Page 28 of House of Crimson Kisses
“Yes, I can tell what has happened to a mind, what damage has been done and get the memories back, though it is much more reliable and better for the person in question to have the original vampire who took them give them back to them. Now, tell me why you want this information.”
That’s a lot of signing, and she doesn’t speak slowly, so I take a hot second to interpret what she said.
“Nothing in particular,” I say, deciding it’s quicker to speak and let her do the signing.
She huffs at me, and her fingers fly again. “I guess I have nothing to tell you then.” She turns away, her flowing black dress drifting in the night breeze.
“Wait.”
“Something you want to share?” she signs.
I grit my teeth. No. I look away. She touches my chin, tilts it up to face her. She’s tall like Octavia.
“Don’t come to me asking for help and then lie to me.” Her expression is cold enough to crack bones and freeze summers.
I swallow hard. Decide to change the topic.
“I wondered if there was ever an occasion when memory wipes and compulsions don’t work?”
She laughs. It’s whispery and indignant. “Only one I can think of…” she steps back smiling, but instead of making her face radiate joy and light, it makes her face dark and sinister. Like a void sucking in everything, every emotion, every secret, all light and love.
I shiver, and she lets go of my chin. But the cool press of her thumb lingers.
“Wh-what’s the only occasion?” I ask, not at all sure I want the answer.
“Bonding. A piece of our soul binds to a piece of the person’s we bond to. Magic that controls in this way doesn’t work on one’s bonded.”
“Other magic might?”
She shrugs. “Healing, perhaps. Maybe magic from other cities. Why? You haven’t found yourself recently bonded…have you?”
She leans in, drawing out the signed gestures on the last words.
“Obviously not,” I roll my eyes, sending every ounce of will I have to my heart, praying it doesn’t betray me by speeding up. She holds my gaze for an agonising amount of time before recoiling and sighing.
“To answer your original question, I can both check your memories and give them back…”
My lips purse. “But you’re not going to?”
She shakes her head at me. “No.”
“Why not? I’m willing to make a deal. I’m sure there’s something I can offer you.”
She scans my face. “Oh, there is. But I am also sure that whatever I ask for will be a price you’re not willing to pay.”
“You don’t know that… Not unless you ask.”
She smiles, and this time it makes her eyes glint like the beady orbs of ravens.
“I am certain you won’t be willing, because I only ask for the most impossible things to give. Otherwise, what’s the point of making a deal?”
Psycho.
She wipes her hands down her dress and says, “Good evening, Red. See you at the awards ceremony.”
She waves a willowy hand at me and then speeds off into the night and darkness. The mountains and forests swallow her.
I have to bite back an insult. What a bitch. She can help me, but won’t? Fucking St Clair’s are all the same. Twisted fucks.
