AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Are you still able to turn into that beast?”
He sighs. “Unfortunately not. But I think that’s a good thing.”
“I don’t know, I think a beast might really come in handy right about now.”
“In the middle of a spice market?”
“There’s a big chance that it’s not the place I saw through the vision,” I tell them. “We might end up finding nothing but heaps of cheap tarragon.”
I can see the relief in Valtu’s eyes when I say that. Poor guy. I know he really doesn’t want me doing this, but I’m thankful he’s keeping his opinion to himself. I know he can be really controlling but there’s no way in hell I’d listen to him after all this.
“One more coffee before we hit the road?” Valtu says, going over to the machine. As if caffeine will add extra fuel to the fight.
While he does that, I go to the bathroom and change into leggings that are a little more fight appropriate than jeans. I slip on my combat boots and then remember the blade ofmordernes. I had put it in the bathroom, in the cloth bag that the hair dryer is usually stored in. I take the knife and slip it into my boot and the moment I do that, it’s like I’m brought back in time.
I close my eyes and Dahlia’s life comes rushing back through me. I had remembered everything before but now it feels like I’m living through it again, years flipping through me like pages of a book. And while this whirlwind is happening inside me, I feel a raw power building in my core, like an electrical fire. I feel like a vampire slayer again, which doesn’t do me much good if we’re battling witches, but the power I felt as a slayer, that unmistaken sense of confidence and skill, of knowing exactly what to do, is something I grasp onto.
I know I made a lot of mistakes as Dahlia, but those mistakes came from my emotions getting the best of me. When it comes to Bellamy, there will be no mistakes, no second guessing, no feelings getting in the way. Just the feeling of wanting him to pay for all that he’s done to me, to Leif, and to everyone else whose life he’s royally fucked up.
“Rose?” I hear Valtu say from the other side of the bathroom door and for a moment I’m almost confused, because my name is Dahlia, and then I remember—it is and it isn’t. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” I tell him, giving myself one last look in the mirror. I see all the versions of myself staring back but Dahlia is coming through most of all. It’s all in her eyes. That look of never belonging, never fitting in, knowing I was inherently different and that people would treat me as such. Bellamy took that aspect of me and he used it to manipulate me, gave me a focus and made me feel like I was among others that understood me. He used what made me different, preyed on my feelings of loneliness, and molded me into a murderer.
And now, I would take that part of me and use it to murder him.
“I’m ready,” I say, opening the door and seeing Valtu on the other side.
“We don’t need to do this,” he says, looking at me warily. Perhaps I do look a little wild and unhinged at the moment.
“Yes, we do,” I tell him. “And I’m ready.”
Solon comes over, sipping from his small cup of coffee. He pauses and sniffs the air, then frowns sharply. “You smell like a witch.”
I put my hand on my hip and thrust it to the side with flourish. “Ta-da.”
He nods, appraising me. “Alright. There you are. Let’s get going.”
He finishes the rest of his coffee and the three of us leave the room and head through the hotel to the lobby. The hotel itself is in the Sultanahmet quarter and though inside it’s very open and calm and airy, with lots of colorful tiles, water features, and plants, outside the city is roaring with energy. If it wasn’t for Valtu pulling me back in time I would have been taken out by a swerving motorbike, dirty exhaust blowing in my face.
“Easy now,” he warns me. “You’re giving me a heart attack this early in the game.”
The walk to the spice market takes a lot longer than I thought it would and by the time we cross a busy square and come to the grand building with its domes and three arched entrances, my nerves have had time to fray a little.
“Just over there is the Yeni Cami Mosque, or New Mosque,” Valtu points to the sprawling mosque in the background with its massive domes and many spires. “If we were here as tourists and not witch hunters, I’d be suggesting a tour.”
“You never know,” Solon says, “if we make quick work of it, we might earn ourselves a little vacation.”
“That would be nice,” I mutter.
We enter the bazaar and are greeted with a cacophony of sounds and an assortment of smells. Stimuli bombards us from every angle, and I know I’m not the only one who is having a hard time shutting a lot of it out and keeping focused, a drawback to having such keen senses. There are so many people bustling to and fro, brushing past us as we try and walk through the halls, and the sound of Turkish and passionate haggling fills the air, along with the scent of mint, sumac, curry, and coffee. Above us black-and-white tiles and mosaics fill the arched ceiling, while the stalls are filled with neat piles of red, yellow, green, orange, every color of spice or tea you can think of, plus dried mushrooms, peppers, and oodles of dried fruits and the ubiquitous Turkish Delight.
“I remember always wanting to eat one of those because theLion, the Witch and the Wardrobemade it sound like the most amazing candy in the world,” I admit, staring at the pastel-colored squares dusted with powdered sugar.
“You will be thoroughly disappointed,” Valtu comments. He then says to Solon, “Where about did you and Lenore sense the witches?”
“Further along here, toward the back,” he says, gazing down the chaotic hall. He looks back to me. “Does any of this look familiar to you?”
I glance around. It’s so hard to gauge, everything is so overwhelming and nearly every stall looks the same. “Yes and no.”
