By the time the door creaked open and Rayhan stepped into the room, I was halfway through the stacked canvases. I peeled them away one by one, trying to memorize the mesmerizing brushstrokes before moving to the next. The paintings themselves were beautiful, modern and timeless, but Rayhan captured more than color and landscapes in his work. Each harbored a trail of emotions that twisted a churn in my chest.
“What are you doing?” Rayhan slipped around the stacks of artwork and stood beside me. His fingers fidgeted at his side, like he wanted to snatch the canvas from my hand. He wore a new black shirt, and I smothered a hint of disappointment.
“Did you paint all these?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck and studied his feet.
“This must be years of work stacked in here.”
“A few years, yeah.”
“Why don’t you display any of it?”
“Most are displayed. Some of the work, though, I want it to be private.”
“Do you have a favorite?”
“What?” He turned to me, an unease I’d never felt from him before leaking through the question.
“Do you have a favorite painting you’ve created?”
Rayhan looked around the room, and that flat mask he wore cracked. He wrapped one arm over his chest, gripping the opposite bicep, and the stance shrunk his frame, making him look almost normal-sized.
His eyes settled on a stack in the far corner. I followed his gaze, but the paintings hid beneath a white sheet.
“Never mind it, girl.” His hand locked on mine, and when I turned, the composed, careful expression covered his features again. “It’s time for you to go back. I have stuff to do this evening.”
“Like finishing this painting?” I gestured at the half-complete canvas as he pulled me past it.
“What?” He scowled at the art. “No, not that one.”
“A different one then?”
“I said it doesn’t matter. Leave it alone.”
Rayhan slammed the door and flinched when something crashed from the other side. I couldn’t suppress a smug smile. He deserved a little havoc when he flashed an attitude like that.
We ventured through the castle and down the stairs that dropped into the dungeon. The guard didn’t look twice at us, and Rayhan opened my cell gate.
“I’ll be back in a while,” he said, but his attention was down the hall. “Your theatrical stabbing gave me an idea. I might know what BB stands for.”
I wrapped my hands around the bars.
“You’re not going to kill Bria, right? We don’t have any evidence it was her.”
“Bria will survive tonight at least,” Rayhan said over his shoulder. “Depending on what I find out, she may not live beyond tomorrow.”
“Let me know if you’re going to kill her, please.”
“I will.” He disappeared up the stairs, and a short, dark-skinned female guard came the other way. She dragged a wooden stool in her path and set it up beside Rayhan’s pad. She flicked open a newspaper without glancing at me.
Exhaustion weighed me down. The emotional toil of Rayhan’s hot and cold act and the unexpected sensations from his paintings combined with physical fatigue. I lugged myself to the makeshift bed, snagged Rayhan’s black blanket from the floor, and nestled inside its luxurious material. The rock bench had never been so comfortable.
“Natalie?” Reef asked.
“Yeah, what’s up?” I called through the beginning tendrils of unconsciousness.
“Just making sure you’re okay.”
I was clean, fed, and bandaged. The sun barely sank through the shallow window, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.
“I’m good,” I replied and let sleep carry me away. Just before the darkness claimed me, I thought I saw the quick dart of a flickering phantom, but when I looked again, the cell was empty.
* * *
“I don’t understand why you wanted to return here.” Rayhan flopped on Manveer’s mattress and laid across the bed so that his thick legs hung over the side. I tried not to look at him and pulled open the nondescript doors at the end of the room.
Because I think your father was plotting to murder your best friend wasn’t a viable answer, so I kept my mouth closed.
Rayhan had been sleeping by the cell door when I woke that morning. I still wore the chiffon dress from Ella, although the hem quickly gathered dirt and debris. My wrists were red and oozing again, but they weren’t bleeding yet. Rayhan hadn’t mentioned murdering anyone, so I was half confident that Bria still lived. She probably wondered who had broken into her cottage and stolen a single piece of paper.
The doors opened into a narrow closet. Boxes stacked neatly to the top of the space, so adding another would prove impossible.
“What are these?” I pushed to my tiptoes and scooted the highest box down.
The bed squeaked as Rayhan sat up and strode to me.
“I don’t know.” He snatched the container from me, and I surrendered it. There were plenty more.
“Why wasn’t the room cleaned out after Manveer died?” The second one felt lighter, and I set it on the edge of the mattress.
“I don’t know,” Rayhan said.
“It might be a shorter list if you tell me everything you do know.”
He shot me a glare. “Kadence never asked for the room back.” Rayhan shrugged. “I didn’t think about doing anything with it.”
I flicked the lid open. Junk was scattered on the bottom. A broken arrow tip. The worn string from a bow. A crude drawing of a child and a woman. A musty smell seeped from the box, and I discovered a pile of aged bones to be the culprit.
“Gross.” I plugged my nose. “Why would he keep this?”
“Let me see.” Rayhan abandoned his container, which was filled to the brim with paperwork, and leaned over me. “This is the first arrow I ever carved. And these bones were from my first hunt. I shot at three rabbits that day, but this was the only one I got.” He gathered the tiny pieces in his giant hands and cradled them. “I didn’t know he kept these.” Softness lowered his voice, the disappointment of what could have been.
I let Rayhan sift through the keepsake box, and I dumped the paperwork onto the bed. Logs of soldiers’ training records, names redacted with thick black ink, and recorded hours and outcomes of spars. The data would be invaluable to Ededen. Weaknesses and strategies were listed in plain text, but there were too many pages for me to steal. I ran a finger across the paper with a longing resolve.
Nothing here raised my “plotting to assassinate a king” hackles.
“Help me bring down the rest of the boxes,” I said.
Rayhan gingerly placed the bone shards back into the container and shut the lid.
“Why do you want to look at them all?”
Great question.
“Maybe my magic will call out to something,” I lied with a smile.
Rayhan’s lips twisted, but he gave a stern nod.
We pulled them all down and sprawled them across the stone floor. The morning sun sank lower as we browsed through stacks of paperwork, small knick-knacks, and other unhelpful junk. My hopes fell with each box we declared useless. It appeared Manveer was just a sentimental guy with hoarding tendencies.
“This is strange.” Rayhan held up a page. It wasn’t clean, white parchment like the others. It had yellowed with age, and stains peppered the fragile surface. I scooted closer to the vampire and stared over his shoulder. Thick, black symbols marred the paper.
“Are these spellcraft symbols?” Rayhan relinquished it to me. I had stacks of my mother’s spellbooks at home, but these didn’t look familiar.
“Maybe,” I said, but remembering the twisting smoke that filled my cell during the attack, I doubted this was witchcraft. The precise arrows and notated signs read like a science equation.
I folded the page into quarters and stuffed it in my waistband.
“You’re keeping it?” Rayhan’s face pinched. “Did your magic say something?”
“No, but if it is important, I don’t want to lose it in this stack of paperwork.” I leaned around Rayhan’s arm and dug into the box. “What else is in here?”
“This too.” Rayhan’s voice turned hard. One fist crunched another piece of paper. He uncurled his fingers, and I plucked the page from his palm. Pressing it flat, Manveer’s handwriting peered up.
BH, 8:30, BB.
“This matches the note from Bria’s cabin.” I returned the slip to Rayhan. “Did you find anything out about that?”
Rayhan’s face paled. “I went there, but she didn’t say anything useful.”
“Went where?”
“BB,” he said. “I went there.”
“Well, where is it?”
“The blood bank.” His lips pressed. “Bria works there.”
I stood up. “Let’s go then.”
“No!”
Rayhan jumped and blocked my path to the door. I backpedaled, too late, and collided into his chest. He grabbed me before I could fall and pulled me against him.
I held my breath. I didn’t want his intoxicating scent warping my decision-making. I needed to see what was at the blood bank, and Rayhan was an obstacle in my path.
“Why not?” I crossed my arms.
“You don’t send a witch into the blood bank. That’s where hungry vampires go.”
I rolled my eyes. “Nobody’s taken a bite of me yet. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“It might scare you.”
“I’ve tended to the wounded on the battlefield.” Memories of screams and blood bubbled through my mind. Instead of pushing them away, I leaned into them. Healing was dark and depressing and hard, and worth every minute. “I think I can handle a blood bank.”
Rayhan opened his mouth for a rebuke, but closed it again. He shook his head, and the red locks flew around his face.
“Fine.” He pulled open the door. “But I don’t like it.”
The blood bank sat on the second floor, near the entrance to my dungeon. A young, blonde secretary perched at a simple wooden desk piled with papers. She smiled at our approach, but her gaze flicked between us.
“Mr. Whylde,” she said. “I didn’t expect you back so soon. Would you like me to arrange your usual?” She turned her dainty, round face to me, and the simmer in her expression died a bit. “Are you applying as a new donor? We don’t take anyone with recent injuries, but you’re welcome to try again in a few weeks.”
She must have noticed the bandage on my forearm, or maybe the blisters peeking beneath the silver shackles.
Rayhan stiffened. His wide eyes looked everywhere except at me, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. He gulped with fish lips, but nothing came out.
“We’re here to see Bria.” I took a stab in the dark.
The blonde tilted her head for a moment. “I’ll let her know you’re here.” She disappeared behind a flowing white curtain.
I dug my elbow into Rayhan’s side. “What the heck is wrong with you?” I hissed. “Am I the only one trying to solve this murder?”
Rayhan swallowed and coughed into his elbow. “S-sorry,” he stammered, his face turning red.
The secretary returned. “Bria is on the way.”
“Thank you.”
The curtain parted a moment later, and a tall, thin woman stepped beside the desk. Her dark hair pressed stick straight. Red rouge lined her lips, which emphasized her deep blue eyes. She looked older, although vampire appearances were deceptive, but age didn’t touch the expanse of her beauty. The words I’d planned to say slipped from my mind.
“Hi.” I smiled.
Bria, who had been looking at Rayhan, shifted to study me. She smirked and held out her hand.
“You must be Natalie.” Her hands felt very soft.
“You know my name?”
“I saw Rayhan last night.” She cast a sideways glance at the man. “He told me all about you.”
The tops of my cheeks warmed, but I wasn’t sure why. I couldn’t picture her in the rustic cottage we’d broken into, but I could feel the barrier of grief that hung as a sash around her. I hoped the faint magic I’d welded would help heal that over time.
“Let’s go back to my office.” She parted the fabric with one hand. “I don’t want anyone trying to taste the witch.”
Me neither.
Rayhan called it a blood bank, but the word felt wrong. Brothel was more fitting, but the vampires probably didn’t appreciate the negative connotation. A hallway stretched behind the curtain, composed of stone painted a warm white. Crimson-red carpet lined the floor, a little too close to the color of fresh blood. Most doors remained closed, but some flung wide open, affording me a look as we passed. The large rooms held roaring fires and luxury velvet furniture. Men and women lounged inside, some reading, knitting, or napping. Just waiting for the next customer.
“You don’t store the blood?” I shifted my gaze as one woman made eye contact through her cracked door.
Bria pulled open the last door in the hall and ushered us in. Her office was also wide and spacious, but it had a neat wooden table instead of lounge furniture.
She sank into a plush chair and gestured at us to sit.
“We do, actually. We have cold storage pits underground that we refill with ice daily to maintain the temperature. But most of our customers prefer…a fresh meal.” She gave an apologetic grimace.
I caught sight of the tips of her pointed teeth, and my curiosity burned.
“Does it hurt?” I leaned forward in my chair.
Rayhan choked. He wrapped one hand around my arm and tried to say something, but he couldn’t get any words out.
Bria’s expression flattened as she looked at Rayhan’s grip on me.
“It can,” she said slowly. “We can decide how the bite feels. Usually, it’s very pleasurable. Would you like to try it?”
Rayhan’s breath froze, and his face turned blue. I had a feeling Bria was trying to provoke the man somehow, but it didn’t make me less interested. I bit my lip, thinking.
“I’ve never had witch blood before,” Bria continued. “I promise you would feel no pain.”
I half-nodded before I’d made a complete decision.
“No!” Rayhan’s voice thundered through the room. He pulled my arm hard, although I hadn’t moved from the chair. “Nobody is drinking anyone’s blood here.”
A shadow flickered over Bria’s face and caught the edge of a smug smile. She shrugged those confident shoulders and sent me a look. I suppressed a laugh.
“What can I help you with now, Rayhan?” Bria settled into her seat. “I answered all your questions last night.”
“Do you recognize these symbols?” I handed her the note we’d found in Manveer’s box, and Rayhan kept a firm grip on me.
Her sharp eyes studied the page for a moment.
“No.” She returned it. “It looks mathematical. Have you asked Nadeem in the laboratory? He would be the expert on this kind of thing.”
“No, we haven’t.” Although that was a good idea.
“Why did you meet Manveer here in the blood bank?” I asked. “There are no dates on the paper, so we don’t know how long it’s been.”
“Rayhan asked me that last night, after pretending he didn’t break into my cabin.” Bria shot him a sharp glare. “As I told him, I don’t know what Manveer wanted to talk about. He never showed up. A week later, he was dead.”
Interesting.
“Do you know anything about poisons that can kill vampires?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Bria said. “Is that what happened to Manveer? He was poisoned?”
“We don’t know,” Rayhan jumped in. “Natalie’s magic gave her a vision. But it’s been…” He shot me a look. “Temperamental since then.”
I suppressed a grimace. Maybe my acting wasn’t as strong as I thought.
“Actually, there is a story.” Bria crossed her legs, and new creases folded in her breeches. Apparently, she didn’t cross them often. “But it’s a child’s fable. I’m sure it has nothing to do with Manveer’s death.”
“Could you tell me anyway?”
Bria tapped her ruby nails on the arm of the chair, then stood up. She meandered to a towering black bookcase and tugged one volume from the shelf. I expected a leatherbound novel, but it was a thin children’s book.
She handed it to me, and the paper cover felt smooth. The title, Deathbringer¸ scrawled in vivid gold letters. A strange name for a children’s book.
“It’s about a king,” she said. “Who falls in love with a queen. She loses her mind and betrays him, but first she uses his blood to make a poison. At the end, she kills everyone in the kingdom.”
“You read this to your children?”
Bria shrugged. “Growing up in war makes our children hard-hearted.”
Or maybe reading terrifying stories did that.
“You can keep the book,” she said. “I have a copy at home. Or at least I used to, assuming nobody stole it.” She pegged Rayhan with a glare, and he shifted.
“Thank you,” I said honestly.
Bria wiped her hands on her breeches. She held out her palm, and I shook it.
“I have to get back to work. You’re welcome to stay and look around, but I wouldn’t recommend it. The vampires that come here expect to be fed and have little patience.” She flashed Rayhan a glance. “And I don’t think your escort would like what may happen.”
“Bye, Bria.” Rayhan pulled me out and shut the door on Bria’s laughing face. The redness on his cheeks spread down his neck and disappeared under his hair.
“That was a waste of time,” he huffed.
I disagreed. The children’s book was small, a bit bigger than my palm. Thick paper composed the cover and strips of twine bound the pages, instead of wood and glue—like hardback novels. I flipped through the carefully drawn images, skimming over the words.
“Have you read this?” I asked Rayhan.
“Of course. Everyone has.”
Rayhan pulled the curtain back, and I jumped. My dark phantom twisted and turned inches away from me, its featureless face a gaping black hole. I tensed until my muscles hurt, but it didn’t reach for me. My heartbeat settled. It wasn’t ready to wreck my life, at least not yet. I swallowed and let out a rush of air.
“You okay, girl?” Rayhan looked back as he dragged me along. “Don’t let that silly story scare you. It’s all myth.”
“I won’t,” I said, although the story hadn’t bothered me at all. The phantom was gone when I turned again.
Rayhan stammered to a stop. He raised his face to study the ceiling. I paused and followed his gaze. White specks floated from above, peppering me in a faux snow. Cupping my palm, I caught a few flakes and ran them between my fingers. They felt hard, but brittle, and broke into a fine powder.
“What is this?” Pale dust stuck in Rayhan’s hair, aging him with gray in a moment.
“It’s mortar,” I said. “From the ceiling.”
The stones overhead vibrated in a gentle rhythm. White mortar slipped between the rocks and rained over us in small chunks. A deep rumbling echoed from above, screeching through the floors and wrapping around my head.
I pressed my palms against my ears, but the growl grew deeper and deeper. Rayhan ground his teeth at the unpleasant noise.
An explosion boomed from above. The castle shook for a heart-wrenching moment. I tensed, expecting a tumble of stones to smash me. The building groaned, then the shaking ceiling settled. The raining mortar stopped.
Something replaced the tension in my gut. Something twisting and dark and heavy—dread.
A wild current ripped through Rayhan’s eyes. He grabbed my hand, and sweat coated his palm. I knew mine felt the same.
We raced up the stairs, dodging concerned vampires and staff members trying to evacuate the castle. We were salmon moving upstream, and I shouted apologies as Rayhan barreled through the crowd.
Finally, we reached the third floor, and Rayhan pushed past a single guard attempting to halt our stride.
A gaping hole replaced where Manveer’s room used to be, filled with brittle rays of sunshine.
I looked away when Rayhan’s tears began to fall.