Astaroth, huh? Must be the witch. Thanks for that, Jeoffrey.
Neither Rin nor Jeoffrey knows what the poison is. A witch delivered it to him, and because of the price tag, Jeoffrey only paid for one vial of the antidote. All the witch said was that the poison would cause the most excruciating and slow death a vampire could have.
Lincoln was still pulling valuable information from Rin. Knowing that it was supposed to be a slow death, at least, brought me a small bit of room to breathe for the moment. Of course Jeoffrey tried to make the situation sound like it was life or death, in that very second, to try to force my hand.
I graced Jeoffrey with a menacing smile.
It was funny, the way weak men like him trembled and begged—just like their victims did for them—when their own mortality stared them in the face. These were the same men who thought they’d never be in positions like this, who looked down on their victims as weak for begging for mercy.
It brought me so much fucking satisfaction to stare the devil in the face and smile, unflinching and in control. Beyond doubt, I knew I would have a lot of fun with Jeoffrey when we brought him back to our dungeon at the castle. I’d inflict on him every single injury he’d ever doled out to Andrei, Serena, or Lo. I’d make him scream until I remembered the sound by heart.
He must have seen that I was the devil then, the distinct scent of piss rolling from him as he shouted, “The slayers that came to us with the plan—I’ll give you their name!”
My body tensed as my hand tightened around Dev’s hilt, betrayal flowing through each crevice of my body like a slick sludge. It felt like all of the air in the room was sucked away, and I was left gasping for breath and reeling.
The slayers?He had to be talking out of his ass to try to save his life now. There was no way any slayer would turn on their own to orchestrate a massacre like that. We were family.
I heard the pounding of Drake’s footsteps on the stairs as he reentered the room, pulling me out of my spiral.
I have the antidote.
My eyes narrowed as I increased the pressure on Jeoffrey’s neck with Devorare. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
His eyes widened and he choked, no doubt my blade beginning to cut into his trachea, before spewing out, “They requested that you specifically be turned and left to make a mess, to show how far the Van Helsing name had fallen! I merely requested my team pin the blame on Dracula for my own plans, and it worked out for everyone involved. We all got what we wanted.”
“A name,” I hissed, baring my fangs and curling my lip back to display them. My mind was spiraling with all of the names he might say, and the anxiety churning through my gut left me wanting to heave. I needed answers now, before I lost the thread of control I had over myself. “A name for your life, Jeoffrey.”
There was nothing this pathetic excuse of a man wanted more than his life, and I wasn’t above bartering for it. Though I had no intention of keeping my word.
“How do I know you’ll let me go?” He argued, a small glint of his usual bravado peeking through. I bared my teeth at him as he damn-near smirked at me despite his current situation. “I need some kind of guarantee.”
What would he believe from me?
“I’ll make a blood oath to you,” I answered with a shrug. “You know slayers don’t break their blood oaths.”
It was true, but I had no intention of holding onto those traditions or giving a fuck about the consequences on my soul if what he had to tell me was true. There were also three other vampires in this house who would gladly kill him for me, absolving me of any oath I made.
“Do it,” he hissed, eyes darting downward as I lifted my finger to my fangs.
Pricking the pad of my finger, I brought it down to draw the Van Helsing emblem—a V trapped within the H—on the inside of the arm that held my sword to his throat.
“I swear that I will let you go if you give me the names of the slayers who assisted with the plan to slaughter my family.”
A sigh of relief fell from him, and I barely restrained myself from laughing at how far he’d fallen to actually believe this. He was a man staring death in the eyes, and he was a fool if he believed, even for a second, that he had a chance of living.
I don’t want him kept alive if you get all the answers you need here, Alina. I don’t want him living a moment longer than absolutely necessary.
Andrei’s request shocked me, but I agreed, knowing that if anyone deserved the ultimate say in what happened to Jeoffrey, it was him. While I’d dreamed about the way I would extract justice against this pathetic excuse of a man, husband, father, and friend, I still wanted Andrei to have the closure he deserved.
Do you want to do the honors, or would you rather that I do it?
Could…could you do it? I know it probably sounds weak, but I don’t think I could manage it. There’s still a part of me that hasn’t grieved the death of the father I never had, and if I have to look him in the eyes, I’m going to keep searching for that part of him that never existed.
Of course, my love.
His relief was palpable through our bond, and not a single part of me thought him weak for it. I thought he was incredibly brave to admit that to me. In stories, it was always the man who had the strength to save the woman from her demons. I loved that he was willing to flip the switch and allow me to help give him this closure.
Showing my fake, good faith, I retracted the blade from Jeoffrey’s throat, though I enjoyed the spray of blood that sprang from his wound.
