I gaze at the vampire’s pale face, and his dark red eyes scrutinize every aspect of my being. I don’t know this creature personally, yet his infatuation with my magic was never a secret; he made his interest clear from the beginning, treating me like a familiar every time we exchanged words.
“What do you mean, Lucian?" I ask hesitantly.
He perks up at me, hearing me say his name, acknowledging his existence. He licks his sharp teeth, his eyes still fixed on mine.
“Haven’t you noticed it? Irregularities when you use it, the magic. A stronger reaction from us, the dark creatures around you? It feels as if your magic has almost doubled, the Aurum so strong… I can feel it burn, even from this distance. It’s very unpleasant.” His eyes beam with glee, as if I am some sort of treasure only he knows how to access.
The memory of hurting Caria is vivid, her burning flesh and those accusatory golden eyes. Dread fills me as I confide in the vampire, revealing part of what happened that afternoon, my desire for knowledge stronger than my aversion to his kind.
“Do you know how this could have happened? How did the Aurum suddenly become much more potent?” I ask, pushing away the raw longing for more knowledge.
“I was hoping you could tell me. Aurum has always intrigued me. Perhaps you should ask your death witch, the youngling. All the blood covens are educated on the matter, asit’s one of the main causes that forced them to change their magic. She might better understand it, and if she does, please do not forget who set you on the right path. Tell me when you know more.”
With those words, Lucian disappears, leaving me alone in the square as others avoid melike I’m a deadly disease. I sink down on a bench and let my mind unravel. If I understand Lucian correctly, Cariadoesknow about Aurum. Why didn’t she tell me? I feel like an idiot bragging to her that I could tell her more about it. Is she laughing behind my back? With that other male witch, Reiner? The one with the mismatched eyes? Is that all I am to her? A joke? No. It can’t be. Why would she visit the other witches to find information about my mother? Or was that a lie, too?
I try to piece together the information I received and the implications Faas and Lucian draw about Caria. Faas has hinted several times that Caria may have been dishonest with me, and now Lucian might have confirmed this without realizing it. I do my best to wrap my head around it all. I want to believe Caria desperately. I need to talk to her. I need to hear her side of the story first. I’m sure there’s an explanation. Even though I don’t need her protection, breaking us apart would make either of us an easier target, though I’m unsure of what might threaten us.
My head drifts from Caria to Harlot. If everyone's so determined to tear us apart… And it makes my mind reel as it does. I start to wonder if there’s a way I can separate Harlot from that Umbra. Who can I use to plant seeds of doubt in Harlot’s mind? I rack my brain, but nothing comes to mind. The one thing that keeps coming back is my desire to destroy Harlot, to tear her apart. I want to crush her until there’s nothing left to pick apart, just a bloody mess of torn organs and flesh, viscera everywhere. I want to cut her arteries so deep that a flood of dark, warm blood will pour down on me. I yearn to revel in herfear, her suffering, until she’s completely broken. But that damn Umbra will never let me come an inch near her, never close enough to lay my fingers on her.
My growl turns into a furious scream as I pound my fists on the bench. A witch nearby lets out a bloodcurdling cry and collapses to the ground. Within seconds, her dark skin starts to steam, and blisters appear. As she writhes in agony, her skin turns a dull gray, and smoke pours out of her mouth and nostrils. She tries to crawl away, but her body is beyond her control. In minutes, she's dead, burned alive from the inside out, all because I can't kill my sister. But instead of remorse, a heavy energy fills me as I wait for it to wash over me.
Onlookers stare at me in horror, their faces fill with sorrow as they scrutinize me with narrowed eyes. The corpse lies before me, and wisps of smoke still linger around the body, with blood pooling on all sides of her. The stench of burned flesh hangs heavy in the air, and I breathe it in deeply. I can sense that the vampires surrounding me are having difficulty controlling themselves. Their nature urges them to consume the blood, while their instinct tells them to stay away from me—the one who killed a witch without ever laying a hand on her.
It doesn’t take long before I become the talk of the city, the human who ruthlessly murdered a blood witch, cooking her to death. Curious cats peek around corners and through windows, but none attempt to come near me. I remain seated, watching it all cautiously, noting their skittish behavior.
“Fynn!”
My head jerks up. Jodelle rushes toward me, and the dark creatures don't approach her—an unprotected human. I'm too stunned to get up and go to her, to protect her. Instead, I stay seated, watching as she jogs. Her breasts bounce with each step on the uneven cobblestone street.
I’m surprised the dumb bitch doesn’t fall. I wish she would. I'd love to see her twist her ankle and break her neck, her bones protruding through the broken skin. What a delicious sight that would be to behold.
I blink, and Jodelle's loud breathing fills my ears, her chest heaving.
“Fynn… I… need…”
“Please, sit. Catch your breath first, love.”
I pat on the bench, and she takes a seat as she steadies her breathing. After a few minutes, she can speak normally.
“Fynn, I don’t know what happened, but… I think I siphoned some of your power, your magic.”
Jodelle gazes at me with excitement, a big smile on her face.
“What?” That is all I manage to say. It comes out choked and harsh.
“Your magic, what you use to protect me. I think I have it, too. I accidentally hurt a vampire when I heard a noise outside the room. I thought it was you, so I opened the door and wrapped my arms around you, except it wasn’t you. It was a bloodsucker, and he instantly started to hiss and cry.”
She can hardly contain her delight, as a feverish gleam burns in her eyes.
“You hugged another man?” I whisper.
“What? No. Fynn, you’re not listening. I thought it was you, but instead it was a vampire… I burned his skin badly. Because of the magic…”
She smiles at me as she watches me with rapt intensity. I scoff at her; her words make no sense.
“Whatever.”
She shuts up, the words she just spoke hanging in the air, and she tightens her lips into a thin line. I can’t help but feel an irrational fury toward Jodelle for touching another man, even if he was a vampire, even if it was unintentional. I don’t care; itfeels as if my mind is not my own. I want to shake her violently, strike her so hard that her skin would instantly bruise from the impact, but I don’t. I sit next to her in silence, seething. I focus on the air filling my lungs, the uneven stones before me, anything that will help me ground myself. I realize there’s only one way to know if Jodelle is lying to me.
