Page 7 of Bitten & Burned

“Seriously, Ro…” Bram reached for my hand. “Be careful, babe. Guys you reject are the most dangerous.”

“Oh my gods, I didn’t reject Dr. Drummond! He’s literally my mentor, and he’s helping me. But…” I trailed off, looking at both of my friends. “Thank you. I love you both.”

“Love you too,” Thalia said, reaching for my other hand.

“Yeah, love is a strong word,” Bram muttered, releasing my hand. I tossed a piece of beetroot bread at him.

It was at that point that the server returned with the check. Thalia refused my money, but I did get a to-go box to take my sandwich remnants home with me.

I said my good-byes to Thalia and Bram and left the tea house, promising to write while I was at Halemont.

As I made my way to the trolley stop, I mused about what they had said about Silas. Now that it had been pointed out to me, it was odd how coincidental it had been both times he’d aided me.

But that’s all it was, surely. A coincidence. I must have tried to use more magic than I realized. Even though I’d been very vigilant about it.

I reached up to twirl my finger in the silver chain around my neck. My leg was throbbing dully in the background; it had almost become white noise, had white noise affected your nerves.

There was one thing I’d discovered since my injury had occurred: I had more time to think than usual. Really think, not just go through work projects in my mind, or plan out my day. No, I mean, really think.

I thought about many things. Today was no different.

As I waited for the trolley to arrive to take me to the Arcanum of Caer Voss, I thought.

Mostly, I thought about Vael, about what he’d said the night before.

About how I made him a weak man. I hadn’t brought it back up yet, but I was planning on it.

Perhaps that evening after he’d risen, but before we began preparing for our trip to Halemont that weekend.

Weak. Not a word I’d use to describe Vael Vexley.

Vael came from House Vexley, a very prominent family in Verdune.

Not a household name, but in certain circles, it still held weight.

His house was famous for producing scholars and academics.

Every single one of the Vexleys had procured a college degree in a time when degrees were saved for the rich, and, not only that, they’d produced philosophers, authors, poets, and scientists.

Vael had been on his way to becoming one of those famous Vexleys when he’d been turned.

He told me it was his choice, that he was stifled by the nonstop work and expectations from his family. The idea of having not only more time, but all the time? That was a very sweet siren’s call, indeed.

So he’d been turned by the Vampire Queen known as Isodora.

Isodora was known for her collections. She sired and collected vampires based on their gifts.

Every vampire was different, just as every person was different.

They all had gifts. Some were more common, like flying, for example.

That was a very common gift, but some? Some were very different indeed. Vael’s was one such gift.

He could convince anyone of anything.

Literally, anything.

It was why his power was so coveted. Vael had told me that Isadora liked to think she could tell which humans would make extraordinary vampires.

It was my understanding that, just because you were an extraordinary human being, it didn’t mean you’d be an extraordinary vampire.

But, then again, she’d never been wrong.

The driverless trolley arrived, and I boarded. Old Solian ward-tech powered the trolleys. Etched copper plates beneath the carriage that drank from ley-lines under Caer Voss. It made a type of magic so mundane that now most passengers forgot they were riding on centuries of spellwork.

It was a short ride, thankfully, since the man nearest me thought I looked like a person who wanted to hear his life story.

Thankfully, my stop came up, and I left before he could tell me about his third wife.

I dropped a few coins into the box on my way out.

We didn’t have to tip, obviously, since there was no driver, but I felt bad not tipping for a service I could not handle on my own.

The tips went to fixing the roads anyway, and honestly, Caer Voss’s infrastructure could use all the help it could get.

I walked the rest of the way across campus to where Silas’s office was located.

He was on the ground floor of the building, something that had always been a sore spot for him; he felt that given his seniority and level of skill, he should be farther up, closer to the top.

In Arcanum tradition, the higher the office, the closer to Comium’s sunlight and Inera’s moonglow through the great glass dome.

The climb to the top was a symbol of knowledge and status.

Being left at ground level was a public slight Silas never truly forgave.

I, on the other hand, was grateful for whatever powers that were that had decreed his office to be on the ground floor. Walking up spiral staircases might have ended me now that the cursed wound was part of my life.

I knocked on his door, careful to call out who I was, just in case he didn’t see my missive I’d sent via Pulse to him that morning. Pulses weren’t quite as trustworthy as a homing bird, but they were so much easier to use.

“Dr. Drum—Silas! It’s me, Rowena.”

There was a slight scrambling behind the door before it clicked open. I pulled on the handle and walked into his office.

“Rowena! It’s so nice to see you!” Silas exclaimed.

“Did you get my Pulse this morning? I know I sent it awfully recently, you might not have had a chance to see it…”

“I got it, so not to worry, Dearheart. My teaching assistant is quick to bring me all the Pulses I receive… So, to what do I owe the pleasure? Is that blasted wound bothering you again?”

“It is indeed worse now, as a matter of fact,” I replied.

“No, it can’t be,” he said, sounding as dejected as I felt. “I just cleansed the amulet a few days ago!”

Cleansing, in his terms, always meant taking the chain from me and disappearing behind the tall screen in his office, out of sight, where the smaller bloodstone was pressed to its larger parent stone. I never saw the act itself, only felt the faint hum return when he handed it back.

“I know,” I replied. “Do you think the curse is getting stronger? Do you think it’s being actively manipulated?”

“That, I don’t know,” he replied. “At the very least, there is something that keeps powering the thing. Are you using magic?”

“No, not at all! Or at least, I don’t think I am.”

“Still, it’s better to be vigilant.”

“Yes, I know. But Vael thinks it might be a sigil? Do you think—”

“I already went that route and determined it was not connected,” he said. “I could not find any sigils like that one you have in any of my notes. I even wrote colleagues in other countries, at every school I could think of. None of them recognizes the sigil.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not a sigil, though, does it?”

“It’s highly unlikely, Dearheart.”

“Vael thought it might be something hand-drawn, perhaps?”

“Handwritten things wouldn’t show up in research. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. I’m afraid the logic of following that line of inquiry doesn’t carry, Rowena. I know he’s trying to help you.”

“Well, I suppose you have certainly done the research,” I replied. “I apologize, I’m just… so tired…”

“Aye, I know you are. I’m trying everything I can to figure this thing out for you.” He placed one hand on mine, cold fingers squeezing mine before he removed it. For whatever reason, the action set me on edge. I forced my smile tighter.

“And I do appreciate it, Silas. No one has been able to touch the pain besides you, except for when Vael takes my blood, obviously, but—”

“Vampires drinking your blood every damn day is no way to live. Bleeding yourself for a wound is barbaric and archaic.”

I took a deep breath before replying. “True, but it is a blood curse, so…”

“I suppose. Not nearly as effective as if you were to do a blood bonding ritual with him. That might offer more relief.”

A blood-bonding ritual. It was an ancient rite where a vampire bound themselves to their human consort.

It was a way to protect them from other vampires and to prolong their short human lives without passing on the vampiric curse.

It was basically the equivalent of a marriage.

It was generally the step before being made a vampire to see if you could stand one another for all of eternity.

The rite belonged to Camarae, goddess of life, the afterlife, and the inbetween, and patroness of vampires.

Some whispered she created the first of them as her eternal guard and lovers.

To bond in her name was to swear fealty not just to each other, but to the goddess who claimed dominion over death and devotion alike.

For Vael, the answer was yes, though I would never dare say it aloud. Especially not here, not to Silas. To him, I gave the opposite instead, a lie sharp enough to taste on my tongue. “ I don’t think that’s for me.”

“Well, I suppose that’s that. You’ve only known him six months anyway.”

“It’s actually closer to a year,” I reminded him.

“Ah, right. A year. Still barely any time at all, to an ancient vampire like him.”

Vael was barely one hundred and twenty. Hardly ancient. “A blood bond might help, now that you mention it.”

“But you still shouldn’t do that lightly. Blood bonding with someone just for pain management… It’s a very real and very binding ritual, Rowena. It’s nearly permanent.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” I replied. “I do care about him, but I don’t think I could ask that of him just yet.”

“You don’t think he’d be up for it?” Silas asked. It was a rather personal question, but, at the same time, the information he was requesting wasn’t exactly top secret stuff.

“I… don’t know, actually. Doesn’t matter anyway; we’re still in the beginning of our relationship. That’s actually one of the reasons I’m here. I’m going to Kravenspire this weekend. Planning to spend the next few weeks at Halemont... I’d like to get the amulet cleansed before we leave.”

“Kravenspire, huh? That’s up the mountain, isn’t it? You seem to be spending more and more time up there.”

“I suppose I have. Vael has a flat here in Caer Voss for when he’s working, or he sleeps down at the archive during the day. But we like to go as often as possible to see the rest of his coven. It’s not far, but it’s a change from the city.”

“Mm,” Silas nodded, but seemed miles away. “Well, let me at that amulet, since that’s why you’re here.”

“Obviously not the only reason, I do enjoy our conversations, Silas. And thank you. I don’t know how to repay you for everything you’ve done for me.” I removed the amulet and handed it to him.

“Your thanks and your smiling face are enough, Dearheart.” He took it from me and walked to the back of his office, behind a partition, where the mother stone apparently was.

I’d never seen it, but to hear Silas talk about it, it was massive.

I might have felt better if I could have seen it, but I still didn’t know how to ask for things.

Well, I knew; I just didn’t like doing it.

Asking Silas for anything more than what he was already doing felt as if I were taking advantage of his kindness.

I waited, my leg throbbing slightly more than it had been.

It felt like hours had passed, but finally, Silas appeared, with the amulet in hand.

“You were right, it was basically drained. You poor dear.” I fumbled trying to put it back on, and he took it from my hands.

“Here, move your hair, Dearheart. Let me.”

He moved around behind me, and I moved my hair out of the way. His fingers brushed the back of my neck, making my skin itch, and his breath tickled the back of my neck in a way that wasn’t entirely pleasant. I brushed it off as my discomfort from the wound.

“There you go, good as new.”

I dropped my hair, and he walked back around to face me.

He watched as I took a deep breath, feeling the crystal’s energy seep into my skin, warming my blood as it circulated through my body, the curse draining slowly.

I let out the breath and felt it cool everything, including the angry burn on my outer thigh.

It didn’t go away completely, but it was just barely there, in the background.

“Gods, that feels so good,” I murmured. “Thank you so much.”

“I truly would do anything for you, Rowena. I’m glad you’re feeling better. So…” he clapped and began to walk back to his desk. “Do you have plans for the rest of today?”

“Well, I had lunch with Thalia and Bram already, and I now must attend to some filing at the archives, and then I suppose I’ll head home to pack for this weekend.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to release you, then,” he said with a laugh. “Can’t hold you captive forever, now can I? People will talk.”

I laughed too, but I sort of hated those kinds of jokes. Ones where he joked about keeping me in his office and not letting me go, forcing me to rest.

“Well, I’ll try and get in touch with you again soon,” I replied.

“Don’t feel like you can’t send me a message or two if you need help,” he said. “I’ve got a homing bird here, and I’m sure your vampires have some way to send messages from that mouttain. Do let me know how that amulet holds up this time.”

“I will,” I said, smiling tightly.

“I’ll look forward to it. Until then, be careful, Dearheart. Have a great week, Rowena.”

“Thank you, same to you!” I said, turning to leave.

I thought I heard him say something else as I was pulling the handle of his office door, so I stopped and looked back, but he was just muttering over some scrolls on his desk. I must have heard him talking to himself.

I stepped out into the crisp Caer Voss air, the amulet’s warmth seeping into my skin.

The pain had dulled, but my limbs still ached with fatigue, and every step felt slower than the last—like Silas had taken more from me than I’d given.