Page 13 of Crimson Devotion
Ophelia looks as if she’s seen a ghost.
Her eyes are filled with something I cannot name, looking ridiculously close to fucking fear. Her body is trembling, and it’s not something I’ve ever seen.
Sure, vampires shake in ecstasy when they get high on blood, when they take a little more than they can take. But their eyes are always filled with excitement, and the state mirrors that of a human high on marijuana.
But this?
This is entirely different.
She wipes the blood on the back of her sleeve, smearing it along her chin and cheeks. Her eyes are glued to my trembling hand, holding the wound. It’s like she’s waiting for something to happen, and I don’t have it in me to start questioning it.
“No,’’ she whispers, her lip trembling. She remains in the same spot, frozen in time. She’s not even breathing, holding it all in while staring at me, unmoving, not blinking.
Suddenly, something happens.
From the corner of my eye, I see the wound glowing. My hand immediately drops, and I hate that I don’t have a mirror on me to see what’s happening. All I can see is a bright, soft gold glow emitting from the wound on my neck, and immediately, my body feels lighter.
The ache disappears, and all the pain and agony Ophelia put me through not even a minute earlier. The shaking of my insides stops, the flow of my blood continuing as if she didn’t just drink a whole liter. My breathing evens out, and for some odd reason, I’m at peace.
Nothing hurts. My ears are no longer ringing, and I’m no longer afraid.
Most people would compare this to the feeling of dying. But it’s not dying — it’s as if I’ve just started a new life, to be someone, or something completely new.
“This can’t be happening,’’ Ophelia shrieks, falling to her knees, her long hair touching the ground. “Not to me. Not with you.’’
Before I can ask her what the fuck she’s talking about, my eyes start closing. I can’t fight it — the desire to sleep is too great.
The last thing I see before succumbing is a lone tear dripping down Ophelia’s cheek, the crimson shade forever engraved in my brain.
SIX
Ophelia
The smell of books surrounds me. Old tales and new editions, as the bleak sense of being overwhelmed slowly fill my body. No one’s touched any of these books in too long — since Lucifer was put to sleep.
The library was always his safe space. He’d spend his days locked up inside, reading, doing research, and simply gathering knowledge on anything and everything. He’s always said that since we were immortal, it was the perfect opportunity to learn everything there was to learn in science, math, and anything of the like.
Lucifer’s been in a deep slumber for the past two hundred years, due to the poison. To this day, the details of how it all happened are unclear, but I’m certain of one thing — in order for Lucifer to wake up, Yvonne — the same witch who gave him the poison — has to give him the antidote. And somehow, I don’t think she’s inclined to do so.
No one dared to set foot in the library, because we wanted to keep it just as he’d left it. Until Faith appeared, that is. The young hunter with blood as divine as Heaven itself. I didn’t expect to encounter a hunter on my doorstep, even less one with such determined face, and bravery that’s rare these days.
Clearly, she didn’t think it through. I don’t know how exactly she hoped to kill me, because she has no weapon that can actually take my life. Her backpack is filled with some silly, little potions, and although they’d usually work on me, given that they were made by Yvonne herself, they lack the important part — my blood. Yvonne most likely never finished them because one of the main ingredients was missing, and Faith just snatched them away.
Silly girl.
A deep growl leaves me as I slam the book shut, the dust getting in my eyes. The stinging lasts a couple of seconds, and I blink the ache away. With a deep breath, I slump into the couch, face buried in my hands.
This is impossible.
This shouldn’t be happening.
Not to me.
Not with her.
My eyes snap toward the door, a look of distaste on my face. I don’t bother hiding it, my lips thinning into a line. I cross my legs, tilting my head to the side, drumming my fingers against the armrest of the couch.
“What do you want, Valerio?”
