Chapter 8

Mapping the Isle to NYC
posted on reddit.com to forum r/BloodFeud by user GreeneParty

Okay guys, apologies for my photoshop skills, but I think this is a definitive map of the Isle??? I looked up every geographic description in the three Blood Feud books and cross-referenced them, everything doesn’t always match up a hundred percent, but here are the landmarks I’m totally sure about:

Okay, I think that’s all the major landmarks—did I miss anything? Lmk in the comments and I’ll keep updating the map!!

Callum Yoo had only been awake for a few hours, but he already wished this day would fucking end. It was excruciating—inhumane, really—spending every second missing his sister, knowing it was entirely his fault she was gone.

Not gone, he reminded himself. Dead. No matter what this human said (or how she’d gotten that scent vial), Callum knew the truth: Octavia wasn’t living it up at some posh hotel in New York City. She was a sun-scorched pile of ash blown off the crystal bridge into the churning river below.

Callum glanced over at Tess, who appeared to be having the best day of her life as they took a mundane walk along the western edge of the forest. Erratic, wasn’t she? Played it all cool when he came to her room, but was practically shaking with fear after he left her alone for all of two minutes in the compound’s entry hall. Now she was gawking at every abandoned mansion they passed, her eyes bright, those annoyingly lush lips parted with wonder.

Callum didn’t know why Tess was here or who had sent her, but he had to admit, she didn’t seem like much of a threat. Dear god, why was she caressing the bark of a gnarled old tree?

“Birnam Wood,” she murmured.

“I think it’s an oak, love,” he corrected.

“That’s not what I mean—Birnam Wood is the forest from Macbeth, you know? ‘Macbeth shall never vanquished be until Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill shall come against him’? It’s a real forest in Scotland. It’s famous for this massive tree, the Birnam oak. Supposedly Shakespeare was traveling with a band of players and saw it, which partly inspired the play. Anyway, this tree looks just like it.”

She was flushed with excitement—Callum hated how pale she was, how easily he could discern the blood moving beneath her skin.

“What are you looking at?” She eyed him with suspicion.

“Nothing,” he said lightly. “Just wondering if you worked in a Shakespeare-themed hotel. Give all the guests a little chamber pot, send the luggage to the wrong room to encourage cases of mistaken identity?”

“No.” Tess looked down and cleared her throat. “I used to study Shakespeare. I was a PhD student at Columbia.”

“Really?” Callum raised an eyebrow. “Have to admit, I never understood the fuss.”

“About Shakespeare?” Tess was incredulous. “Seriously?”

“ ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’ ” Callum quoted. “Absolute rubbish. What, sticky and full of mosquitoes?”

“That sonnet isn’t about summer, it’s about mortality,” Tess huffed. “But I suppose it’s no wonder a vampire wouldn’t understand that.”

“It’s self-important—he’s saying he gets to be the arbiter of her immortality. Not because of anything she said or did, but because he deigned to write about her beauty.”

Tess stopped short, peering at Callum. He was surprised at how much it unnerved him, the way she stared, the naked curiosity.

“What?” he prodded. “You disagree?”

“No, actually. That’s exactly what I think too.” Tess offered him a small smile—the first time he’d seen her do so. “How do you know the poem so well?”

“Octavia and I had a lot of tutors growing up.” Callum shrugged. “Easy to remember the things you hate.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of the endless hours in Konstantin’s country manor, Octavia soaking up every bit of knowledge, charming the tutors—charming everyone, really—while all Callum ever wanted to do was get outside and run, hunt, explore the wild countryside that was so utterly different from the smoky streets of London where he’d spent his entire childhood. Everyone loved Octavia. But only Octavia loved Callum.

“So why’d you give up your studies, then?” he asked, trying to force his mind back into the conversation that had distracted him from his grief for all of two minutes. “You left school to work in a hotel?”

“Oh.” Tess folded her arms, all evidence of happiness suddenly evaporated. “Just burned out, I guess. You know, academia.”

She was clearly finished talking. So now he’d managed to foul up his distraction too—terrific. Luckily, their walk was nearly over: He pointed toward a path up ahead that led into the forest.

“This is the path we take to the graveyard.”

Tess pressed her lips together and nodded.

“It’s more than likely vampires will be out hunting in the forest,” he went on. “It’s better if they don’t see us at all, and we’re only half a mile or so from the graveyard. It’ll be much faster if I carry you.”

He didn’t wait for a reply before he reached for her waist, but she shrunk back in terror, hunching forward and covering her body with her arms.

“Oh, go on, I’m not going to hurt you,” he groused. But her whole face had changed, drained of blood, wide-eyed and quivering—she looked even more terrified now than she had in the compound’s entry. He felt a sudden need to protect her that he couldn’t explain; she wasn’t in any danger.

“Hey.” His voice was softer, and he approached her slowly. “Really. You don’t have to be afraid.”

She swallowed and squared her shoulders, her face hardening.

“I’m not afraid,” she insisted, though her voice was small. “You just surprised me.”

Brave little shit, wasn’t she? He extended an arm and waited for her to take his hand. She did so tentatively, and he was overwhelmed by the thrum of her pulse beating in her wrist. He could bring that wrist to his mouth in less than a moment, sink his fangs into her and drink. After a few seconds, she’d even like it—the fear would subside, and she’d give herself over to the pleasure of fuzzy lightheadedness covering her like a warm blanket until she lost consciousness. He imagined her soft body going slack against him, drinking from her pale neck as her head lolled on his shoulder.

“Well?” Tess asked expectantly. He jerked his mind into the present moment.

“Sorry,” he muttered. He pulled her toward him, then looped his arm around her waist. Her heart was pounding—he forced himself not to think about the blood whooshing through her body, nor about how soft and warm she felt pressed against him. This would be over quickly. He barely had time to breathe in the scent of her hair—bergamot and violets—before they arrived in the graveyard where Octavia disappeared.

Tess didn’t quite have the words to describe how it felt to have Callum carry her half a mile in a matter of seconds. She was still queasy from her encounter with Tristan, and terror had flooded through her when Callum went to grab her without warning. God, she must have looked so stupid to him, so helpless, completely at the mercy of this ornery, judgmental, infuriating creature.

The fact that she was completely at his mercy only made this feeling worse.

But then, when she took his hand and he pulled her against him, and she felt the firm grasp of his arms, the broad planes of his chest, he paused for a moment, and she was sure he could feel her heart pounding. She knew she ought to be afraid, but somehow, his hold on her felt safe—even comforting.

Anyway, all that went right out of her head the moment they started moving.

It was like the sound of a machine gun in a movie, except a pounding Tess could feel in her body, the explosive pop of every step Callum took thrumming through her as he sped through the forest so quickly her eyes watered and the trees blurred. When he set her down in the graveyard, her knees buckled and she gasped for breath—she clung to him for a moment so she wouldn’t slump to the ground.

“Not your favorite mode of transport?” He smirked at her, and she scowled in return.

“Where’s the angel statue?” She stood up straight as her dizziness subsided. The graveyard was large and sprawling; winding paths were shadowed by live oaks draped with Spanish moss, the headstones ancient and crumbling. As a former scholar of the supernatural, Tess usually loved all things old and eerie. But when they presented so many excellent hiding places for creatures who’d drain her blood in an instant if they knew she was human, she wasn’t eager to stay here a minute longer than absolutely necessary.

“I think it’s in the northeastern part?” Callum scratched at his chin. They scanned the graveyard for a moment, until Callum spotted a pair of wings rising above a headstone. “There.”

They approached the statue slowly. It was beautiful and strange, the wings slightly too large to be proportionate to the body, the nose chipped off, the eyes sad and longing, an opening in the trees above positioned just so to cast the angel in a focused beam of silver moonlight.

“Now what?” Callum asked, examining the statue from every angle.

“I’m not sure,” Tess admitted. “But I know Octavia was touching the statue when she crossed over—so maybe you have to do that?”

“You honestly expect me to believe that?” Callum pressed. “Eleven years on this island, and all I had to do to leave was touch some bloody statue?”

“If you don’t believe me, you don’t have to touch it.” Tess shrugged.

Callum glared at Tess, then at the statue. He walked over to it, then bowed his head and closed his eyes in a moment that looked almost like prayer. He whispered something Tess couldn’t quite catch, but she made out a couple of words: Octavia and please.

When he opened his eyes, she saw a new expression—his face looked softer, more vulnerable. Tess recognized the mixture of fervent hope and the soul-crushing fear that necessarily accompanies wanting anything so badly. It reminded her of the way she used to look at brochures for Columbia.

He slowly reached out his hands, then laid them on the angel.

They waited for a moment—two—but nothing happened.

“Maybe it’s another part of the statue?” Tess suggested.

He put his hands on the angel’s face, her head, her body, her wings, her feet, the pedestal below them, moving with increasing urgency and frustration—but each time, nothing happened.

“It’s just a fucking statue,” he spat, his voice raspy with anger and anguish.

“I’m sorry, Callum.” Tess might not enjoy his company, but it was still awful to see anyone so broken.

“It’s fine.” He set his jaw. “I’m going to hunt. I’ll see you back at the compound.”

“You can’t be serious,” Tess sputtered. “You expect me to walk back alone?! You told me it wasn’t even safe to walk through the forest with you!”

“Just head straight back and don’t talk to anyone,” Callum said bluntly. “Think you can manage that?”

She opened her mouth to argue further, but he was gone before she could say a word. She exhaled heavily. Obviously, he’d been uncomfortable to have her witness such a painful moment, and he needed to run away immediately. Men, she thought. The same no matter where you found them—or how many centuries old they were.

She looked around the graveyard—spooky, but empty. Annoyingly, Callum seemed right—it shouldn’t be that difficult for Tess to get back to the compound from here. She just needed to turn around and head back down the path they’d used to get here until she reached the edge of the forest, which would only take ten minutes or so; then she’d be back in Nantale’s territory. If she pushed herself, she could probably be out of here even faster.

She started down the path at a good clip, her ears attuned to any rustle in the leaves that could signal a vampire nearby. She heard a branch snap—was someone there? No—there was nothing. She looked left, then right…and then something glimmering in the distance caught her eye.

“What is that?” she muttered.

Something was reflecting in the moonlight, pale and minty green, with a shimmering quality that reminded Tess of the lilac waters beneath the crystal bridge. There was a little side path that went straight toward it; it would only take her a few minutes to reach whatever it was. She knew that was a foolish idea, that she should just head back to the compound…

But also? Fuck that.

Tess was here, on a magical isle she’d read about for years, and what, she wasn’t supposed to explore? To experience any of it for herself? Why? Because someone might kill her? They might do the same in the halls of Nantale’s compound—Tristan very nearly had less than an hour ago. So Tess straightened her posture and strode down the side path. She heard the sound of rushing water—she was almost sure she knew what she was about to see—

But her jaw still physically dropped when she saw it.

The milky jade pools were one of Tess’s favorite settings in Blood Feud, the place where Isobel would sneak away to reflect; supposedly, the waters were a source of everlasting beauty for anyone who bathed there.

“That’s easy to believe,” Tess murmured.

The water was nearly opaque and palest green—the milky jade color that gave the pools their name. The pools themselves formed a circle, with small waterfalls tumbling over shiny black rocks between them. There was no river to source them—the water came from a natural spring beneath the forest. The ring of pools was surrounded by a grove of weeping cherry trees, graceful boughs laden with soft pink blooms, petals showering into the water with every breeze. It was the most spectacular place Tess had ever seen—and that bar had risen substantially in the past few days.

Tess stayed in the shadows of the trees near the pools for a few minutes, waiting to make sure she was totally alone. But there was no sound, no movement, nothing. So she took off her boots and rolled up her jeans.

Tess gasped when she put her first toe into the water—it was warm and effervescent, pooling around her like the most decadent bubble bath. She’d only meant to wade into the pool, but the water was so delicious, so fizzy with minerals and perfumed with the scent of pink petals, that she couldn’t resist stripping off all of her clothes and submerging herself completely.

It was the most amazing feeling, like the water was whispering gentle kisses all over her body. The colors were so beautiful, the breeze so gentle, the water so warm, Tess let out a heady sigh—she felt like she could stay here forever.

“Good, isn’t it?”

She froze, panic lacing through her. The man didn’t sound threatening—more like mildly amused—but she knew anyone she met on the Isle posed a mortal danger. She looked up, trying to keep her face calm. And there, in the most beautiful place she’d ever been, was the most handsome man she’d ever met.

He wasn’t too tall—maybe 5'9" or so? But he was lithe and muscular, with thick golden brown hair that grew past his ears and a face like a Disney prince: straight nose, full lips, bright blue eyes. He was dressed more formally than any of the vampires at Nantale’s compound; his billowing white shirt and slim trousers tucked into tall riding boots put Tess in mind of a Jane Austen hero. Something about his face looked familiar—like maybe she’d seen him in an old movie or something? She supposed it was possible; maybe he’d been an actor in one of his many lifetimes.

And she was momentarily too distracted wondering where she’d seen him before to realize she was naked in front of him.

Her hands went automatically to cover her breasts, but he couldn’t see them anyway—the water was opaque, and only her head and shoulders were peeking out.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He put out his hands in a gesture of apology. “You just looked so supremely happy, and I thought, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen anyone that joyful on this island.”

“It’s okay.” She cleared her throat and tried to smile. “I’ve never been here before. It’s overwhelming.”

The man peered at her. “You’ve lived here eleven years, and you’ve never been to these pools?”

Shit shit shit shit shit.

“Oh, um. I mostly stay up north,” Tess said quickly, remembering Sylvie’s story. “I was only turned a few weeks before we came here, and with all the fighting…I just figured it’d be safer.”

“That explains why I’ve never seen you.” He took a step toward her. “I thought I knew every face on this island. And I certainly wouldn’t have forgotten yours.”

He knelt beside the pool. He was still ten feet away, but she started to feel nervous. Would the musk oil be enough to mask her human smell, or had the pools washed it away? Then again, hunting dogs couldn’t track their prey in water, right? She was almost certain she’d read that somewhere. Were vampires the same?

“I don’t mean to impede on your solitude,” he went on. “Would you mind terribly if I joined you?”

“Oh.” Tess flushed. “I’m not sure—”

“I’ll bathe in another pool, of course.” He looked at her earnestly. “But only if it’s all right with you.”

“I guess that’s okay,” Tess agreed. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

She didn’t like to turn her back on him, but she supposed he could kill her just as easily whether she was looking or not. She heard the rustle of fabric, then a splash as he sank into the water.

“Ohh, it’s as good as I remembered,” he groaned, and Tess turned back to face him. He looked even better soaking wet—not to mention shirtless.

“Has it been a long time since you’ve bathed here?” she asked.

“It has.” He waded toward her, the water rippling around his shoulders. “Will you tell me more about yourself? It’s been so long since I’ve met someone new.”

“Oh, me?” Tess flushed, her nerves churning. She’d already said one wrong thing; she wasn’t sure she’d survive another. “I’m not very interesting.”

“You said you’ve been up north—have you been there this whole time? Living with others?”

“No, just me,” Tess answered. “I was afraid, you know? I’m so young compared to all of you, and obviously very weak. I probably shouldn’t be telling you that.”

He tilted his head with concern. “I’m not going to hurt you. I know some vampires on this island like to prey on the defenseless, but I’m not one of them.”

“Oh.” Tess nodded. “If you say so.”

“Besides, it can’t have been easy, being alone all these years, no one to turn to for comfort in your darkest moments,” he said softly. “You don’t seem weak to me.”

“No,” Tess agreed, her voice tight. “It hasn’t been easy at all.”

“So why are you here?” he asked. “I mean, why come to this part of the Isle? Why now?”

“Some vampires found me—a hunting party, from Nantale’s clan.” Tess regurgitated the rest of Sylvie’s story. “They said they’d protect me if I came to live with them. And after all this time…I didn’t know how much longer I could really stand being on my own. I thought it was worth a try.”

His face darkened. “You’re living with Nantale?”

“Yes.” Tess frowned. “Why?”

“How have they treated you?” he demanded. “Have any of them tried to harm you?”

“No, nothing like that,” she assured him—though she was quite sure Tristan would harm her given the opportunity.

“Not even Callum Yoo?” The man folded his arms. “I’m sorry, please tell me if I’m overstepping—it’s just that I’ve known that clan a long time, and they’re not to be trusted.”

“Not at all, you’re kind to be concerned. Callum…” Tess paused, trying to figure out how to word it. “Honestly, he’s mostly just annoyed that there’s someone new around. I think he’d rather not speak to me at all if he can avoid it.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like Callum.”

“Why not?” Tess was puzzled. “Is he usually super friendly or something?”

“No,” the man said bluntly. “I don’t know—I just don’t like the idea of you being with such a dangerous clan after all that time alone. Would you like to stay with my clan instead? We have plenty of room in our palace, and you’d be very welcome.”

“Live with you?” Tess laughed. “I don’t even know your name.”

He shook his head and laughed too. “Of course, you’re right. I’m Felix Hawthorn.”

Tess dug her nails into her palms under the water—so that’s why she’d recognized this man, she’d spent hours of her life looking at blurry old photos of his face on fucking Tumblr! Oh god, she was naked in a foaming hot spring not ten feet away from her number one literary crush of all time?! She started to feel lightheaded, and she didn’t think it had anything to do with the temperature of the pools.

“I’m Tess Rosenbloom,” she replied.

“Pleasure to meet you, Tess.” He bowed his head politely. “So, that’s enough acquaintance, right? You’re ready to move in with me?”

She laughed, and he seemed delighted by the sound.

“You’d love living with my clan,” he went on. “Everyone looks after one another, and we throw a ball every full moon. It’s a Venetian masque this month, you must join us.”

“It’s a very nice offer.” Tess smiled. “I’ll think about it, okay? Where can I find you?”

“Our palace is on the eastern edge of the forest, just alongside the great lake—I’ll give the guards your name, come visit anytime. It’s beautiful on that side of the forest. Have you been?”

Tess shook her head. “I haven’t really seen anything. I’ve only been down here a few weeks.”

“Then we must explore together!” Felix suggested. “You have to see the crystal bridge—and the moonflower meadow! It’s exquisitely beautiful, of course, but it’s also one of the most powerfully magical places on the Isle.”

“How do you mean?” Tess frowned—she’d never read anything in Blood Feud about some parts of the Isle being more powerful than others.

“Some places on the Isle just have more magic.” Felix shrugged. “A great deal of the Isle’s power emanates from this forest—that’s why the clans built our homes so close to it. If you were to get farther away—say, very far to the north—you’d have a harder time enacting your glamours. That’s why so few vampires live up there. Excepting you, of course.”

“I didn’t know that.” Tess shook her head in wonder. “So this forest has a lot of magic?”

Felix nodded. “Did you see the graveyard just on the other side of those trees?”

“Yes, I was just there.”

“That’s the epicenter of the forest’s power. It’s one of the reasons these pools are so…”

“Intense?” Tess offered.

“Yes,” he agreed. “That’s exactly the word for it.”

She gazed into his eyes—were they such a vivid shade of blue because he was a vampire, or had they been like that in life as well?

“Wait,” she said, a realization dawning. “Is the graveyard the most powerfully magical place on the entire island?”

“Actually, the moonflower meadow is even more acute—because its power isn’t diffused over a forest, it’s concentrated in a much smaller space.”

“Wow.” Tess breathed. “I’d love to see it.”

An idea was starting to form in Tess’s mind—if the graveyard was a center of magical power, could that be the reason Octavia was able to cross back to New York from there? And if the moonflower meadow held an even stronger power, was it possible that could be harnessed to create another portal?

“I could take you there now, if you’d like?”

He was standing next to the natural stone barrier that separated his pool from hers—as close as he could get to her without crossing it. She knew she shouldn’t move toward him, but her body seemed to be drifting of its own volition, the current pushing her nearer…

“I can’t,” she said quietly. “I should be getting back.”

“Okay.” He leaned toward her, resting his arms on the stones between them. “Another time.”

“Soon, I hope.”

“Can I…” He hesitated. “Would it be an imposition if I told you something personal?”

“Not at all,” Tess breathed.

“It’s just—when you asked me if I bathe here often. I actually haven’t been here in years, since my lover died. This was one of her favorite places on the island.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tess murmured, her mind flashing instantly to Isobel’s shocking death scene. Tess didn’t need Felix to tell her about it. She’d read it dozens of times.

“Thank you.” Felix nodded. “It’s strange, isn’t it? The night I finally come here just happens to be your first time at these pools. It reminds me of Virgil: ‘Wherever the fates lead us, let us follow.’ ”

Tess smiled, remembering Flora’s complaint about Felix quoting poetry instead of choosing a restaurant. She had to admit, it didn’t seem so bad to her.

“ ‘Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky,’ ” Tess replied.

“Shakespeare!” Felix’s eyes lit up. “So you don’t believe in fate? You think us meeting here is just coincidence?”

“I’m not honestly sure.” Tess laughed. “But if it’s a coincidence, it’s a happy one.”

Felix gazed at her, but then his face turned more serious. “Promise me you’ll look out for yourself back at Nantale’s? Stay safe?”

“I’ll do my best,” Tess promised.

“Good.” He smiled. “Because I’d really like to see you again.”