Page 10

Unless they’re the ones who have tried to reconnect with their soul, live a more human life, blah blah blah.

In Phoenix Falls, there were a few. Usually younger vamps who’d been caught up in the social media frenzy of vampires claiming to have found their higher purpose. They’d wear silly bracelets, and have church-like meetings, and date humans. Some would even try to walk in daylight. Cover themselves head to toe in thick, long-sleeved shirts or dresses, sun hats, ridiculous glasses.

Still, they could barely manage a few minutes.

All except one… Ella Delicious. The blond, red-lipped vampire who claims she’s healed her soul and is now able to walk in the daylight.

I saw her do it multiple times on TV, and YouTube videos crop up all the time of people ‘bumping into her’ and losing their shit over the fact she’s out in the open in the middle of the day.

I don’t know what her secret is. But I’m pretty convinced it is nothing to do with healing herself and everything to do with a spell or one of those enchanted pieces of jewelry that fairy tales talk about.

Both of those scenarios are more believable than her simply willing herself not to be allergic to it.

You can no more do that than you can will yourself not to be allergic to dogs or cats.

“Could you move your bear from my desk now that he’s mended?” Lucien folds his arms, whiskey glass still in his hand, and stares at Snow with a pointed expression on his face.

Mack moves to do it but I hold up my palm and slip Snow into my arms.

He grumbles, but it’s nothing compared to the noise he made when I had to heal him without any painkillers or magick.

When I asked Lucien why all he had was a human first aid kit, he simply shrugged and said, “Did you not know that vampires heal exceptionally fast? I thought you were a nurse.?”

I rolled my eyes at him and didn’t reply.

It’s only now that I’m settling Snow on the mat in front of the fire that I wonder how he knew that. I haven’t mentioned being a nurse.

“So…” Thornfield says, sitting down and lacing his fingers together.

The almost empty whiskey glass in font of him is leaving a watermark on the desk. He eyes it suspiciously then takes a coaster from his drawer and places the glass on top of it.

“Is someone going to tell me what happened?”

Mack is back in his chair, sipping a glass of water. Now that Snow is out of pain, he’s doing better. But it’s as if every time one of them is injured, it sets him back even further.

“Zephyra ambushed us,” I say, pacing the room then pulling a drop of condensation from the window and using it to conjure water into a glass. “It’s as if she knew we were coming.”

“But you found her nest?”

“They’re hiding out at the abandoned fairground outside of town.”

Lucien’s lips stretch into a wide grin. He laughs and taps his fingers on the side of his glass. “How very like Zephyra,” he says. “I should have guessed. Always a flare for the dramatic. She has hated living so… normally… these past few years.”

“Did you tell her we were looking for her?” Anger swells in my chest but, to my surprise, it is met by an equally ferocious wave of anger from Thornfield.

His face contorts. He snarls and bares his canines. “I do not double cross those I promise to help.” He slams the glass down on the table so forcefully that its contents sloshes over the sides.

Did his eyes just glow red?

Scarlet red?

Blood red?

I glance at Mack. Okay, so maybe the vampire does have some morals and some feelings hiding in that pasty porcelain body of his.

“She has the witch.” I skim over Thornfield’s anger, and give him a bullet-point version of what happened.

When I reach the part about the collar, Thornfield sighs and shakes his head. “So, Miranda will do whatever Zephyra wishes. Because if she doesn’t, she will die.”