Page 156 of Vampire so Virtuous
Great. And now I need another shower.
Thirty-seven – Cally
The shower didn’t help to settle her mind.
Antoine slept heavily, dead to the world—and that was an ironic thought, especially having learned that vampires weren’t the undead. Eve would be so disappointed.
He’d shifted while she was in the bathroom, turning on his side and pulling the duvet over himself. His hair splayed across her pillow, and his expression was peaceful. So vulnerable.
What if she opened the blinds?
The thought felt outdated, irrelevant now in this new world of intertwined fates. She no longer saw him as a monster—not for a while, if she was honest. That ship had sailed, lost in the storm of his humor, charm, and care.
He didn’t stir as she gathered clothes and took them through to the living room to dress—jeans, T-shirt, and a hoodie. She’d been cold yesterday. Last night. Tonight. Whatever.
A vampire in her apartment, asleep in her bed. She couldn’t believe it.
“A woman such as yourself is less inclined to believe in magic and ghost stories, n’est-ce pas?”
Belle had been right.
“When Antoine fed on Minh, crossing the bloodlines, he grew in power. In turn, he has awoken your own power.”
Her mind kept circling back to it, for there, Belle was wrong. Antoine hadn’t awoken her magic.
But how could her magic exist if a vampiric bite was the only way?
“As we age, our cynicism grows.”
Belle had been right on the money there, too. Cally hadn’t wanted to believe in magic, even when Eve was so sure. Even when she’d seen the crystals glowing in their spells, or experienced her vision—so realistic, soreal.
Ithadbeen real. The club, at least. And now Antoine himself—proof incarnate of dark powers.
All right, so magic exists, and I’m a witch. But how?
She tried to think the puzzle through.
Antoine’s bite hadn’t awakened her magic. Her magic had always been part of her, even if she’d tried to ignore and suppress it.
Belle said a vampiric bite was necessary, but she hadn’t been bitten.
Which could only mean… what?
She shook her head. It didn’t make any sense.
Antoine would sleep until the afternoon, and she had nowhere to go, nothing to do. The book she’d lent him sat on the counter, but reading about vampires had lost its appeal.
She should probably try and take a nap. She’d have to get used to working on vampiric hours—or at least, try to find a new rhythm in this strange new reality.
In fact, what was the point of work, anymore? She was going to live forever, and Antoine had more than enough money. She could go back to MIT, study any course she wanted, build a foundation for a future, and all the changes that would come.
How would she tell her Dad? Eve? Joon?
She couldn’t, not without risking their fear, their rejection. That was the simple truth.
But then again, if Belle’s story of witches bonded with vampires was true, would she still age? They’d be sure to notice something so obvious eventually.
She shook her head, trying to focus. Her magic, her life—there had to be more to it than just Antoine’s bite.
