The spider isn’t my only tattoo. Far from it.
Tattoos are another thing vamps just can’t do. Our skin regenerates, forcing the ink out until we’re back the way we were. They don’t last more than a single sleep.Unlesswe’re turned with them. So before I turned, I was determined to cover as much of my skin as possible. Looking back now I don’t really have regrets, but I probably wouldn’t have made all the same choices if Ireallyunderstood that I’d be stuck with them for a good couple of centuries. But they are a part of me. For better or worse.
Like my mage history.
I meet my eyes in the reflection and bite down on my lip until my fang pierces the soft flesh. I shouldn’t do it. I should just turn around and slip into my bed and shut my eyes and wait for the dawn to come. It’s straight up masochism at this point. Just useless reminiscing and ruminating—pretty much the very worst habit to pick up with the extra long life of a vamp. But still, for reasons well beyond my understanding, it’s irresistible. Knowing that it’s inevitable, and that I’m just burning moonlight at this point, I slide open the top drawer of my dresser. I do it slowly. Quietly. Like I’m doing something I shouldn’t.
The metal box is ice cold to the touch, with black undertones to the metal. Slightly smaller than a shoe box, it’s nowhere near as heavy as it should be. But that’s why corunonite is so highly sought after. My fingers fill the shallow indentations made from the lacework pattern engraved on the sides. One of my clan ancestors used the engravings to etch magic in the box. Carefully I place it on top of the dresser and open the fastening. There’s no lock—anyone who’s meant to have the box, a being with magic, would be able to ward it. The knowledge taunts me every time I torture myself with it.
I never set out to collect this random assortment of things from the mountains I once called home. But every so often, there’s been things, small, seemingly insignificant things, I just couldn’t leave behind when they’ve crossed my path.
There’s a hunk of clear orange-red crystal that glows, almost like molten lava. Beside it is a dull blue rock, shot through with dark green gem stone. A thin candle, dressed in colourful dried flowers, that’s never been lit. A spool of silver thread spun from astal web.
And finally, a folded piece of cloth. It’s the only thing here I personally carried over from my old life—I left most of it behind. The cloth is from a larger piece, a beautiful, thick shawl woven by my great grandmother in rich purples and blues and silvers,but it was damaged when one of my old friends borrowed it without asking and accidentally set it on fire. That was just before I met Laurence.
For better or worse, each item holds a significant meaning to my old life, the one I gave away when I asked Laurence to turn me. Really, it’s stupid that I even have them. It’s not like I can do anything with them anymore. They just take up valuable real estate in my knicker drawer.
I can’t get rid of them, though. Lately, I’ve been pulling the box out more and more often, to set out on the dresser, usually while I quietly plait the thin braid I keep hidden under my curls.
And now it appears I’m adding to my collection again. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I don’t just chuck them in the bin or mail them to Egbert. All I know is I can’t.
I should call Laurence, I know that. I also know that I won’t. Not yet anyway.
With uneasy hands I slip the chain from my neck and carefully wrap the medallion in the old cloth so the filigree edge doesn’t get damaged. When the box is secure back in the drawer, hidden away where it belongs, I put myself whereIbelong—in bed.
Only, there’s just enough time between now and dawn to think about the thing I’ve beenreallytrying to forget.
Willan, my best-friend-turned-worst-nightmare’s younger brother, is in town.
Fuck.
NIKOLO
Two years.For thetwo yearshe’s been in town I’ve successfully avoided running into Willan without even trying. And yet, it seems that I must’ve pissed on a sprite and angered the Gods because my time is officially up.
After Kroy told me Willan was in town, I panicked and started torturing myself with a thousand made up scenarios about what would happen if I ran into him. Then, just for ‘research’, I spent the next two nights looking for every little detail I could find about him. And between the social media pages for The Magnifitestique Mage and Egbert’s absolutely woeful privacy settings, I was able to find out plenty. Like the fact that he’s an instructor now at the shop.
And the fact the little Willanator—as his brother, Aleksi, and I used to call him—got hot.
Like seriously, unfairly, the Gods are definitely fucking with me kinda hot.
After two nights looking him up on every social media app I could download, the little wizards that live in my phone got wind of the fact I knew him somehow. When I got my first targeted ad for the shop, I knew it was time to pack it in. I knew what I should really do is block him, the shop, Egbert, everyone—thatwould be the smart thing to do. But no one’s ever accused me of being smart.
But Ididstop looking and convinced myself that if we hadn’t run into each other by now, we probably wouldn’t. I locked all that shit back up in the mental box labelled ‘the past’ and shoved it into the recesses of my mind, not knowing I just challenged the Gods.
Then Kai went and ruined it. Sweet, beautiful, beautiful, traitorous Kai delivered a bombshell just a week ago. Right there, on our couch.
“One of his friends apparently knows you from when you were kids or something?” He said, oh so casually. ‘His’ being Finn, Kai’s new… whatever the fuck they are. And the friend?
Willan.
Of fucking course it’s Willan.
As oblivious and dickmatised as he is right now, I’ve so far managed to convince Kai that it’s absolutely no big deal that he’s apparently all buddy-buddy with my old clan mate. That it’s totally chill that Willan has been to Bloody Temptationswhile I’ve been working. That he’s been back. To ask about me. As in, he knows I work there, and he specifically came to see me.
Why? To what purpose? To what end?
Fuckingwhy?
