Page 27 of After Darkness Falls

Levi pressed on the inter-phone, activating it.

“Steven, are you with me today?”

The boy lifted his head. “It's early. You're normally not talking to me before nighttime.”

The room had no window, and the boy had been in there for a long time now.

“How do you know when it's nighttime?”

“I count,” the boy replied. “Every day, every night, I count. That's one way to distract myself.”

Levi scribbled the word "counting" on his closest notepad.

“How are you feeling today, buddy?”

“Same,” the boy said. “Like I want to kill. I want to destroy everything. I want to get out of here. And then I want to hunt you down and tear you to pieces.”

Of course he did.

“Why don't you try?”

The boy shrugged. “Because I know that when I lose it, you'll kill me.”

Levi paused.

“Do you know why you're here?”

The boy nodded. “I do. That's why I'll keep on fighting as long as I can.”

Levi hesitated before releasing the bag of blood.

Steven watched it fall, then slowly, carefully, got up and grabbed it. He tore one side with his teeth and sucked on it neatly, not letting any of the blood drop.

Levi watched him. Seven years had passed since he'd locked him up. Seven fucking years, and Steven was still holding it.

The blood sickness that had turned so many vampires feral was irreversible, forever tainting their blood. Those who succumbed to it were killed on sight by huntsmen. The exceptions were the twenty-two subjects currently in his lab.

Twenty-one of them might make it if Levi managed to figure out the formula that made Steven different.

This was his priority. This. No one else. Nothing else. Not kingdoms, and queens, and brides.

And certainly not Chloe Miller. His…problem.

13

Oaths

“And Art. I’m definitely taking Art. Have you seen what that dude did with his paintbrush?”

After spending the day exploring the classes, Gwen was ecstatic, and Chloe overwhelmed. There were too many choices for her liking. They headed straight to the mailroom, where the unpleasant Martie grumbled a greeting.

“How do I go about sending a message to Blair?” she asked him.

“You write it. Can you write, newbie?”

He seemed, if possible, more irritable than yesterday, maybe because some raven had quipped at her merrily. A small one—the same one she would have sworn had followed her to her dormitory the previous day—flew around her. She lifted her hand and the raven took the invitation, perching on her index finger.

“Don't the talons hurt you?” Gwen asked. “My grandma keeps birds. They don't like me much, but they love my brother. He has loads of cuts from holding them, though.”

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