He had recognized how she had been more short-tempered as of late. He had heard her pacing at night, muttering to herself about their grandmother and having a need to speak with her. When he saw her packing and carrying a forbidden mundane map, his curiosity compelled him to accompany her.
It worked after only a few minutes. Far shorter than the usual length of time it took to wear her down.
Ambrose knew her quick agreement had little to do with his skills of persuasion and everything to do with his respect for their coven leader, as well as whatever restless thoughts had been plaguing her lately. Whatever she was running toward, or running from, he intended to uncover it. Ambrose would never allow his dignity to be called into question by lying for a deserter.
Once he discovered her motives, she would be brought back home. He would observe for now. And the moment her reasons were revealed, she would be subdued and forced to face the repercussions of her desertion.
It was not cruelty, it was order. The rules existed for a reason, and Isadora had broken them.
The only drawback was that he would have to complete the task without letting the elderly witch of a grandmother know about his intentions.
Agatha was a cruel woman by most standards. Sharp-tongued and unforgiving to most. Yet she adored Isadora with a ferocity, loving her as though she were her own daughter rather than a grandchild. As a result, she would defend her with the full weight of her magic and influence if given the chance. Ambrose was well aware that he stood no chance of winning against both of them should it come down to it.
This strategy demanded discretion.
Ambrose was still turning these thoughts over when Isadora’s demeanor shifted so abruptly it was almost jarring.
“Ambrose, do you hear that?" she asked, her voice suddenly brimming with excitement.
The change pulled him, lifting his gaze toward her. She had tilted her head, eyes alight as she strained to pinpoint the sound drifting through the trees. Faint music carried on the air, uneven but unmistakable, accompanied by the low rumble of an engine cutting through the forest’s quiet.
“It’s a car!” she exclaimed, already making her way in the sound’s direction. He had no time to respond before she disappeared.
Ambrose had to exert himself a little in order to keep up with her as she darted through trees. Isadora sped up deliberately, smirking as she sensed the distance growing between them. For all the power his eyes granted him, his speed didn’t compare to hers.
She reached the roadside first, bursting from the tree line just as the vehicle came over the hill and into view.
Isadora transformed herself, changing to be more human in appearance. Her body curved slightly, twisting into distress as she waved the car down with one hand while extending the other, thumb pointed outward that she had learned from mundane television. She had seen this maneuver in some of the shows she watched in secret.
The car slowed, then pulled over.
The driver was easily drawn in by her crafted damsel appearance she had masked herself with. Ambrose emerged from the trees moments later.
“What seems to be the matter, miss?” asked the young adult male behind the wheel.
Isadora leaned down toward the open window. She was met with light brown eyes and neatly kept ash blond hair. Hereminded her faintly of her brother, causing annoyance to flare again, but she kept it contained.
“I’m so lost,” she replied, her voice sifting into a mundane cadence she had borrowed from popular high school shows. “We were on our way to Burrow Hills when our cabbie kicked us out and drove away. We tried walking, but the map was hard to read without knowing where they dropped us off. Do you know where Burrow Hills is?”
She held her breath, waiting.
“Actually,” the man said after a brief pause, “I was driving there myself. I am visiting my cousin. I could give you and your little brother a ride.” His tone lifted slightly at the end, leaving the offer open, a choice placed politely in her hands.
Relief flashed across Isadora’s face, not entirely an act as she realized she wouldn’t ruin her boots. She stepped back and motioned Ambrose forward with a small tilt of her head. He joined her at the roadside, already smoothing his attire in his boredom.
He wasn’t disgusted with humans, but their presence was worthless if it wasn’t there to be food. Behind the polite mask, Ambrose considered draining the man dry and taking the vehicle for themselves. It would be quicker, but neither of them knew how to drive, and the inconvenience alone made the idea no longer appealing.
“That would be a big help,” Ambrose said, his voice adopting the same accent as Isadora’s. “Thank you, sir.”
The man smiled and unlocked the doors. Isadora slipped into the passenger seat without hesitation while Ambrose settled into the back. They weren’t afraid of entering a stranger’s car. Fear was for prey, and they were anything but.
As the doors closed and the engine started, warm air poured from the vents, carrying the scent of the driver with it. Blood. Rich and sweet, humming faintly beneath the surfaceof his skin. Both vampires reacted instinctively, their lips parting as the hunger stirred. Yet beneath the familiar pull was something else. Something that made Isadora's stomach twist with unease.
He wasn’t entirely human and they could smell it.
“What’re your names?” the man asked, glancing in the rearview mirror at Ambrose. His eyes shifted to the corners, looking at the blonde beside him. Isadora didn’t need to look at him to feel the heat of his stare.
“I’m Isa,” Isadora answered easily, choosing her nickname instead of her given name. Then she gestured over her shoulder to the backseat, caring to have the came consideration for his privacy. “His name is Ambrose.”
