“Like what?” I ask, wanting to know everything.
“Like,” she says slowly, eyes going between the two of us. “When we…when we killed your parents,” I can’t help but flinch as she says that, “we didn’t know you were there. We set the house on fire, you should have burned in the flames. But you didn’t. We heard you crying and thought it was too late to save you. But then you…you walked right through the fire. All of it. Didn’t stop. The flames didn’t hurt you, didn’t leave a single mark or burn. You’re impervious to the element, Lenore.”
“What about now?” I ask quietly. “With my vampire blood. Fire kills vampires.”
My mother looks at Solon. “Do you know?”
Solon rubs his lips together. “Regardless of the time they turn, they still have vampire blood in them, it’s just dormant. But I don’t think the vampire in her negates the witch. I think they both work together seamlessly. Yin and yang.”
My mother nods slowly and then gets to her feet, taking a step toward Solon but not getting too close. “And so that’s why you want her, isn’t it? For your plan.”
I frown. “What plan?” I ask. I stare at her, stare at Solon, and both are silent. “What plan?”
My mother tears her eyes away from Solon. “The plan he has. To use you to destroy his father.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
It’s been a week since I learned that Absolon needs my help to take down his father, Skarde. It wasn’t exactly a plan, per se, not the way that my mother came out with it. But once it was out in the open and we got to talking, we realized that perhaps, one day, it’s something I’d be willing to do. Able to do.
Of course, Solon and I discussed that without my mother there. In the hotel, he was adamant that he had no plan and that he would not be using me for anything, especially something that puts me in harm’s way, and I believe him.
Afterward though, it kept coming up.
Because the thing is, my nightmares aren’t stopping.
Every night since then I’ve dreamed about the Dark Order and Skarde, always in the ice and snow, always with circles of blood, always ending in my death. It scares me, to be honest, like Skarde is aware of my existence and has found a way to get into my dreams. Could that be right? He is a creation of the Devil himself, so why not have that ability?
All I know is that, as ludicrous as it seems to help Solon take his father down, in whatever way he means, I’m far from ready for that. I mean, this would be a war, wouldn’t it? I’m not a soldier, I’m only a half-witch, and at the moment, totally helpless against anything so dark and formidable. I might be the daughter of Jeremias, but it means absolutely nothing.
Solon hasn’t been going into any details about it either. When I bring it up, like “So, if I were to take down the Dark Order, how would that work exactly?” he just placates me with kiss or a noncommittal response.
“Solon?” I ask.
He looks up from the book he’s reading, forehead creased. “Hmm?”
We’re in the library, going through the stacks of books on witchcraft and magic. I brought down the ones I had been keeping in my room, but it turns out he has way more, from ones in Latin, to how-tos, to grimoires passed down through families. Every time I ask him how he got his hands on them, he mumbles something about a trade.
We’ve been in the library most days this week…and in his bedroom the rest of the time. When we returned from the hotel, after a tearful goodbye to my mother, telling her I’d see her soon, we got started in earnest about schooling me in witchcraft.
But like before, there’s been no text yet that strikes a chord with me. A lot of them have to do with saying certain words over and over again, intention being the focus, intention shaping the energy around us.
Yet, no matter how many times I repeat the words and truly believe it, drawing on that infinite dark well inside me, nothing happens. I can’t even feel it building inside me, there’s nothing to even create from.
I take a big gulp of my whisky, Solon still staring at me with learned patience, waiting for me to go on. “I need to get out of the house,” I tell him. “I’ve been in here for far too long and I can’t read another page. This isn’t helping me.”
His brows raise further. “Okay,” he says, carefully closing the book he was reading and putting it on the coffee table. “Where do you want to go?”
“Out,” I say emphatically.
“Alright. Well, you know wherever you go, I’m going with you.”
“What, like you’re my bodyguard?”
His face remains impassive. “Yes. Like I always have been.”
I’m about to mention the time Atlas Poe got me, but that was all my fault, and he still found me in the end.
“Well, you’re not going to like where we’re going,” I tell him, though secretly it warms my heart and sets me at ease to know that no matter where I go, I’ll have him at my side.
He stares at me steadily before having a sip of his drink, his long fingers running over the rim of the glass. “I’m sure I can handle it.”
“I want to go to a bar,” I tell him. “With people my own age. No one over thirty. No vampires.”
He sighs. “Fine,” he says, picking his book back up.
“That means not dressing like you’re James Bond.”
He looks down at himself. He looks damn good, as usual, in a charcoal grey dress shirt, sleeves rolled up showing off his ropey forearms, black pants, but he’ll stick out wherever we go. “I hardly call this something James Bond would wear,” he scoffs.
“What I mean is, you need to dress down. People already stare at you as it is.”
“And that’s a problem?” he asks, a hint of a smile.
“You’re not the only one who’s possessive,” I remind him.
I decide we should leave at eight p.m., better to go a little earlier than later. Solon continues looking through the books though, forever searching for something that might give him a clue of what to do with me. Jeremias’ black magic might come to me naturally, but even that doesn’t want to come out. The earthquake I caused was one created accidently under extreme duress, but I’d been in situations like that since and nothing strange or magical happened.
I put on a light dusting of makeup, pull my hair back into a ponytail, slip on the black dress with the roses that Solon bought for me, and my combat boots and purse, and I go down to meet him by the front door, feeling giddy at the idea of getting out and pretending to be normal, no matter what that might be for me now.
“Ready?” he asks from behind me, and I turn to see him walking up the stairs from Dark Eyes.
“Hot damn,” I tell him, drinking him in. He’s wearing black boots, black jeans, and a V-neck black t-shirt that shows off every impeccable muscle on him. Combined with his black wavy hair, curling up at the ends, and the shadowy brooding look of his eyes, he looks deadly sexy. “This isn’t going to stop people from staring.”
“This is me dressing down,” he says dryly. “Take it or leave it.”
I grin at him and walk over, standing on my tip toes to kiss his cheek. “Oh, I’m taking it.”
He manages a smile at that and puts his arms around me, reaching down to grab my ass, pulling me close to him.
“Where are you going?” Wolf asks, appearing from the kitchen with a glass of red wine in his hand, looking us both over. “Solon, you trying out for the role of Bad Boy number two in a high school musical?”
“We’re going out to have fun,” I tell him, though Solon is less than impressed, shooting him daggers. “Want to come?”
Wolf shakes his head. “Can’t. I have a few Netflix shows to catch up on before the Internet spoils them for me. You kids have fun though.”
He goes up the stairs, snickering all the way.
“This was a mistake,” Solon grumbles.
“No, it’ll be fine,” I tell him, grabbing his arm and dragging him out the door.
At first, I thought we’d maybe travel via the Bla
ck Sunshine, but I’d rather not step in that place if I don’t have to, but then Solon tells me we’re taking his car.
We walk down the side of the house and through the sliding metal gates with gothic spires at the top, to the back where there’s a small garden that Yvonne tends to, plus four shiny black cars, a vintage Mustang, an Audi, a Tesla model S, and a Porsche Cayenne.
“Which one are we taking?” I ask, marveling at all of them.
“It depends, where are we going?”
“The Cloister,” I tell him.
“The god-awful bar you go to?” he asks with a slight groan.
“Yes. It’s been too long. It will make me feel normal.”
“My dear,” he says, running his hand down my arm and grasping my fingers at the end. “You are not normal.”
“Let me pretend, okay?”
“Fine,” he says with a sigh, “We’ll take the Mustang. It’ll blend in better up there.”
“Everyone in the city has a Tesla,” I point out as we walk over to the Mustang.
“Yes, but that one is special. It was one of the original ones they gave to the first investors.”
“You invested in Tesla?” I ask incredulously.
He grins at me. “Of course I did. Vampires are the biggest investors in electric cars. We’re the ones inheriting the planet, after all.” He points his keys at the other cars. “The Audi RS e-tron GT is fully electric too, and the Porsche is a plug-in hybrid. But I don’t trust them in Upper Haight. Bunch of hooligans up there.”
I laugh and he walks over to my door, unlocking it and holding it open for me.
I slide inside and he shuts me in.
The car is sexy as hell, all black leather, every vintage detail polished and looking like new.
He gets in on his side and he looks so fucking good in the driver’s seat, large hand on the gear shift, biceps popping, that it’s taking everything in me to not crawl over the console and straddle him right now.
But then he’s turning on the car, the engine roaring to life, then we’re reversing and pulling out of the gates that close automatically behind us.
I obviously haven’t been in a car with Solon before, but he drives like he’s a fucking pro. I can’t tell how much is a century of practice, or if he’s using some sort of supernatural force to part the traffic and turn all the lights green.
“God this is sexy,” I tell him as we burn it up Fulton. “Makes me want a cigarette for some reason.”
He eyes me for a moment, eyes glinting in the streetlights. “Check the glove compartment.”
Intrigued I pull it open and find a packet of Marlboros.
“Are they always here?” I ask in wonder as I bring them out.
He nods. “Suits the car, don’t you think? I think I’ll partake.” He holds out two long fingers.
I pull out the cigarettes and stick the pack back in the glove compartment, the scent of them overwhelming in a chemical sense. No wonder cigars are so preferable.
Still, I give one to Solon and stick mine in my mouth. “Matches?” I ask, my lips moving around the filter.
He raises his hand and snaps his fingers twice. Both our ends light up with flames.
“Okay Thanos,” I tell him, coughing on the smoke. “I’m serious now. You have to tell me how you’re able to do that.”
“A witch gave it to me,” he says, puffing back on the cigarette, the smoke falling from his mouth. “I can light anything on fire. What you saw me do with the vampire’s heart, that’s the most I can do. It’s the most I’ve tried, anyway. I stick to small things, they don’t seem to drain me.”
“I saw Wolf light a candle the same way,” I say to him. “Did you teach him? Can you teach me?”
He shakes his head. “He was there when we bartered with the witch. He got that in exchange as well. It’s handy,” he adds, smiling at me.
“I’ll say. So, what did you give the witch that resulted in that payment?”
His smile slips, knuckles going white on the steering wheel. “Gave them a vampire they’d been looking for. He was responsible for a bunch of murders in Los Angeles. Witches, some normal humans too.”
“What’s the difference between murdering someone and killing them for your survival?”
“There’s a difference,” he says, glancing at me, his tone serious. “If you can be in a place like Dark Eyes, or if you can find a human to feed off, with consent, then there’s no need to kill. And if you do kill, well, you better cover it up. We all make mistakes and get carried away.” He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal, but judging by all the skulls in his storage locker, I’d say otherwise. “But to do it for fun, wasting blood, being sloppy, that’s murder.”
“Why can’t vampires feed off each other? We can.”
“They can, they just won’t be fulfilled in the same way. It’s like a bad diet versus a healthy one. As for us, you’re not full vampire, Lenore. I feed off your human side. And your human side feeds off me.”
“Yin and yang,” I say, rolling down the window to ash. Despite the cigarettes in the car, I’m certain Solon keeps this car as clean-smelling as possible. Old cigarette smell is gross for normal people, for us it’s probably unbearable.
“Or the Ouroboros,” he says in a low voice.
I ponder that for a moment, picturing a snake eating its own tail, a symbol very common in my studies.
Studies.
Fuck.
I hadn’t even thought about school since I finished that last exam and…well became a vampire witch.
“What happened?” he asks me, taking the car onto Masonic Ave. “Your energy just changed.”
I appreciate him not reading my thoughts for once. “Was just reminded of school, that’s all,” I tell him, giving him a somewhat melancholy smile. “It all feels like a dream.” And my future is so murky.
“The Ouroboros started in Egypt, correct?” he asks. “When we get to the bar you’ll have to tell me all about it. Pretend I’m some handsome fraternity boy you’re propositioning.”
I burst out laughing. “Solon, are you role-playing with me already?”
He just grins and guns it down the street.
We park a block away from The Cloister and start walking, and I’m getting both nervous and sad. Nervous because I haven’t been out in public around people in a while and it’s been a week since I last had any blood. I’m not craving it and I feel totally in control, having ate food earlier. But still.
And sad because I’m thinking about Elle. Last time I was here, I was with her. She was alive and my world was completely different.
But I didn’t have Solon. So there’s that. I just wish I could have kept both him and her in my life. I’m certain she would have warmed up to him eventually.
The bouncer at The Cloister is the same as always, giving us both peculiar looks until Solon starts compelling him and he lets us in. At thirty-eight in human years, Solon is by far the oldest in this place, and when we enter the bar, every head turns to look at us.
“Not as inconspicuous as I had hoped,” I say under my breath.
Solon gives the air a distasteful sniff. “God, it smells awful in here.”
I roll my eyes even though I have to agree with him. It smells like stale booze, B.O., and blood with too much alcohol in it.
Thankfully, because it’s early we’re able to snag a two-person bench, both seats beside each other, and Solon orders us dirty martinis since I told him that’d be the only drink in here that he’ll find acceptable.
“This is kind of nice, isn’t it?” I tell him, putting my hand on his thigh. “Our first date.”
He glances down at me, eyes dancing. “This is our first date?”
Suddenly I feel my cheeks go pink and I look down at my drink. “I guess.”
Oh shit, why did I assume we were dating? With all the sex and the blood-sucking and the living in the same house and the fact that I’m in love with him, I don’t really know what our relationship is. It’s undefinab
le. Is dating too much or is it not enough?
“Lenore,” he says softly. “Look at me.”
I glance up at him through my lashes.
“We’re whatever you want us to be,” he says to me, staring deep into my eyes for emphasis. “No matter what, you are mine for the ages.”
I gulp, my heart bouncing against my ribs.
Mine for the ages.
He smiles. “Now, tell me about the Ouroboros, because when I was around, it was known as a symbol for alchemy.”
I clear my throat, feeling a little giddy at the idea of teaching him something he doesn’t know much about, and grateful that he took the “dating” thing in stride.
“Well, one of the first known representations of the Ouroboros was discovered on one of the shrines enclosing the sarcophagus of Tutankhamun,” I tell him. “That’s way before your time, the eighteenth Dynasty. You know, Before Christ. Some say it represents the cyclical nature of the year. Others say it represents Ra-Osiris, Osiris born again as Ra.”
“Reminds me of vampires a little,” he comments.
“Yeah. The ones like you. Re-born.”
“But I assume with a better outcome,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. He shudders a little.
“Not the right vodka?” I ask.
“I’ll get it down,” he says with a grimace. “I’m getting the drinks next, though. And then we’re leaving after that.”
“What? Two drinks and we’re gone?”
He gives me a steady look. “Do you really want to be here all night? Besides, when’s the last time you fed yourself? It was a week ago. You’re pushing your luck a little being around these people.” He looks around the room, his lip curled. “Although none of them look particularly appetizing.”
I smack his chest. “You are such a predator.”
“So are you now, my dear. Better respect it.” He gives me a quick smile. “So, Lenore Warwick. This was your usual hang-out. What other bars did you go to? Who did you see and what did you do? What was college like for you?”
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