Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
“What if it’s not the bigger evil, but the more insidious one?” A glow pulsed off Raphael’s wings. “Charisemnon created a disease that could hurt angels. It led to the first ever death of one of our kind from a disease.
“But that”—Raphael shook his head—“isn’t as important as the fact that if Vivek’s find isn’t just a tale, then—”
“—we’re talking not only about the fall of the Refuge,” Elena completed, feeling sick, “but the destruction of the entire world.”
26
Two days after Raphael had ordered him to keep digging, Vivek had exhausted all his usual avenues of research. He knew of only one other way he might be able to get further information on this particular esoteric subject.
What he’d found online had been the scan of a page of a book. No other fragments seemed to exist. But if anyone knew more about or could get their hands on a copy of the lost tome, it would be a certain vampire from the gray heart of the city.
Jessamy herself consulted Katrina when on the hunt for books so rare that even the Refuge had no copy. He couldn’t leave that stone unturned. And if his body heated at the thought of finally getting to meet her, well, he’d always been reckless. Vampirism had just made it worse.
But he had to wait until dark, because Katrina didn’t do daylight.
His skin was tight with anticipation by the time he pushed away from his desk close to midnight. There were no guarantees that he’d get to see Katrina, but he wasn’t above dropping Raphael’s name to make sure he did. He felt no guilt about that—because he did need to speak to her. That it’d ease his fascination with the mystery of her was an unexpected bonus.
After changing into clothing suitable for what he planned—a slick suit in a deep brown that echoed his eyes, paired with a black shirt and no tie, the collar open at the throat—he abandoned his wheelchair in his Tower suite and picked up his cane. Of a wood dark and polished to a shine, it had been created for him by former hunter and current weapons-maker Deacon.
“A gift, V,” the Guild’s former Slayer had said. “For all you did and still do to keep our brethren safe. I owe you more than you’ll ever know.”
Vivek loved the thing, but its strength and beauty could only assist him so much; it couldn’t fix the damage in his body.
Leaning hard on it, safe in the knowledge that Deacon had designed it to handle far more weight and force, he took the elevator down to reception. The vampire on duty smiled at him, her teeth pretty and white, and her bronze-streaked black hair pulled back into a sleek bun, not a stray tendril in sight. “Good evening, Vivek. May I assist you with anything tonight?”
He thought about asking her to call him a cab, dismissed the idea almost at once. He hadn’t been walking much and needed to make up for that. “No, but thanks, Suhani. Also, I thought I was a workaholic, but you put me to shame. Do you ever go home?”
“I keep my coffin under the desk for catnaps.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fucking place is full of smartasses. Can’t believe I used to think you were a straight arrow.”
Soft laughter from behind the glossy wall of her desk. “Have a good night.”
He lifted a hand to her, then greeted the vampire on duty outside the door, before making his way out to the main drag, outside the Tower precinct. Each step was a throb up his spine; faint beads of sweat had broken out along his hairline by the time he reached the place where the cabs sat, waiting for passengers even at this time.
Getting in, he told the driver where he wanted to go.
The skinny Black man whistled between his teeth. “You sure, man?” he said as he pulled out into the night streets. “That area’s so dangerous I’m half-afraid some bum’s gonna steal my wheels if I stop for a light.”
Vivek realized then and there that the man had mistaken him for a mortal. It was an easy mistake to make. Vivek didn’t read as a vamp at first glance. Only way to know was to spot his fangs—and he didn’t exactly go around flashing those. Right now, he looked human. Painfully, vulnerably human. Because vampires didn’t have limps and didn’t use canes.
“I know the area,” he said, leaving it at that.
“Your funeral,” the driver muttered, then sang along to the smooth music pouring out of the speakers.
Vivek stared out the window at the blur of multihued light that was New York passing him by. He’d spent a good percentage of his life inside walls or underground, the former forced onto him, the latter a choice. At times, he didn’t understand the outside world at all, didn’t know why Ellie thrived in it, or why his other friends kept inviting him out to clubs and parties and expeditions into the wilderness.