“He’s dead now. We can wash this stench from our bodies and never have to consider him again.”
The words hung between them, and it was as if Cally had already forgotten the dead vampire and his wraith-like spawn. Her thoughts shifted to the idea of sharing a shower with Antoine. He’d gone quiet, as if reflecting on what he’d just said. She wondered if he was thinking what she was, or if his mind was still consumed with memories of the carnage.
“Is it really over?” she asked, hoping to help settle his thoughts.
“I hope so,ma chérie. It is a time of instability, but I am more powerful than I have ever been—largely due to you—and, with any fortune, we will ride it out until the Curia leaves and normality returns.”
Below, skyscrapers gave way to smaller, residential apartment blocks. The rain had soaked through all her clothing, and she shivered with the cold, pressing herself closer to him, seeking warmth. He held her tighter in response.
“Thank you for coming for me.”
“Of course,ma chérie. I always will. We are bonded now.”
Yes, they were bonded—and what a double-edged sword that was. It was ironic: she’d finally accepted that he wasn’t the monster she’d alwaysthought him to be, yet to him, she’d always be a chattel. Food. A necessity for survival. And now, because of the bond, his weakness too. Belle had said no vampire of power would ever tie themselves to a witch.
“I’m sorry about the bond. I know it… troubles you.”
“Not at all,ma chérie.I told you just this morning. Have you forgotten? The promise of it thrills me.”
He had said that, and somehow, she’d forgotten. No, not forgotten—it had simply been lost in the whirlwind of the day.
“Was it really only this morning?” she said. “So much has happened since then.” The sudden shift in her mind was dizzying. Zoey and Noah, unconscious in the car. Gabe, feeding on her as he gave her his resistance, the bite already healed and faded.
Joon, dead on his mats while the dojang burned.
She was silent, her thoughts tangled in a rush of guilt and anger—mixing chaotically with Antoine’s cautious hopes for their future.
I couldn’t do anything.
The weight of it pressed down on her chest. She wanted to scream, to rail against the unfairness of it all, but only a shaky breath escaped her. She buried her face in his chest, seeking warmth, trying to hold onto something real.
Antoine’s fingers brushed through her wet hair, his voice a soft murmur. “It’s over,ma cherie.We are safe now.”
“I was thinking of Joon,” she said, her voice cracking. “Minh killed him in front of me, and I… I couldn’t…” She exhaled sharply, the frustration and anger flooding into that one breath. “I want to get stronger, Antoine. I want to learn what I can do as a witch. I never want to be that helpless again.”
“I know how heavy the loss feels.” His voice carried the weight of conviction and personal experience. He lingered in silence. “There might be things we could discover. But if such ancient records survived, we would not find them in America.”
She pulled back to look at his face. “Europe?”
“Oui.But it is complicated. I cannot merely walk into another vampire’s territory and help myself to their resources.”
“Are there ways?”
“There are always ways.” He hesitated, lips pressed thin. “The vampires in Europe are old and powerful. Even now, I would be nothing to them.” He looked down at her. “You have experienced Belle for yourself, yet even she is far from the top of the European hierarchy.”
Cally imagined vampires more powerful than Belle, but with no reason to help them. She shivered.
“Let me think on it,” Antoine said. “But I will help you,ma chérie,whatever it takes.”
“Thank you.” His promise opened a path to strength, and some peace came with it. She saw Joon’s body again and clenched her jaw. Next time, she’d be better prepared. “My mom.” Cally’s voice softened as her mind circled back to the thought. “I learned she was bitten by a vampire, hours before I was born. Do you think that’s why I’m a witch?”
“In truth, I don’t know,ma cherie.This is as much news to me as it is to you. But it seems possible, does it not? Likely, even.” He paused. “Belle might know.”
“I don’t want to ask her,” she said quickly. “The ‘how’ of it doesn’t matter anyway.”
“I suppose not.” Another pause. “Your mother. Did she live?”
“No.”