Page 90 of Vervain

The man’s shirt is ragged, and his black pants are buckled by a silver belt that glints in the dim light as he turns, plucks down two keys from the wall, and slides them across the table. “Anything else, Lord Serun and…company?”

“Blood, as well as Zack, if you can find him.” Serun takes the keys. “I will leave the keys where I usually do.”

The man slumps out of sight, grumbling his complaints. As we make our way up the stairs, I say, “Another nightwalker with a soul?”

“Lloyd has been around long enough not to care anymore. The world could burn tomorrow, and he would still be here, doing his job. I’ve heard he worked here before Mother left. Enjoyed it so much that he still wanted to do it.”

To think I was afraid of nightwalkers. From a young age, my mum sowed the seeds in my brain that if I ever met someone who looked like me, they would want to kill me.

Still, it could be the case if I bite someone again. I bite the inside of my lip at the stir of hunger in my stomach, telling me I need to eat something.

On the first floor, the corridor narrows. Boxes are stacked against the walls with framed artwork resting against them, and the paint on the ceiling is peeling.

No air circulates up here, giving it a dank, mouldy scent. I wrinkle my nose. Most lights are off, aside from a few beside doors with signs saying they’re occupied.

Serun points to a door, offering Penumbra a key. “You will stay here, Olivia.”

She looks at me but gives a curt nod and enters her room. Serun opens the next door, offering me sanctuary first, then closes it gently behind us and clicks the lock.

There is a stone coffin in the centre of the room. Metal sheeting fortifies the walls and covers the windows, blocking out all light. Old, floral wallpaper which used to be white has yellow stains blotting across it.

There’s one door on the right, next to a counter with a sink and microwave. I make my way over to investigate and discover a small bathroom.

Serun makes his way to the coffin. Beeping sounds come from it, and when I focus more on what he is doing, my eyes widen a fraction as the ground opens and the coffin sinks into it. “We will sleep here for the day,” he says.

I take a few steps towards him and ask, “Have you heard anything from Reyes yet?”

His shadows drop, revealing himself. “Forgive me, kamai, but there is only static coming from our bond, as if he has unplugged himself from it.”

I sigh in frustration, and my stomach grumbles.

“You should eat something while we wait for Zack. He is often fashionably late.”

“Is Zack the one who knows things topside?” I say as I tear open a packet of powdered soup and pour it into a chipped bowl I find in the cupboard.

“Yes. He will tell us places to avoid. Monsters lurk topside, and I want to avoid fighting as much as possible. They become an annoyance.”

“You do fight well, though.” I shuffle through the drawer to find a spoon. When I can’t, I settle for a fork. “I witnessed it when we were escaping the feeding ground and Hellsgate.”

A looming threat prickles along my back when Serun’s presence draws closer. “My priority was to keep you safe, my kamai.”

I run my hand under the water until it turns hot. Without a kettle, I have to settle for tap water. As I stir my tepid soup, I say, “I don’t want to become your burden, Serun…”

He chuckles, and the suffocating presence of his shadows slips around my waist and over my shoulders. “You thinking you are a burden is cute.”

Serun is at the coffin, hands against the metal, slouched back and watching me intensely. His shadows slide away and swarm the room, alive, reminding me of the night I witnessed Serun slaughter that Bleeder in the delivery room.

“We should train along the way.” I grab the mug, twist it around until the chipped side faces away from my lips, and take a sip of the creamy noodle soup. A lump swells in my throat as though it stubbornly wants to keep the food from going down. I take another sip, forcing the soup down with a hard gulp. “Or else I am just doing nothing.”

“Very well.” He raises his hand and gestures to the sword strapped to my back. “Let me teach you how to use it until you can tap into your magik. You did well with your other sword.”

“I did not know what I was doing,” I admit.

He dips his head and says, “Take it off and let me show you.”

I set the mug on the counter, grip the hilt resting between my shoulder blades, and glide the sword out until I’m holding it in front of me. Serun walks around me, his shadows trembling as he analyses my stance.

He lifts my elbow, then moves my shoulder back. I spend the time learning how to actually hold a sword. Serun’s focus is sincere, and his touch is ice. I shift nervously, my fangs sinking into my bottom lip when those long fingers move along my skin as if they belong there.