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“I can hear you,” Solon says toward the phone. “Wolf, what happened?”
There’s the sound of Wolf’s ragged breathing while Amethyst continues to wail. I hear another male talking in the background, then a baby crying. “We were ambushed. They broke through the wards. Witches.”
My chest goes cold.
Witches.
“Witches?” Lenore repeats. “Do you know who?”
“One knew who you were. Ezra says his name was Atlas Poe.”
“Atlas Poe!” Lenore cries out, looking at us incredulously.
“And the other was an older man, wizard, whatever the fuck you want to call him. I think Atlas said his name, but it could have been a last name. Billings or Bellamy? Something like that.”
A fist tightens around my heart at the sound of Bellamy’s name.
“Oh my god,” Lenore says, and I feel the world starting to tilt on its axis, enough so that I have to lean back against the fridge, my nails digging into the book’s worn cover even tighter. I swear I hear the book calling to me.
Yes, yes, open me. I’m all you need,the book says.None of this matters.
“Do you recognize the name?” Wolf asks, his voice going louder with desperation.
“I recognize both their names,” Lenore says grimly. “They’re witches, Atlas was expelled from the guild years ago, and Bellamy, Bellamy is supposed to be the head of the guild. But I don’t understand why they took Leif? Why would they target a baby? Is Liam okay?”
But now I’m walking away from them and around the corner to the living room, my feet moving as if on their own accord. There’s a part of me that wants my revenge on Bellamy for what he did for Dahlia. And yes, of course the fact that the witches are now abducting vampire babies for no apparent reason. But mostly for Dahlia. That revenge has been burning in me ever since her death, because I know it’s what she’d want me to do, I know she’d want me to avenge her parent’s death, avenge the life of service and murder that Bellamy subjected her to.
Yet now that I have the book, the book has me. I won’t dare be separated from it. This book holds the key to my future. It holds the key to what I really want, which isn’t revenge, but actually bringing Dahlia back to life. Only then can the two of us seek out her vengeance.
Their conversation continues in the other room but I’m not listening. I already have the book on the coffee table, my fingers tracing the strange cover, made from some animal hide, both pebbled and smooth, with fine hair in patches.
“Valtu,” Solon’s voice says sternly and when I look up I realize that all of them are standing in front of me. From the look on their faces, I think they may have been there for some time. Perhaps I’ve been in a trance.
My throat feels thick and I attempt to clear it. “Yes?”
Van Helsing frowns. “Didn’t you hear any of that?”
“Valtu, we have a problem on our hands,” Solon says.
I can’t help but laugh, the sound a boom echoing off the walls, making the string instruments sing. “Now you realize we have a problem? How astute of you, Solon. Yes, we have a problem, I believe it started when I accidentally murdered my wife!” I practically yell the last part.
“Hey,” Lenore says softly, coming closer to me but I practically growl, swiping the book out of her reach. “We’re not interested in the book, Valtu. We know that belongs to you now. You took it fair and square. But our friends are in a great deal of danger and we’re going to need you—and the book—to help them.”
I slowly shake my head, averting my eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“Valtu,” Bitrus warns. “We have been working together like a team so far. No reason to stop now.”
“Yes there is,” I say with deliberation. “I have what I wanted. This book will help me bring Dahlia back. Itchoseme.”
“Black magic isn’t to be trifled with—” Solon says but then I’m leaping across the coffee table and on him like a flash, slamming him against the wall, holding the book under his chin like a knife. Sick of his fucking lectures.
“Don’t you dare tell me what to do,” I snarl at him, baring my teeth. “You’ve been collecting magic for centuries and everyone turned a blind eye. You barter with witches for your powers, you hand over vampires to them like a traitor. There’s no difference between that and me using a book that is accessible to us, especially not one taken from vampires that were going to use that to destroy the human race.”
His pupils go to pinpricks and I know what he’s thinking. He’s afraid I’m going to do the same thing.
“I just want Dahlia back,” I add, rather pitifully, my voice cracking.
“And none of us will stop you from trying,” he manages to say, his throat bobbing against the book’s spine, “but this is about more than that. You want revenge for her, don’t you? You want to kill the man that killed her parents, who made her into the witch she was, who did the same thing to many others who probably didn’t deserve it? I know you do.”
