Ember gives a sad nod. "How very unfortunate for a vampire. It must make hunting difficult."

I shrug, glancing at Ashen who watches me with interest. I have my ways, I write.

"Yes, I am sure you do. Vampires are such adaptable creatures, after all," Ember says with a smile.

I glance behind her to Ashen and his eyes slide to mine. The flame is dim within them but I know what I see. Caution. Concern. He looks ahead when Ember turns to him.

"You'll just have to tell me the story then, brother," she says as we reach the end of the grand hall and turn past the last pillar to the right. There is a wide, curved set of stairs on each side of the room. I like the symmetry, the precision of the stonework. I look to the ceiling and the set of narrow windows set high into the rear wall. Our footfalls echo through the empty space as we ascend to the higher reaches of the structure.

At the top of the stairs we follow a corridor, large mahogany doors lining its length. The ceiling stretches a distance that feels too high, up to skylights beyond which there seems to be no light. For all the height here, I sense a pressure descend upon me. The echo of our steps only adds to my unease. We stop at a door halfway down the hall, the number 8 in a golden script of vines.

"Vampires are such adaptable creatures," Ember says, replaying her earlier thought. Her gaze flows over my skin. Her expression warms as she lays her hands on my upper arms. I feel Ashen's presence behind me. "I'm sure you'll settle in here in no time."

"We aren't staying long. Just two days at the most," Ashen says. Ember keeps her eyes trained on me as her smile spreads.

"Well, that is a shame, brother. We could use some more bright souls around here. And Lu's soul is very bright indeed." Ember places a kiss on my cheek, moving to do the same on the other side. "Isn't that right..."

Ember leans close. Her lips touch my ear.

"...Leucosia," she whispers, for only me to hear.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 14

My heart thrums in my chest. My stomach coils a burning path in my belly. Ember gives me a benevolent smile as she pulls away and looks in my eyes. There's neither threat nor comfort in her expression. "I'll see you soon, brother," she says as she turns her gaze over my shoulder. "Let me know if I can help in your hunt. Dinner tonight?"

I do not want to go to dinner. Like, at all. Hard pass.

I hear no sound behind me, but Ashen must nod because Ember's smile widens. "Good," she says, and her smile turns to me. "Bring Lu."

Fuck. I guess I'm going to dinner.

With one final smile, Ember turns away and drifts down the hall in her gravity-defying heels. I hear the door slide open against the stone floor behind me and I watch Ember disappear down the corridor without a backward glance before I turn to follow Ashen into the room.

The Reaper holds the door open for me, watching over his shoulder as I pass the threshold and enter the suite. It feels similar to his house on the other side; vases and gilt-edged tables and dark hues and oversized paintings. The carved ebony headboard of the wide bed stretches up the wall. I'm staring at the sheen on the midnight blue bedding, lost in my new wave of panic. I'm not really seeing what I'm looking at, but I'm staring at it nonetheless. There's only one thought swirling in my brain:

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Shhhhhhhiiiiiit.

"I would suggest that I can take another chamber and you have this one, but it is not safe for you to be in a separate room," Ashen says as he sets our bags down next to the bed. I'm listening, but not really understanding the meaning behind his comment. The refrain of 'shit' is still dominating my thoughts. The Reaper's head tilts. His eyes narrow in question and maybe concern. "I can sleep on the floor," he offers.

I shift my gaze to the floor and then back to him, still not processing the connection between his words and their meaning.

"Vampire..."

That snaps me out of my loop enough to glare at him. He introduced me as Lu just a moment ago, and now suddenly I'm a creature once more. Just vampire. I suppose I should be relieved it's that and not Leucosia, but for some reason the former only irks me more. At least I finally get that he's talking about the bed.

I think I can control myself, Reaper. We can share a bed like grownups, I write, tossing my journal next to him on the sea of midnight sheets. Ashen reads the message and gives me a questioning look over his shoulder, then opens his backpack to retrieve a black shirt from its depths.

"We will go first to pull records from the archives, and then we will meet Ember for dinner. Tomorrow we will head to Cairo," Ashen says, his back to me as he unbuttons his shirt. It slides down his shoulders, revealing the black tattoos that cascade across the muscles of his back. There are geometric flowers and stars, birds and black script. The entry wound from the werewolf's blade cuts a pink swath across a patch of scrolling honeycomb. The edges have nearly healed, the ink creeping back into the shining skin of the wound.

I watch for a moment as Ashen places the old shirt on the bed and folds it. He moves as though I'm not even here. The clean shirt flutters over his shoulders like a cape and he pushes an arm through one sleeve and then the next.

My heart is still rumbling in my chest as though it'll roll away and leave my body behind. Even the sight of Ashen's sick body isn't enough to take the chorus of 'shit' from my brain. It's now a proper Mariah Carey melody up in there. All I Want For Christmas is shit, apparently.

I walk to the far wall, looking out the tall, narrow window at a garden of mazed hedges as my thoughts storm through my mind. Ember could have killed me. She could have said my name to her brother. She could have called in a contingent of Reapers to steal my soul. She did none of those things, but it doesn't mean she wants to get drunk together and make TikTok videos on a Saturday night either.

Whatever it is that she wants from me, I have the feeling Ember will soon seek to collect. Is this how my sisters found themselves backed into corners? Is this how they wound up with swords slicing through the meat of their hearts? I don't know how I've lived so long coming so close to death. Now here I am, in the realm of it, in the room of it. And not only that, but I am drawn to it. I can't look away from it.

I am so, so fucked.

I close my eyes and lean my forehead on the glass, its temperature only a fraction colder than my skin. It soothes my face but it cannot touch my soul. I've been here for what, ten minutes? Max? I'm pretty sure this is where I'm gonna die if I can't keep my shit under control for ten minutes. Fucksakes, I could barely even handle the journey to get here. I would rather die anywhere but here. Literally. Like, send me back to Cheese Louise and Puptown, I'll happily die in the smell of cheesy wet dog. How can I die here after everything I've done to live? I'm not sure what living means anymore, but to perish in some reckless tailspin just to feel something seems like a waste of all the suffering I've endured.

It doesn't register that Ashen is speaking to me as these thoughts are spiraling through my head. When his hand touches my arm, instinct kicks me from stasis to action. My hand whips the dagger from my belt and slices an arc from the air between us. Ashen catches my wrist and twists before I can strike him with the blade. The dagger falls into my other waiting hand. It isn't until I'm driving the knife up toward the Reaper's throat that I realize what I'm doing.