“Do you dare to blame me for your failure? Because you,a vampire, let a human of all species escape?” he snarls at Augustus with narrow eyes. The vampire shrinks back in fear.
“No, no, of course not, my lord… Umbra…” Augustus replies.
“So, the girl now benefits as well,” Emrys says, lost in thought.
“Yes… That’s correct, my… Umbra. It seems to be the case…”
The vampire doesn’t dare to look my way, nor does he make much sound, despite the agonizing pain he must be enduring. I see his body battling the shadows, but he has no chance. It’s a natural instinct—rapid healing; all vampires possess it. This is why they often choose violence over a normal conversation. It doesn’t matter if they end up wounded; their bodies knit themselves together in no time, and they’re ready for round two. Only when an Umbra, or a werewolf, decides to strike does it become dangerous for a vampire. A vampire cannot heal from a werewolf bite or rite. And vampires cannot recover from damage inflicted by an Umbra unless an Umbra grants permission. This illustrates the extent to which Emrys’s powers reach and explains why he is avoided and treated with such respect.
“Are they still at the inn down the road? The one where the death witch works?” Emrys asks.
Augustus nods. “Yes, that’s where they are holding themselves up still.”
“And the dhampir, what about him?”
Faas… Another threat to the citizens of Valorya, even though he is not a werewolf or an Umbra. Still, dhampirs are perhaps more lethal to vampires and blood witches than the other two due to their mercurial nature. Although born half-human, their powers are complex; inheriting all the advantages of vampires, such as speed and strength, dhampirs also have the ability to siphon the powers of those they kill. This makes it impossible for an opponent to know their actual abilities. Additionally, a were-creature bite is never lethal for them to begin with; their healing capacities are comparable to a vampire's, perhaps even faster, but somehow the venom doesn’t affect them. Their instinct is to kill any vampire that crosses their path, and witches—those they kill to absorb their magic, each kill strengthening their defenses against witches.
“He lingers around, talks to the boy. The death witch hates it, hates the abomination as much as we all do. The dhampir threatened her some days ago, at least that’s being whispered about,” the vampire says softly, and I notice his eyes becoming watery. It makes me wonder how much longer he can endure the pain.
I place my hand on Emrys's arm, suggesting that he might consider letting the vampire go. Emrys meets my gaze, his darkened eyes clear up the moment our eyes meet.
“You’re fortunate that my beloved’s heart is gentle.”
“Bless your mercy, milady,” the vampire cries out, but I don’t look at him.
I didn’t do this for the vampire; I did it for Emrys’s sanity. The shadows toss the vampire across the town square withforce, his pale skin turning bright red as it scrapes against the rough stone. A yelp escapes the vampire’s throat. No, thank you, nothing. The vampire should be relieved that this was all my monster did, removing him. It’s an act of mercy, the alternative being ripping the vampire’s head off. The one who had the nerve to stare at me so blatantly, insinuating I am now without protection. The words the creature had spoken linger.Healthy.Vulnerable.I feel them claw their way into my mind, ready to settle in, messing with my head.
“What will we do, my love?” I ask Emrys.
“There’s only one way to find out if that little rat has spoken the truth. We’ll need to seek out your brother,” he says as his troubled eyes meet mine, our perfect storm.
As we walk through the alleys and streets that lead us to the inn, neither of us is willing to rush. Being here again, the place I was supposed to call home for a short time, I can finally appreciate the architecture this city has to offer. From time to time, I pause to marvel at the carved ornaments and paintings on the walls, and Emrys indulges me, loving my curious nature. It’s the first time I am experiencing this city for what it is, without thoughts about my brother and how I would have loved to decorate the ornate walls with his bloodied organs.
The many stained-glass windows remind me that once, this city belonged to the Light, to the humans, remnants of a violent past. Those who encounter us walk around us with a wide berth. Some stop, their noses in the air, jerking their heads in my direction, but when they spot Emrys, their frenzy comes under control, their trepidation stronger than their hunger. It seems every darkling has a desire for a taste of my blood.
It makes me realize that I am, indeed, vulnerable, as Augustus, the vampire, pointed out earlier. A low hum of fear threads through my pulse, and I press myself closer to Emrys.
With me close by, you are never vulnerable, Tempest. My shadows crawl over your skin as well, ready to unleash on anyone foolish enough to reach for you.
I relax a little, but I stay close to Emrys as we continue walking. It doesn’t take long before the building that houses the inn emerges, opulent and beautiful—something I only truly notice now.
Suddenly, dread overtakes me, and my nerves sing with wary energy. It dawns on me that I'm scared to face my brother and his false soulmate, Jodelle, even with Emrys beside me. It’s the uncertainty that gnaws at me. I don’t know how they will react to seeing me, or Emrys. Will the curse have changed him after we managed to lift it? I am unsure if he’d be willing to sacrifice his soulmate to free himself. We do not know how deeply the curse's poisonous tentacles have embedded themselves in my brother's mind, whether the murderous desires intensified with me removed from the hex.
Emrys pulls me into the shadows as Caria and the other witch, Reiner, storm out of the establishment. We know they want something from Fynn, but it’s unclear what it is. All we unraveled is that it isn’t a coincidence that Caria happened to work at the inn when my mother arrived with us, nor is it fortuitous that she and my brother developed some sort of relationship. I’m certain she didn’t plan on Jodelle’s arrival or how smitten my brother suddenly became. His infatuation with the death witch is fabricated, and he has no idea. We eavesdrop while the witches converse, Emrys listening intently.
“This is a problem,” the male witch tells Caria, his eyes full of sorrow as he looks at her. He’s in distress… for her, I realize.
“We can’t go through with this, I won’t allow it, Caria,” he continues.
She looks at him pleadingly.
“I can do this; it’ll be fine. He won’t hurt me,” she says, trying to sound confident.
“It’s not even about that bastard anymore. That little bitch has the same power as him, just weaker. She can seriously hurt you, Caria—even kill you. You’re no longer safe, and I refuse to seek revenge for you,” Reiner says firmly.
She gazes at him, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Caria takes his hands in hers and kisses the backs of his knuckles.
“I’ll be fine, I promise,” she says once more.
