Page 25 of Nocte

Instead, she shakes her head. “No-No. I…” She sucks in a breath and bites her lip.

Ah, I see. I’m not the only snake to visit this fragile, little bird. The thought is unwelcome. It itches. Who else has touched her but me? Who? Who? I sniff her, pulling her scent into my lungs. Interpreting every little nuance. Next time, I’ll test her. See who else’s scent has tainted her.

“Tomorrow,” I tell her. Then I turn and give in. My body moves of its own accord, back to the mansion. He will punish me for this, old Cassius. Maybe even take my toy away.

As if he could. It’s too late.

I’ll scratch my name into her flesh if I have to. I’ll take her life for him—that is a given. But in the meantime…

In the meantime, I won’t let anyone stop my fun.

Only I can end this game.

CHAPTER7

Niamh

There is a book I have in mind, one I have yet to read. A dangerous one—a forbidden one, only the Lord Master wasn’t the one to deem it off limits to me. I doubt they would care. But I have. I’ve sought to protect my mind from anything that might sully it. What need would I have for such knowledge, after all?

I am alone. I’ll die alone.

The vamryre, however, has peculiar tastes. He wants one thing from me, even if I’m not sure exactly what it entails. I know of it, the act between two creatures meant to create new life. Mortals use it for fun.

So do the fae. They pretend like they don’t, but I can hear them, the other workers sometimes. They gossip and speak freely out of earshot of their betters. They speak of trysts and fun and other taboo subjects.

Dirty subjects.

My fingers shake as I pry the particular volume loose from a collection near the middle of the archives. It isn’t dusty like the others deeper in, and a simple, brown cover and dark script seem relatively anti-climactic for what it contains. It’s only after I finish my chores that I find a corner and read by lamplight in the few minutes I have before the other workers awaken.

With every word, my cheeks flame. My eyes widen. I feel like a child learning about the wonders and magic of the fae—then learning in the same moment that I will never be able to experience such wonders for myself. Only,thisact I can experience. Maybe with the red-eyed vamryre.

A worthy trade. I tell myself that over and over. In exchange for information on the mortal realm, any price would be worth it. And it is. I don’t need much convincing.

I continue to read, fingers shaking, unease growing. I push it aside and study this volume the same way I would any other text. I strip any emotion from the act and interpret it simply. Limbs and bones. An organ that goes there, a reaction here.

Nothing serious. Nothing vital. It’s less taboo than giving up blood.

“Sister?”

I never even heard him approach and my body relatedly has to remember how to work. I startle back, dropping the book entirely. The clatter is violent, echoing throughout the room. At a glance I can tell that no one else is here—yet. No one but Day.

He watches me warily, his head cocked, a question in his gaze.

I stammer. “Day. I didn’t hear you.”

“Are you busy?” He gives me that almost smile and stoops for the partially open book. I nearly trip in my rush for it, but he’s too quick. His friendly demeanor lasts right until the second he scans the title. Then his lips shift downward and scarlet creeps across his high cheekbones.

“I was returning it,” I say. My voice sounds odd. Then I realize that it’s because I lied. Even accidentally. Even a little bit. I have never lied. The panic doesn’t sink in as I reach for the book. My hands are upturned waiting and empty.

Because I can’t take it. Politeness dictates that I wait for him to return it.

He doesn’t. Instead, he steps back and flips through the volume, an eyebrow raised skeptically. When he scans the last page, he laughs outright and slams it shut with none of the care that should be taken.Thunk!

“I’m surprised they keep such tawdry trash in here,” he says, his voice too loud. I scan the room like a hungry mouse. There’s no one here, but my heart is racing. No one here, but a part of me still despairs. I lied. I’m filthy, less than tawdry trash.

“I should return it,” I say weakly. Finally, he slowly lowers the book into my grasp. I turn and nearly run past dozens of towering shelves deep into the back corner. There, I shove the book back and then jump away as if burned.

What on earth was I thinking, reading such things? Despite my disgust, my brain is already processing the newfound information and storing it away for later. What I once never considered now seems imminent. Inevitable. Sooner or later, the vamryre will do those things to me. Wicked, sinful things.

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