Page 64 of Vervain

Before I can think more on it, the doors open—silent, only seen and not heard. Olivia remains oblivious, asking me about my meal. Except I cannot focus now. Shadows curl across the edges of the frame, and Serun, in his creature form, stands behind her.

His shadows split into claws, and his red eyes drill into the back of her skull as if the mere sight of her is a threat.

“It must have been good—you’ve devoured it,” Olivia says, leaning down to sniff the bowl.

She’s right. I left no particle uneaten. Still, my stomach still grumbles, demanding that I eat more. “It was okay. I’d rather eat something else.”

“Then shall we roam the Undercity?” Serun says, his voice low—a whisper in my pricked ears that burrows into the skin.

Olivia jumps and whirls around, but as she does, Serun breaks into wisps of shadows, a low chuckle rising behind me. He grabs my empty bowl and sets it in the sink.

“I find it odd that you cling to your humanity, newborn,” Serun says. Olivia snaps her attention to me, her eyes widening at Serun now standing beside me. “Yet, perhaps that is the reason I accepted Saya’s request to keep you alive.” His hand fits perfectly over mine, his claws consuming. “Follow us and watch our surroundings. This is Saya’s first time roaming, and I want it to go smoothly.”

Smoothly?

“Will they try to attack me?”

Serun chuckles low. “No, but some may become overexcited by your presence and try to get closer than I would like.”

“I’ve heard that you kill anyone who tries to touch you,” Olivia says, voice shaky.

Guided by Serun, we move around the counter, and as the doors open with shadows, he responds, “I’ve killed for far less.”

His words should be alarming, but as we leave the manor and excited murmurs begin to stir on the other side of the tunnel into the Undercity, my fingers slip between his, tightening. They are all strangers. Faces in a crowd that follows Serun. To them, I may very well be an extension of him. A pretty, shiny item that the Nightwalker Lord has claimed as his.

CHAPTER THIRTY

LIMERENCE

Saya Claymore

Orange light gleams inside the oil lantern as my trembling hand tightens its hold. With nothing but hushed noises twitching my ears and blinded by darkness, it’s my grip on Serun’s hand that grounds me enough to keep moving forward.

A date in the Undercity.

Nightwalkers emerge near us as we leave the tunnel. Different shades of red eyes appear ahead, dilating when my lantern light touches them, then slinking away with low hisses.

I step closer to Serun. Shadows slither across my shoulder like snakes, keeping me close. He walks beside me; his hand laced with mine and eyes ahead. A flood of smoky shadows wisp around him—a creature caught in the lantern light. Everything about him would cause chaos in the streets if he went topside, but here, they simply shrink away.

Fear. Fear and respect.

Nightwalkers worship Serun. Bodies bend, knees buckling as some praise him when they catch my light. I doubt I will ever understand going on my knees to worship someone unless I was sucking their cock—and even that I don’t particularly like. Especially an unwashed one.

Serun coughs. Tearing my focus from a nearby nightwalker’s tearless sobs, I ask, “When did they start following you?” A group of nightwalkers come into view thanks to the glow of a lantern held by the human with them, and they enter a clothing store. “And when did you create Serun’s Law? I recall it always being there when I was young, which means, if anything, you’re older than what you’re making yourself out to be.”

“I’m thirty-two,” he says.

My hand tightens on his, and a light flutter hatches inside me when I smile. “As you keep saying, nightwalker.”

“Yes—and I created it almost immediately. I offered them all sanctuary in the Undercity, far from the slayers, and those who broke the rules died.” His laughter turns lethal. “Why would they not follow me?”

“They might usurp you one day.”

“One day,” he replies, but he sounds almost amused, like the idea of being challenged brings him joy.

“And me?” I lift my lantern to read a sign for a shoe store. My feet ache inside these high-heeled shoes. “Would they try to kill me if I wasn’t with you?”

“Unlikely.” His long, clawed hand touches the side of my face and runs up my cheekbone, then tucks my hair behind my ear. “I would slaughter every nightwalker that tried to breathe malice in your direction.”