Page 25 of Blood

Definitely cowboy hats.

Siri, add to shopping list—sunglasses and a cowboy hat.

“And don’t worry about Vanessa,” Cynthia continues. “Just text me the address, and I’ll get her out. Where do you want to meet?”

I glance warily at Alex, who’s once again glaring at his feet, as if they personally offended him.

“I’ll let you know when we come to a decision, but probably Hell. Long story. I’ll message you where to go,” I tell her. “And Cynthia? Thank you.”

“No, thank you, my little vampiress. You saved me from getting my tit bitten off by a horny pumpkin. I’ll text you when the package is secure.”

And with those parting words, Cynthia hangs up.

I, however, don’t immediately lower the phone from my ear. Talking with Cynthia reminded me of a time that has long since passed. A simpler time, as cliché as that sounds. I miss how easy life was when I was just a stupid vampire roaming the halls of Prodigium Academy. Now, I’m fangs-deep in a war I’m not sure I’ll win, grieving a mate, and unsure of what the fuck I need to do next. I wish...

I wish I could talk to my dad about all of this.

Dracula may be an asshole, but he’s my asshole, and he’s always loved me unconditionally.

Who knows if he’s even still alive? Zeus’s wrath is infamous, and when I left the safe house, my parents were fighting for their lives. No, not their lives.

My life.

Lucifer, Hera, and Dracula were fighting for...me.

A rock settles in my stomach, sluicing the meager contents I managed to eat for lunch around.

“Violet?” Alex ventures tentatively, taking a step toward me.

I try for a smile, but it’s weak and flimsy, a caricature of a real one.

“Can we just go ho—” I cut myself off before I say that final word.

Home.

I don’t have a home.

What I have is a shitty hotel room with bug-infested beds and a rusty shower that dispels putrid-smelling, brown water.

And god, I can’t help but think of Barret when I see those little beetles scuttling about. I miss him. I miss all of them.

I don’t protest as Alex walks with me down the bustling street and toward a hotel on the edge of Chicago, in a section of the city that has seen better days. Dogs bark outside, a gunshot echoes through the darkness, and someone laughs hysterically from across the street.

But all of that is background noise. It barely processes in my tired, cotton-ball-filled brain.

Unconsciousness snags me with both hands as soon as my head hits the pillow.

And...I dream.

CHAPTER 11

VIOLET

I know immediately that this isn’t an ordinary dream.

For one, I remain completely cognizant of my surroundings, keenly aware of the unnaturally soft grass beneath my feet and the silkiness of the nearest flower petal as I rub my fingers over it.

For two, the air is that perfect temperature you never feel in real life. Not too hot and not too cold. The breeze wafting across my face has goose bumps peppering along my skin, but the coolness is tempered by the blazing sun above.

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