“You fear what you cannot see.”
“Is that really a surprise? You’re doing everything you can to conceal yourself.”
Another hint of silence, then, “I don’t particularly trust you to keep my identity a secret. You’re very close to your lover.”
“He’s not my lover,” I mutter. “And so what if I am close to him?”
“I doubt he will keep anything you say a secret. Near the Prayer Sanctuary, with the stench of biohumans lingering in the air, his voice will reach other slayers. I prefer the unknown. No face means no hunt.”
I shake my head. “Slayers hunt nightwalkers, with or without faces. If Jax—” A sudden rush of frustration tingles my skin.Why does the mention of Jax taste like ash on my tongue?“If a slayer learns about you, it wouldn’t matter because they kill any undead they encounter.”
“No. Slayers hunt those who oppose Serun’s Law. They’re far more complacent than you believe. Why do you think they’re waiting to break you out? Certainly not to let nightwalkers have a chance to leave the area. That’s what yournot-lovertold you, or did you miss his lie because his mouth was?—”
I spring up and confront the darkness. “How do you know what he told me?”
The darkness undulates as though to shrug. “I’ve tasted your memories. You let me do that. It’s also how you ended up with the brand of a nightwalker.”
I touch my shoulder, recalling the snake woven with moonflowers. “Does the brand do anything?”
“Nothing you won’t like.”
My gaze narrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighs, almost bored. “In the Undercity, if you’re branded, you’re under the protection of your sire. But in this case, it’s just a tattoo. Some have more than one, signifying they belong to a protected class of Feeders andcannot be harmed. Still, it doesn’t apply to you because you’re topside. Nightwalkers don’t care for brands up here. They’re more interested in scents.”
“Scents?”
He breathes a laugh. “Your senses will have sharpened since the bite, awakening the part of you that you have been trained to ignore. Tell me, kamai, what do you smell?”
I take a breath and taste the pungent odour of rotten fruit. With a deeper inhale, a sharper note strikes the back of my throat and lingers there. A musky, acidic, and oily scent emanates from the nightwalker, and I open my eyes. “Nightshade. You smell like nightshade. I know it well.”
“The stronger the scent, the more a nightwalker fears harming the branded. Also, the bigger the brand, the more likely a nightwalker will leave the human alone.” He chuckles darkly. “In both cases, no undead will fucking touch you for fear of becoming a scream in a silent forest.” He stands, and the shadows form the silhouette of a man wearing a hooded cloak. Long black claws seem to grow from his fingers, becoming the shadow of a monster. “That is, if you let me keep biting you. Venom fades within three days, and with it, so does the brand. A safety net, I suppose. The nightwalker can let them go and find another. Freedom, if the human chooses.”
“It will fade?”
“After three days,” the nightwalker confirms. “But if you’re interested,”—he reaches into the darkness and produces the wineglass, still filled with rich red liquid—“the venom will last longer if you drink my blood.”
My eyes narrow. “You said it wasn’t blood.”
“And I said—a liar’s tongue. You should know. Your entire identity is a lie.”
“No, it’s not, nightwalker,” I seethe.
Red eyes crinkle, and he lifts the glass towards me. “An offer. This is why I’m here.”
“But why?”
The darkness flows, drawing closer to the table. He sets the glass down before striding back towards the bed, gesturing towards the vent above us. “It’s easier for me to find you if my venom has not faded.”
I step back, edging towards the door. “I don’t want you to find me.”
His laugh is chillingly low. “I’ve witnessed bloodshed in your memories. Heartache. Moments when you were with others but felt alone.” He pauses, seeming to weigh his words. “The Hellsgate is opening somewhere in Darkovish this year, and if it’s near the Feeding Ground, I suggest you drink from me. Anything less, and I might not be able to reach you quickly enough if you are caught in the violence.”
I press my hand to my chest. “That thing in the airshafts—is it a monster from Hellsgate or one of Serun’s creatures?”
A low rumble sounds in his throat. “A weakened creature from Hellsgate. However, it will grow stronger when the gate opens. You were clever to tighten the screws. It might not harm you by scent now, but it would harm the others given the chance.”
I instinctively step closer, then quickly scurry backthree paces, shaking off his allure. “Why do you want to help me? Why did you save me last night? Am I not your prey? I am not truly one of you.”
