Page 20 of A Touch of Madness

A quiet groan escapes him, so soft I almost miss it. His fangs elongate as his eyes latch onto the blood dripping down her neck, from where the other vampire left off. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if he’ll lose control. If he’ll succumb to the darkness inside of him.

“Lucian,” I say, my voice barely audible.

As if I’ve pulled him from a trance, his eyes snap to mine, glowing faintly with that eerie vampiric sheen. But instead of the hunger I fear, there’s resolve. He takes a slow, steadying breath, his free hand gripping the pavement until his knuckles blanch.

“She’s had enough,” he says, his voice rough. He gently pulls his wrist away from her mouth, a thin line of blood smearing her lips.

Her breathing is stronger now, her complexion no longer ghostly pale. I can see the difference immediately, as though life is returning to her in waves.

Lucian wipes his wrist clean, the wound closing almost instantly, and leans close to the woman’s face.

“Look at me,” he says to the still immobile woman, his tone soft but commanding. He grips her chin in his hand and tilts it upward so she can meet his gaze.

Her eyes flutter open again as his blood drips down her chin, gaze locking onto his. The shift in her expression is instantaneous—her fear dissolves and is replaced by a serene blankness in her icy blue orbs.

“You’re safe,” Lucian says, his words deliberate and measured. “You walked home tonight and fell asleep. You won’t remember me, or the vampire who hurt you. None of this ever happened. You were never here. Neither was I. Do you understand?”

She nods slowly, her head tilting slightly as though mesmerized as she looks at Lucian.

It’s hypnotic to watch him work. His voice is like smooth velvet, wrapping around her mind and molding—shaping—her reality. It’s subtle and unnervingly elegant. Even though I know what he’s doing, part of me feels drawn to it too, as if his words could pull me into that same calm nothingness.

Lucian straightens, brushing a strand of blood-matted hair from her face. “Go home,” he says softly.

She rises shakily to her feet, her movements dull but purposeful. She looks like she’s an extra in a horror film, her shirt shredded, her own blood drying on her neck. Without a word, she begins to walk away, disappearing into the shadows.

I can only hope she gets home safely this time.

The silence that follows feels heavy, the kind that demands acknowledgment that I don’t know how to give.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lucian exhales slowly, his fangs retracting as he wipes a hand across his face. “She didn’t deserve to die like that,” he says, his tone unreadable. Then, softer, “No one does.”

* * *

The bellabove the door rings as Lucian and I step into Petals and Potions, but Ravenna is already watching us, her keen eyes immediately assessing the tension we’ve brought with us. The soft glow of the candles lining the shelves flickers, casting long shadows that seem to make the small, cozy apothecary even more intimate, like we’re stepping into a world of secrets.

She doesn't even need to ask—she can feel it. The shift in the air, the unease radiating from us, especially from Lucian. Her expression tightens when she sees him, his clothes rumpled, his face drawn with exhaustion, his posture defensive.

Without missing a beat, Ravenna glances over at me, then to Lucian. "Come to the back," she says, her voice commanding yet gentle. “You can wash up here,” she says, pointing to a small room as she looks at my blood-stained hands.

Once we’re as clean as possible without changing our clothes, she leads us through the shop, her movements graceful and precise. The soft click of the door closing behind us marks the shift from the bustling world outside to the quiet, almost sacred space of her private back room.

The familiar scent of herbs and potions fills the air. Ravenna pulls a chair out for Lucian, then gestures for me to sit beside him. The moment we’re settled, she turns her gaze on him again, her eyes softening with familiarity.

Lucian settles into the chair Ravenna pulled out for him, the tension in his shoulders never quite dissipating. She stands across from him, arms folded. “You’ve looked better,” she says, her voice softer now. “What happened this time?”

He exhales a quiet laugh, brushing a hand through his hair. “The usual chaos. But I’m sure you’ve already guessed that.”

Her lips curl faintly, though the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “You always did have a knack for finding trouble.” She glances at me briefly, then back to Lucian. “And for dragging others into it.”

I clear my throat, feeling the weight of her words. “You two seem like old friends,” I say. “I mean, I know you’ve mentioned knowing each other, but how exactly?” I ask, just genuinely curious.

Lucian leans back in his chair, a tired but amused smile pulling at his lips. “Ravenna and I go back a long way. She saved my life once—or maybe twice. She has a habit of keeping score, though she’d never admit it.”

Ravenna arches an eyebrow, a wry smile playing on her lips. “Someone had to keep you in line. The first time we met, you were bleeding out in my shop after a fight with—what was it?—a demon or a rogue vampire? I can’t keep track anymore.”

“Demon,” Lucian replies with a smirk. “And I didn’t ask for your help.”

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