Page 25 of Venomous Lies (Greywood Conservatory for the Arcane #2)

Julian

FRIDAY

A week later

P rey.

That’s what Isla smelled like curled up on the floor.

Junichiro had done what he could to heal her, but she wouldn’t wake up. It had been days of rising tension on all sides.

When Ambrose had come with not just Bricriu but Isla’s friends as well, they brought more terrible news. Anyone who’d been present in the dorm during the attack had been killed.

Thatcher had put the entire campus under another magickal lockdown, with all classes suspended. A shield trapped everyone inside, and the celebration plans were on hold indefinitely.

The sheer number of bodies and the party being cancelled made it impossible to hide the murders. Students were on high alert and so were the professors.

Everyone wanted answers, including the people I reported to. But there was no information to share, and the only person that could give us answers was unreachable.

My gaze shifted to Isla, still curled up in the corner, then I closed my eyes. Everyone was taking shifts watching the witch, hoping she’d wake up soon. Bricriu had finally broken his vigil at her side at, surprisingly, Ambrose’s urging.

No sleep for days on end would wear on even the most powerful of fae, so we made sure he didn’t go more than twenty-four hours without some kind of rest. Her friends hadn’t gone far away, either. One of them was always here or another section of the library.

The entire conservatory seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for Isla to wake up. For information only she had.

Hopefully.

The mind was a mysterious place, so we could only hope that she could in fact remember something, anything, that might help us out.

An odd sound drew me away from my musings. The croaking sound gave way to small whimpers before transforming into terrified screams.

Her entire body was trembling, eyes wide open but unseeing, as she started to claw at her face. I jumped up from where I was sitting to grab hold of her wrists, but she reacted as if I had burned her, jerking away from any attempt at restraint, and slammed her head against the stone wall.

The familiar scent of blood bloomed in the air—whether it was from the hit to the head or her nails breaking her skin, I didn’t know. Shock filled me as she clawed at her eyes, blood coating her fingers. Over and over again, she muttered something about needing to open her eyes. To make it stop.

A piercing scream slammed into my head.

‘Get me out!’

It was Isla.

Since when does she have telepathic abilities? Fuck, not the time.

I squatted down and snagged her wrists, using my supernatural strength to pull her hands away from her face. A grim frown tugged my lips down when I took in the damage she had done to herself.

“Miss Hallowes.” I gently shook her, trying to snap her out of it, but there was nothing for it. Right when I was about to say her name again, I sensed it.

Powerful magick, foreign, alien—so unusual I’d never sensed anything like it before in my long life.

Underneath it all was anger, frustration, and annoyance, along with fear. The witch was still here beneath whatever was trying to consume her.

‘Hellsing?’

I paused, my head tilting at the sound of her voice. Telepathic conversations weren’t my favorite by any means. They brought back old memories, bittersweet ones, but I shoved them down to focus on the present.

‘Miss Hallowes, do you know what’s going on?’

Exhaustion, nightmares. No words, just impressions of answers.

‘I’m tired.’

‘I imagine so,’ I replied, squeezing her wrists when she tried to keep scratching her face. Thankfully, it didn’t look like she had truly damaged her eyes, but it was hard to tell with all the blood covering her face. ‘You need to wake up.’

‘I— I— I can’t see. It’s too dark. ’

‘Can you follow my voice?’ I asked even though maintaining this connection was the last thing I wanted to do.

‘Unlike vampires, I don’t have the best night vision… If this counts as night…’

‘Maybe save the philosophical question for another time, Miss Hallowes?’ I proposed, a hint of a smile pulling at my lips despite myself.

Something familiar brushed along the edge of my senses, aching and painful, before it faded. A fleeting touch, a haunting memory.

I swallowed hard and stared down at the witch in front of me. Her face was covered in blood, poisonous blood at that. How the hell was I going to pull her out of this?

Pain, my go to, wouldn’t work at this moment.

‘Hellsing… please,’ she begged, her raspy voice shaking. At the same time, she tugged hard enough, trying to get free, that I fell into her.

My lips brushed against her head, and the sting of her blood against my lips had me hissing.

‘What—?’

‘Miss Hallowes, shut up.’

Before I could think better of it, I brushed my lips against hers. A teasing, barely there touch similar to the first time I’d met her.

I could recall it crystal clear in my mind as if it had happened yesterday.

Bricriu had instantly homed in on her after speaking with me, and instead of leaving, she’d welcomed him. But that wasn’t what had really caught my attention.

No.

This witch had felt at ease in his presence, and Bricriu had felt the same .

That ease… a warmth that had been absent in my life for far too long.

Bricriu and I had an arrangement born out of necessity. Sure, it had grown into something more complicated, but despite the bone fae’s tendency to not give a fuck, he very much did. Not one part of him wanted to confront me about the change in our dynamics over the past year.

Naturally, it wouldn’t have helped. No, I would have told him it was just a progression of our agreement. Just physical needs being met between two adults.

Gods, I sounded like fucking Ambrose at this point.

‘I can hear you thinking, Hellsing,’ Isla’s raspy voice echoed in my mind, and my racing thoughts scattered like leaves caught in the wind. ‘You’re afraid.’

‘You don’t know anything, witch, and you sure as hell have no idea what you’re talking about when it comes to me.’

‘I know more than you would like,’ she answered, the tone now deeper, gravelly somehow.

Her eyes opened, and shock shot through me when amber eyes—not her usual hazel—stared back at me.

“What?” My voice cracked.

“Careful what you’re thinking of,” her distorted voice continued. “Some things are better left buried, psechi mou.”

Blood drained from my face as the nickname I hadn’t heard in centuries was uttered by this woman. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. One of her eyes changed from amber to hazel, though the other remained the same.

Then she arched up. Instinctively, I tried to pull back, but her hand was there, firmly guiding me down to kiss her. Bitter blood coated my face and my lips as she gently kissed me over and over again .

The sting of her touch and blood melded together as memories collided.

Rough hands mixed with soft.

The hint of a five o’clock shadow scraping along my neck as the soft curves of her body made me whimper.

Just like lightning, it went on forever yet was over in a second.

It tore apart my world and changed me forever when the sting of her touch branded itself into not only my soul but my body.

I sat up as she stared, wide-eyed, and absently touched the back of my neck.

A design was etched there, freshly burned into my skin.

A gasp, then her gaze tried to shift downward. I followed the movement to see a new design covering her forearm.

Mates.

Bonded mates.

But that wasn’t what made me pause.

It wasn’t the people I could hear approaching, many of whom would have very strong opinions of what just happened… No.

What really made me question everything was the echoes of my past mate that I could still feel in Isla.

“Cassius?”