Page 64 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens
“Old,” Caleb chuckled, handing me my sword back. “I was bitten by my father on my seventeenth birthday.”
“Your father bit you?” The terror in my voice rang dozens of bells.
“I wanted him to,” Caleb smiled at my reaction, retrieving his blades. “When my father was first turned he had to leave me for my own safety.” His voice was as calm as the morning breeze no matter the tragedy of his words. “I missed him greatly. So we made a deal: when I was to come of age, my father would bite me himself so we could spend the rest of our lives inseparable.”
“Where is he now?” Surprised by how openly he answered every question I threw at him, I was glad to use this opportunity to its fullest. “What happened to your mother?”
“My mother died when I was young,” Caleb shrugged. “As for my father, he does not enjoy crowds. He moved to Faris, and started working there as a local smith after Francis began to host the balls. He says he’s too old to partake in such nonsense.”
“How old is Francis?” The words left my mouth before I could stop myself.
A wide grin spread across Caleb’s face before his bright laugh impregnated the training room. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Caleb kept laughing.
Embarrassment washed over me, turning my lips into a thin line. My mouth was my biggest enemy.
“He is thirty-four.” Caleb did not stop smirking. “So,” his eyebrows flew up. “Would you like me to teach you sword wielding?”
Thirty-four. When was he bitten?I wondered, yet did not dare asking Caleb—who stared at me patiently—another question.
He did not seem like the Caleb I’d met. This Caleb was kind: reminded me a lot of Brian.
Perhaps Florence was right and Caleb just needed time to ensure his family was safe from me. Surely I could understand the concern. No one would want to be associated with the kidnapping of an heir, not even someone as powerful as a family of vampires.
I supposed I did not need to trust him to let him teach me some useful skills. He seemed to be a man who knew a lot about training. His broad, strong physique was proof of that.
As I was about to accept his offer, an excruciating scream flew through the walls. “Help!” A cry disturbed the peace of the castle. “Help me!” A shiver went through me when the familiarity of the voice stumbled through my mind. “Somebody help me!” Roxanne screamed.
Caleb was out of the door before I managed to force my body to obey. I charged through the room, fleeing toward the loud cries.
Everything stopped when I saw Florence’s limp body in Roxanne’s arms. Roxanne's hands were painted bright crimson, blood dripped down to the floor.
My hand covered my mouth. Florence’s olive dress was now dark brown, blood did not stop flowing down her body. The wound on the stomach revealed her insides. My stomach turned.
My eyes found Roxanne’s tearful face.
Francis rushed down the steps, pure horror written on his face.
“Help,” Roxanne cried. “They attacked—” her lips trembled. “They attacked right after you left.”
Caleb took Florence’s unconscious, bloody body, carrying her up the stairs with ease and calm. Dozens of needles prickled my throat when he passed me.
Francis’ heavy steps shortened the distance between him and Roxanne. His hands gently held Roxanne’s shoulders, preventing her from collapsing.
“What did they attack with?” Francis’ voice was as calm as the center of a hurricane.
“They—” Roxanne gasped for air. “They attacked when you left. They took the children.” Roxanne kept repeating, staring into nothingness without blinking. “I cannot go through this again. I cannot.” Her body started to shake. “Issac—”
“Rox,” Francis said softly. “Look at me.” He rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs. “What kind of blade did they use?”
“Silver,” Roxanne whispered, nodding a few times before slowly turning her attention to Francis, her eyes as red as the flames of a candle. “They used silver.”
“Then she will be all right.” He held her face. “Tell me what happened?”
“The screams started right after you left.” She glanced at me, swallowing hard. “We didn’t know what was happening.”
Francis carefully sat Roxanne on the floor, taking a seat next to her. His hands covered Roxanne in a tight embrace as though shielding her from the outside forces.
She met his eyes before continuing, “Florence insisted on checking the orphanage: ensure the children were safe.” The quiet tears fell down her face. “We were too late,” Roxanne whispered. “They took the children, Francis. Wurdulacs took the children and everyone who stood in their way.”
