Page 50 of Entombed By Blood
She shakes her head, eyes turning haunted for a second before she blinks the expression away. “The only person I fear is my sire.”
I tilt my head to one side. “Your shortsightedness is noted.”
“If I don’t know your connection to her, my sister will use it against me.”
I shrug like it’s not my problem, gritting my teeth and making a conscious effort to unclench my fists. There is no connection. Not one I’m willing to acknowledge, anyway.
The doors swish open, and the scent of my sire’s perfume—overpriced and chemical—fills my nose.
Once, the scent alone would have sent me spiralling into a panic.
Now, it’s simply irritating.
I watch Evie for a second, making certain she’s not focusing on the scents of the other people streaming around us in the lobby. But no, Evie’s attention is fixed on something ahead.
There, waiting by the desk, are two of the most powerful women in the world. Physically, the two of them couldn’t be more different—one dark and willowy, the other pale and lithe—but Cain’s daughters were chosen, not born.
Callista smirks as she sees the two of us, stalking closer in her heels. She’s perfect, beautiful. Poison always is.
“Evie, we’ve missed you!” she simpers, fangs flashing in her smile.
Behind her, Bellatrix doesn’t echo the obviously false sentiment. The calculating gleam never leaves her eyes as she watches her sister’s half-hearted embrace.
“It’s been a long time,” Evie says, her face kept carefully blank as she takes her first look around the world beyond the apartment. “Thank you for volunteering to show me the city.”
The words are pleasant, but the undertones are not. Callista didn’t volunteer, and Evie suggesting as much is just another way of reminding her sister that they’re all under Cain’s orders.
“And Draven,” Callista purrs, reaching for me. Her long, red nails rake over my chest through my uniform. I stare at her with practised apathy. “It’s been too long. Surely you’re not too busy to spend time with your sire every now and again?”
Ice fills my veins at the prospect. Tension thrums through me, and I fight the urge to snatch her hand away and break those manicured fingers. Vengeance, blistering and sweet, is literally within arm’s reach. But I can’t react, not without blowing everything I’ve worked hard for.
If I give in to the urge to snap her fingers into matchsticks, Cain wins and I’ll only get half the revenge I’m owed.
That sobering thought distracts me from her leering smile and lets my attention wander to Evie. She’s watching Callista with slightly narrowed eyes, but she says nothing.
“We should get going,” Bellatrix says, eyeing the two of us with impatience. “Some of us have more important things to do today than play babysitter.” She holds out a red bag. “That’s yours, in case you want to buy anything.”
Callista retracts her claws from my torso with a harrumph and reluctantly leads the way out of the building. Evie falls back, taking the offered handbag and allowing her sisters to take point. She takes in the world with an unimpressed air, but I can see her head swivelling when she’s certain her sisters aren’t looking.
The streets are nothing to me. Barely worth noticing, but Evie catches everything. She watches people on their phones, notes the tiny plasters on the inner creases of their elbows from the blood donation centres. Soaks up the hover cars, lights, and holographic billboards like a sponge.
It’s almost… adorable.
I want to snort at my own description, but it fits. The only thing that breaks Evie’s fascinated staring are the frequent glances she receives from her sisters.
We trawl through the bustling streets for hours, visiting all of Callista’s favourite haunts. An endless parade of society lounges and blood cafes, broken up by the occasional cultural landmark when Bellatrix gets her way.
The females draw their fair share of attention. Vampires bow as they pass. Evie seems oblivious to the stares she’s receiving, but she can’t pretend to be oblivious to the crowds that pass. The scents of so many people are like a buffet to a vampire who’s been starved for so long. Occasionally, when someone gets too close, she clenches her fists and leans into me instead.
They’re testing her. Probably on Cain’s orders.
The entire trip is accompanied by Callista’s needling. Constant barbs aimed at both of her sisters and me. But while Bellatrix and I ignore her, Evie seems to fall into a pattern of subtle, witty retorts that quickly get on Callista’s nerves.
“As much as I’ve missed you sparring with Callie,” Bellatrix says, dropping into step beside Evie as we cross the Brooklyn Bridge. “Perhaps you should exercise a little more restraint.”
The noise of the crowd swallows her quiet words, making it impossible for Callista—who’s several paces ahead—to hear.
“She still beds our sire and thinks it makes her invincible,” Evie mutters. “I can see no one else has thought to bring her down a peg in the two centuries I was gone. Her ego is larger than this city.”
