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“They’re desperate. They don’t want Blaire to return the bloodline to what it used to be. Strong. With magic. Allowing those of us without Korrena mates”—Dominic looked at Aiden—“to perhaps find them with humans who would be born with magical blood or have dormant blood now. As long as Blaire remains human, those with latent blood will remain dormant. No future magical children will exist.”
Lukas raked a hand through his long hair and rested his head against the wall. “What the fuck? They won’t believe the restoration will save us but believe the rest of it?”
“You can’t cherry-pick what you believe and don’t believe. It either is or isn’t,” Seth said.
Aiden crossed his arms over his chest. “If they don’t think she’ll save us, then she won’t return our bloodline back as it was, either. How do they even believe any of the Blood War information and that there ever was magic if they don’t believe the Oracle knows what she’s saying?”
“Again, cherry-picking.”
Dominic let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “The semantics of it aren’t what’s important. It’s that they are moving and becoming more organized than ever before. Both Adrian and I believe it won’t be long before they make a move this direction.” His eyes connected with Blaire’s. “Before they come for you.”
10
POSTURING
Charlotte hadn’t gotten around to grocery shopping with the way the last couple of days had gone. Her refrigerator held the bare necessities, but nothing she wanted to cobble together for lunch.
Instead, she decided on the campus eatery. The temptation of air conditioning was strong, although people around her would lure her into spending money she didn’t want to spare.
She couldn’t stand sitting another minute alone in her apartment, waiting.
Waiting for the boogeyman to come and steal her away. Though she still questioned if she had witnessed a vampire or was suffering heatstroke.
She also waited for her “friend” to make a reappearance.
Since the night he broke in and left a rose in her apartment with her there, he hadn’t tried to make contact. She wondered if he knew she had gone to the police and it scared him off. Somehow, she doubted it.
The pink roses on her kitchen counter were almost dead, the heat speeding up their decay. If the roses were from someone she knew and had an interest in, she’d tell them to stop sending them—at least until she could get a regulated temperature in her apartment. It wasn’t fair to bring life into her home knowing it wouldn’t reach its usual life cycle. She already felt guilty about the abundance of plants in her apartment facing the humidity. Her mom tried to tell her humidity wouldn’t hurt them—something about greenhouses—but she still questioned it. Her roses wilted in the humid apartment, after all.
Maybe it seemed silly to think about that sort of thing, but plants were living things too. Maybe they couldn’t feel like humans, but they still lived and died.
As she followed the path toward the Tate Center, she adjusted the sunglasses that had slipped down her nose. She swiped away the light sheen of sweat.
Humidity made sitting outside near impossible—even the shade under the trees shielding students from the sun did little to protect them from the oppressive humidity. The lack of an advisory surprised her, although she hadn’t checked, so there could still be one.
Before she reached the large glass doors leading inside, her cell phone chirped in her pocket. She pulled it out, swiped to unlock it, and peered down at the screen.
Aiden:
You home?
Charlotte:
Nope. Grabbing lunch.
Aiden:
Where?
Her forehead wrinkled, and her eyes darted around behind her shades. Instinct told her he wasn’t far away. How she knew, she wasn’t sure. Still, it pleased her he had come all the way to Athens to see her. It may have been presumptuous of her to assume that, but what other explanation could there be? He did mention coming, even if she objected to the idea.
Charlotte:
In front of the Tate Building.
Aiden:
I have no idea where that is.
