Page 61 of A Sip of Sin

He looked up, eyeing Erie’s frozen face. “The knowledge and the whys faded from their memories, but the hatred remained. No one was there but us, but somehow they knew I took magic from the world and sealed the fates for every kind. Generations upon generations hate every vampire, even if they don’t know the real reason anymore.”

Erie took a step back, shaking his head as he ran his tongue over one fang. The sharpness had blood filling the air instantly, one drop spilling over and dragging a line along his chin.

“I put the burden upon us all when I sealed Gorgo to his fate.” Munro let out a tired laugh. “I didn’t have a choice. Gorgo wouldhave killed us all if we didn’t bind him, and I couldn’t risk the magician releasing him. But Gorgo still found a way to escape.”

“I didn’t know.” Erie shook his head. “It makes sense, though.”

Munro ran a hand through his tangled hair, snagging the knots. “I would do anything to go back, but there’s only one way out of this.”

Erie nodded, his face grim as he dropped his gaze to the scattered books. They smelled of dust and earth, with a hint of mildew clinging to their pages. “The faeries…” Erie cleared his throat. “They thought they’d found something powerful—someone. But they were lost.”

“Then we have to find them,” said Munro. “If there is even the slightest chance—the tiniest drop, that they could save Hollen, then we have to take the risk. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Jesus.” Erie ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a few long seconds. “All this time I thought this was just the way things were meant to be, and that we were all some kind of evolutionary miracle.”

Munro’s hands ached as he leaned harder against the chair, his knees so weak that they almost gave out. “Before I was a vampire, I traveled deep into an unmapped woods because of a rumor of someone with strange abilities. When I found him, he showed me magic for the first time. I begged for immortality and for the same unnatural strength he had. He gave it to me—for a price.”

Munro turned away. He could still taste the close cedars of that forest and the damp undergrowth. His journey had wound through the trunks along a path that was more a game trail than anything that was traveled by people. Three times he’d collapsed on the way, the sickness in his body almost overcoming him. A few hours more and he never would have made it at all.

“But the other families, and the faeries—”

“Word spread quickly with loose lips when I decided to show off my new-found powers.” Munro smiled sadly. “Others found him the same way I did and begged for their favors. They all paid the price. Our price is to watch our loved ones come and go for eternity, thirst parching our lips every day.”

A soft scrape followed by a knock at the door drew him from the past, the forest and echoed tortures fading. On automatic, he strolled to the thick wood, turning the lock to open the door wide. As he threw the door aside, his heart nearly stopped. Yellow eyes stared back at him, perched on a body scrawled with tattoos.

Munro bared his fangs, a snarl escaping from his lips as he drew to his full height. “Gorgo.”

Oddly, Gorgo seemed to wilt, lowering his gaze to skim along the interior of the teahouse. He gnawed his lip, holding up his hands defensively. They were Hollen’s hands, nearly unrecognizable with so many markings across them.

It turned Munro’s stomach to see it, rage curling in his gut. But the submission was strange enough to give him a moment’s pause—that, and the stranger at Gorgo’s back who was peering tentatively over Gorgo’s shoulder.

“Munro.” A long sigh escaped Gorgo’s lips. “Let me speak.”

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t destroy you.” Munro curled his fingers into claws.

Gorgo looked up, meeting his gaze. “I need your help.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Hollen

“I thought they would burst into flames in sunlight,” said Adair, snuggling closer into Hollen’s side. His arms were loosely looped around his waist, his head on Hollen’s shoulder, despite their height difference.

Hollen held back his smile, tilting his head into the sun and closing his eyes against the potent rays. He’d clawed his way back into that sunlight after hours of blank nothingness, trapped inside a dream that made no sense. One moment he’d been nothing, then the next he’d been standing in front of Munro, their hands clasped together in a handshake.

He let out a soft sigh as the warmth sank straight into him. “They get dehydrated really easily, so they have to be careful, but otherwise the sun doesn’t bother them.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Adair’s head. Munro tracked the movement, but he didn’t approach, deep in conversation with a man Hollen barely recognized.

Maybe he should tell Adair that mermaids existed and werewolves could shift at any time of the month but were forced to during the full moon. George had even filled him in on somestrange anatomy quirks that were sure to open Adair’s eyes and make him blush.

“Where do you think we’re going?” asked Hollen, leaning heavily against the side of the brick building. The teahouse was locked tight behind him, the display desolate and the street empty except for the single car with the plates from provinces away.

“They didn’t say.” Adair shook his head, squeezing Hollen tighter. “Something about some old fairy the one guy knows. I still can’t believe they’d use a term like that, but I guess they’re really outdated and old.” He let out a huff. “Still, you sure we can trust this guy? He seems sketchy.”

“I don’t think he meant…” Hollen let out a laugh, tilting Adair’s face up. “He wasn’t being derogatory. There are actual faeries out there. George even said they have wings.”

“No freaking way.” Adair straightened, his eyes wide.

“Are you sure you want to come?” asked Hollen, reaching for Adair and threading their fingers together. Without Adair beside him, there would be something missing, but he wasn’t sure how dangerous the road would be.

---