Page 124 of Vervain

I take the last step and jab the dagger into his flesh, stabbing into the trapezius at an angle. The blade comes out clean, and the man grabs at his throat as the blood swells, flowing down his chest. He lands on his knees as I place the blade back into the strap, and by the time I walk around him, the man collapses on the wooden floor face-first. A pool of blood seeps away from his corpse.

I grab the sleeve of his coat, peeling it off him. Then I move into his pockets, take his phone, and feel around his belt when I notice a plastic card with his name and a barcode. I take it with me, grab the man by the legs, and drag him behind the podium into the darkest corner. Afterwards, I run my arms through the coat and button it up to resemble a white coat.

“Shit…” I touch the sleeve. Blood rings the edge. I fold the coat a few times, then clip the card to my pocket. With a shake of my head, I raise my hands to change my hair and eye colour when I notice the wristband. A tingling prickles across my skin, and goosebumps rise—a silent warning.

Without leveraging my magik, I scan the room and spot a door at the back. I step through, shedding fear and awkwardness, and walk with confidence. I find myself in a narrow hallway at the back of the prayer room and notice another lift on the other side. Doors line the right, and open hallways on the left must lead back to the cathedral’s entrance.

I don’t enter them, as if my subconscious is luring me towards this lift instead.

The door ahead of me opens, and two people step out. “Can we talk about last night?” The familiar voice makes my stomach sink. My footsteps slow, and every fibre of my body screams for me to turn around—but I can’t. That would look even more fucking suspicious if I did.

Laura leans against the wall, her arms folded across her chest, anger flushing her cheeks. This finger-fucker is alive?

“I don’t fucking care,” another says, and every organ in my body nearly shuts down at the sound of his exasperated voice. My fingers twitch, itching for the dagger. A drumbeat of violent rage fills me to the bone, boiling my blood at the sound of Jax’s voice.

“You said her name! Like, fuck. She’s fucking dead. When are you going to get over her?”

He balls his hand into a fist. “Careful, Laura. Unlike Julien, who at least works at the mess, you are a waste of fucking space. No one would care if I snapped your damn neck.”

With an exasperated sigh, Laura stomps down the hallway, muttering her complaints as she leaves.

My hollow footsteps echo in my ears as I draw closer, and time seems to slow as I walk past him, my head down, glaring at the ground. A ringing in my ears stings, and my mouth goes dry, filling with cotton and aching in my throat.

Another step, and my foot forward falls back as he grabs my wrist. “I know that scent,” he says.

I suck in a breath as I am pulled away from the elevator, slamming into the wall. His arms grab both my wrists, pinning them above my head. Before I can speak, his mouth crushes against mine. My glamour shifts, morphing. Dark hair drains away, leaving shimmering blonde, and the glamour I had in the Darkovish Feeding Ground returns—the glamour Jax saw me as.

His tongue darts into my mouth, and as I close my jaw hoping to rip it off, he breaks the kiss, his hands falling from my wrists and grabbing my cheeks. Blue as the sea darts from one eye to the other. “You’re alive, baby. Fuck, you are alive.”

Every fibre of my being wants to shove him off. Every part of me wants to drive a dagger into his eye. All of me wants him to become nothing. But I can’t. Not when I am this close to getting my brother back.

For Cole. For Cole. For Cole.

Jax grabs my waist, the lure of lust pulsing inside him more than any question could erupt from his mouth. One moment we are in the hallway, and the next he guides me into the room he came out of, slamming the door shut. Once inside, his mouth is on mine again, and I stand there, stunned and disgusted.

Every breath. Every touch. Every moan. Every piece of his skin that touches mine sends a sickening sensation through my body, tightening my nerves that burn with acid.

His hands lift the coat, but before his fingers can slip between my legs, I suck in a breath and push him away. “I’m here for Cole. I heard the survivors came to this prayer sanctuary. Is he here, Jax?”

“Fuck, you’re alive,” he breathes against my mouth. “How? I saw⁠—”

“Jax,” I say sternly, grabbing his face, which repulses me further at the thought of him touching me after fucking everything. “Help me get Cole, and when we leave, I will tell you.”

There is something wrong with him. Something I haven’t noticed until now. He is… desperate. Entranced. Lured?

Am I luring him?

I’m not sure, but whatever it is, he doesn’t question why I am here, dressed as a white coat. Maybe he knows something I don’t. I don’t know. But his desperate need to touch me to know I am real outweighs any sense he has.

“He is in G4, but we can’t…” Jax’s brows bunch when his thumb runs across my knuckles. He lifts my hand and stares at the silver band on my ring finger. “Saya, what the fuck is⁠—”

“Het gu,” I breathe, and a pulse of wind erupts from me. Jax flies back, crashing into the cabinets on the other side. Without missing a beat, I reach for the door handle when the band on my arm burns. Suddenly, the fluorescent light flashes red. “What?”

“WARNING! WARNING! A VEGODIAN IS IN THE PRAYER SANCTUARY! A VEGODIAN IS IN THE PRAYER SANCTUARY! WARNING! WARNING!”

I rip off the bandage and toss it on the ground before I leave the room. Chaos ensues, with white coats, people, children, and maybe even slayers running, so I match their rhythm. My panicked heart sputters, and I make my way to the lift. It opens, and white coats hurry out.

I step in and turn around to the unlit buttons on the side. Out of the corner of my eye, the room Jax dragged me into opens, and he stumbles out, blood dripping down his forehead.