Page 24 of Bitten & Burned
I crept down the hall towards the voices. I found them coming from a spiral staircase down to one of the lower levels. I concluded that they were down in one of the recreational rooms.
The top step squeaked, so I stepped over that and crept down the stairs until I could hear what they were talking about. I didn’t like eavesdropping like this, but if I was going to walk into a room full of vampires, I needed to knowexactlywhat I was walking into.
A tangle of voices was speaking at once, overlapping until one cut through. It was low, quiet… almost bored.“I fail to see why you can’t just stay with her at her flat—or yours, for that matter.”
Quil, of course.
Vael answered, but I couldn’t hear him. He was explaining how it was safer here and quieter than my flat with the thin walls and nosy neighbors.
“Do you truly need to hold her hand all day?”
I rolled my eyes. Typical. Quil never said more than a handful of words to me in the entire time I’d known him. But he never hesitated to talkaboutme, always through Vael as if I were a piece of furniture that occasionally made noise.
“Pain builds character. Let her keep it. She could certainly use it.”
I flinched. That stung; maybe because I half-believed it. Maybe because it was easier to believe Quil than admit that I hated who I was when the pain took over.
Another voice, this one more level, broke through. “Quil, we talked about this…” Cassian’s voice carried the weight of centuries—five hundred years steeped in Verdune’s courts and battlefields, steady as granite compared to Quil’s raw, needling edges.
“Yeah, well, that was before she was moving in. Before, we had to tiptoe around her. And I don’t know a nicer way to say this, but she smells.”
A chorus of surprised sounds filled the room. “Nonsense, what are you saying?” Anton laughed—his voice always bright and sweet, even when the words weren’t. “She smells like she always smells: cherries, vanilla. Sugarplums.”
“She still smells like that, sure, but there’s something else—something that stinks.”
“Honestly, Quil. Stop talking about her that way.” Vael’s tone balanced on a knife’s edge—not quite his normal voice, teetering into his more hypnotic one.
“Stop that,” Quil snapped. A dull thump—something hitting the wall? “I told you not to do that!”
“Act like an adult, and I won’t have to,” Vael said flatly.
“I could act like the vampire I am and rip you apart,” Quil shot back.
“Both of you, calm down…” another voice cut in, calm and unflappable. Dmitri. He had this way of speaking that instantly defused tension. While Vael still sounded a little rattled, Dmitri was steady—always the grounding presence. It was hard to remain worried around him. Why Quil accepted Dmitri’s authority but resisted Vael’s, I couldn’t say.
Vael had once told me, “Quil and Dmitri come together. They’re a package deal. We don’t get Dmitri if we ask Quil to leave.” His voice had been flat and bored, like he’d said it a thousand times before.
Their partnership was still a mystery to me, but Vael’s feelings about Quil were crystal clear. And Quil’s about Vael, too.
I took a slow breath, realizing I’d been eavesdropping for longer than I should. I forced my face into a neutral expression and stepped into the room. Five sets of eyes snapped to me. I offered a small wave, trying to stay on the edge of the circle.
“Hi… I couldn’t help but overhear…”
“She’s spying on us now?” Quil spat, his long black hair falling in curtains around his face, his eyes narrowed in my direction, so dark they didn’t seem real.
I took a page from his book, mostly ignoring him while looking directly at Vael. “Can you explain to him how I’m talking now and he should be listening?” I asked.
Anton snorted, crossing his arms across his chest, his bright eyes flitting towards Cassian to his left. Cassian, for his part, looked amused, his broad shoulders shaking slightly with laughter; his auburn hair catching the candlelight like burnished copper.
Dmitri, tall, blonde, and impeccably chiseled, had no visible reaction, as per usual, and since I wasn’t looking at Quil, I couldn’t see him, but I could tell from context clues that he was fuming, stalking back and forth like the hunter he was.
Vael tried and failed to hide a small smile. “She’s speaking now, so you should be?—”
“I heard her, asshole.”
“Quil, give it a rest,” Anton drawled from his chair, his arms falling to his sides as he dramatically turned his head towards the ceiling; his fluffy brown hair remained perfect, no matter what position he took. “You drain more with your voice than yourfangs ever will. Shut up for once.” He could have been an actor on a stage, all practiced drama and flawless poise, his frame exquisitely balanced between Cassian’s bulk and Quil’s wiry edges—pleasingly, unfairly perfect.
Quil was quiet, but felt like a blaze burning behind a door; the slightest bit of air could cause an updraft. I had to be quick and careful.
