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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ISOLDE

I spin around, looking for an exit, but there’s only the single window, barred with enchanted iron that has contained me all my life. The same tapestries hang on the walls, depicting ancient battles between vampires and their enemies. The same four-poster bed with its blood-red canopy. The same prison disguised as protection.

“It’s not real,” I tell myself, digging my nails into my palms. “The guardian is showing me my fear.”

But it feels real. The familiar scent of old stone and stale air, the distant sound of my mother’s voice, the chill that never quite leaves these ancient walls, no matter how many fires burn in the grate. I was forced out of this prison, but now I never want to go back. I want what I have at SilverGate, as scary and unknown as that is, it’s better than being locked away .

“Isolde,” my father’s voice comes from behind me. I turn to see him standing by the locked door, his imposing figure as intimidating as ever. “You can never leave this castle. It isn’t safe.”

“It’s not real,” I whisper again, backing away from the apparition of my father. His eyes are darker than I remember, and his pupils expand until they’ve swallowed the iris entirely.

“You belong here,” he says, his voice echoing strangely. “Where we can protect you.”

I shake my head. “No. I’ve tasted freedom now. I won’t go back to being a prisoner.”

He moves toward me with unnatural speed, his form flickering slightly at the edges. “Freedom is an illusion. You are too valuable to risk in the outside world.”

“Valuable for what?” I demand, finding my courage. “What am I?”

My father’s face contorts, stretching into something less human, more monstrous. “You are the vessel. The key. The sacrifice.”

A chill runs through me at his words. This is the guardian twisting my fears, but there’s a ring of truth that cuts deep.

“No,” I say more firmly. “I reject this. I reject your prison. I reject your secrets.”

The room shimmers around me as I focus my will against the illusion .

My father’s form solidifies again, more menacing now. “You cannot escape your destiny, Isolde. The Crimson Moon has marked you. They know where you are. They are coming for you.”

“Who is coming for me?” I demand, stepping forward despite my fear. “Tell me!”

His face twists further, features melting and reforming into something ancient and terrible. “The Collectors.”

The name is chilling, making my blood turn to ice. Collectors. What will they do with me once they’ve ‘collected’ me?

The walls of my prison crack, thin fissures spreading like spider webs across the stone.

“This isn’t real,” I say again, louder now. “You’re not my father. You’re the guardian, and I reject your illusion.”

The apparition snarls, its form shifting again. My father’s features melt away entirely, revealing something I can barely comprehend, a creature of shadow and ancient malice, its eyes burning like embers in the darkness.

“Reject the illusion, but you know what you are, a female twin. You know how valuable you are.”

“No! I don’t know anything! What will these Collectors do if they find me?”

“ When they find you, they will make you wish for your prison.”

The guardian zaps out of existence, leaving me sweating and panting. I spin around to see CJ and Cassiel staring at me, seemingly unscathed by the guardian.

“Female twin,” CJ says, moving closer. “I knew there was something off about you and Isaac. It makes sense now. But not everything. Why are you so valuable?”

“What are you talking about?” I stammer, even though he has spelt it out. He and Cassiel heard everything the guardian said to me. It spilt my secret, and now what? Where do I run to?

“You’ll forgive my lack of knowledge in this area,” he says with that smirk, which I see now is meant to disarm me. “I’m not up to speed on this particular lore.”

“Lore?” I grit out. “And well, that makes two of us. I have no clue. Angel? You got anything? Save us having to break into the restricted section and possibly face the wrath of Blackridge?”

Cassiel shakes his head slowly. “I am unaware of this lore as well.”

“Well, great. Massive help you two are.”

“Whoa,” CJ says, holding his hand up, as the door swings open and we all turn to stare at it, none of us moving forward. “We are here to help you, Isolde. Whatever this is, clearly it is why your parents kept you locked away. ”

“Well, I know that, for fuck’s sake. What I don’t know is why? Why is a female twin vampire so special?”

“Let’s pass through this gateway to find out,” Cassiel says and marches forward, disappearing into the dark.

“Cassiel, wait!” I cry, but with a noise of frustration, follow him with CJ on my heels, making the same noise at me.

We ascend some steps, which makes sense, seeing as we went down on the other side and appear suddenly in the restricted section of the library set behind wards so fierce, we can see them shimmering black in the low light.

“This suddenly seems like a bad idea,” I whisper.

“We are here now,” CJ says, looking around. “Do you have any idea what you are actually looking for?”

“William said he couldn’t remember,” I murmur and curse under my breath. It’s going to be like looking for a specific needle in a haystack made of needles.

“Great,” CJ mutters, running his hand through his dark hair. “A needle in a stack of needles that will probably bite us.”

I blink. How did he latch onto the same thought I did?

I scan the shelves, feeling the stifling presence of ancient magic. The restricted section is smaller than I expected but more densely packed, with books crammed into every available space. Some volumes are chained to the shelves, others sealed with locks or wrapped in protective bindings. A few emit soft hums or whispers, their contents literally alive.

“We should split up,” I suggest, moving toward the nearest shelf. “Look for anything about vampire twins or these Collectors, even.”

Cassiel nods. “I’ll take the far corner.”

CJ moves to the opposite wall, his movements graceful despite the cramped space. “These books are organised by danger level, not subject matter,” he observes, studying the shelving system. “The ones with red bindings are the most volatile.”

I follow his gaze to a section of crimson-bound books secured behind what appears to be a cage of silver energy. “How do you know that?”

He gives me that infuriating smirk. “It’s how my dad does it.”

I nod, filing that piece of information away.

I move across to a set of books that look less like they want to eat me and scan the titles. Nothing jumps out at me, literally or in the way of being informative, so I move on.

I watch Cassiel hold his hands up, and that goldy-black power he has that manifested as a lightning bolt, shimmers out of his palms. He closes his eyes and then homes in on a title. His eyes snap open, and he grabs it, pulling it from its place.

“I’ve found something,” Cassiel says, his voice unnaturally tight.

I move to his side, watching as he places an ancient leather-bound book on a small reading table. The cover is unmarked, but the leather itself seems wrong somehow.

“What is it?” I ask, fighting a strange reluctance to touch the volume.

“It responded to my angelic energy,” Cassiel explains, his wings shifting restlessly behind him. “Almost like it was reaching for me.”

CJ approaches cautiously, his nostrils flaring. “That book smells like blood and magic.”

Cassiel’s fingers hover over the cover. “It’s called ‘The Collector’s Compendium.’”

“The Collectors,” I murmur.

With visible unwillingness, he opens the book. The pages inside are a deep amber colour, inscribed with text that gives me the creeps. But what makes my breath catch is the way the book itself seems to respond to being opened. It’s a soft exhalation, as if the binding itself is breathing.

“What the hell?” CJ mutters.

Cassiel’s face has gone pale. “The Collectors are an ancient academic society—scholars of supernatural phenomena.” His fingers trace the text without touching it. “But their methods are unorthodox.”

“Unorthodox, how?” I press, fighting the urge to back away from the disturbing volume.

Cassiel’s eyes meet mine, filled with a terrible knowledge. “They transform rare supernatural beings into repositories of knowledge. Living grimoires.”

“Living what?”

CJ leans closer, his face hardening. “Grimoires. Magic books. But living?”

Cassiel nods grimly. “According to this, some creatures possess a unique ability. Their blood and tissue can absorb and permanently store magical knowledge.” He turns a page, and I swear I hear a whimper from the book itself. “The Collectors capture them and transform them into conscious grimoires.”

The horror of it hits me. “They turn creatures into books? While they’re still alive?”

“Conscious,” Cassiel clarifies, his voice tight with disgust. “The nervous system is preserved throughout the process. They remain aware but unable to move or speak except when the book is opened and read.”

My legs nearly give out. CJ steadies me with a hand at my elbow, his touch unusually gentle.

“That’s why they want you?” he asks quietly.

“Does it say anything about twin vampires?” I ask steadily, even though my insides are trying to crawl away .

Cassiel scans the text, flipping page after page with supernatural speed, almost as if his eyes are finding the information we want. They are still glowing silver, which has to mean something. “Here. Female vampire twins are especially valuable,” he says. “The sympathetic connection between twins amplifies the absorption properties. They can store knowledge that would destroy normal repositories, such as forbidden spells, lost languages, even memories and experiences.”

My soul whimpers in response to that, imagining a fate worse than death. Flayed alive, bound into a book, eternally conscious while being read and studied by these academic monsters. My stomach heaves.

“The book you’re holding,” I whisper. “Is it...?”

Cassiel nods grimly. “A guide created by The Collectors, bound in the skin of one of their victims. A demonstration of their craft.”

“How many?” I ask, my voice cracking. “How many of us have they taken?”

Cassiel turns more pages, each movement eliciting a subtle reaction from the book itself. “According to this catalogue, they’ve created two living grimoires from female twin vampires over the millennia. Each one specialising in different magical knowledge.”

“That’s fucking rare and special,” CJ says.

I glare at him for pointing out the fucking obvious .

“And they’re still aware? After all this time?” CJ asks, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.

“Vampires don’t die easily,” Cassiel says. “These grimoires are centuries old, but still conscious. Still suffering.”

I back away, my heart pounding. “No wonder my parents kept me locked away. They were hiding me from this.”

“Or…” CJ stops, giving me a look that speaks volumes.

“Or what?” Cassiel asks, not reading the room in that way he has that is normally so enchanting.

“Or they knew and threw me to the wolves,” I say quietly.

“But if they came for you the night of the red moon, they would’ve just handed you over,” CJ says, trying to backtrack from the horror. “Why send you here?”

“It wasn’t for safety,” I mutter. “How could it be?”

“Wards? Ancient magic? Us?” he points out.

“You?”

“Well, maybe not us specifically in your parents’ mind, but creatures who would protect you.”

“I killed for you,” Cassiel reminds me.

“What is the significance of the red moon?” I ask.

“According to this, the moon acts as a beacon, revealing the location of rare and valuable creatures. The Collectors can track it directly to you. ”

A cold question washes over me. “Isaac. Do The Collectors want him too?”

Cassiel shakes his head. “The text specifically mentions female twins. Something about the female vampire’s biological structure makes them ideal vessels for this process.”

“So my brother is safe, but I’m destined to become someone’s library book?” My voice rises with hysteria. “That’s just great.”

“Not if we stop them,” CJ says, his voice hardening with resolve.

“We need to get out of here,” I say suddenly, feeling the walls closing in. “If anyone catches us with this book?—”

“Too late for that, Miss Morvoren.”

The three of us whirl around to find Blackridge standing in the entrance to the restricted section, his dark eyes unreadable.

“Professor,” Cassiel acknowledges, subtly shifting to stand between Blackridge and me.

“Breaking into the restricted section,” Blackridge observes coolly. “Accessing forbidden texts. I’d expect such behaviour from Mr Aquila, but you two are disappointing additions to his troublemaking.”

CJ beams, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes at him.

“Sir, this isn’t what it looks like.”

CJ shoots me a gaze that screams ‘for fuck’s sake’ .

“You want to know why The Collectors are hunting you?” Blackridge says. “Yes, I’m well aware of your situation, Miss Morvoren. More aware than you might think.”

My blood runs cold at his words. “You know about The Collectors?”

Blackridge’s thin lips curve into something that might be a smile, but probably isn’t. Of course he knows.

The room seems to spin around me as CJ and Cassiel move protectively closer to my sides.

“Are you one of them?” I whisper, my defensive magic coiling inside me, ready to strike.

Blackridge’s expression shifts to something almost like offence. “Certainly not. The Collectors are an abomination, perverting knowledge and magical study into something monstrous.” He steps further into the room. “The Collectors are coming, Miss Morvoren. We have perhaps days before they attempt to breach our defences.”

My heart hammers in my chest. “What do we do? Why did my parents send me here? Why did you accept me as a student?”

Blackridge’s eyes meet mine, deep and fathomless. “First, you return that grimoire to its shelf. It has suffered enough without being paraded around by curious students. ”

Cassiel gently places the book back in its place, murmuring an apology.

“And then?” I press.

“The Collectors don’t relinquish their prizes easily, and you, Miss Morvoren, would be the crown jewel of their collection. What you stumbled upon is merely one thing they do with rare creatures.”

“What are the others?” I ask in abject terror.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Then answer my question. Why did you accept me here as a student?”

“You are a rare and valuable creature, Miss Morvoren. I happen to collect those myself.”