Page 105 of The Vampire's Mercy

“Blackberries,”an inner voice whispered. “This ink is made of blackberries.”

How did I know that?

The heat increased, the symbols melting off the disk into my palm, sinking into my skin with a sizzle.

“No,” I rasped at the sharp burn, going to drop it.

It wouldn’t come off. No matter how hard I pulled, the disk failed to budge an inch. And the ink continued to drip into my skin, burning away.

Shit. shit. shit. It was going to burn the flesh off.

The windchimes clanged louder, heavy vibrations in my head as if I’d pressed a massage gun against it.

Magic moved through me, joining with my body and soul. Not like the powerful kiss of Aidan’s Fire, but something else. Something more…I didn’t know. It was just different.

This had to be a dream.

“Get off me!” I cried, panic setting in, giving my hand an aggressive shake.

Medusa hissed, slithering over. Her body was a blur, fading in and out as the windchimes became aggressive bells clanging in a belfry. Too loud, too violent, crashing, crashing, crashing.

The disk crumbled to sawdust, falling through my fingers like sand. I coughed, taking a pew on the bed while my heartbeat settled down.

“What…what happened?”

Hiss.

“Unlock,”my mind spoke.

I coughed again, my chest feeling heavy with dust. The strange magic itched on the tips of my fingers, wisps of dark purple smoke curling around them.

“Unlock.”

“Unlock what?” I countered the inner whisper. “I’m going to need more than cryptic bullshit.”

“Unlock.”

I snorted at the ridiculousness of this, shaking my hands to dispel the smoke. But it stayed, not reacting to my actions, snaking in and out of my fingers.

“Aidan help me,” I said, getting to my feet. “Aidan, please help me.”

“What’s the matter?” the vampire king asked from behind me.

Startled, I spun to face him. “I…” Words dried up in my throat.

His eyes fell on my hands. Slowly, he moved toward me. “Paris?”

“I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Unlock…”

He stopped moving, head cocking. “Is that magic?”

“Yeah. I…” I coughed once again, needing water.

His nostrils flared. “I can smell roses. No. Blackberries.” He came forward a few steps. “Blackberries and roses.”

Did he? I couldn’t smell anything. “I think I’m about to scream.” My chest ached as if I’d caught the flu, and my head throbbed like it was under attack from a sledgehammer.