“We arenother allies,” I say quickly.
“Yeah, yeah.” Henry flaps his wrist at me as he tugs open the door. Beyond this room, healers bustle up and down the hall, and somewhere in the distance a baby is crying. “Now, if you’re done complaining about your childhood crush, I’ve got a life to save.”
He’s out the door before I have time to respond.
The following week,Henry and I are back at the stone table in Sebastian Vulce’s open-air courtyard. We’re nearest the ivy-covered wall, facing Cora, and beyond her, the doorway into the manor. Though I can’t see him, I assume Sebastian is lurking somewhere within the shadowed halls.
“I only brought one this time,” Cora says, drawing my attention.
We’ve just finished our work on the protection spell, and as usual, I’m feeling it more than anyone else. As I heave to catch my breath, Henry taps his fingers rhythmically against the table and Cora readies today’s memory. I haven’t let myself look at herfor longer than a few seconds since we arrived today, but with both of them distracted, I allow myself the indulgence.
She’s wearing her typical baggy black dress and heavy tights. Her hair is in its tight ponytail, and she’s not wearing any makeup. She’s pretty in a startling way. Her large, yet delicate features demand attention, and I can hardly blame my younger self for being smitten.
There’s something different about her today. I can’t quite place it, but she looks sadder. Less put together, like she’s a stitch away from falling apart.
I hate that I notice.
Still breathing hard, I force myself to look away. I swipe the jar she’s placed in front of her, twisting to read the label.
Elliot Lyrie
age 12
Ochre Primary School
“No,” I say. I push it back toward her, barely restraining a smile when her brows furrow. She glares at me, mouth puckering.
“No, what?”
“No, I don’t want that one,” I say. “I want an older memory. From when I’m sixteen.”
“That’s not how this works,” she says. She grips the edge of the table, and her attention flickers to Henry, as if expecting him to back her up.
I almost expect him to. After all, hedoeslike mean, pretty women.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m on his side, remember?”
“Never call me sweetheart again,” she says. She’s speaking through her teeth, almost growling.
Once again, I’m holding back my amusement.
“Yes, ma’am,” Henry says. He offers a small salute, earning him a sharp scowl in response.
“Either you want this memory, or you don’t,” she says. She starts unpacking her bag, placing the stone and its ingredients on the table. “You don’t want it? Fine. You can go.”
My heart punches against my ribs. I knew she wouldn’t back down easily. This was one of her rules, after all.Shegets to pick the memories.
“If you haven’t watched them anyway, what do you care when they’re from?” I ask.
Cora doesn’t reply. She lines the ingredients over the top, finishing with a few drops of liquid. I risk a glance at Henry, and his stare says everything he can’t out loud:don’t look at me, dummy!
“I could find blood elsewhere,” I say. I focus on Cora and do my best not to fidget when she holds my gaze. She’s unflinching, untouched by the threat.
“That’s a grand idea,” she says lazily. The stone starts to smoke beneath her, filtering up to her barely-restrained smile. “Remind me, how did that go for you last time?”
“Yes, well, now I’ve got Henry for back-up,” I say. It’s a stupid argument. Makes me look weak, pathetic. Still, it’s the best I’ve got.
“And now I know you’re looking for vampire blood,” she says sweetly. She finally pulls back from the stone, but only to uncap the memory. “I’m close with the vampire king, in case you’ve forgotten.”
