Page 4 of Ashvale: The Vampire's Kiss

“I see,” I said softly and Emerson shot me a look. But I wasn’t about to apologise for them. If they couldn’t see what they were missing with Novalie, that was their loss. The kernels of an idea started ticking away in the back of my head and I tucked it away, knowing who the next person I needed to speak to was going to be. “Their loss is our gain.”

Novalie blew out a breath, more than a hint of colour finding her cheeks. “This year had one of the highest claiming rates of any other.”

I glanced at Emerson and she grimaced, her expression telling me I’d missed a lot. I needed to make up for that, starting now. But what could I really say? She was clearly upset about her family and I didn’t think it would be helpful to tell her not to care, but I also didn’t want to give her false hope either. “Have they contacted you at all?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s fine though. I guess I just wasn’t good enough for them.” Novalie laughed, a sharp sound that cut right through me. “I don’t know what else I was expecting from a family that could send their five-year-old out into the world for some bullshit test.” She started to pace and I stayed seated, just letting her talk it out. “Plenty of people cheat the system, you know. Some of them ignore it altogether, others wipe their kid’s memory and keep them at home which sounds like a shitty compromise to me but what do I know? I’m just the kid they didn’t want.” Her breaths rose and fell until they started to sound like sobs and I stood, meeting Emerson’s eyes behind Novalie’s back as we closed in around her.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into my chest and I could smell her tears as they dripped onto my T-shirt.

“Don’t be,” I murmured, and we stayed like that until her breaths started to become more even. The bed was only a few paces away and we manoeuvred Novalie onto it as her eyes slipped closed, like the weight of the world had been resting on her and she’d finally let it all fall down.

Emerson kept her position next to Novalie, propping the other girl’s head onto her shoulder, and Novalie didn’t stir when I stood up.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” I spoke so quietly that only the ears of the undead could catch my words, and Emerson gave a nod.

“She needed you. We both did. Rowan was our friend, too.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat with difficulty. They had the right to be upset with me—hell, I was upset with me. But I also didn’t think there was much else I could have done in that situation. Rowan needed to die, the instincts that drove me as a member of the undead would have allowed nothing less. “I'll check in on you guys later, okay?”

“Sure,” Novalie mumbled without opening her eyes and Emerson frowned, sending a spear of guilt lancing through me.

“I'm going to check out my room,” I explained, wanting her to stop with the judgy eyes and was relieved when she did. It was true, I did want to see if my room remained undisturbed after my abrupt departure. But I also needed to see a certain mage I'd been hoping to avoid for a little longer after our last encounter.

I sighed as I left Novalie's room and moved through the quiet, echoing corridor in the direction of my own. I couldn't avoid Rowan forever, but my wounds ran deep and I worried that whatever I was feeling would rise to the surface when I saw him. Whether that would be guilt or rage, I couldn't say. The thought of him waking up, rising as an undead, was equally overwhelming. It was rare, so rare that death was almost always a foregone conclusion in cases where the heart was removed pre-change. But if someone was going to defy the odds, it made sense that it would be Rowan.

I pushed the thought down. I’d just have to deal with that possibility if and when it ever happened. Seeing Cal on the other hand… I wasn't exactly happy with him, and we were a long way off father-daughter bonding, but my anger towards him had cooled significantly. He hadn't really lied to me, so much as ignored the possibility of the truth. Out of my two parents, only one had actively tried to murder me and it wasn't him. I snorted as I passed a familiar window looking out over the grounds where a class was ongoing—looked like an outdoor feeding session. It seemed ridiculous that the bar for parent of the year could be so low, but that was where we were at.

I'd said things to him that I mostly regretted now that my temper had cooled and the urge to drown myself in blood was no longer my sole focus. He’d been concerned, rightly so, but he’d crossed the line into parental and that… Well, it had infuriated me. In an effort not to murder him, I’d instead knocked him unconscious and taken my anger out on the bar. I wasn’t sure if he’d been caught with paying for the property damage when he’d woken up, but if he had then I supposed he could consider it back-pay for nineteen years without a father.

Impatient and wanting to escape my thoughts, I used my enhanced speed to close the distance between me and my room. Luckily, most people seemed to be in class so I didn't have to deal with any more gawking than I had on my way into Ashvale. Clearly, vampires liked to gossip just as much as anyone else and it made sense that they’d been so wary if everyone thought I’d killed Rowan just for the fun of it.

The door was warm under my palm, like it had been basking in the sun while I was away, and it swung open soundlessly. It looked unchanged inside, a few clothes crumpled on the floor and my sheets pushed back where I had climbed out of bed, before I’d found Rowan in the woods.

I hadn't bothered coming back for anything before I’d left, had simply used thrall to take what I’d needed in the moment. The scents in the room were layered, the faded spice of Rowan and the sweet florals of Novalie and Emerson. My scent was there too, equally faded, and so was Hayes’. Except his smell was fresher, like he'd been here more recently.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply as I tried to separate out the tangled threads of scents. He had definitely been here sometime within the past week. Looking for me? Or just...? The ache inside me that never disappeared when I was without him flared strongly. The bond.

Maybe being here, surrounded by the feel of me, eased the pain for him somewhat. The only thing that helped me was the blood, and I couldn't feed forever. I shuddered, breathing out sharply to clear the taste of him from my mouth.

He would be back, eventually. What he was doing was anybody's guess and I supposed I didn't really have the right to criticise, considering I'd run off without any explanation to him. The bed dipped as I sat down on one side, hesitantly bringing my face closer to the pillows before clenching my jaw and pulling away.

I didn't want to miss him. I hated that his scent gave me comfort and that I could still feel his touch on my skin from our encounter at the bar. I threw the pillow at the wall and it thudded satisfyingly, a few stray feathers leaking out to float gently down to the ground.

This was part of the reason why I'd left in the first place. It wasn't just Rowan or Elowen, it was this fucking place. Everything in here was a reminder of what I'd lost, and what I'd thought I'd gained. My feet moved rhythmically against the floor as I paced up and down, thoughts churning in a way that would have made me feel sick if I still ate food.

Something caught my eye as I passed by the desk for the umpteenth time and I paused, my eyes falling on the blood red envelope. When had it been delivered? I hadn't noticed the scent of a messenger in my room, unless it was someone I already knew. Was this from Hayes? He didn't really strike me as the letter-writing type, but I clearly didn't know him as well as I'd thought.

I slid one finger under the flap of the envelope carefully, tugging to rip it at a clean angle. The smell that hit me made me certain that whoever this was, it wasn't from Hayes. The paper smelled old, like walking into a library full of dust and tomes long since forgotten. It made me think of Rowan, of nights studying with him between the stacks. The paper crumpled in my fist and I blew out a breath I no longer needed before smoothing the red paper out again.

The parchment inside was slightly yellowed and the ink was red. I brought it closer to my face and sniffed before recoiling. Blood. Whoever had written this was old fashioned, for sure. Probably powerful to boot. I traced the elegant cursive with a fingertip, eyebrows rising as I quickly scanned the words.

Dear Miss Romilly,

Your presence is humbly requested in our most prestigious court at the behest of one Adrian Curio, our esteemed head of the Vampyr Council. Your testimony will prove crucial in our investigation into the late events at Ashvale and our council member, Elowen.

The trial will commence promptly at sundown in the final week of October. Your timely presence is appreciated.

In blood and oath,

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