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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

WILLIAM

Watching Isolde return to her room, my room, is a study in contradictions. She slams the door, drops her bag, and immediately paces like a caged animal. Her face is flushed, her eyes bright with fury and something more primal. Something that makes my ghostly form tingle with a long-forgotten sensation.

“Arrogant, possessive bastard,” she mutters, yanking off her shoes and hurling them across the room. I duck as one flies towards my head, and I smile, amused by her fire.

She stops suddenly, hands on her hips, and glances at the spot where she last saw me. “William?” she calls out tentatively. “Are you here?”

I wish I could answer her. After a century of isolation, having someone acknowledge my existence, even briefly, is intoxicating. I drift closer, concentrating all my energy to make the slightest disturbance in the physical world. The pages of an open book on her desk flutter, and she whirls toward it.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she says, her earlier anger softening into something more thoughtful. “I haven’t had time to read your journal yet. Tonight has been eventful.”

That’s an understatement. In just two days, I’ve watched her become the focal point of more drama than I’ve witnessed in decades. The possessive vampire, the fallen angel, the threats in the mist. My little squirrel has certainly stirred up SilverGate’s stagnant waters.

I drift closer to her, drawn to her in ways that I don’t understand. Reaching out, I place my hand near her cheek and mimic cupping her face. It’s a gesture that makes me long for physical touch in a forceful way that I haven’t felt since I woke up dead.

She blinks, her breath coming out in a puff in the cold air. “William,” she murmurs.

“I’m here.”

“I can feel you.” She holds her hand up, an act of covering mine if it were corporeal.

“Isolde.”

“William.”

“Can you hear me?” I wait for her reply on tenterhooks .

“Yes,” she murmurs. “Like a faint whisper. It must be my vampire hearing amplifying you.”

“Or you are my fate.”

“Fate,” she says, closing her eyes with a soft smile. “Maybe.”

We stay like that for a few moments before she opens her eyes and then gasps. “I can see you.”

My hand drops. “You can?”

“Yes,” she breathes, her blue eyes wide. “You’re faint, like a watercolour painting that has been rained on, but I can see you.”

My spectral form flickers with surprise. A hundred years of trying to be seen, and suddenly this vampire can without even a spell. “That’s...” I murmur but trail off as I have no words.

“Maybe it’s the fallen angel’s blood,” she murmurs, reaching out toward me. Her fingers pass through my chest, but I feel a whisper of connection, like static electricity through fog. “I drank from him earlier when I collected his blood for the spell.” She frowns and steps back before crossing over to the book lying open on her desk. The one she took the spell from.

“The forsaken blood,” she muses, “must be the major part of the spell. The rest is just buffer.”

“Clever squirrel,” I murmur, watching her with fascination .

“You’re looking at me like I’ve grown a second head,” she says, tilting her chin up with a hint of defiance. “Is it so strange that I might be clever?”

“Not strange,” I reply, drifting closer. “Refreshing. Most who’ve occupied this room over the decades barely noticed the draft, let alone worked out how to see me.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, studying me with those piercing blue eyes. “So we’re communicating. Actually communicating.”

“It appears so.” I can’t keep the wonder from my voice. A century of silence broken by this remarkable creature who crashed into my existence like a comet. “Though I don’t know how long it will last. The blood may wear off.”

Isolde nods thoughtfully. “Cassiel will allow me to drink from him again. He enjoyed it.” She smirks softly and gets a faraway look in her eyes.

“So why are you here, Isolde?”

The question seems to catch her off guard, and her face closes off. “I don’t know. My parents sent me here unexpectedly. My brother was already a student here.”

“And you weren’t because?” Something seems off about this.

“I was…” She hesitates, picking at her sleeve. “Sheltered. Kept in a fortress. Never allowed outside.”

“For twenty years, give or take?” I drift closer, intrigued by this revelation. “That’s quite the overprotective parenting style.”

She gives a bitter laugh. “Tell me about it. I’ve never been around creatures in person until yesterday. Never been to a real school, never had friends besides my brother, never been on a date, never...” She trails off, her cheeks flushing.

“Never kissed anyone?”

Her blush deepens. “Never anything. Now I’m here, and everyone’s acting insane. It’s a lot.”

“SilverGate does have that effect,” I murmur. “It concentrates extremes. Makes everything more intense.”

Isolde sinks onto the edge of her bed, looking suddenly exhausted. “There was a red moon. The night they sent me away. My father said, ‘The Crimson Moon changes everything. They can find you now.’”

“A Crimson Moon? That’s unusual. We didn’t have that here.”

“No, exactly. It was only about our castle, I think. It was showing whoever came for me where I was.”

“Why you?”

“Why me, what?”

“Why are you being hunted?”

She purses her lips and stares at me. “I can’t say.”

“Who am I going to tell?” I ask with a wry smile.

She giggles but then looks sad. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny, but you’re right. You are the perfect secret-keeper.”

“I like to think I’m a man of many talents,” I say, spinning in a slow circle that makes my ghostly form shimmer. “Secret-keeping being the least interesting.”

Isolde smiles, and something in me warms at the sight. It’s been decades since I’ve made anyone smile.

“It’s just...” She hesitates, tucking her knees up to her chest, looking suddenly vulnerable. “I don’t know why I’m special. That’s the thing. I’ve been locked away, told I’m different, but never why. Just that I needed protection. I’m a… my brother is my twin.”

I drift closer as her words sink in. Even a hundred years ago, this was of significance. “You are a pureblood, female twin vampire,” I murmur.

She nods.

“They are exceedingly rare. I read about them in my studies here. Some ancient texts referred to them as ‘Vessels of Power.’”

Her head snaps up. “Vessels of Power? What does that mean?”

“I’m not entirely sure. The texts were fragmented, deliberately obscured in places. Redacted, if you will.”

“Which texts?” she demands, standing up.

“It’s been a while. I don’t remember,” I say, watching her face carefully. “But it’s in the restricted section of the library, heavily warded. No one could access it easily. ”

“Except you, obviously. I need to see it. If there’s information about what I am, why I was hidden away?—”

“It’s not that simple,” I interrupt. “The restricted section requires special permission from Blackridge himself, or... alternative methods of entry.”

“Alternative methods?” Her eyes spark with interest.

“Let’s just say I had my ways, back when I was corporeal.” I drift closer to her. “SilverGate has many secrets, Isolde. Secret passages, hidden rooms. The founders built this place as much to conceal knowledge as to impart it.”

“Can you show me? Guide me through?”

I shake my head. “I can’t leave this room.”

She freezes. “Oh, William.”

“Don’t ‘oh, William’ me. I don’t need or want your pity,” I say bitterly. “It is what it is.”

“It wasn’t pity. I was?—”

“Doesn’t matter. You can’t get to the texts.” With that said, I float backwards into the wall so she can’t see me anymore.

“William, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Before I can answer, there is a loud knock on the door. Isolde hisses in frustration, but crosses over to open the door.

“What do you want?” she snaps .

Then she steps back with a gasp as the vampire who has staked his claim on her, wraps his hand around her neck and shoves her back into the room, kicking the door closed behind him.