Page 38 of Bitten & Burned
He joined me at the table, slicing into his own pastry with an elegance that made me feel like the uncivilized one. I took a bite—flaky, buttery, with a hint of orange zest—and sighed.
“I wanted to ask you something. My friend, Thalia, an apothecary in Caer Voss, wrote and asked me about bloodroot. I only know it as something students use to enhance their academic prowess. What do you know about it?”
Anton’s fork paused just above his plate. “Bloodroot?” The word was careful, deliberate. “It’s not common. Old, potent. Most keep clear of it unless they’re after something very particular. A shame it’s found its way into recreational arenas.”
“What sort of particular?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Depends on the hands it’s in. It can heal, or it can harm. And sometimes it’s used for things that sit between the two. Why does she ask? Is it so widespread it’s become concerning?”
Before I could answer, the door creaked and Vael’s voice slipped into the room like silk.
“Good morning,” he said, moving to pour himself coffee without waiting for an invitation.
“Vael, what do you know about bloodroot?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Thalia wrote and asked me, wanted me to speak to you.” I included all of the vampires in that statement.
He paused slightly, finishing his coffee pour before answering. “I know about the students using it at Blackthorn, although I advised many against it. Logic would have me believe if it’s showing up as a University drug, its use is becoming more widespread.”
“Concerning,” Anton said.
“It’s largely harmless, so long as no habit is formed,” Vael replied.
“You aren’t old enough to know how it came to be,” Anton said, taking another bite from his pastry. “Cassian and I remember how hunters used it to try to track us. It made for a dangerous time to be a vampire.”
“Hunters don’t use it anymore. They know, now, it dulls the senses. And, if it’s used long term, there are other ill effects.”
“And it doesn’t concern you that something like that has made its way into mainstream recreational use?” Anton asked.
Vael shook his head. “Who are we to tell others what to do with their own bodies? All we can do is spread awareness.”
“That’s a very shortsighted outlook,” Anton said. “But as I stated before, you’re young.”
Looking between the two of them, it would appear that they were the same age, but knowing as I did that Vael was one hundred and twenty years old, I could tell from context that Anton must be far older.
“Not so young,” Vael scoffed.
“If that is your opinion on bloodroot, yes, so young,” Anton replied, finishing his pastry.
I pressed my lips together, feeling the awkward shift as Vael struggled to find something to say. The scrape of his spoon against porcelain was the only sound for a moment.
Lifting my coffee, I took a slow sip, letting the warmth push away the edge of tension before steering us elsewhere. “I was wondering…is there somewhere in the manor that I could use as a workspace? Silas wrote and mentioned a manuscript he’d like to send me. If I’m to be here long term, I might as well get some work done.”
Anton answered first. “There are so many rooms we no longer use, I’m sure we can find you something.”
“I’lltake you to look after I finish my coffee,” Vael said pointedly.
He drained the last of his cup with deliberate slowness, as if making me wait was its own kind of lesson. Anton only smirked and leaned back in his chair, the picture of contentment, while I fidgeted with the handle of my own cup.
When Vael finally rose, I did too. Anton’s gaze followed me as I stepped away from the table. “If Thalia’s asking about bloodroot, darling,” he said lazily, “make sure she’s not planning to get her hands on any.”
“I don’t think she is,” I replied. “I think she’s seeing more customers affected.”
“Mm. I’d still ask.” His smile was mild, but something sharper glinted beneath it. “Best not to underestimate old herbs with long memories.”
I nodded and followed Vael out, the warmth of the dining room fading behind me as the cooler hush of the manor’s halls closed in. My footsteps echoed faintly against the polished floors, the scent of coffee and butter still clinging to my hair and clothes.
