Page 43 of Potion of Deception (Potion of Deception #1)

“She introduced me to the world of potions and encouraged my desire to learn it.

But the most important thing – she was a dreamer.

I think this is what my parents bonded over.

They believed that with great effort you'll reach the greatest peaks.

It can seem that it's very easy to be a dreamer when you live in a place where magic is blooming around but, I met so many wizards who take everything for granted. Magic and their lives is just a regular thing to them. While my mother was grateful to be born in a magic family, she valued her charms and was proud to be a wizardling.”

She looked at Dante, though he didn't share her gaze.

“You know, I think I told you too much,” she uttered, however she didn't think it was a bad thing.

To be honest, she could talk about her parents all night: it was a nice feeling to dive into such beautiful memories.

About her parents. Her home. It seems like it was the only connection she could have with all of it right now.

And it'll be forever the only way to feel her mother near.

The full closet of memories is all that Violette had and she was grateful she left it to her – she didn't know what she'd do without it: if every scrap of her mother would be completely erased from this world.

From her world. And even when it felt like the time she gave to her was not enough – memories were not enough – she still was happy she had at least this; some people didn't even have a glimpse of the happiness her mother brought to her feet.

“Don't worry, Little Witch. I am so out of my mind right now, I probably won't remember anything you said later.” He waved her away.

It didn't bring her relief as it would to him; she wasn't that reticent, but it might be for the better .

Suddenly her thoughts slipped away with Dante's moan. It was the loudest he was since they entered the crypt.

“Very painful?” she asked, unwillingly showing her concern.

“What's the matter?” He chuckled, side-glancing at her. “Worrying about me?”

She glared and then grinned. “Not even a bit. Even more, the grave in the crypt is empty so it's available for you to use.”

“So you do want me dead?” His brows pulled together, a mischievous smile twitched his lips.

“No, at the end of the day, I am not you. I don't like hurting people. And I don't wish them death.”

Violette took her gaze away, not wanting to show him any other emotion, especially worry. She shouldn't feel anything like this. Not for him. Maybe it even will do him good and he'll feel how it is to be in pain. Perchance, he'll think before he’d hurt anyone else.

Dante didn't say anything more, only raised his head to the ceiling, leaning over the wall. What he was thinking was a pure mystery for her and for the first time she wasn't much bothered with what it was about. Instead, she chose silence.

Some time after their conversation Dante fell asleep.

The same couldn't be said about Violette, she wasn't feeling that safe and comfortable to fall asleep in the crypt, at the cemetery, among the dead.

Perhaps, after all, Dante was feeling himself more in place here: he was certainly closer to death than life.

She wrapped her arms around her knees tightly and lowered her chin. It was cold and lonely. And even if she really wanted to sleep she wouldn't be able to close an eye.

Violette started thinking about her conversation with Caidas tonight.

She went over it in her mind repeatedly, examining every detail.

When words said by him started to turn into nonsense, she realized she needed to stop.

She needed air, and she didn't know what time it was.

Is the sun high in the sky or was it still morning and the time didn't pass as quick as she'd hoped?

Dante was sleeping despite the harsh cold stone beneath him, and she felt like she had to move to not turn into a stone herself.

She stood outside the crypt, absorbing the view of the foggy forest. The sun, meanwhile, tried to escape her direct gaze, hiding behind the gray clouds. Her eyes dropped to the graves. The snow was melting, revealing the stone surface.

She took a step forward and placed her cloak on the stair to sit. It was slightly better than in the cold and dark crypt, at least she could feel herself a little bit more alive, even if there were more dead than inside.

She breathed in and breathed out – the air, fresh and bracing, filled her lungs. Everything around was gray and sad as the passing autumn was taking away all the paints with her. Even the sky was lacking colors. Only the pine trees remained invariably green.

She raised her head. As much as she loved night, she couldn' t imagine how it is to live a whole life not seeing sunshine like Dante and other vampires do.

She wondered if they ever missed it. Their skin didn't let in either cold or warm but were they missing these feelings?

When a ray of sun slightly touches your skin and the warmth spreads throughout your body.

For a second she felt sorry, their lives must be so miserable, and she sensed some of them didn't even realize it.

She was happy to be alive, not in a million years she'd trade this life for immortality, even if it makes her vulnerable.

She would rather feel everything than completely nothing.

To shorten the time Violette decided to occupy herself with something more interesting than pondering about immortal beings.

The book which belonged to the Queen was questionable in this meaning as she didn't understand what it was written about but she decided it'd be interesting to flip through it.

Her fingers ran over the old wrinkled brown cover, the whimsical curls and helices paler in shade danced under her touch.

Her hand reached to the beautiful small gem in the center and she opened the book.

There was no signature or initials, not inside, not on the back of the book.

No date. Only a heraldic sign on the first page, which looked like a сoat of arms. If this book was written by the Queen they met in the dream, the coat could belong to her family.

But was it written by her truly or was she just an owner of the book?

Next pages were covered in beautiful calligraphy accompanied by small inky drawings.

Some of it looked like recipes as Violette recognized proportions and some ingredients in her own language, other descriptions were written in ancient letters and esoteric signs.

She came across the page which Dante pointed out as the most important.

A little drawing of a cage and a lock suggested his vampire nature. She flipped a paper.

The spell of emergence

Her eyes ran over the recipe: it wasn't a really difficult potion, although she'd never seen something like this before.

There's a spell that helped with emerging something that was hidden by magic, but this one looked unique…

made . She flipped another page, her gaze found a crescent moon doodle and other ancient spells written in Heggas' language.

She studied the book for some time until she realized that she could barely feel her legs.

It was time to take a break. Arching her back, her eyes skimmed through the pages one more time before slamming the book.

Having straightened her skirt, Violette stood up.

The book was once again in her bag. She didn't want to walk between graves, it was brazen and unpleasant so she paced to the forest. And as it was day, she'd no reason to be afraid of monsters or vampires, which actually could be considered synonyms.

The walk was a great chance to clear up her head as her mind was plagued with questions, however she'd lie saying she wanted to think about something more cheerful and happy: everything that happened for the last few days couldn't give peace to her curious mind, she was eager for the answers and reveals.

But there was one thing that made her truly unsettled.

Her hand reached in the bag for the dagger inlaid with jewels.

The blade flashed before her eyes. It was completely indistinguishable from the one Dante owned: same shape, stones and decor.

Caidas' words were sitting in her head, digging with its claws – he wanted Dante dead.

She wondered why, what horrible thing he did to wish for his death?

Yes, Dante wasn't an angel indeed. She hadn't forgotten him blackmailing the poor young witch they met a few moons ago.

But despite it, she wouldn't wish him death.

Violette knew for sure he killed someone and he revealed it was not just one person, but she couldn't wrap her head around Caidas' words.

Once you unleash him – you will not be able to control it.

Maybe she didn't know him for a long time, but somehow she felt Dante is not a ruthless beast, thirsty for anguish and blood spilling. Despite him being so cold and somber sometimes, she hadn't felt frightened by his presence.

He loves causing pain to others, other words of the high vampire surfaced.

As much as Dante was driving her mad with all this teasing, he looked more like a shot-down bird doomed to eke out its existence alone on the ground.

And regardless of the darkness in his eyes, she also saw wistfulness and despondency.

He wanted to be free, it was understandable, she couldn't blame him for it.

But not once she felt like it was for simple vampire instincts.

She refused to believe that all of it was just for the purpose of insatiable hunting. Was she naive thinking like this?

Violette kicked a stone with her boot as a heavy sigh tumbled out her mouth. She didn't want to believe Caidas but she had no reason to believe Dante as well. All she knew was that she made a promise and she had to keep it. For her father.