Which means I’m in a world of trouble.
Chapter 10
Severin
CHANDELIERS OVERHEAD FLICKER WITH CANDLELIGHT, sending shadows dancing across the bar and making the glass bottles lining the shelves glisten. In my three centuries, I’ve tried every alcohol there is to be tried, yet I always find myself coming back to one: whiskey spiked with a single drop of blood. I’m nursing one now, the glass sweating against my fingers in the warm air of the bar.
“And what does your mother think of that?” I ask my great-nephew, Felex. He sits beside me, drink in hand, candlelight catching his pale hair.
“She believes I’m wasting my potential,” he says, one shoulder rising in a shrug. “But I want to give it an honest try. And if I can’t get my collection published, I’ll get a job, like Mother wants.” His nose wrinkles in distaste.
My lips quirk up into a smile. “She’s never liked poetry, you know. I used to try to take her to readings; she hated it.”
Felex meets my eyes and lets out a single laugh. “No wonder she’s not excited about her son being a poet, then.”
I reach out and give his shoulder a squeeze. “She may not understand now, but she will. Keep pursuing your dreams. The rest will come.”
Felex gives me a small smile. “Thanks, Uncle.” He takes a sip of his drink before asking, “How’s your first semester going? Are your students driving you into an early grave?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Some days.”
And just like that, I’m thinking of Maeve Vandermere again. I’d gone almost this entire evening without seeing her violet eyes in my mind, but now, unbidden, they’re back, lined in thick black eyelashes, blinking at me slowly, catlike.
My hand still tingles where hers brushed my skin, and no matter how much blood I drink, I can’t seem to satiate this growing thirst inside me. A thirst for her. For her blood.
Suddenly, my throat feels too dry. I reach inside my vest and pull out my flask, then add two more drops of blood to my whiskey glass. Before putting the flask away, I take one sip of it for good measure.
Beside me, Felex sits up straighter. “Going well, then?” One of his eyebrows arches in the corner.
With a sigh, I say, “As well as can be expected. I’m settling in. Though I’m still not used to that atrocious clock.”
Now Felex tips his head back to laugh. “That clock drove me to drink on more than one occasion.”
“Don’t tell your mother that.” I take a sip of my whiskey, but even with the added blood, it doesn’t quite hit the spot. “A poet son with a drinking problem. She’d be horrified.”
Felex lifts his glass, clinking it against mine. “We’ll keep it between us, then.”
Felex and I finish our drinks, then step out of Gild and pause on the cobblestone walkway in front of the bar.
“Same time next month?” Felex asks.
I nod, then reach out and pull him into a hug. “Take care of yourself, kid.”
He steps back from the hug and gives me one of his side smiles. “You as well, Uncle.”
We part ways, with Felex heading into the residential district of Wysteria and me starting back toward the academy. It’s a long walk, but the early-autumn evenings are pleasant, and I prefer nighttime anyway.
Or I used to, at least. Before my dark hours became plagued with thoughts of Maeve.
Before coming to the academy, I had everything perfectly under control. My life was measured, routine. Now, I have the slight sensation of spinning under a sky of stars, watching everything blur in my periphery as I lose my grasp on up and down, left and right.
How she’s disturbed my peace so fully is a mystery even I don’t have the answer to, and I doubt I’ll find it in any of my old tomes.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my long black jacket and tip my head back to look at the sky. The night is perfectly clear, with no clouds in sight. The perfect evening for a bit of sword play under the moon.
When I get back to the academy, that’s what I’ll do. And perhaps this time it’ll help me forget about Maeve Vandermere.
I continue my long walk, trying to think of anything but her.
