It took another 45 minutes for the rest of my body to wake up, and I felt absolutely exhausted. An accumulation of bed aches, hunger, emotional fatigue, and pure fucking rage. I sat up in the plush-down bedding; a rich purple curtain hung in the corner of the room, the only fixture in the room, it seemed. The bed I sat in appeared to once have a canopy; the posts now were sawed short and completely useless. The room held little furniture, just the essentials. I pondered what was behind the door directly opposite my bed.
If it was a bathroom, I could smash the mirror with the dresser door and use the glass. End this miserable parasitic existence. My mother's voice rang like an original void, deep in my chest, "Down the tracks... Not across."
I willed myself to stand, my bones loose under my skin, making my legs tremble like jelly. I held the banister, shuffling to the mystery door, closing my eyes and prayed to anyone who would listen that there would be a way to end this sick joke soon.
Beautiful, white polished diamonds of marble spread before me, reflecting my frown at the large pale square where the mirror used to be. A creamy clawfoot tub sat in the center without curtains or rail. I frowned, unable to help but smell myself when I reached to close the door, making me pause.
I sighed, succumbing to the desire to be clean. The water was thunderous in the shallow but pretty room, and I couldn't help but hate myself for the shame of wanting to leave such a luxurious nightmare. I tipped a small bottle of bubbles into the water, watching the foam swell, grateful to have some noise to block out the thoughts of Valentine.
The Prince didn't just look at me like an object. There was something deeper in his human hatred, as if I had stolen something that was rightfully his by simply existing.
I took the towels from the vanity, folded into a little stack, hotel style, and set them on the toilet seat as I stepped out of the borrowed undergarments. My cheeks flushed at the most prominent unknown question, 'Who had dressed me originally?' Steam fogged the tiny window that sat near the ceiling in the room, too small to squeeze through, even if I was this underweight.
I sunk into sudsy water, my skin prickling at the heat. Steam rolled off me in waves as I curled underneath the glass surface to think.
There were curtains in the window, which had to be held up by something. I started working my fingers absently through my hair under the water. Appreciating mildly that it was the first tub I could actually stretch out into and be fully submerged.
I'll use the sheets. I could create a rope by tying some strips together. The warm water was lulling me, the slick black void in my chest humming in disapproval at my schemes, determined to convince me otherwise.
I lost track for a moment, coming too again when I noticed the water had gone cold. Sighing as I dipped my head under the water, reworking my fingers through the tangles, finishing what I had started. I counted the honks on the neighboring street as I worked. Eager to have something to focus on. The city was bustling and still the same in that regard, at least.
I tossed the torn, wet hair wrapped around my fingers into the little trash, stepping out and wrapping my body in the extra-large towel. I scrunched my hair, trying to remove as much water as possible, searching through empty drawers for something to secure my hair, and coming up empty. I was on suicide watch it seemed. I moved to my bed, desperately trying to ignore each icy drip down my spine.
I took the bedspread, gathering the silky top sheet in wrinkled fists. Making quick work as I tore long tendrils off the queen-sized silk. I pushed the heavy purple drapes aside, the only dark and broody thing besides me in this light and fluffy room. Revealing a small alcove cutout in the wall, a nook meant for reading or embroidering since the house seemed old enough to entertain the idea of bored housewives and forlorn daughters.
The windowpane was surrounded by thick steel bars. This really was a cell. I sat down on the wooden bench, the rain becoming my ambiance as I worked, tying knot after knot after knot.
The cars driving down the street had ceased to an infrequent visit by the time I was finished. Securing the loop around the curtain rod affixed near the ceiling. More than enough weight to have gravity do the job for me. It wasn't glamorous, but neither was I. I looked down at my towel, twice secured, for it kept slipping on my loose skin, my gaze lifting to the dresser.
I opened the chest by my bed, ruffling through the drawers for underwear of any kind. Of course not. My captor was a man. I dug through drawer after drawer, settling on a white slip dress that fell mid-calf.
I took another deep breath, starting my mantra with each step towards the noose. The sheets soft against my throat as I tightened the loop.
I fell forward, the whizzing of fabric sliding against metal a blur, cinching tight around my neck. I couldn't breathe, alarm bells sounding in my head, hands instinctively reaching for the thing that was attempting to end me. My eyes were burning with the weight of my body against just the tip of my spine. A searing thought curled in my chest, imploring my hands to pull tighter on the rope against all the angry cries of the hunger.
I can't breathe... I don't need to breathe.' I pulled, trying the next best thing, creating a force hard enough to try and break my neck with my own unnatural strength. The creaking of the rod fell deaf to my desperate ears as I wrenched again.
There was a snap, my body crumpling to the ground in a defeated, gasping heap. The shinking slide of curtain hoops as they fell down the pole, which painfully thumped against the base of my spine.
I don't know how long I stayed there, nose pressed in the white fur rug. A rug that gained two red spots where my eyes were buried embarrassed tears already welling to the surface.
Organs don't work. Suffocation will do nothing. I blinked angrily, finally pushing the heavy drapery off me in a cloud of dust as I rolled to stare at the ceiling.
A honk pulled me out of my wallowing trance, my gaze focusing on the window through blurry vision. If vampires are real, and I am supposed to be one... then surely some superstitions were true, too...
Sunlight
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I curled up in the window seat for hours, watching the clouds clear, the moon winking goodnight and goodbye over the horizon. Every pore of my being was screaming for me to retreat to self-preserve. Which only helped cement my hunch. Whatever it was that had invaded my blood wasn't looking forward to an early sunrise.
My eyes felt heavy, the crack of dawn well past my bedtime, the fight of sleep becoming harder to challenge.
There was a click at my door, a muffled shriek. I didn't have the strength to move, Jane's face flickering in and out of blurry focus. Ezekiel's hands quick to grab me, pulling the dusty drapery that stunk of Rhazien and remorse over my limp body.
I awoke the next evening cursing myself when crusty lids opened to a curtainless window. Newly affixed boards now placed on the outside, blocking my view. I scowled, sitting up in the bed, the scratchiness against my knees new.
My sheets have been downgraded to plain cotton. I bit back a wave of nausea that hit me, a painful sharp jab in my stomach that reminded me faintly of hunger.
A food strike, then.
֍ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ֍
Three nights passed before I heard his footsteps at the door.
Every night, Jane unlocked my door, and every night, I stayed in bed, eager to sleep away from the rolling, compounding nausea.
Today was different.
Rhazien's knuckles brushed the door before he knocked, the hesitation piquing my interest. We were playing a silent game of chicken, and the two raps became a call that I was winning.
"River... You can't do this to yourself. The Beast won't allow it. You're only delaying the inevitable." There was a hardness to his tone that, if it weren't for the 4 inches of wood between us, I would have tried to dissect.
I pulled the downy up to my chin, curling against the sprawling hurt in my gut. Watch me.
Eight nights passed before there was another sound by my door... Or... At least, I thought it was eight. The nights were blurring together, and my sense of time quickly became non-existent. The only available timekeeper was my mind and the 'How's' and 'Why's' of all this.
A jingling, metal against metal. I waited, listening for steps, hearing nothing but the slight jostle of a tiny bell. I stood on shaky legs, bracing myself against the edge of the bed for as long as I could. Holding the door frame as I cracked it open cautiously, my head dipping out to look down the hall. I nearly jumped out of my skin as the soft, slightly damp fur rubbed against my ankles. I looked down, recognizing the familiar shape of black fluff.
I scooped up the large cat, curling him in my arms like a baby to get an ID on the tag.
Luther.
My brow twitched as I scratched under his chin. Gray bootied paws making bread in the air, his purr a comfort against my chest. The tiny motion made my heart swell, bright tears springing to my eyes. A part of me that I realized was missing. Squeezing the feline to my chest, brushing my lips between flicking ears, "I'm sorry to get you involved in this." Severely confused but not about to question the only familiarity in this strange place.
Luther wiggled in my arms, spinning to drop down against the runner, trotting further into the house. I hummed, smelling the sweetness of the residence in full swing. It was warmer than when we had first arrived all those nights ago. All the lights were on, dimmed to a soft orange that complimented the vintage wood walls.
I followed after Luther's swishing tail, dragging my feet as I scanned the photos closer this time.
Two boys stood on a busted street corner, laughing, arms entwined, perched on a large pile of broken debris. Despite the grain of the black and sepia photo, it was clear enough to make out that the tallest had a bandage wrapped around his head that covered his left eye. The housekeeper, Jane, shuffled past me silently, her nose upturned, breaking my focusing squint. I cleared my throat awkwardly, not having spoken to the woman since my last attempt, muttering an apology as she disappeared into the same room Luther had entered.
My acute hearing catching the tail end of her mutters, ".... Apologize to my linens..."
I knew he was in the dining room. I always knew where he was, like an invisible tether controlling the eyes on the back of my head. I let my face fall to a practiced stony expression,bracing myself for him. Luther jumped onto the long table that stretched the length of the room, something flipping in my stomach when I realized it was just that cat and I.
The exotic invitational scent came from the three large stone bowls of water as the tables centerpieces, lilies floating on the surface. I bent over one, its lips barely yet blooming; the moment when their scent was the sweetest. Inhaling deeply, the prickling irritation melting off me in droves as something more primal was fulfilled.
"I see you've accepted my bribe to join me." Rhazien's tone crooned, taking the seat at the head of the table, farthest from me.
I jumped, eyeing the chair beside him suspiciously, the shaking in my legs becoming too extreme.
He had removed all the seating in the room at some point. Planting himself in one of the two remaining at the table, the other placed on his right side.
Biting my tongue at the smug smirk, he grew when I dragged my feet down the length of the table. Each step creased the corner of his eyes more, although no happy emotion translated clearly. I tried desperately to keep my chin up as he rose, his eyes unblinking and unwavering as he watched me stumble and catch myself. His movements fluid as he pulled out my chair, my skin hot as he pushed me in easily. His steps holding a dangerous confidence as he sauntered to a pair of swingin side doors, most likely to the kitchen and where Jane had disappeared to.
I eyed the thick red liquid in the decanter he plucked the cork from. The movement was slow, deliberate, almost a tease if I didn't overassume, the metal tray groaning as he swirled the liquid. Rhazien selected two tall crystal glasses, the glassware singing as he ran a thumb along the ridge. Inspecting for dust. I didn't understand what he was waiting for until it hit me like a fucking freight train.
The smell.
The mouth, which had felt dry and rotten for the past week, aggressively started salivating. My tongue worked overtime to swallow, so the eagerness my body craved didn't give me away.
Too Long.
"I would praise your self-control if I didn't already know how it was eating at you." Rhazien didn't look at me as he spoke, the gentle tinkling of crystals bumping against each other as he poured the first glass.
My chair creaked, my nails sinking into the wood so ferociously that I thought it would snap. My feet were burning, desperately wanting to bolt towards him, shove him to the ground, and drink the entire bottle. I ground my teeth, pressing it down, a drop splashing as he finished the first glass.
A deft thumb brushed the edge, his blue flicking to me as he licked the substance from it.
A slight choking sound escaped my throat, the whine making his blue shade and harden. Rhazien's cheeks darkened under the shadow of his beard, returning his focus to his task. I hated how he refused to look at me as he spoke. Like I was some disgusting, disgraceful thing.
Who cares what he thinks of you?
I found my voice trampled by the echoes of hunger.
I do.
"You can't deny something like the Beast for this long, River. Eventually, the Beast wins... The Beast always wins..." Rhazien blinked at the second glass, his eyes glazing over as he poured it quickly, careful to not spill this time.
Again, I felt that ripple of hunger squirm to the surface, ignoring my attempts to force it down. My mouth hurt, my tongue and teeth aching for something I denied. The groaning of the chair louder as Rhazien thunked the heavy glass in front of me, taking his own spot at the head. He took a deep drink before he sighed at my refusal.
"You're going to have to get used to consuming Vitae, river." With two fingers, he swirled the glass like an expensive Cabernet. Rhazien's expression, knowing how my eyes couldn't help but follow the swish of the red. A tan finger flicked the crystal, making it sing, pulling me out of the trance. A frown tipped the corner of his mouth, which made me question how he had smile lines. "This act of yours is unsustainable. You can't just deny your urges."
"My urges wanted to kill you."
Rhazien made an annoyed noise, his chin tilting to greedily swallow his glass as if demonstrating to a toddler.
The action made me sick, and my head was still whirling. Overwhelmed by the situation, the blood... him. As if sensing my discomfort, Luther padded to sit between me and the glass. My hand shook as I scratched his cheeks, Luther's ethereal green watching Rhazien warily. The grown man and the black cat having their own staring contest.
"You can't just ask me to be okay with killing a person." My stomach flipped at the thought and the irony of how, only days before, I had been so willing to do it to him. My hands released the armrests to unclench in my lap. Still feeling the bobbing of his Adam's apple against my palm.
"I'm not asking you to kill a person. I am asking you to eat." Rhazien leaned forward, pulling the glass so it sat beside Luther, the look he gave the cat comically pointed.
"I can't do anything that participates in killing someone."
"Oh, please." Rhazien rolled his eyes, standing to grab the decanter. He set it down on the table between us, huffing under his breath as he sat back down. "Humans participate every day at inadvertently killing each other."
He filled his glass again, my glare hot when he glanced up through his lashes, stopping before he went to take another sip. The glass clinked against the table as he set it back, untouched, "Look. It's donated. Of free will. Conscious-Clear." He clinked his glass against the one before me, my eyes greedily watching how it almost spilled over the edge. My nose tingling as the viscous liquid sloshed. Again, that demanding hunger lurching against the shackles of my will. I swallowed hard, tearing my eyes away to meet his instead.
"It's still disgusting."
Rhazien stopped, his eyes squinting, his head tilting as he put his glass down. The table groaned under his weight as he leaned on it, that observant twinge back in his blue. Searching around my face, his eyes settled on my lips.
"What?" I hissed, his eyes widening in surprise, a look that made me blush. He was too handsome for his own good. I thought bitterly.
"I find it interesting how your bottoms also rose just now." He leaned in closer, fascinated discovery creeping onto his features, "I've never seen anything like that before."
I felt them then, at him mentioning it. The slide of bone against bone. My tongue brushed against the sharp pokes of my upper and lower canines. The new bone wrapped perfectly around my old teeth like a tailored suit. My teeth aching and sore, reminiscent of losing teeth as a child. A small hurt that tingled my arms when I pressed on them. Noting how the backs of them seemed almost barbed, poking towards the roof of my mouth in a line of ridges. My tongue was finally silent as I clamped my lips together, Rhazien's interest fading when he realized I would not re-flash them to him.
It wasn't until I felt the wet pool in my palms that I realized I was clenching my fists. I heard my own jaw click from grinding my teeth as I refused to look at Rhazien, saying nothing as I was sucked into the well of red in front of me. That thing was itching again, clawing up my throat, begging me for a taste. My muscles burned as the scent wafted between my lips, parting not of my own accord. I tore my focus to examine the wound in my palms, transfixed as the skin slowly started to repair itself.
"We are a regenerative species, Vampires. Using our vita as a means to supplement basic organ functions. An upside to that is the speedy ability to heal."
I couldn't hide my suspicion and disgust, "You mean... This..." I gestured to the corpse of a body I currently possessed. "This is it? Forever?"
"If you keep refusing to eat, yes. You would look like your old self already if you decided to be less picky." Rhazien met my scowl with his own perfected one. "Your body demands blood to function. No blood in means it will consume your reserves until you have nothing left. At which point you'll completely lose control."
"To whom?"
"Your Beast..." He filled his glass with another wet slap, an extended index finger pointing to my chest, "I know you've already heard her call. I can see it under your skin."
I followed his pointer finger, looking beneath the white nightgown I wore. Between my breasts, a black spot was surging underneath my skin, long black tendril veins that I realized were attached to my heart; the reaches already almost stretched past where I could look upon myself. Rhazien smacked his mouth, licking his lips when I looked back up at him, clearing all evidence of his feeding.
"I'm not eating."
"Then you will continue to waste away." Rhazien waved a hand at me dismissively. "Before you succumb to a fate worse than death, that is."
I couldn't speak, my tongue too heavy and fuzzy to come up with anything to say.
"Once you've officially and completely submitted yourself to the Beast, there is no going back. Any thoughts, memories, or self-identity you once had are now gone. Forever. Wiped like a clean slate. Your limbs will not be under your control, even the recesses of your mind not belonging to you, blank. And then," He raised a glass, his focus ingrained on the table before us, reliving some long-forgotten memory, taking a deep drink and finishing his glass. "Then, you will be forced to watch until someone eventually comes along to kill you." He sighed, the movement reflective, the tone suddenly monotonous, "A vampire that has succumbed to her Beast is a threat to the entire community and must be immediately terminated."
The void rolled in my gut, prickling at the possibility of its demise, nausea burbling in my stomach as I thought about how I had another way to completely lose agency. I froze, ignoring the tears springing to my eyes. "I didn't want this."
"I know."
"Then why?" I sucked back my tears in a hiss, refusing to cry anymore in front of him. I was tired of appearing weak; I was just so tired.
Rhazien crossed one leg over the other as he leaned back, looking into his cup. Seeming to be chasing his own ghosts. "I have to backtrack before I can explain fully. Otherwise, you won't possibly accept it." His words were addressed to me, although his gaze flickered to Luther sitting still before me. The cat almost protective between us.
"My Prince– Valentine, permitted me to create my own Childer. In Vampir society, you can't just go around turning all your neighbors- Otherwise, you'd have a riot. With controlled embraces- the act of turning someone into a vampire- you reduce the risk of humans noticing our species. This... Invisibility rule, we'll say, is the backbone of our society, often referred to mockingly as 'The Great Masquerade,' The rule that under absolutely no circumstances must a human learn of your nature, and therefore our species.
"Behind this initial code, we have more ethics and rules to follow. Ways of keeping even the most monstrous in line. The Prince's position, amongst many other responsibilities, is to appoint these controlled embraces. As Seneschal, my duty is to my Prince. Whatever he says goes, and eventually, if I play my cards right, I could be in my own position like his." He glanced at me, his fingers playing with the lip of the glass, as if speaking for so long made him uncomfortable and anxious.
"Who were the other people there that night."
Rhazien tilted his head back, closing his eyes, the perfect depiction of attractive contemplation. "Aramastus, our Sentinel, and Estelle our Warden. Aramastus is..." Rhazien trailed off, looking at me with a steely cut that caught me off guard. "Be wary of him. His bloodline meddles with rituals- powers that manipulate the permanent form."
I felt the need to nod, the tension in his jaw only releasing once I did.
"The Warden is in charge of enforcing all laws of The Court, Valentine's territory stretches over most of New York City. Estelle knocking on my door means she is here for a visit and mild conversation, Estelle knocking on your door means that you're in trouble."
My face screwed up in frustration at how he seemed to be avoiding my main question. The one that had haunted me since I'd first woken.
"But why me."
Rhazien's silence sat like a rock in my stomach, his hand reaching out to push the glass closer to me. "Drink."
My nostrils flared as I glared at him, trying to hold my breath from the mouthwatering iron scent. His ring made a hollow sound as it tapped the table in a knock, his fingers crossing to rest on his knee, settling in. The stance made me uncomfortable; the unease before bad news.
"You must understand that upholding the Masquerade is the most important aspect of being a Slecatto. It's the strongest aspect that holds us apart from the fucking monsters like the Deigojar– all of Vampir's ugliest history falling under their jurisdiction."
I noted the names, dissecting every flicker of expression on his face.
"So, selection for neonates must be done discreetly..." The words seemed to hang from his lips. The quiet part said too loud in his attempt to curb my feelings.
The people that no one would miss...
The buzzing grew in my ears, and I shut my eyes to it, Rhazien's deep voice rumbling onwards. Uncomfortable with the tension he had created by his own actions.
"Under normal conditions," He continued, "You would wake from your Embrace's slumber, and we would immediately dive into your history, etiquette, mental and physical lessons. Due to the time lost already, we need to uptick this schedule. Especially before The Calling." The weight of his chair creaked, which is how I knew he was standing. My eyes were still shut to the static in my mind. "It's an event meant to introduce new fledglings entering society. Think of it like the debutante balls of the south. As your Sire, it's my duty to present you."
"I thought that's what we did the other night?"
Rhazien clicked farther away, the tinkling of him returning his own glass and corking the decanter. "Last night was the first formality. Introduction to The Prince and The Court. It's meant as a preliminary for when a vampire is first turned. To make sure that everything went according to plan."
"But for me it didn't." I could say this with finality now, both Rhazien and Estelle referring to my circumstances.
"No. It wasn't. Hence our rush that night. Valentine had already been kept waiting–"
"For 8 years." My voice sounded hollow in my own mouth, my fangs rubbing roughly against the inside of my lips, bruising the gums.
"That's correct," Rhazien grunted, an action that forced me to look at him, staring at the bottom of the nearly empty decanter. "8 years... Which really muddled the timeline for progress and introductions."
"So what? I'm expected to dance and perform like a little circus monkey?" My voice dripped with as much venom as I could muster over the roaring in my ears.
The doors beside him swung open, and a mild-tempered Jane appeared with a fresh tray, two new glasses, and a larger bottle than the first. Rhazien ignored her as she worked, his frown deep, hands flat on the table as he looked at me. "No. Never."
If I had known him better, the tone sounded almost angry... At whom I wasn't sure, the intensity of his gaze raising the hair on the back of my neck. My skin suddenly felt too hot for this room.
"You will have free will and a new life; everything I promised you before... It just has more stipulations than are normal... Temporary things."
Once we were alone again, I took a shaky breath; Rhazien's intensity finally dimmed with the swinging door's squeaky hinge. His hand fluttered to his hair, as if correcting it would smooth his demeanor with it.
"Okay... So, I can't die... I can't leave... I have to learn a bunch of rules and nonsense to make sure I'm not, like, executed. I have to drink blood to survive. Otherwise, I will be executed. And then what...? I earn my freedom and never have to see you again?" I allowed my face to remain impassive and emotionless, avoiding the panic that swirled in my veins from the growing laundry list of complications.
There was a steeliness to his expression, cutting his jaw as he spoke. "If that's what you wish, yes."
"Excellent." I stood, gripping the table so I did not tip at my dizziness. "How long will that take?"
Rhazien's face scrunched, his arms folding over his broad chest as he leaned back, "It depends on how quickly you recover, how adept you are at picking up–"
"I want a time."
"I planned for no more than 12 weeks. It was the amount of time My Master spent training me, I determined it would be more than sufficient for you."
"Good." A hand receded to my temple, trying to quell the throbbing that pounded there. "I'm exhausted... Is there anything else you need from me, My Lord?" I hissed the formality, Rhazien's scowl deepening darkly at the insolence.
"Follow me." The words squeaked through gritted teeth, Rhazien turning promptly on his heel for the hallway, the air whipping around him the sharpness of his turns. I couldn't help but notice how his steps matched the banging in my skull.
I groaned, using the table for support as I walked, ignoring the red-filled cup that seemed to taunt me with each wobble. Luther's soft pads followed me down the hall to the detailed wooden door at its end. It was heavy and intricately carved with fleurettes and angel wings. The deep creak as he pushed it open for me to step through did nothing to muffle the overwhelming unease.
If the house smelled of him, the room was flooded. I noticed the lack of a window, trapping any musk he gathered here every evening as he unwound. A cozy chair tucked against the fireplace that was caked in soot, a stack of slim books on the table beside a clean ashtray. I could picture him so clearly sitting and smoking in front of the fire, like a scene I had walked in on a million times.
The whole house was his home, but this was his safety. His retreat from the world. And only those invited were seen here.
Rhazien slid past me, the room tiny, big enough for only the essentials, to the point it seemed comical around his form. He pointed to the stack of books placed on the side table. "Those are for you to read." His scowl remained permanently affixed as he searched through drawers, trying to remember where he last kept something of importance. There was a clattering of glass together, like a hundred mini bottles. I took the moment to try and read the reports that sat on his desk, reports I only skimmed before he brushed them away to the privacy of his desk. I pretended to look through the books he had collected, all handwritten, ancient like this house.
My knuckles cracked with the motions, my hands so tight from clenching them. Not reading the words as I processed my feelings... my new body. Rhazien turned with a start, remembering as he took down the framed painting of the river Thames from the wall. Revealing a lockbox, bypassing the rotator dial with something he pulled out from his pocket,
A master key.
Rhazien rummaged, deaf to my plotting. "Now that I am no longer playing nurse. I have some duties that require my physical attention– Ah, here we go."
Rhazien handed me a small leatherbound journal. This one differed from the others, engraved with a single burned word: Rauvau.
"Our clan, our bloodline. If you start with any, it should be this one."
I took it from him gingerly, my thumb tracing the large loopy script on the front. The book had a surprising weight; the pages seemed sewn in, varying in thickness and size, a collection of writings by different hands.
"Our bloodline is one of magicians."
My brows shot up. "Magic?"
Rhazien made a teeth-sucking noise, the shrug rolling through him. "Magicians. We understand integrally how illusions work on the psyche and can bend and manipulate that power to create our own." He twitched a hand at me, collecting the books in his arms, I hated to admit how the weight had started to twinge my back. "Hurry on now, you may like to hang out in your room all day, but I have things to do."
I snarled under my breath, treading out, his steps quick on my heels, following after me to drop off the books on my vanity, "I'll be back at dusk tomorrow to go over what you've learned and answer any questions."
I frowned; he seemed almost twitchy in here like he couldn't find a comfortable way to stand. Odd, considering this was just another room attached to his house. Luther hopped onto the bed, taking up one of the pillows near the dent where I had rested the night- day before. The scrawny black feline curling up onto his side like a bagel, his purrs immediate.
Before I could look back to Rhazien, he was already shutting my door, the lock a mock as it slid into place.