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“But…” I bit my lip, not sure how to phrase my question. “But if the Council really thought you did those awful things, why would they lock you up in a school with other people’s kids?”
“Do you mean why would they trust a hardened killer around their children?” Griffin asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I nodded.
“Well, because of this, of course.” Griffin spread his collar open wider and pointed to the heavy black padlock set with Blood Stones in all four corners. They winked and sparkled in the dim golden glow of the overhead light.
At the sight of the lock so exposed, the key at my own throat jumped excitedly. I felt it yearning towards Griffin—towards his necklace. As though it was desperate to get to him and fit itself in the inviting lock.
I put a hand to my chest, trying to calm both the key and the drumming of my heart.
“And what…exactly does that do?” I asked uncertainly.
Griffin gave me a direct look.
“It keeps me from drinking blood—any blood. I cannot even partake of the animal blood which most of my kind use to survive.”
“How do you survive, then?” I asked. “How do you manage not to die of hunger or thirst or whatever?”
“It is a thirst.” His voice was so low it was almost a growl. “A thirst so deep and wide I feel like I could drink an ocean of blood—if only this damn thing would let me.” He nodded down at the black lock around his neck again.
“I think I have the answer,” I said, before I considered if it was a good idea or not. “The answer to your thirst, I mean.”
His eyes widened.
“What do you mean?”
“I have this,” I said, lifting the key on its matte-black chain out of my shirt to show him.
56
“Ah…” Griffin’s eyes flashed silver and the key got so hot it burned my fingertips. It was yearning towards the lock he wore, tugging and pulling ceaselessly towards him as though it was desperate to go home—to bury itself in the heart of the lock and open the heavy black padlock at his throat.
Griffin was tense—his entire body clenched like a fist as he sat on the very edge of the couch and turned towards me. I had the feeling that he wanted to get to the key every bit as badly as it wanted to get to him but somehow, for some reason, he was holding himself back.
“Put it away, please.” His voice was courteous but strained.
“But, if you need to be unlocked—” I began.
Griffin held up a hand to stop me.
“After fifteen years of unrelenting thirst? I think that would be an extraordinarily bad idea, Megan. If you release me now, I do not think I could stop myself—I would drink you dry.” His eyes blazed like lightning as he talked and I felt as though my heart had stopped in my chest, just for a second.
“I…I don’t believe that,” I said but my voice sounded uncertain in my own ears.
“Believe it,” Griffin said steadily, his voice low and harsh. “You have no idea what the thirst can do. It’s like a live thing, clawing at my throat.” He motioned to the long white column of his neck as though to illustrate his point.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “How can you live without…without sustenance?”
Griffin shook his head. “The lock sustains my life but it hasn’t allowed a single drop of blood to pass my lips in a decade and a half. Try to imagine how thirsty—and hungry—you would be if you hadn’t eaten or drunk in that amount of time. Blood is what a Nocturne lives on—it is our food and our drink—and I have had none for years.”
“I’m sorry,” I said in a low voice. “I…I can’t imagine. It must be torture.”
“That is exactly what it was designed to be,” Griffin said dryly. “Now please—put the key away where I cannot see it.”
I dropped the key back into my Henley, though it twisted and protested mutely between my fingers as I did so. When I looked up at him again, I thought Griffin’s silver eyes were blazing a little less intensely.
“Goddess Bright…” He ran both hands through his hair and heaved a deep breath as though he was finally coming back to himself. “Where did you get that?”
“I found it in a flea market in Tampa,” I told him, aware that the key was still twisting against my chest in an angry way. “I put it on and it wouldn’t come off. I’ve been wearing it ever since.”
Griffin shook his head.
“She said she’d thrown the key into the ocean—she said it would never be seen again—that I would wear this lock and bear the shame for all my days.”
“Well, whoever she was, she was wrong,” I said firmly. “It came to me. I think maybe…” I bit my lip. “Maybe it found me because it knew I would be meeting you. Does that sound crazy?”
