Page 10 of Ashvale: The Vampire's Kiss

And fuck if that wasn’t the truth.

Chapter Five

Leonora

“What exactly am I supposed to pack for a trip to the vampire court?” Novalie mused as she rummaged through her wardrobe, pulling out and discarding clothes faster than I could track—her system of approval was anybody’s guess. “Is this like a black-tie thing? Old vamps are traditional, right?”

I shrugged and Emerson looked just as clueless next to me where we lounged on Novalie’s bed. I didn’t feel the cold anymore, but the softness of the sheets felt good against my skin as I pulled the duvet higher and Emerson instinctively curled closer. “I honestly don’t know.”

“If the ball was anything to go by, you should pack something slutty,” Emerson suggested, her voice like honey and the bronze of her skin pinkening across her cheeks. “With all that… energy floating around, it’s amazing they get anything done.”

“Who says they do?” I snorted and then sat up, inspecting a lacy mesh top that Novalie had just added to the pile on the bed that seemed to be her ‘yes’ section. It was black and had spiders sewn onto the material in sparkly silver thread, perfect for a club. “You know we’re going to be questioned about Elowen and the drug at this thing, right? I don’t think we’ll have much time for partying.”

“That’s every-day wear,” Novalie said, glancing up quickly to see what I was holding and dismissing it just as fast. “You know, you could use a little edge in your wardrobe, Leah.”

I sank back against the pillows and lifted an eyebrow. “Well, when they make more than three patterns in my size, I’ll branch out.”

Novalie grimaced. “I hadn’t considered that.”

“Nobody ever does,” I muttered and Emerson laughed with me. “I guess just pack a variety of stuff. You know, casual, formal, blood-orgy. All the main categories of dress.”

“I’ve missed this,” Emerson murmured, eyes soft as she watched Novalie laugh and empty a few more hangers in her wardrobe. “Don’t leave again. Please.”

“I promise.” The words felt rough coming out of my throat, unused to softness or relying on other people. The past month-or-so I’d come to the conclusion that I was better off alone, because that way nobody could hurt me again. The only problem was that it was fucking lonely and if I walked away from Emerson and Novalie again, I would be letting them win—Elowen and Rowan. Letting them take away one of the only good things in my life, and for what? To avoid a little pain? I might have been dead, but even I knew that was just life.

“You look deep in thought,” Emerson remarked, shooting me a quick glance before calling her appreciation to Novalie of the deep purple dress she’d pulled seemingly from nowhere. “Care to share?”

I swallowed. “I’m just sorry I left you behind is all.”

“Everyone makes mistakes.” Her fingers found mine and squeezed gently. “For instance,” she said a little louder as she moved with impressive speed and caught a black corset-top Novalie had thrown to the side. “Not taking this with you? Mistake.”

Emerson threw the top back towards Novalie and I watched keenly as the hint of a blush worked its way onto our friend’s face. Maybe whatever had gone on between them at the debut ball hadn’t been a one-time thing because, suddenly, I felt a little like I was third-wheeling.

I cleared my throat and they both dropped their eyes, the tension in the room easing like they’d forgotten I was there and were seconds away from tearing off each other’s clothes.

“Anyway. What about you, Em? Do you have enough clothes and stuff?” A sharp burning sensation worked its way through my middle and I fought back a wince as the guilt surged higher. We’d bought Emerson the basics when she’d first turned and had been forced to mostly leave her old life behind—she’d had the choice to tell her parents about her transformation but ultimately, our world was dangerous. I wasn’t surprised she didn’t want them mixed up in it all.

I’d intended to take her shopping and get her some more things, it was the least I could do seeing as I’d tried to save her life and instead made her one of us. I had a responsibility now, we were connected. Family. Instead, I’d run off to deal with my own emotions. Selfish, my brain scolded and I couldn’t disagree.

“It’s okay, we’re about the same size so I’ve been borrowing a lot of stuff from Novalie.” Emerson smiled and it made me feel worse, knowing she was going out of her way to be nice about the way I’d ditched her. “She has far too many clothes for any one person to wear anyway.”

“I haven’t ever worn half this stuff,” Novalie said, grimacing. “And yet it feels like I have nothing to wear.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay well, you guys finish packing your stuff and meet me in my room when you’re done?” They mumbled their agreement as they continued sorting through the piles of dresses and short skirts and I could admit I was a little jealous. It was hard to find anything beyond the basics in my size—for some reason, retailers seemed to think fat girls weren’t into fashion. Or wearing anything that didn’t have stripes, the same boring floral print, or shitty cliche slogans. Though admittedly, it wasn’t something I paid much attention to—I let my tattoos be my accessories most of the time. If my clothes couldn’t speak for me, then the floral sleeves of birds, flowers, and daggers could instead.

That said, I had managed to find a few new items of clothing in the month that I’d been away. I’d discovered that black covered blood stains a lot better than other colours, and a pattern did a good job of concealing them until you could change. It felt a little like this knowledge was the vampiric version of the growing up, mum-teaches-you-make-up talk and I couldn’t even picture Elowen sitting down and trying to give me tips on how to conceal my bloodlust from my crush, or the best mage to see when I wanted to grow out my hair.

Novalie had let me borrow one of her suitcases, thankfully, and I’d already loaded it with my meagre belongings. But before I left Ashvale, there was one thing I needed to do and I wasn’t certain yet whether or not it was going to be a mistake.

I’d heard the whispers since I’d been back. Vampire violence was a given while the living vampires were still figuring out how to control their instincts. But what I’d done had larger effects—the kind that got you summoned to the hidden catacombs beneath London to face some of the oldest vampires in existence.

But, thanks to the gossip hounding me, I knew exactly where they were holding Rowan. His body was still trying to heal, to complete the transition into an undead vampire, and I’d heard they were keeping him in a secluded part of the infirmary until he either woke up from the coma or…

My jaw clenched and whatever expression I wore was clearly dark enough that the living vampires walking towards me decided instead to divert down a different corridor, rather than continue in my line of sight. I couldn’t bring myself to care right then.

I didn’t regret what I’d done to Rowan, exactly. But I also wished it hadn’t come to such drastic measures. If he’d just been honest with me… Or even if he hadn’t tried to befriend me, kiss me… Well, maybe things would have been different.

I followed the smell of antiseptic around two more corners before I faltered at the entrance to the infirmary. A vampire was inside, an undead, clucking over a pair of fang marks in a baby-faced living vampire’s throat. I walked past without sparing them a second glance, but I could feel the heat of the undead vampire’s eyes on my back. Had she taken my indifference as a slight? Or was she, like the rest of the student populace, waiting to see if I’d come back to finish the job?

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