Page 118 of House of Crimson Hearts
“Octavia, dammit.” I hand her the next piece and hop on my foot trying to pull my boot back on. “‘Utter the language of the night, Unlock the path veiled from the light. Something, something, ‘Pursue the whispers through the night, To secrets veiled in silent light.’”
Octavia’s eyes widen.
“The Whisper Club?”
“Exactly. And the stony guardian?”
“The Broodmire?”
I nod. “And one of us has recently charmed them, so I’m betting he might be willing to give us what he wants.”
“Let’s go,” she says and makes to move out of her office.
“Octavia…”
“What?”
“You might want to… um…” I point at her still extremely naked body.
“Oh. Right. Right.” She vampire speeds around the office reclothing herself and is ready in about three seconds. Fuck, that’s annoying when you’re unable to keep up.
I follow her out to the front of the club and find the door empty, “No one else has figured it out yet.”
“Doesn’t look like it,” she says and turns to the goyle. “Hey, Broodmire.”
“Good evening,” he says his scratchy gravel of a voice ebbing through the night.
“I would like a favour,” Octavia says.
“Would you now?” he narrows his eyes at her and sticks his tongue out for payment. She presses her finger down onto his spike and a bead of blood rolls down from her index finger.
“Perhaps we could sweeten this deal…” I offer, shoving her out of the way and adding a bead of my own blood.
He shivers when my blood slides down his spike and touches his tongue. I catch Octavia frowning at him, or maybe my blood or maybe the whole situation. Broodmire ruffles himself and settles back, satisfied as he chews on the blood. He says, “What can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for a map,” I say, having a feeling that he may respond to me more than Octavia. I’m not sure what makes me think that other than his reaction to my blood. So I leap at the chance. Act first, think later.
“What sort of map?” he says.
“An ancient one, it’s a dhampir map. It will take us to the amulet that’s been missing for centuries.”
“Hmmm,” he says, chewing on his teeth like he’s got gum. “I can help,” he says.
And I positively beam.
“You know where to find the map? Or could you tell us where we can get it?” I ask.
“Mmm, I can give it to you,” he grumbles.
“How?” Octavia says.
“Because it was right here all along. This club keeps many secrets, the mansion was built on sacred ground where secrets were sown into the earth. It’s how we got our name.”
The door swings open. But before we enter, I pull Broodmire’s lip down, his eyebrow rises but he lowers his tongue and I push my finger down on his spike once again, a little thank you.
He bristles then sags, “Maybe there’s hope for us yet,” he says and then he promptly falls asleep in what I assume is a blood-addled coma.
We step back inside the club. The corridor walls are beating. They pulse like they have a heartbeat. Veins appear. But as I stare at them closer, I realise they’re not veins but marks. Marks on a map.
