A Shade of Vampire 80 A Veil of Dark - Bella Forrest
Esme
The blade of a Reaper was the last thing I’d expected to cut me. The unthinkable had come to pass. Two days later, I was less sluggish, but still in bed. I had, however, promised myself that I would get up and not let a third day go by. My wounds were healing slowly, but the bleeding had stopped. With no artifice to help speed up the recovery process, I felt more human than ever.
“We brought fresh blood,” Sofia declared as she walked into the study room, joined by Derek. She held up a crystal pitcher filled with a dark red liquid that made me want to lick my lips. It looked delicious, and I hadn’t fed since yesterday. My injuries were hurling me between states of no appetite whatsoever and ravenous hunger.
“I could use some of that,” I replied, pushing myself into a seated position.
Amal and Amane had skipped breakfast, focused on splicing blood molecules from the Aeternae. Judging by their rushed movements and inability to participate in any conversation longer than five minutes, I could tell that they were onto something. That day-walking protein would be upon us, soon enough. The twins smiled faintly at Sofia and Derek before shifting their focus back to the microscopes and petri dishes.
“How are you feeling?” Derek asked, walking over to my bedside.
“Better than yesterday.” I sighed. Sofia poured me a glass of blood, which I practically inhaled. Motioning for another serving, I asked the single most burning question I had awoken with this morning. “Have they caught Zoltan Shatal yet?”
Derek shook his head. “He’s left the city, for sure. Chances are he and his cohorts have gotten far from this side of the continent. There is absolutely no trace of them whatsoever, but we haven’t given up hope.”
“Hell no,” Tristan interjected as he came into the study room. “Glad to see you’re up and likely eager to get out of bed!”
My brother knew me so well. It was probably written all over my face. “Yeah, I’d like to get crackin’. I could help with all this.”
“You need as much rest as possible,” Amal cut in, without looking away from her microscope lenses. Amane handed her a small glass slide, on which she’d dripped a little bit of blood.
“But I’m okay. I need to move,” I protested.
Amane looked at me, while Amal put the glass slide under the microscope, setting the one she’d been studying aside. “A Reaper’s blade is no joking matter, Esme. It cut deep, too. If you move too fast, too soon, your stitches will pop, and you’ll bleed yourself into unconsciousness,” Amane said.
“Give yourself a few more hours,” Tristan advised me. “I’m working with Valaine and Corbin on finding Zoltan and the Darklings. Rest assured, we’re going to get that son of a bitch, sooner or later.”
Grumbling, I leaned back into the fluffed-up pillows, now sated from two full glasses of fresh Rimian blood. I could feel it surging through me, expanding and stretching my senses. I could feel every molecule of oxygen in the air. Every thread in the soft sheets brushing against the tips of my fingers. I thought I’d lost my appetite after losing Nethissis, but a single near-death experience had been enough to remind me that I still had so much to enjoy in this life. Drinking this stuff was on that list. There was something truly remarkable about Rimian and Nalorean blood. It made what we vampires drank from animals truly and irrevocably bland.
“I still can’t wrap my head around the whole Reaper thing,” I muttered. “What… How did Zoltan get his grubby hands on a scythe? What the hell were they doing down there in the palace basement?”
Sofia shrugged. “Danika and Acheron are simply stunned by this discovery. They seem genuine in their befuddlement, to be honest.”
“Well, the Exiled Maras seemed genuine, too, remember?” Derek replied, a bitter smile trying his lips. “Although, to be fair to the Lord and Lady Supreme, there is nothing linking them to Zoltan and the palace basement. There was relatively easy access to that place, from the gardens and surrounding side streets.”
“I would retain a certain amount of skepticism as far as Danika and Acheron are concerned,” Tristan suggested. “Zoltan didn’t come across as a murderous Darkling leader, and yet here we are.”
“We’ll be careful,” Sofia said. “Derek and I are planning on spending a bit more time with them, mainly for this purpose. We both want to see whether their behavior is genuine or faked. One