Page 17 of The Vampire Curse

Cherno inches forward, head canted to the side.

“H-how is that possible? You’re a bat.”

Cherno’s expression falls, then lets out a single squeak followed by, “Not a bat.”

I take a breath in then let it out slowly. Then again. My thoughts are racing, and over everything, the wordimpossiblescreams the loudest.

Animals don’t talk. This creature—thisbat—is not an animal… but if Cherno isn’t an animal…then what?

Trying to keep my hands from shaking, I place my palms flat on the table and lean in, bringing my face level with Cherno.

“What are you, if not an animal? I thought you were a vampire’s strange pet…”

Cherno’s eyes flash red.

Those eyes are not brown but… a deep, deepred. The pieces click into place. Cherno is ademon.

I swallow thickly.

Demons and saints, Cherno is a fucking demon.

Is that what Alaric meant by demon cursed? Is this small, unassuming creature his master? Are they holding Alaric prisoner?

It certainly never came across as such. There must be more to this… then again, it could be a figure of speech.

I don’t get the chance to ask.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Lawrence croons from the doorway. “Just the human I was hoping to run into.”

Why would he be looking for me?

My blood runs cold. Lawrence saunters around the table, taking a seat across from me.

His blond hair is tousled, the collar of his shirt is undone in a way that would be nearly indecent if he were human. He wears a deep green vest with a black brocade pattern—the same one he had worn last night. He looks like he just stumbled out of bed after barely sleeping.

“Are you going to drink that?” He nods toward my teacup but doesn’t wait for an answer before he snatches it and drinks the remainder in a single gulp.

I narrow my eyes. “No, please, help yourself to my tea. There is a world-wide shortage and I would hate to drink it all,” I say flatly.

Lawrence chuckles.

I open my mouth to make another cutting remark, but barely stifle a scream as a small white and pink face with whiskers pokes out from inside his collar.

The rat sniffs the air then scurries down his arm to the table and over to where Cherno sits.

Demons and saints. What is wrong with vampires that they have such…creepylittle pets?

But I suppose they aren’t actually pets. I don’t know if I should find that comforting or disconcerting.

The two demons sniff each other, Cherno speaks words, the rat only squeaks, but they don’t seem to have any trouble understanding each other.

Lawrence runs a finger along the brim of the teacup and studies me. I resist the urge to squirm in my chair.

His attention is finally pulled away when Mr. Steward comes in with a goblet on a silver tray. Blood, if the red around the vampire’s irises slowly swallowing up the hazel is any indication.

Once we are alone again, Lawrence looks from the cup to me, then back. “This will never be as good as it is fresh from the source.”

I grip the sides of my chair until my fingers ache.