Page 45 of The Nephilim's Finesse

“Yes,” he growled. “How could you? She was only a girl!” Absolute horror was written on his face.

I swallowed hard and ran a hand through my locks, confused as to what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“The girl, Rowan. The one you used to blackmail the witch,” he barked.

Sighing, I sat down. I had Rowan captured a few months ago to blackmail Umbra, a powerful witch close to Seraphina, the coven's leader. Umbra warned us on several occasions about the plans of the witches, a necessary measure to stay ahead of the game. I liked to torture Umbra, making her believe that her daughter Rowan would suffer terrible things if she didn't complain. All the while, Rowan was safe and sound; I’d started to develop a fondness for her; despite her being a witch, she reminded me of my little sister. Not a hair was touched under my leadership. But that seemed to have changed. “What… what happened to her?”

His eyes were blazing with rage, and his jaw clenched tight as he glared at me. “They used her in a demon ritual. After that didn’t work, they used one of the humans we tried to rescue.”

Defeated, I closed my eyes and buried my head in my hands. His words felt like lead weights settling in my stomach. I wished I could undo what had been done—the poor girl had suffered for nothing. Witches were immune to demonic powers—at least by a ritual. It felt like I'd been punched in the gut because I had promised to protect her from any harm of my kind—yet here she was, sacrificed for nothing.

“You were there?” I whispered.

“No, I stayed here in case the vampires used the kidnapping as a ruse to free you. Luckily, they don’t have a clue where you are.”

So, he’d just heard about what had happened and hadn’t witnessed it. Still, it shocked him deeply.

“Did they succeed with the human?”

“No, we intervened, but we don’t know how far the ritual advanced and what consequences it’ll have for him.”

I nodded. The human meant nothing to me, but I sensed that it was important to Raph. Yet, there was nothing I could say to make it better. It wasn’t my doing, and I wasn’t responsible for kidnapping him and performing the demon summoning on him.

However, I had kidnapped Rowan and was therefore responsible for her. “I'm sorry about Rowan,” I choked out, grief-stricken and angry at myself for not being able to save her. “I commanded that nobody was to touch her. She had her own room, a telly, food and sometimes even a friend. I tried to make it as comfortable as possible.”

“They were tortured!” he screamed at me, blaming me for what had happened despite the fact I was nowhere near her when it had happened.

I sprang out of the chair. “Because I wasn’t there!” I yelled back at him with sudden fury and desperation, clawing at my chest. “That’s all because I’m held here! I’m not responsible for what happened to them. You are!”

His eyes narrowed into slits, and he lunged towards me. The feel of him—strong, dangerous, uncompromising, masculine—pressing against me, caging me in, made my anger boil even hotter. "Careful, vampire," he seethed through gritted teeth. "Don’t make me responsible for the actions of your kind.”

I hissed at him, my fangs ready to tear into his flesh. “Don't make me responsible, either! I was locked up here, as you well know!”

We stood in a stalemate, electric hatred filling the air between us. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles white as snow, while I bared my fangs with a vicious snarl, ready to unleash my fury if he dared to make a move. Eventually, he bobbed his head, silently agreeing with me.

Although rage flooded through me, I tried to calm down as much as possible. "Who was in charge?” The thought crystallised in my mind with a sickening finality. Raph's presence confirmed what I already knew to be true—the vampires were no more, reduced to dust and ashes. The humans they held captive were now free, their nightmare at an end. And the girl, Rowan, was gone forever. I wanted to know who of my fellow vampires the Nephilim had killed.

“Eldred,” he spat out venomously, and my heart sank at the news that it had been my close confidant for over a hundred and fifty years who loved me in his way.

“He was my friend.” And loyal to the end. He did all this to get me back; I was sure of it. Tears welled in my eyes at the thought of him gone. Overcome with guilt and sorrow, I collapsed onto my knees in anguish.

I was pacing through the dining room in my mansion. The floorboards creaked under my feet, reminding me of how old the wooden house was. It was a typical New Orleans building for the time, with a white-painted porch with a stucco exterior. I had settled here after I killed the hag that occupied the house before. On my way out to the hall, I passed Jericho, a macabre instalment of the witch’s twisted powers. He was once a dark-skinned man, even smaller than me, a slave. I didn’t know if the hag had him killed for her purpose or waited until he died of a natural matter. However, after his death, he was stuffed, with his hands before him, facing upwards. Stuffed like a fox or a bear. The witch had used his statue to put her scarf or hat into his waiting hands. It was horrible what humans could do to one another. After I killed her, I had long debated what action to take regarding him. Bury him? Leave him as he was? His big, empty eyes were haunting me for days, and in the end, I decided to place him on a window, fresh flowers in his hands, so he could watch the people outside. When I found the right spot, somewhere beautiful, I'd lay him to rest there.

The insects were chirping on the warm summer night when I made my way to the veranda. I had turned Eldred three years ago when I came to America again in 1891. He followed my every step, and together, we cleaned the bustling city bit by bit from those decadent witches and warlocks.

I had sent him on an errand this night. Locate the witches' coven and bring back the information. Then, we'd discuss how to proceed.

After another antagonising hour, Eldred came slurping along the street. His long black hair was tied up, and his brown skin showed severe wounds.He smelt of wood smoke, worn leather, and witch magic. The foul odour of burnt skin penetrated my nose. A fire witch.

“Where were you? What took you so long?”

Eldred smoothed his jacket; it had several scorch marks on it as we walked back into the house. “I went to the place where we concluded the coven leader lives. She was alone, and I took the opportunity.”

“You took on a hag by yourself? And the strongest at that? Are you insane?” I screamed at him. “Do you want to end like Jericho?” I pointed to the poor soul.

Eldred shook his head. “I thought I could do you a favour, making a quick end to your problems. I thought this would make you happy.” Eldred looked at me with such hurt, such longing. I couldn't stand it any longer. My anger vanished, and pity overcame me. Averting my gaze, I had to know for certain.

“Why are you doing all of this? Is it because you love me?”

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