Page 2 of House of Crimson Kisses
“Blood can tell many a remarkable thing about a person. And I’ve tasted not one but four drops this eve.”
In the distance, Sadie’s snow-coloured hair drifts through the night breeze like eddies in a pond.
“Sadie,” I say, surprising myself. We have a strange relationship, and I don’t much want to be near her, but yet I’m drawn to call her over.
She halts as she levels with the gates into Mother’s garden that heads out towards the entrance. She turns, looking this way and that. I must be obscured in the shadows under the porch, so I inch out and wave.
“Over here,” I say and waft the whisky bottle I’m holding. Her face lights up. She waves hello and changes course, drifting over to me in her usual angelic way.
I take in her appearance as she draws close. She’s wearing a long, flowing black dress, reminiscent of the style of outfits the blood monks in her church wear, albeit slinkier and more elegant. Her hair is wound into two braids either side of her head that join at the bottom of her skull to form one plait that drapes down her spine. She’s tall like me, but her fair features and pale hair set her apart from all of us.
I don’t bother standing up. Too miserable. Which is also why I called her over. Misery likes company, and I’m alone enough.
“I was having a drink here with Rumblegrit,” I say.
She nods and leans down to kiss me on the forehead. Something she almost always does as a greeting. Only to me, though. I suppose that’s the funny thing about siblings. We all have our unique ways of greeting each other or interacting with each other, and no two relationships are the same. Xavier and I are each other’s favourites—to which that,Hello, favourite, is our usual greeting. Dahlia and Gabriel, though, are birth twins as well as vampire siblings. They speak in a language unique to them, all silent words and hard-to-decipher expressions. They can have entire conversations in silence. I used to be jealous until Dahlia turned out to be a bit of a cunt, at which point, I felt sorry for Gabriel instead.
I hold up the whisky bottle, but she leans over and tickles Rumblegrit under his chin. She dabs her finger on the spike, offering him a drop of blood. And I really do wonder whether I’ve been ignorant to the ways that everyone treats each other. It was a natural movement for Sadie to offer the goyle that kindness.
“I’m being treated this evening, it seems,” he chuckles out a deep rumbling crackle of a laugh—the origin of his name. His eyes roll back, and he yawns as the overdose of mine and Sadie’s blood knocks him out. His lids drift shut, and he falls into a light slumber, his stone nostrils fluttering and emanating snuffles and snores.
I smile up at him and check myself. Gods, Octavia, what is wrong with you? He’s a fucking gargoyle. He is not cute. You do not need to develop a soft spot.
“Drink?” I offer Sadie again, if for no other reason than to drag my mind away from itself.
Sadie takes the bottle out of my hand, and to my surprise, downs an enormous gulp. She hands it back and raises her hands to sign at me.
“You look like shit tonight,” she says.
“Thanks,” I huff. “I’m hearing that a lot.”
“No offence, I’m worried about you,” she says and touches my chin. Her fingers are warm and caring. This is the Sadie our siblings never see, and I wonder why she chose me to connect with. But then, why did I choose Xavier? Sometimes when you come from a big family, you resonate with certain siblings more than others. It’s these softer moments that are almost enough to make me forget Sadie’s dark side.
I lean into her touch and pull the bottle up to my mouth. I do not trust her. Not when I’m aware of what she’s capable of. I’ve seen her slaughter villages for fun. Not in my territory, I might add. She knows I’d come for her. It’s a reminder I need, though. Much as this is a lovely moment, we are still in competition with each other, and I don’t trust anyone, not when it comes to winning the city and replacing Mother. I have got to change the face of this city for the people like me who have always been pushed to the edge. I need my home to be a home instead of a prison.
“I come bearing news,” she signs at me.
“Oh?” I say, swigging from the bottle again and handing it back to her.
My chest aches. Pathetic, really. I fucked up and now what? I’m feeling things? Gods, I can’t even be a proper vampire. I should be dead inside, not pining over a fucking human.
A human you’ve loved for three years.
She swigs and hands it back, and I decide to down the rest, dregs and all, to numb the… the sensation in my chest I’d rather not put a name to. I drop the bottle between my legs and rub my sternum.
Sadie’s eyes drop to my hand. She narrows her gaze.
“You okay?” she signs.
I wave her off. There’s no way I’m going to explain that I am pining after a hunter. I’ll never live it down. She continues to squint at me as if trying to work out the issue, but explains the news she brings.
“Mother is pissed.”
“Why?”
“Someone’s won the last challenge,” she says, her hands moving in a flurry of gestures.
It takes all of my control not to go vampire still. If I did, she would know I was suppressing something, hiding the fact I have more information than I should.
