeph replies. “Pretty sure nothing and no one can get far without a head.”
“We’d just need to get close enough to Simpson for us to chop his head off.”
And there lies the problem.
We fall silent, all contemplating the massive undertaking in front of us with a vague hopelessness.
Luckily, before we get too disheartened, we’re distracted by Hanna flying in through the door with Rook at her heels.
“Woah, where’s the fire?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes, careening a stop and almost tripping over Dante with the force of her momentum. “Funny,” she pants. “So, some news. We bumped into Ember.”
“You... what? What do you mean, you bumped into him?”
She shakes her head impatiently, barely getting her breath back before she replies, “That doesn’t matter. Anyway, he looks like shit at the minute.” Another shake of her head. “But that’s not what I wanted to tell you. He said that there’s something he wants us all to see. And seriously, Silv, you’re gonna want to see it.”
“Helpfully cryptic,” Zeph replies and Hanna flips him her middle finger.
“Where were you to run into him accidentally?” I ask. When Hanna waves off my question, I decide then that I don’t really want to know the answer for the sake of my blood pressure.
If she and Rook have taken it upon themselves to spy on Simpson and his cronies, like I think they have, I don’t want to know. The two of them aren’t made for spying. Rook’s so big, he stands out even in a crowd. And Hanna doesn’t have the personality to fade into the background. The two of them would be spotted and have their throats slit before they even knew they’d been discovered.
My gut swirls. Fuck, that makes me want to be sick. But I can’t exactly chain them to my wrist or keep them indoors because I’m terrified of something happening to them.
Our lives have never been what you’d call safe or comfortable. But it’s not like we’ve ever actively courted danger, either.
“Anyway, let’s go,” Hanna says, looking expectantly around the room.
Dante is the first to react, standing and offering me his hand, which I take gratefully.
“So we’re all just following the mini dictator’s instructions, are we?” Zeph grumbles under his breath.
“Better had, I dunno about you, but she scares me,” Roscoe whispers back. I cover my grin with my hand as we all head out, following the mini dictator herself.
Hanna leads us downtown, and within minutes, were on the same stretch of road where the zombies had a field day. The same road where Ro nearly bled out in the snow. He stiffens beside me and I clutch at his hand on one side, while gripping Zeph on my other side. I’m not sure which of us is least happy to be here. My heart’s pounding and my feet are sweating uncomfortably and I can’t tell out of me and Ro, whose palm is clammier.
In an alleyway, part way along the road, there’s a figure standing hunched in on themselves, a hood pulled up. It’s only when we’re barely five feet away. I realize it’s Ember.
