Page 44 of Vervain

Then, a nightwalker breaks through the barrier of light, pressing their head to the ground, sobbing. She speaks Serun’s name as if he is Mother—in worship. A god. She rambles in Daryun, giving rise to the urge to ask her what kamai means, but Serun’s grip keeps me silent. As much as I am in awe of this place, the surrounding darkness and this nightwalker crossing into my light has a sickening flutter churning my insides.

I’m not entirely safe here.

Serun pulls me away from the groveller, moving us forward. “Jax told me that if we went to a settlement, I would have to work like people did when Mother was still around. Is it true?”

“Yes. A strange human custom I never understood. Some would even work themselves to death to keep a roof over their heads, and others starved if they couldn’t work. Work was life, such that it was.”

“How does it work here, then?” I nudge my chin towards the shops.

“Nightwalkers and humans work, but it isn’t a requirement. Everyone is fed and has a home, but anyone who wants more can work if they so choose. I care little for the human custom—but if they don’t like the fact that they’re given a blood bag a week, they are free to leave and hunt topside or seek a Feeder to drink from.”

“I don’t like that,” I murmur. “Humans are still seen as cattle, no matter where we go.”

“It’s life. When life strives to survive, it takes from others. Humans did the same to actual cattle, or does this concern only stretch to your own kind?”

My eyes narrow. He’s good; I’ll give the Lord of the Undercity that. He knows how to twist the knife and spin words in his favour. I don’t know how to respond. Before nightwalkers, humans were on top, and we slaughtered livestock to eat meat and more.

Another nightwalker hisses, shying away from the light.

I step closer to Serun again, our shoulders bumping. His shadows quiver, and a soft look melts the red in his eyes before they dilate and his shadows flow down and spool onto the ground, cutting away the steam and thickening it into black streams.

“What did you do before Mother left?” I ask, silently accepting I had lost the other argument. “Surely you didn’t appear after she vanished? You hinted at being older, or did I misunderstand when I was drunk on your venom?”

Nearby, nightwalkers enter an elevator cage with a human holding an oil lantern. Wires and machine wheels spin, lifting the cage along the outer wall of the building until they reach the fourth floor. Metal clanks and grinds, rattling in a way I don’t particularly trust, but none seem bothered as they file out of the daunting contraption.

“It’s complicated. I’ve been around for what seems like an eternity, but I only remember being in Naylen for almost a century.” His eyes narrow, and the shadows suffocate him to stillness, as if frozen in time. “I have lost pieces of myself along the way. I can’t fully remember when I was alive—at least nothing good.”

He is a mystery, even to himself. A nightwalker who became lord. An experiment claimed by Naylen, but when? I was raised knowing of his existence through Serun’s Law.

“Did you infect everyone?”

“Do you want the truth or a lie?” His voice drops low—a warning.

“The truth.”

“Yes, in Naylen. I cannot attest to the rest of the world.”

“Did you do it for power?”

“Not at first.”

He is being direct again. I’ve noticed that when he becomes short with his words, he wants the conversation to end, but I know if I keep asking questions, he will answer them.

Shadows curl around my waist, luring me closer to him until we stop dancing around the idea of proximity and cling to one another. My hand on his tightens, and heat flushes my face, tingling down my neck and prickling around my now aroused nipples over a fucking touch.

Even though he just told me he infected people for power. My mind feels skewed, and I don’t know if it’s because of my nightwalker side or if I have always had this deep inside me.

A side street opens up, and all three paths connect. Serun’s grip on mine tightens, and I am pulled back just in time as two children holding neon yellow illuminated sticks race past, bliss on their faces and tickled red cheeks.

They are…human. There are human children in the Undercity.

Was Jax right? Do they take children?

I move to reach for the boy dressed in blue with short black hair, the tension swelling in my throat as I think of Cole. He smiled the night we escaped. His first smile that felt organic—real. Then that fucking creature punctured him with its tail.

But before I can do anything more than raise my hand, the children are already disappearing from sight, neon sticks visible until they reach another sphere of lantern light. A human is standing by two nightwalkers, and a clawed hand touches the boy’s shoulder. He smiles up at them, unafraid.

Innocent.