A Violet Fire (Vampires in Avignon #1) - Kelsey Quick Page 0,100
and I are short-lived, could mere moments be worth losing lifetimes? Am I considering that possibility?
A knock signals my imminent departure and Zein releases me to open the door.
“My lord,” the soldier acknowledges with a bow as he comes into view. The deep voice tells me that he’s the same soldier from before.
“Off with you both,” Zein says curtly.
“Yes, my lord,” we say in unison. The door closing behind me and my idle shuffle into the now quiet hall leaves my high to dwindle back down to sour indifference. It was so nice staying in that room with him, sleeping on his bed, free of rules, free of limitations.
The soldier commences the long trek toward the other tower where we came from. We pass through Night’s Way once again, with daylight now blasting through the windows full-force, though it is heavily deterred by dozens of loosed tapestry-like curtains; paintings depicting scenes of olden times. Each window has its own tapestry, each nicely dropped and secured in place. There has to be at least a hundred of them. Two hundred maybe.
We reach the end of Night’s Way and we turn left out of it, then an upcoming right. Something is off, the scenery is different. The tapestries and stained-glass windows along the walls are unfamiliar. Different door segments, styles, and placements. The hairs of my arms stand on end. We had turned right when leaving the supply holdings earlier, so we should have gone straight ahead to get back.
“Excuse me,” I speak up, and the soldier turns his head a little but keeps walking. “Are we still on route to the supply holdings?”
His head turns back, and he keeps walking. Silence. No answer. My breath catches at the base of my throat and a surge of adrenaline floods my veins. Is he going rogue? Am I in danger? Is he... with Giomar?
“I… I have a tag in my arm,” I state, my voice shaking. “If anything happens to me, the offender will be executed according to the nourishment laws. No matter the excuse.”
Still silence.
And now I’m certain something isn’t right, but I keep walking—logic triumphing over my paranoia. There’s no way that a vampire would try something here, in the castle that currently houses the five strongest leaders of Cain. It could qualify as its own method of suicide. But then my paranoia fights back—questioning why this soldier would operate any different from someone like Seriesa.
He puts an end to my rampant thoughts when we stop at the end of a long, sectioned hallway that has several small and rickety doors along it.
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers without turning to me, although it’s too late for that.
He opens the door in front of us, the knob and hinges creaking something awful. It swings open revealing a room full of janitorial and apothecary supplies stacked upon rusted metal storage bars. The walls seem older, somewhat damp and moldy. Same with the floor. All lit by a single narrow lantern from above, allowing me to spot vague details on labels, the dripping substance in the corner, and most importantly: the three familiar faces.
Madam Ceti is here, and she stares at me with serious and stark white gems. Next to her is Glera, who offers me a slight, though hesitant nod. She stands tall with her hands behind her back. And then there’s the boy. The boy with ash-blond hair, dressed in gold robes complete with the veil. Marina’s supply unit. The one from the Basilica. I swallow hard.
Am I dreaming?
My eyes shoot from person to person, unsure of my purpose here. Unsure if I’m among friends or foes.
“Please, just a little farther,” the masked soldier requests of me. I move inward so he can close and lock the door. I note the change in his voice—from bold to timorous.
Blond-boy is sitting upon two crates in the corner, troubled, I determine by his eyes. We keep eye contact and the tension roils.
“Don’t be alarmed, Wavorly.” Ceti breaks the silence, glancing at him while speaking to me. “We aren’t here to bring you harm.”
“What’s going on?” I ask her and Glera specifically. “And who are they?”
“The other members of the Sunset Squadron,” she states simply—like I know what that means or something. She raises her hands a little for emphasis. “This might be a bit difficult for you to accept at first, but all I ask is you remain calm and let us explain.”
My senses switch to high alert. Something is definitely wrong.