Chapter 10
Excerpt from Blood Feud
(book three, chapter fifty-four)
by August Lirio
Callum glared at Isobel, his eyes cold with fury.
“Do you think I don’t know?” he spat.
“Know what?” Isobel tried to keep her tone casual, but she was inwardly quaking with fear.
“About your betrayal.” He grabbed her dress and yanked her close—even through her terror, she could sense desire pulsing through him, and she felt her own respond in kind.
“You know every detail of my betrayal.” She snaked her arms around his neck, and though his skin was icy as always, his breath was hot. “Because you’ve been here for every second of it.”
He kissed her deeply, pressing his body against hers, and she cried out with pleasure from the feel of him, the endless torment of wanting him so badly—no matter how much he gave her, she always wanted more. He dragged his fingers through her hair, twisting it into a rope at the base of her skull, pulling her head backward to expose her neck.
“Yes,” she breathed. She wanted to feel his mouth against her skin, to give herself over to his most savage desires. But he just leaned in and whispered in her ear…
“I don’t mean your betrayal of Felix,” he snarled. “I mean your betrayal of me.”
Isobel went absolutely still. It wasn’t possible. There was no way he could know that she was the one who’d overheard his plans and shared them with Felix, who’d sentenced his clan to a humiliating and bloody defeat in their latest battle. She’d been so careful to cover her tracks, to tell Callum it was Felix himself who’d overheard Callum and Nantale discussing strategy in the forest. Callum had seemed to believe her at the time…but the way he was looking at her now, she knew she’d been a fool. He knew the truth, and he was going to punish her for it.
“Please,” she whispered. “Callum, I do care for you, really—”
“I don’t need you to care for me.” He pulled her hair tighter. “This thing with us—it isn’t love. I’ve never needed that from you—I’ve certainly never asked you for it. But ten members of my clan are dead because of you. What would you do if the situation was reversed, Isobel? What would you do if your friends were dead because of me?”
“My friends are dead because of you!” Isobel snapped. “How many members of my clan have you killed, ripped apart with your bare hands?”
“Didn’t stop you from getting into my bed,” Callum growled. “Where, as I recall, you had no complaints about what I can do with my hands.”
He kept her hair firmly gripped in one hand, then ran the other down her side, moving it dangerously close to her center.
“Do you regret me?” she asked him. “Because I don’t regret you. Even with the deaths. Even with the betrayal. I would do it all again, because it felt so fucking good.”
“Sweet Isobel,” he exhaled, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She sighed into his embrace, a sigh of deep relief—for how good it felt to have his body pressed against hers, for how lucky she was to be able to live one more day while double-crossing the two most powerful men on this island.
“I don’t regret you.” He kissed her softly. “But I also don’t regret this.”
And then, without warning or ceremony, Callum Yoo snapped Isobel’s neck so hard that her head broke clean off her body, ending her immortal life for good.
It took Callum hours of hunting to shake off the feelings of anger and humiliation that lingered on his skin like a palpable stench after his outing to the graveyard with Tess. Usually, hunting was when he felt most himself: attuned to every sound and movement, the thrill of stalking his prey, the indulgence of sinking his fangs into a living creature’s neck, feeling the fresh blood slide down his throat and course through his body with a fizzy, powerful sensation. But today, everything felt fucking wrong.
He couldn’t shake how stupid he’d felt laying his hands on that damn statue. As if Octavia were playing some kind of joke, laughing at his expense from wherever she was. Back in New York, as Tess claimed? Maybe, though Callum doubted it. It struck him as a bit too convenient that the sister he missed so desperately would send a messenger to his doorstep, especially considering how badly they’d parted.
He didn’t want to think about that—not the fight that had driven his sister away, not the fact that she was probably dead, not the human who’d arrived out of nowhere to toy with his hopes, and certainly not the sweet fragrance of that human’s auburn hair. He just wanted to hunt the fastest animals the Isle had to offer. But no matter how many hares streaking through the forest Callum caught and sank his teeth into, he didn’t feel satisfied.
By the time he stalked back into Nantale’s compound, hours after leaving Tess in the graveyard, he was exhausted, vexed, and in absolutely no mood to see anyone. But Nantale had instructed him to report back the instant he returned, and his loyalty to her ran deeper than his foul mood.
“So?” Nantale looked up from her desk as he trudged through the door to her private chambers. “How did it go?”
Nantale kept her rooms simple—wooden furniture, clay walls—in stark contrast to the rest of the compound’s grandeur. She said they reminded her of her childhood, of home. Nantale rarely allowed anyone into her rooms, and Callum never took the privilege of being invited for granted.
“My liege, it wasn’t good.” He poured himself a glass of whiskey from one of her bottles. “We went to the graveyard, I put my hands all over a statue like a fucking idiot, absolutely nothing happened, and we’re no closer to getting off this island than we were two days ago. Cheers.”
He drained the glass and poured himself another.
“Slow down.” Nantale put a hand on his arm.
“What for?” He shrugged her off. “Why are you so keen for me to have hope?”
“Why are you so keen to refuse?” She narrowed her eyes. “It was your hope that brought this clan together in the first place. Your hope that saved my life. And now, when there’s an actual reason for hope, you want to ignore it?”
“I didn’t save your life,” Callum grumbled.
“Felix and his goons would have killed all of us who refused to join his idiotic vampire hierarchy if we’d stayed living on our own,” she chided. “You convinced me to form this clan, and you convinced the others to follow me.”
“Not like I had much choice.” He took another swig. “It was that or wait around for the day when Felix finally got his wish to kill my sister and me, wasn’t it?”
“That is the part I do not understand,” Nantale said. “I have known you for decades, and in all that time, your motivation to protect your sister has been the single most predictable element of your character. Until yesterday. When a human arrived bearing a message from Octavia, whom we have all presumed dead for days, instead of leaving your grief in elation, you chose to sink further down. Why? Do you really believe the girl is lying?”
Nantale looked at Callum with her piercing gaze. Even in a simple cotton robe and head wrap, sitting perfectly calmly, the woman was downright terrifying.
“Maybe.”
“And what cause would she have to risk her life to lie to you? To me?”
“She’s human.” Callum closed his eyes. “Who knows why these desperate mortals do what they do?”
Nantale gestured for Callum to take the seat opposite hers.
“Before the girl arrived, what did you think had happened to Octavia?”
“I thought…” Callum sank into the chair. “I thought she’d finally had enough. She told me she had. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“She was depressed for a long time,” Nantale said gently.
“And I couldn’t do a damn thing to fix it.” Callum shoved away his empty glass. “I would have given my arm to get her off this island, but I couldn’t, could I? I couldn’t save the one person I cared about most, and now you think I’m this clan’s bloody salvation? Sounds a bit deluded, doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps. Then again, perhaps your sister is trapped in New York, waiting for you to help her while you throw a tantrum instead.”
“Trapped?” Callum laughed. “She’s not trapped—she’s free.”
“You don’t think she feels as bereft without you as you do without her?” Nantale raised an eyebrow.
Callum stared at the bottom of his whiskey glass. Even if what Tess said was true, and Octavia really was alive and well in New York…Callum didn’t see why she should want him there. In fact, he was pretty sure she was better off without him.
Callum stood. “Look, I appreciate the pep talk, but the only idea the girl had was to go to the graveyard. Seeing as that didn’t work, I think we’re about done with this adventure, don’t you?”
Nantale looked at Callum for a long moment, then turned back to the papers on her desk.
“You are finished with this ‘adventure’ when I say so. And not one second before.”
After he left Nantale’s quarters, Callum was truly looking forward to getting back to his rooms and taking a long, hot shower. He wanted nothing more than to rinse off the dirt and sweat of his hunt, the endless frustration of this stupid, interminable day.
Until he found Tess waiting outside his door.
“Why am I not surprised?” he muttered. Clearly she’d had time to shower—she was wearing cozy sweats and her eyes were bright with excitement.
“Good, you’re here!” She stepped aside to let him open the door. “We have so much to talk about—”
“Haven’t we talked enough for one day?” He pushed past her into his rooms, which he’d fashioned after his memories of Konstantin’s London townhouse: dark, creaky wood-paneled rooms glowing with warm fires and stuffed with books and curios.
“Seriously?” Tess followed him inside without waiting for an invitation. “You ditched me in the middle of a forest filled with deadly vampires, and you want to act like you’re the one who has the right to be annoyed right now?”
“I don’t know about the right, but I do know about the annoyance,” Callum quipped. “Do you want a drink?”
“No, thank you,” she said quickly, her body tensing.
“Do you not drink?” He peered at her.
“I do drink, I just don’t want a drink right now. I want to talk about—”
“What?” Callum flopped down into a leather armchair. “Another brilliant theory from the world’s leading Isle expert who’s been here all of thirty-six hours? That graveyard idea worked out so well, I just can’t wait to hear about our next escapade.”
“Does this get you a lot of friends, usually?” Tess waved her hand in his general direction. “This whole snide sarcasm thing, do people find it charming?”
“Why, did you want me to try to charm you? Sounds a lot more fun than feeling up some bloody statue, I’ll give you that.”
“No! I just—ugh! You’re so—”
He couldn’t conceal how much he enjoyed watching her squirm. The way her face flushed, how hard she tried not to ball up her little fists—honestly, it was the best part of his day.
“All right, all right, out with it then.” He’d better put the poor thing out of her misery. “What’s your grand idea?”
“I think we should go to the moonflower meadow.”
Great, another of Octavia’s favorite places. This girl really knew how to twist a knife.
“Why would we go there?” he asked gruffly. “Where did you even hear about it?”
“Sylvie told me,” Tess said hurriedly. “She said it’s a source of magic on the Isle—maybe even more powerful than the graveyard in the forest. What if Octavia’s crossing wasn’t about the statue—what if it was about accessing that magic?”
“That’s brilliant,” Callum jeered. “Or at least, it would be if we had the first fucking idea of how to harness that magic.”
“What about desire?” Tess asked.
“Now you’re on to my area of expertise,” Callum teased, and Tess rolled her eyes.
“No, I mean—portals. I met a portal witch at Bar Between, and she told me creating portals was all about desire. Being in one place, needing to be in another. Maybe Octavia’s desire to get off the Isle was so strong, and she was experiencing it in such a specifically magically powerful place, that she was able to create the portal? Even though she didn’t know it? So if the moonflower meadow is even more powerful than the graveyard, maybe your desire to get back to your sister combined with the magic there would be enough.”
He thought about what Nantale had said—about having hope, about how much Octavia needed him. Unfortunately, none of it was enough to supersede the fact that everything Tess was saying was really, really stupid.
“Mate, do you honestly think this is like a children’s story and fairy dust? Just think lovely thoughts, and you’ll be able to fly?”
Her face fell. “I don’t hear you offering any better ideas.”
“Because there aren’t any better ideas.” He exhaled with frustration. “My sister spent years trying to figure out how to get out of here and got absolutely nowhere—”
“That’s not true!” Tess interjected. “She got back to New York, she’s there right now—”
“Says you!” Callum thundered.
“Is that why you don’t want to go to the moonflower meadow?” Tess pressed. “Because you don’t believe me?”
“There’s a difference between disbelieving you and thinking your ideas are a waste of time,” Callum explained. “In this case, it’s both.”
“It’s like you don’t even want to leave the Isle,” Tess snapped. “Don’t you want to see your sister again? She’s all alone, she doesn’t have her powers—”
“What?” Callum interrupted. “She doesn’t?”
“Oh.” Tess stopped, apologetic. “Sorry, I should have said. Since she got back to New York, she can’t glamour anymore, and her strength and speed are mostly gone too. So she’s just kind of stuck there, you know? She thinks it’s because her power is tied to you, and you’ve never been so far apart.”
“And that’s why she wants me back in New York.” Callum sighed, everything making sense for the first time since this girl appeared. “Not because she misses her dear old brother.”
“What? No,” Tess pushed back. “She misses you badly, she told me—”
“Cleverer people than you have fallen victim to my sister’s lies, believe me,” Callum said, rising to usher Tess out of the room. “I think it’s time you stop speculating on matters you don’t understand, and time for both of us to abandon this inane little group project Nantale assigned us.”
“Are you serious?” Tess snapped. “You’re just going to give up on escaping the Isle? What about everyone else?”
“What about them?” Callum asked.
“Sylvie has grandchildren back home—alive, human grandchildren who miss her! And I thought Nantale was your friend? But I guess that doesn’t matter to you at all. God. No wonder you’re the fucking villain.”
“What?” Callum turned to Tess. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” Tess shook her head. “Just…Octavia made it sound like you would care that she needed you. But I guess she was wrong about you. I wish I could say I was surprised.”
With that, Tess turned and flounced out of the room, finally leaving Callum alone with the silence he’d been craving for the last hour. Except now, he found it didn’t sit quite as well as he had hoped.
Tess stormed down the hall toward her bedroom. What had she been thinking, coming to this place to help Callum Yoo of all people? Did she imagine she’d be welcomed as some kind of rescuer princess, showered with gifts and praise? No, of course not! But Felix had seemed genuinely concerned for Tess’s well-being within minutes of meeting her—was it entirely unreasonable to expect Callum might be at least a little bit thankful that Tess was risking her life to help him? That after eleven years trapped on this island, when she arrived with news that he might be able to get back home, he might not be boozy and mean, pretending not to care about anything when it was so deeply obvious how badly he missed his sister?
I wonder if he misses Octavia as much as I miss Joni.
The thought flashed through Tess’s mind, but she shoved it quickly away—the situations weren’t remotely the same. Tess moved out of the apartment to protect Joni, to make sure Tess’s ruined life didn’t poison Joni’s too. Octavia needed Callum, was powerless without him, and he was refusing to find a way back to her because he was…what? Scared? Selfish? Obstinate? An infuriating combination of all three?
Tess thought back to the tarot card Flora had given her, the instruction to rescue herself. She supposed she could go to the moonflower meadow on her own, maybe find something to prove to stupid Callum that she did have value here. But the moonflower meadow was miles away—how could Tess get there without help? It’s not like she had a car, or the subway, or—
“Hey!”
She looked up—she’d almost plowed straight into Antoinette and Angelique, who were both dressed in full equestrian regalia: tall boots, dark tights, and velvet jackets, their hair twisted back in elaborate braids, riding crops in their hands.
“Watch where you’re going.” Angelique sniffed.
“God, humans are so annoying,” Antoinette agreed.
“Especially when you can’t feed on them.” Angelique gazed longingly at Tess.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you,” Tess mumbled, backing away. It was unclear whether the pair was more terrifying because they were deadly vampires or because they were just really mean teenagers.
“Obviously.” Angelique rolled her eyes.
“Where did you get those clothes?” Antoinette giggled, and the two walked off down the hall, arm in arm, clearly laughing at Tess.
As if this day could get any worse.
Except—wait a minute. They were both in riding gear. Did that mean this place had horses?
It turned out the compound had two horses and two ponies, all kept in a small stable on the grounds next to a meadow where they could roam and feed. After Tess slept for a few hours, she put on leggings, a warm sweater, and another generous douse of Nantale’s musk oil. It only took her about twenty minutes of exploring to find the stable, and she was grateful not to run into any vampires along the way. Tess didn’t ride with any regularity growing up, but her family did spend a month on some distant cousin’s ranch one summer when Tess was ten or eleven. One of the stable grooms was kind to Tess and gave her a few riding lessons; she was sure she could manage a simple journey.
The compound’s stable lay just outside one of the side entrances: It was small and practical, a simple wooden structure with four horse stalls, each labeled with the horses’ names. The first stall, labeled Bessie, had a door that went all the way up to the ceiling, and Tess could hear snorting and stomping behind it.
“Absolutely not,” Tess muttered. The second two stalls, labeled Salome and Seraphina, had traditional half-doors and held two nearly identical pretty white ponies with elaborately curled hair—Tess was certain these two belonged to Antoinette and Angelique, and they looked just as mean and devious as the girls who rode them. Another no.
So Tess moved on to the fourth and final stall, which was labeled Aristotle—but the nickname “Artie” was scrawled in white chalk below it. Artie exhaled softly as he padded over to the edge of the stall to see who’d come to visit; he was giant and brown with a gleaming black mane and a beautiful white stripe down his nose.
“Hi, Artie,” Tess said softly, approaching him slowly from the side. “Are you a philosopher? Did you invent the dramatic unities and virtue ethics? Was Plato your mentor?” She stroked his neck to say hello, and Artie sighed happily. “What do you think? Should we go for a ride?”
Artie’s ears pricked up immediately and he snorted with excitement. It took Tess a minute to remember how to properly affix his saddle, but since she’d fed him a couple of carrots from a basket full of them, he was munching happily and largely unbothered. Once he was ready, Tess climbed on a little step stool to mount him, and after a few awkward turns around the meadow, they trotted through the gate and out into the Isle’s misty evening.
And it was wonderful. Oh, Tess loved it, feeling like she could finally explore this magical place without fear—or without Callum’s ornery attitude killing the vibe. They flew down the Isle’s avenues, passing fabulous mansions and wild ruins, stretches blanketed thickly with trees and craggy rocks, silver streams where Artie could dip for a drink, fallen trunks he leapt with ease, giving Tess a jolt of adrenaline. A few times, Artie tensed as he heard a noise nearby, and Tess was terrified he sensed a vampire. But it was only ever a bird or a rabbit, and the longer they rode, the more secure Tess started to feel. They were moving so quickly, a vampire would have to be really invested in picking a fight to get close enough to figure out Tess was human. And they hadn’t seen anyone out at all, anyway. After an easy ride of half an hour or so, the sky was fully dark, and the towering moonflowers came into view.
They were even more spectacular than Tess had imagined, so named because they stretched and sank with the phases of the moon, rising like ocean tides. With the full moon coming next week, they were nearly their full height, almost twenty feet tall. They looked sort of like sunflowers, but instead of yellow and black, they were all shades of purples and blues—and of course, absolutely gargantuan by comparison—glowing vividly in the silver light of the Isle’s rising moon.
Tess slowed Artie to a walk as they approached the meadow, then dismounted and looped his reins around a thick moonflower stalk. She gave the reins a tug to make sure her knot was secure—she didn’t want the horse to bolt if a gopher happened to scurry by—then began to walk deeper into the field of flowers.
It was strange and beautiful walking through the giant flowers, like Tess was Alice in Wonderland, experiencing life on an entirely different scale. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for, or how she might even be able to tell if the magic of this place might be useful to escape the Isle. She thought again about Flora’s explanation of portals, the essential component of desire.
Please, Tess thought, trying to let the desire fill her completely. Show me the portal. Show me something. Show me anything.
She paused for a moment, waiting—but of course nothing happened. Tess felt so silly; what had she expected? She couldn’t sense Bar Between with Octavia, nor had she felt anything especially magical about the graveyard in the forest—did she really think she was going to come to this grove of massive flowers and find a secret doorway back to New York? Maybe Callum was right about her being useless.
She was about to let out a huge sigh and proclaim this entire outing a bust, but she stopped dead when she heard footsteps—and voices.
“This is a waste of time,” a man grumbled.
“That’s not for you to say,” a woman snapped in response.
Tess’s blood went cold—those were two vampires. Were they out hunting? Tess had gotten lucky the last time she ran into a strange vampire, but she was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen twice. If they found out she was here—and that she was human—she didn’t know if she’d leave this grove alive.