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“Open your eyes to the world you’re living in, not the one you’d like to believe you are,” Titus said. He was in front of me now. “I’ll ask your answer again in one week, Samara. Even if you’re as stupid as you appear, I expect your response may change.”

I wish I could say Titus’s offer hadn’t haunted my visit with Amalthea, but it had. At my request, she’d shown me more of Damerel. But both she and Demos had refused to show me the parts I was most desperate to see: the blood donors.

Maybe desperate wasn’t the right word. I didn’t want to be reminded of the act. The memory of how it had felt with Raphael hadn’t faded—his fangs buried in my neck, sensation ricocheting through my body. The shame of it, of being used to sustain another creature, the shame of how I would have let him take every last drop.

But I had to know. The three of them might have become my friends, but they were keeping some things secret. Titus’s comments still lingered in my mind, seeds of doubt he’d masterfully planted. What if I really had blinded myself, let myself believe everything could be okay when I was sheltered from the truth?

That was why I doubled back after parting ways with Amalthea.

Vampires and witches hadn’t become mortal enemies simply because they were two tame, well-mannered species with slightly differing needs. They had warred over the years because vampires saw themselves at the top of the food chain and had taken and taken. Centuries ago, a great battle had broken out, and the Witch Kingdom emerged, having driven the vampires out of society. There had been a cost. We were surrounded on all sides, and lost access to the rest of the continent, as well as the ability to trade overseas. But it was for the best. That way, we were safe.

So, no, regardless of how much I’d come to trust Raphael, I couldn’t believe voids had really given up everything and happily let vampires feed on them as needed.

Being in the second level felt different without the security of an escort. I pulled my cloak low over my head and clutched the bronze dagger in my hand.

I’d killed a vampire with that dagger. Gods, it was terrifying to be out alone, but I had to do this. I tried to remember what Raphael had said. No bravery without fear.

Well, I was afraid. But I had to know the truth, and that mattered more.

I knew exactly where to go: the district Amalthea was always careful to avoid. As I understood it, there had to be several different places for vampires to go drink, but much like restaurants cropped up in clusters in cities, so too did thevampire equivalent.

My stomach turned at the comparison, but I kept moving. The rule was the same in all cities—move with purpose, move fast.

Damerel held thousands of denizens, and the streets were moderately crowded at any time. I walked quickly, my heels digging into the dirt as I navigated the city.

An old wooden sign swung down from outside a building. Signs like that were used throughout witch cities—a dress from a seamstress, a necklace for a jeweler, a bed for an inn. This sign with a red droplet painted on it, there was no such sign in the Witch Kingdom. But I understood the meaning implicitly.

It was late, even for vampires. A pair of male vampires walked towards the building, arms braced around each other’s shoulders.

“By blood, I’m starving,” one said loudly to the other.

I flinched at the bold exclamation, praying the shadows held me tightly.

“Me too. I hope Sue’s available tonight,” the other replied.

The first vampire chuckled, craggy laugh carrying over to where I stood at the edge of an alleyway. “Sue’s always available for you.”

The two went in.

I didn’t have a plan. I wanted to talk to some of the humans who worked there and find out what the truth was. See if they were really okay.

The building didn’t have any windows, otherwise, I would have looked in them to get a sense of what I was walking into.

There was no choice. After a few more minutes of deliberation, I went inside.

The inside of the blood den was nothing I’d been prepared for. The building was grand, with columns at the entrance. Several vampires lingered around. A host stood at the front but paid me little mind. With my raven-black hair, I was obviously human, and therefore not a customer. I walked back. The entryway turned into a long hall with dozens of branching rooms. Women and men were posted at most, bodies curved invitingly against the doorway.

More than just their necks were exposed. Breasts were bare at minimum. I tried not to stare lest I get caught, but my cheeks were hot at the sight. Until I passed an occupied room, the velvet curtain not fully loose. The man sprawled out was entirely bare, appendages I’d only been vaguely aware of on display, and a vampire sat between his thighs… biting. I walked faster, my blood cold. I rounded a corner and pulled the curtain back slightly on a room to the left. No one was posted at the edge of it, but no sounds came from inside.

A girl was splayed backwards onto a low mattress.

Oh gods. I rushed over. She was my age, maybe a bit older, with beautiful, delicate features. Two punctures in her neck still dripped blood.

I pressed my hand to her nose. Her breaths came faintly.

I swallowed. She was alive.

Her eyes slowly opened, and she didn’t seem at all startled I was leaning over her.